Nicholas, the middle son, fired before the captain had finished his draw. The captain spilled off his horse into the grass, firing a shot into nowhere as he did.

Max, the colorblind private, spurred his horse towards the barn and began firing his rifle on burst. Shooting exploded everywhere. I saw Nicholas fall and tumble down from the barn as I fired a few pistol rounds towards Harold. Max’s brown mare fell forward onto its face.

Pain tore up my hip as my horse reared and I heard the dull thump of a shotgun blast. I fought to stay in the saddle and fired a trio of return shots towards the oldest son. He ran back into the house cursing, chased by bullets smashing the aluminum siding.

Brad, our new recruit, was dismounted when I looked back towards the barn. He fired about a dozen blind shots into the corn where little Marcus Mannerly was wielding a rifle. The Brad’s head turned into a pink cloud with chunks of blond scalp flapping in the sky. I saw Martha smiling as she worked the bolt to her rifle.