“Put the dog down. I don’ want to hurt an animal, so if he’s protective of you, leash him and hand the leash to one of your friends. They can just make themselves comfortable while you and I settle our score.” Wyatt pinned the other two with a serious gaze. “Don’ make the mistake of thinkin’ you can go for your holdout guns or your other weapons. I know you have ’em and I just plain don’ give a damn. That’s how angry you’ve made me. So know my two friends will shoot you down the moment you make one wrong move.”

Larry set the dog near the third guard, clearly not trusting Blake. He snapped the leash back on him and handed the end to his friend. “Don’t let him loose, Jim,” he cautioned, and then turned slowly. “Who the hell are you and why do you have such a hard-on for me?”

“You know that sweet old lady you thought you’d shove into the swamp? The one you threatened? The one you told you’d come by her home and take care of her?” Deliberately, and making a show of it, Wyatt placed his gun a distance from them and walked within feet of Larry. “That’s my grand-mere, and I don’ take to anyone threatenin’ her or puttin’ hands on her.”

“It wasn’t personal,” Larry said with a small shrug. “I was doing my job. We don’t want anyone coming around, not only for our protection but theirs as well.”

“It’s very personal to me,” Wyatt said. “So let’s get to this.”

“You swamp rats are all alike. We go to that shack you call a club and everyone wants to fight us to prove what men you are,” Larry accused, shaking his head.

The other two guards laughed. “This ought to be fun.”

“No, we’re not alike,” Wyatt said quietly. “That’s where you’re wrong. The boys at the Huracan are out for fun and they were invitin’ you to join in. No animosity and nothin’ to prove, just a good Saturday night bataille. Me, I’m dead serious about teachin’ you some manners, there’s no funnin’ in my mind at all. Swamp rats know how to treat women, and apparently you need to learn that lesson.”

“You’re going to be one sorry rat,” Larry said, and circled Wyatt, his hands coming up in the classic boxer’s stance. “I’m so sick of all of you, thinking you’re so tough just because you grew up around alligators. I’ll bet that’s what they call you around these parts – Gator.” He said the name in a sneering taunt.

“No, that would be my brother, and you should be damn glad he’s not here. He wouldn’ be quite so gentle as I’m goin’ to be.” Wyatt nodded at the man’s boot. “If you think you’re goin’ to make your try for that holdout gun, all bets are off.”

Larry scowled at him. “I won’t need a gun for this.” He stepped in close and fired off three rapid punches at Wyatt’s face.

Wyatt blocked all three, and delivered a hard right to the man’s belly, punching deep, driving the air from his lungs and letting him know it was a punishment, not a dance. The breath exploded out of Larry and he stumbled back, doubling over. Wyatt slammed an elbow on his back, driving him straight to the ground. He stepped back.

“The thing you should know comin’ into a neighborhood, Larry,” he said, his voice gentle, as if he was a mother instructing a child, “you treat the people decent. That’s all, just decent. And you don’ ever put your hands on old ladies or any woman for that matter. It just isn’ done.”

Larry got to his feet slowly, this time looking at Wyatt warily. His two friends stopped laughing, watching as he staggered a little. All traces of amusement and contempt were gone from Larry’s face.

Wyatt let him get his feet under him and set himself back in his warrior’s stance. He exploded into action, gliding in, hitting Larry hard with two straight rights to the left eye, both shockingly hard, knocking Larry’s head back rapidly. The third punch was a left roundhouse to the jaw. Larry’s body shuddered. His legs turned to rubber and he went down. Wyatt stepped back a second time. He wasn’t even breathing hard and he hadn’t broken a sweat.

“You might want to drop by Grand-mere’s house and apologize. She’s hell on wheels with a gun, but if you come by all sorry, with your tail tucked between your legs, she’ll feed you and forgive you, because that’s what we do here.” The soft voice changed. “Get up. We’re not nearly finished.”

Larry rolled over and stared up at the night sky. “You hit like a damn jackhammer.” His left eye was already swollen shut. “I’ve never been punched that hard in my life. I didn’t know anyone could hit that hard.”

“Swamp rats learn how to punch on the way outa their mama’s womb. Stand up. And for the record, I’m takin’ it easy on you.”

Larry held up his hand. “I’m done, man. I get it. I’ll apologize. The place was crazy that day and she was just in the way.”

Wyatt reached down and yanked him off the ground with one hand as he struck three more times in the mouth with the other. He dragged Larry close to him, looking eye to eye. “This is our land. You don’ own anythin’ beyond that fence. Those acres of plants belong to the people of the bayou. We use them for medicine. You don’ come onto our land and dictate to us when we can harvest them. She wasn’ in your way. You were in her way.”

Wyatt released Larry’s shirt and the man dropped again to ground. The earth beneath them shivered. It was a small tremor, but it was there, indicating Wyatt’s temper was rising, not diminishing.