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got the balls." He began.
The sound of the safety being released on the shotgun was like a cannon going off in the room. Everyone stopped moving and it got deathly quiet.
"You heard what I said." Buddy told him. "You ever beat my Momma again and I'll kill you."
Tom Walker stood there, without speaking, eyes red from too much moonshine and no sleep. He could see it in Buddy's eyes. He would do exactly what he said. The barrels were unmoving, no tremble, no wobble.

"Git outa the way boy," said Tom a bit hesitantly. "I'm going down to Fanny's. I'm hungry."
Buddy backed up until his left foot touched the short wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, and then stepped around the wall. He pushed a chair in front of himself to make it hard to get to him.
Tom Walker crossed the room, measured his chances and decided he didn't like the odds. At the door, he stopped and turned to look at Buddy.
"Don't be here when I get back."
"Or what?"
"You a big man with that gun in you're hand, ain't you?" Tom asked, his whiskey bravado returning.
Buddy didn't answer, he just smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes and stepped around the chair.
Tom's eyes widened a little, some of the fear returning. Sometimes this kid was a little crazy, he might just do it. Caution won and Tom pushed the ragged screen door open and stepped out into the night. His Chevy truck was parked right near the door and he snatched the driver's door open and got in.
The old truck fired the minute its motor turned over and Tom ground it in gear, spun around in the yard and rammed Buddy's fifty-six Chevy on the passenger's side. The big brush guard crunched the door badly. Tom backed free then shoved the gearshift forward into first gear and rammed it again. When he looked toward the house he could see Buddy coming out the front door and he gunned the engine as he headed for the highway.
Buddy threw the shotgun to his shoulder, firing first one barrel then the other. The first shot took out the rear window and the second smashed the right side mirror. The empty shells made a tinny thump as they ejected from the shotgun. Buddy already had two more in his hand to reload the gun.
"Shit," Tom exclaimed as he slid down in the seat and floored the gas pedal. The old truck spun sideways as it hit the pavement and Tom fought it straight without slacking off on the gas.
Buddy fired another shot, taking out the left taillight before the truck was too far off to hit. He pushed the lever that broke the

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