“Muy bien, amigos.” Rodrigo’s gaze embraced the remaining banditos. Each was worth more dead than alive. “We keel ze treacherous cur when he returns.”
Muttered assent drifted round the cabin.
“Ze raid *was* heez idea, Rodrigo” Miguel spat tobacco on the floor.
“We lost half ze gang at El Paso. Zey knew we were coming.”
His brother nodded, then started. They all heard it. The creak of floorboards just outside the door. Pistols slipped from leather in greased unison and the shack thundered to gunfire.
Something red clattered through the broken window.
A blistered moment passed before anyone recognized the lit, crackling stick.