Pleasance

Summer in Lemoyne, Will thought, raising the Schofield six-shooter in his hand. Wish I were anywhere else. The mountains, maybe. Or just someplace far from this cursed red soil, the sweat, the horseflies, and all this damn misery. But it's almost over. One day. One last day, and I'll be gone.

Though it was already September, the heat hung heavy, like a wet blanket. Thick drops of sweat rolled down the young gunslinger's brow. He held his breath, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger.

***

Daniel reined in his horse.

"Easy, easy..." he murmured to the mare, who snorted in protest, her hooves stamping the dirt. "Just a gunshot, girl. Nothing you haven't heard a hundred times before."

He drew a deep breath. The shot had been loud—close. To his left was a shallow puddle. Mattock Pond. That meant someone had fired near the Southfield Flats. There was a farm out that way—a small wooden hut surrounded by a modest patch of crops. At least modest compared to the sprawling plantations this part of the state was known for.

Gunshots weren't uncommon in Lemoyne, but this one set Daniel on edge. Was he finally closing in? Three days had passed since he left Saint Denis. He'd searched every grove, meadow, and camp along the way. And still, no sign of his quarry.

Calm down. Could be anyone. A farmer chasing off crows. Maybe a kid practicing his aim...

"Or those damned Raiders," he muttered under his breath. "Or maybe..."

His brow furrowed. Could it be...?

"Come on, girl." He gave the mare a gentle nudge. "We won't find out sittin' here all day."

***

Will looked up as he set bottles along the top of the fence. Someone was riding in from the east. A lone rider, probably in his late thirties or early forties. The brim of his city-style hat cast a shadow over his face. He was tall and wiry—looked like a tough nut to crack, despite the silly hat and those meticulously shaved cheeks.

Oh, what the hell. Been a while since he had some fun...

Will raised a hand in greeting. The stranger returned the gesture, then turned his horse toward the young man.

"Headin' to Rhodes, huh?" Will called out.

The rider didn't answer right away. Finally, after taking a good look at Will, he replied, "How'd you know I'm headed to Rhodes?"

Will shrugged.

"Where else you gonna go, ridin' through here? Unless you're passin' through on your way to someplace farther, Mr. I-Don't-Know-Your-Name."

"Name's Daniel. Daniel Reed."

"And I'm Landon. Listen..." Will nodded toward the bottles. "I reckon you're not carryin' that Cattleman just for show. How 'bout a quick shootin' contest? See those bottles on the fence?"

Daniel gave a slow nod.

"Eleven of 'em. Hit six, and you win. To make it interesting, let's wager five dollars. Winner takes ten. What d'you say?"

"Fair enough."

Daniel dismounted. He walked toward Will, who stood in the meadow by the road, about forty yards from the targets. The heat was oppressive, but a breeze from Mattock Pond offered a bit of relief.
"When do we start?" Daniel asked.

"As soon as you draw and aim your weapon."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Daniel's mouth. His hand moved fast, reaching for his revolver.