That made it real. He ducked behind the edge of the house, expecting an onslaught after that, but the gathered men were stunned into inaction, weapons dangling at their sides as they stared at the limp bleeding body of the radio host crumpled on the ground.

“Drop ’em!” he ordered, moving out and aiming at the bearded bald man who appeared to be the ringleader of those remaining. Brad was heavily outnumbered, but his position as sheriff and his willingness to use deadly force had apparently sobered up the invaders and put the fear of God into them, because as one they placed their weapons on the ground.

Seconds later, two sheriff’s vehicles were blocking off any escape route for the intruders’ pickups. Someone in the neighborhood must have dialed 911, and for that Brad was grateful. He had the advantage of shock and awe, but there was no telling how quickly those assholes might shake off their stupor and go on the attack again.

Mitch hurried up, rifle trained on the gathered men.

Brad bent down, checked Chet for a pulse. “He’s still alive. Call for an ambulance.” The sheriff applied pressure to the wound, felt the unconscious Chet flinch involuntarily beneath him, a good sign. “Who else is here?” he asked Mitch.

“Issac and Paul.”

“Arrest everyone. Charge them all. We’ll let the DA sort things out once the weaker ones start cracking and we find out what’s what.”

He was still pressing down on the wound, the squishiness beneath his palm feeling a little less warm and a little less wet than it had a moment earlier.

He felt bad about shooting Chet, but not that bad. If he hadn’t acted, he would probably be the one lying on the ground, and he doubted that anyone in the “army” would be calling an ambulance for him.

Thank God the girls weren’t here, he thought.

The idea that Jillian and Sue could have been here and that a stray shot could have killed one of them filled him with fear and rage, and though he knew it was wrong, he pressed down harder on the wound, gratified to feel Chet Yates squirm in pain beneath him.

2

Coy met with Cal and Maggie before the town council meeting. They were the only people from the bank in whom he had confided, and they’d helped him draft the proposal he was going to present. Neither of them were brave enough to continue on—“We need our jobs,” Cal said simply—but they were behind him, and if everything went the way he hoped and a municipal bank was established, they were definitely the first people he would hire.