Beau’s screech covered the pop of the bullwhip, but nothing could hide the bright gush of blood from his mouth.

Like lightning, Whip’s hand flicked again.

The long lash writhed and snapped, striking too quickly for the eye to follow. Darcy bent over, grabbing his crotch and trying to yell through a throat closed by pain.

Whip didn’t even hesitate. Surprise was on his side, but only for a few more seconds.

Snap.

Clim grabbed his shirt, which was suddenly split from collar to waist.

Snap.

Floyd’s hat was sliced in two.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Beau grabbed for his trousers. The steel buttons that had once held up his pants were bouncing and rolling across the mercantile’s uneven wood floor.

The rest of the Culpeppers were still dancing in place and looking around for the hornet nest they must have kicked over.

«Wonder how you boys would look without your clothes?» Whip asked sardonically.

Snap. Snap.

«Rawboned and filthy, I’ll wager,» Whip continued, «with privates smaller than a rat’s.»

The lash hissed and snapped in savage counterpoint to Whip’s words, flaying buttons from cloth and cloth from flesh.

While the Culpeppers hopped and yelped and their clothes were shredded too quickly for the eye to follow, Whip kept on giving the Culpeppers back the words they had used to bait Shannon.

«Are you going to scream and beg for mercy?» Whip asked. «Or do you like being whipped so much you’ll whine and ask for more? Which will it be, boys? Speak up. Usually I’m a patient man, but you’ve plumb rode my temper raw.»

By now, three of the Culpeppers were bent over, covering their crotches with whatever remained of their pants.

The fourth Culpepper went for his gun.

The bullwhip uncoiled in a blur of speed. Leather shot hungrily around Floyd’s wrist. After a quick, hard jerk, Whip flicked the lash free, retrieved it, and struck again. Floyd yelped and flailed and fell to his knees. Blood streamed from a long cut just beneath both eyebrows.