Tombstone Hawk (Short Story)

Tombstone Hawk

      Hawk Colt leaned over the campfire, stirred the coals, made a flat spot and placed the black-bottomed pot there. Partly closing his deep blue eyes because the mild breeze blew the smoke into his face. A rebellious lock of his blond hair fell down, partially blocking his view. He definitely needed a haircut. The next town would give him one along with a clean shave. In the meantime, he used the fingers of his left hand to comb the lock back out of the way, while using his right to stir the stew pot, so it wouldn't burn on the bottom, close to the hot coals. Although he was only 19 and 5 feet 11 inches tall, he weighed about 160 pounds with plenty of muscle. When he was 15, he was already stronger than the average man. So now, he was someone not to be trifled with. However, generally most treated him like a 'boy.' He hated it when he was called that.

      "Is that 'bout ready?"

      "Yes Pa, maybe nother couple a minutes."

      "Okay, let me know when it starts a steamin and a bubblin. Meantime, I'll pack up deh rest of our gear."

      "Sounds good. Twon't be long."

      Henry Colt, his father, smiled, "Alright... you kin help me finish up after we eat."

      Hawk returned his smile with a smile of his own. "Sounds like a deal."

      As they were eating, Hawk noticed a stranger approaching on a horse from the east. So, he nudged his father with his elbow. When their eyes met all he said to his father was, "Yonder." Then he returned his gaze upon the approaching stranger.

      Automatically their right hands instinctively dropped down to their guns strapped in holsters at their hips. They both had the fairly new .38-40 "Peacemakers" as they had come to be called. Well maintained. They also had a .38-40 Winchester lever action rifle which was lying at his father's side. Very practical, because it used the same ammunition as their pistols. So, they only needed to buy one type of bullet. For distance -the rifle, for close range -their six-shooters.

      His father cleared his throat when the stranger drew near, "Howdy Mister, everythin alright?"

      "Yep, fine. Okay if I join ya?"

      "Sure. Like some stew?"

      "If yeh can spare some."

      "Yeah, my son eats too much anyway. He won't mind yeh havin his extra."

      "Hawk Smiled and nodded. "Tie yer horse with ours an join us."

      The stranger got down from his horse, had a spell of coughing and said, "Pardin meh manners... Ahem... We should introduce ourselves."

      Henry smiled, "Oh yeah, right. I'm Henry Colt, an dis is meh son Hawk."

      "Pleased teh meet yeh. I'm John Holliday, but yeh can call me Doc."

      "Doc... dat's a different name..."

      "Yeah, it's cause I... (cough) used to be a dentist. I guess I still could be one if yeh had some tooth trouble."

      "Interestin... good teh know... thanks... Hawk, give im yer bowl. Yer bout done anyways... Hawk's a quick eater. Hope yeh don't mind usin the same bowl Mister... Holliday."

      That's fine and call me Doc as the rest of meh friends do. Even some of my enemies."

      "Hope yeh don't have too many a dose."

      "Not too many, but some."

      "Well, dat's alright... these days not everybody likes everybody."