Bullets struck far in front of Venters, and whipped up the dust and then hummed low into the sage.

The range was great for revolvers, but whether the shots were meant to kill or merely to check advance, they were enough to fire that waiting ferocity in Venters.

Slipping his arm through the bridle, so that Wrangle could not get away, Venters lifted his rifle and pulled the trigger twice.
He saw the first horseman lean sideways and fall.

He saw another lurch in his saddle and heard a cry of pain.

Then Wrangle, plunging in fright, lifted Venters and nearly threw him.