A Texas Hill Country Christmas by William W. Johnstone Page A

Porter responded with a gulp.
    Ace and Chance split up and began working their way back toward the edge of the trees. When Ace reached a spot where he could see the road again, he watched the slope on the other side and waited for some telltale sign of the rifleman.
    After a few moments his keen eyes spotted movement in the brush at the mouth of a gully about two hundred yards away. Ace concentrated on that location and saw a muzzle flash.
    â€œI see him!” he called to Chance. He couldn’t see his brother anymore but knew he wasn’t far away.
    â€œI do, too!” Chance said. “Want to make it hot for him?”
    â€œBet a hat I do,” Ace replied. He brought the Winchester to his shoulder, braced its barrel against the trunk of the tree where he had taken cover, and opened fire.
    The shots were like a long roll of thunder as the Jensen boys poured lead at their attacker. Ace fired seven times as fast as he could work the rifle’s lever, and Chance loosed a similar number of rounds. Squinting through the haze of powder smoke, Ace saw the brush in the gully’s mouth whipping around under the onslaught.
    They held their fire. The gun-thunder echoed in the hills for several seconds before fading. As it did, Ace heard the faint sound of a horse crashing through brush in the distance.
    Chance laughed and called, “He’s lit out! Reckon we blistered him a little?”
    â€œI hope so,” Ace said.
    From deeper in the woods, Porter called, “Is . . . is it safe to come out now?”
    â€œStay right where you are, Will,” Ace told him. “We want to make sure he’s gone and not just trying to pull some sort of trick.”
    They waited and listened for a good five minutes before Ace was willing to accept that the bushwhacker had fled. He and Chance went to get their horses and told Porter to come with them.
    As they emerged onto the road, Ace looked around warily. Everything seemed peaceful again.
    Chance had shoved Porter’s big revolver behind his belt. He pulled it out and put it in the carpetbag again.
    â€œI think that’s enough practicing for now,” he said dryly. “I’d rather put some distance between us and this place. Will, this was the first time you’d ever been shot at, wasn’t it?”
    â€œHow . . . how did you know that?”
    Chance chuckled and pointed, said, “By the seat of your britches.”
    Porter flushed and said, “You know I sat down in the mud when I fired that gun. That’s all this is.”
    â€œSure it is.”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, this was indeed my first experience at being under fire, but I think I acquitted myself rather well. I didn’t lose my head, did I?”
    â€œNo, you didn’t,” Ace agreed. “You moved quick and did everything we told you. Keep that up and you might live through this.”
    â€œYou make it sound almost as if you expect us to come under attack again.”
    â€œThere’s a good chance of it,” Ace said. “Who do you think was shooting at us?”
    â€œWhy . . . some highwayman out to kill us and rob our corpses, no doubt.”
    â€œWhat about Hudson?” Chance asked.
    Porter’s eyes got big again as he said, “Do you really think the man would stoop to murder?”
    â€œMaybe he’s worried about you and Evelyn,” Ace said. “Could be he was keeping an eye on you and saw us leave Austin this morning, headed toward Fredericksburg. He could have gotten ahead of us and set up this ambush.”
    â€œHe might not have been trying to kill you,” Chance added. “Maybe he just wanted to scare you off, make you give up and turn back.”
    Ace said, “I don’t know. Those bullets were coming mighty close for warning shots.”
    â€œYeah, but at that range, it’s hard to cut things too fine.”
    Ace shrugged and said, “It’s possible.”
    Porter looked back