It's been awhile.
"The Stepbrothers" are back with a whole new look. Last month, it was re-released as a self-published book and offered at much lower price.
Clint's childhood friend Mac has not been able convince Clint needs to let go of his revenge plans for his stepbrother George. Samantha, however, has her own plans for Clint.
Clint’s journey proved successful. Soon the day he lived for would be here. Jerking on the reins, he halted his horse. Shots. He heard shots and they came from the direction he was heading. With a quick tug, the horse lunged forward.
He rode post haste straight ahead and entered the yard. The hint of color catching his eye was what led him to see his best friend hugging his woman.
Only she isn‘ t your woman, she’s George’s
He dismounted and strolled up to them. Once he figured out why they were shooting, he was livid.
“Mac, what the hell you two doing?”
“What does it look like you fool, anybody with eyes can see. I’m teaching Samantha to defend herself.”
Clint never heard all that Mac had to say. He was too busy. Busy watching the revolver now pointed at his chest. He recognized her resolve. In another second Samantha would be pulling the trigger. He closed his eyes.
The sound of the gun firing rang through his ears as he waited for the
impact. It never came.
Mac, realizing what she intended, slammed his arm against her changing the direction of the bullet.
“Sam, honey, you have got to be more careful. You could’ve…”
The saddest look Clint ever seen, shown in Mac’s eyes at that moment when he understood her reasons yet he couldn’t find it in his heart to blame her.
Clint, realizing he hadn’t been shot, now swaggered over to her. She, without any hint of remorse, lifted her head to look at him. He slapped her hard across the face.
“Now, Clint…” Mac started but never got to finish.
“Mac, you seem to forget she belongs to me.” Clint swung at him.
Stunned, Samantha piped in with, “I belong…I belong to you? Who do you think…”
There was no reason to finish the men were too busy fighting each other to be bothered listen to her.
The two men smashed into each other, rolling in the dirt. The last punch knocked Mac down hard, and it was taking a few moments for him to get back up when Samantha turned, picked up her skirt and went running toward the house.
“She ain’t your girl, Clint,” Mac told him all but surrendering the fight to him.
Clint decided not to continue fighting his friend and dusted himself off. That statement knocked the wind out of him faster and harder than any punch Mac could have delivered.
“Where’d she go?”
The man on the ground extended a hand up. “Help me up, Clint.”
Clint extended a hand then Mac’s fist connected with his chin. He winced and fell to the ground sprawled out in the dirt semiconscious.
Mac bent over, picked up his hat, and dusted it off by slamming it against his right leg. He shook his head in disgust and walked with determination back to the house.
He caught up to Samantha when she was halfway up the stairs.
“Are you alright?” he asked stopping behind her.
“Why did you have to stop me?”
“Sam, honey, you’re not being rational.”
“Rational? Rational. You call what he done to me rational?” She took a step up and stopped then turned to face him. “Maybe you’re both needing to be shot if you feel like him.”
Mac gasped when he saw Clint’s hand print was still visible, red against the pale white skin of her left cheek. He stuttered and his shoulders sagged in embarrassment at their actions and how she suffered because of them. He stopped three steps below her, unable to find the right words.
“Maybe you’re right.”
With that Samantha sped up the remaining stairs and slammed the door behind her. Mac swung around and headed back down. With the release of a deep breath full of disgust, not only for Clint’s behavior, but also for his own, he decided he needed a stiff drink and automatically searched out the sitting room for a fresh bottle of whiskey.
Minutes later, the glass about to be lifted to his mouth would be number three. That’s when Clint finally made an appearance. Taking in how rough he looked, instead of swigging it down himself, he passed it to his friend. “Not sure which of us look worse for wear, but here.”
The man standing before him with the eye turning black and blood still oozing from his nose, wordlessly accepted the offering throwing his head back and consuming the fiery liquid.
“Does it hurt?” Mac asked wincing once he had a better look at what he did to his friend’s face.
“Of course, it hurts. You fool, ever try drinking with
a split lip. It burns like hell.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs…Why? You need to slap her around some more?”
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