Clint doesn't say anything and attempts to walk around. Though the three weren't having it and adjusted to stand again blocking the road to the small town.

Rat face: "We know where you're going. Why don't you drop that bottle share a little with us?"

Clint: "When pigs fly, get out of my way."

Weasel face: "Ah don't be that way there's no hard feelings right guys?"

They all nod and cackle maliciously like jackals. The last of them spitefully spits on the ground, nearly missing Clint's shoe, with a tobacco tar glob coming from his fat lower lip of the long under-bite jawed of a horse's face.

Rat face: "Hey come on, don't be rude man." he sneers to his comrade while his slanted beady eyes stay fixed on Clint. "Tell you what, you hand over that bottle, and apologize? You can go home. Sounds reasonable? Right guys?"

"Yeah" the rest of the snakes say with clenched and unclenched fists staring at the farm boy.

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Clint: "Alright...here..."

Clint slowly saunters up relaxed as a cool cat and slowly hands the bottle to rat face.

Rat face: "And the apology?" With a shit eating grin revealing a missing tooth and yellow teeth.

"What a bitch..." Horse face says under his breath clearly meant to be heard, though as he goes to hawk another spit at Clint's shoe, he finds a hooked fist coming to meet his fat lip. Making him swallow his chew and a few teeth as a chaser. He is sent sprawling into the dirt, unconscious, broken like his glass jaw. The weasel faced cretin throws a punch clipping the side of Clint's cheek then goes low aiming to take out Clint's knees in a wrestler's grab to pin him to his back. Though surprisingly meets with a knee to the underside of his jaw. He too goes down in a heap like wet rags. Clint walks up to the last of the rotten bunch taking the sloshing bottle from the rat face's trembling weak grip. Clint aims a menacing haymaker at his face.

"No-Not the face!" Rat face reflexively puts his paws up remembering the last time one of these fist sized sledgehammers taught him a lesson. A sharp excruciating pain originating from the groin, that only a man can know, incapacitates him. After a well-deserved swift kick to the nuts Clint

pushes him over like a lean stick in the whining high pitched wind.

Clint walks off into the early setting sun.