As Matt was readying a kick to the downed man's bloodied face, the boom of a shotgun roared in the air. Dropping to one knee Matt wheeled to his left where the blast seemed to come from. His pistol, already in his aching right hand, pointed back at the shotgun holder. It was Dewey Harmon from the livery barn; the shotgun was pointed past Matt and aimed at the fallen Box T man's cronies. "Drop the guns boys if you want to stay in them saddles, next one won't be in the air," the blacksmith's voice followed his gun barrel to the chests of one of the Box T riders. Matt stood up and looked behind him; two of the Box T men had their guns halfway out of their holsters. Pointing his own six-gun at the one named Patch, he grabbed the man's shirt and yanked him off his horse roughly.
"Which one of you cowards shot Emily Langer?"