Although shooting lessons had been a part of that, Clint’s intention had been to help Carl walk a little straighter. That was it, and that seemed like an awfully long time ago. Back then, Carl had been quiet and unassuming. Clint supposed he still was those things, but they didn’t fit him the same way as they had back then. Now, Carl was still quiet. He just seemed to be seething quietly instead of scurrying like a frightened mouse. That short time ago, Clint certainly wouldn’t have guessed to hear the next words to come out of Carl’s mouth. “I nearly killed the men responsible for shooting up Pace’s. I had ’em in my sights, but I didn’t pull the trigger. Sorry,” he added with a deferential look at Clint. “I meant squeeze the trigger.” “What men?” Clint asked. Carl looked at the cabin and then leaned over a bit so he could see through one of the windows. Once he saw that his sister was still inside, he said, “George, for one. There are some others, but I don’t know exactly who they are.”
