"Don't 'wait a minute' me. My finger's right oneasy on this trigger an' I'd just as soon shoot a mule rustler."
"We were going to bring him back."
The smaller man laughed jeeringly and another rifle cracked as Tad shot from behind the wagon. There was a sodden "splat" as the bullet struck the muzzle of the rifle covering Joe and Ellis. It snapped out of the short man's hands, dropped to the ground, and as it did the black mule began to rear. The man holding him reached frantically for his revolver, but he needed both hands on the rope. Ellis dived to his bedroll and rose to a kneeling position with his own rifle.
"Suppose," he said almost pleasantly, "that you two take a turn at not moving! I can shoot, too."
Rage overspread the smaller man's face. The mule quieted, and the man holding him tried to slip beside him. But Joe had his rifle and Tad was reloading.
Joe said quietly, "Get the mule, Ellis."
Ellis walked up to take the black mule. He led him aside, and Joe remained quiet.
"You two drop your guns."
They let their firearms fall to the ground. Joe ordered, "Now get out. You can pick up your guns after we leave. But if we see either of you again, we'll shoot to kill."
They strode back toward where they'd left whatever mounts they'd ridden here. Pale and shaken, Emma got out of the wagon to stand beside Joe.