“What the hell?....” Came a voice from across the barn.

Mark was counting on them believing that he was unarmed, that he still had fake pistols.

“Hey, asshole. Watch it!,” yelled the voice again.

Mark fired again, this time in the direction of the man closest to him.

“Dammit. You almost hit me,” yelled the voice nearest Mark. “What are you doing?”

Mark fired another shot across the dusty barn.

“Is that you shooting?” cried the voice from across the barn.

Mark snaked an arm out and unhitched the rope attached to the rodeo dummy and let it fall. At the same time he fired both pistols, one across the room and the other toward the guy nearest him.

Then everything happened at once. The dummy swung down across the width of the barn and both punks fired at it. Mark ducked down inside the barrel. The two punks were actually firing at one another.

One of the punks cried out in pain.

A police siren whooped in the distance. Mark looked at his watch. Cookie was right on time.