"Come on out now Pete." The sheriff yelled into the house.
A shot rang out as the bullet ricocheted off the door frame next to the sheriff's leg. Without flinching he let out a sigh. Not a sigh of relief, this was a sigh of exasperation. He was tired, his time as sheriff was coming to a close. He had been in one too many stand offs with kids who wanted to be the next Billy The Kid. He had to shoot three, it wasn't why he took the job. He didn't have any goals of shooting children or racking up body counts.
He motions to his deputies to move around the back of the house. Hopefully they can smoke him out. Another hand signal and the deputies open fire on the house. Bullet after bullet tearing through the home. Intentionally they aim high, they want to scare the kid, not kill him. After a few minutes of this they wait.
A gun flies through the front door landing at the sheriff's feet. Pete walks out hands in the air. Knowing when you're out manned and out gunned is one of life's major lessons. He stops shy of the sheriff. The sheriff throws a single punch knocking Pete to the ground. He's 17, and most would consider him a man. But to the sheriff, he was just a child.
"Pete, I told you, this outlaw shit, has gotten out of hand."
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