Deep in the heart of old America, where deserts are as vast as oceans and men run wild. Right in the middle of it all stands a small town, where robbers and beggars alike gather in indulgences. Many different kinds of folks come and go. Some stay and others just want a nice bed for the night. God forbid you show a jewel in this town, for those who can not keep their hands to their selves may spill your blood when you least expect it or leave you naked and beaten in the desert. It is truly a place to make a name for yourself in the underworld. Many gangs call this place home, but there lives a notorious man who has been rumored to have hands that are as fast as lightning and the heart of a snake. Many tried to take this man's life, whether it be the law or just another man making a name for himself, but all fell to The Gunslinger. Nineteen men and counting, with each notch to his gun for each head put six feet under. This man usually spends his days at the tavern, drinking his sorrows and worries away, while playing cards to keep the drinks flowing. One day, a man barges into the tavern yelling and demanding The Gunslinger. It is a fairly young man, somewhere in his early twenties. With rage in his eyes and a fiery determination. "Where is he, where is that bastard!?" The tavern goes quiet. They know what is soon to come, and they only watch how things play out. The Gunslinger, surrounded by strangers playing a game of poker, with a beer in one hand and cards in the other, glances up from his cards to peak at the interrupting man. Seeing the man as just an annoying little boy he replies with a firm and robust voice "What do you want boy?"
"I am here to avenge my father." The boy is keeping his hand on his side, clearly on edge. "Go home kid, or you will end up like your daddy." Putting down his cards and now giving the boy his attention. He takes out his gun and puts it on the table trying to intimidate the boy. "If you really wanna die today, then today shall be your day, but I'm finishing my beer first." Lifting his drink the boy quickly walks up to The Gunslinger and slaps his drink out of his hands. His drink spilled across the floor he slams his hand on the table and yells in anger, "damn you boy, fine, if you are in such a rush to die then so be it. Outside now!" The two men make their way out of the door. The compatriots are rushing out of the way and now are pulling out their money. The Bartender shouts, "Place your bets, gentlemen!" The two men ignore the commotion and continue their way out. But the boy out of curiosity turns back just for a moment, seeing that most of the bets are against him. The two men walk out to the center of the road and make some distance between each other, getting ready for their showdown. Those on the road who saw the two made their way inside, hunkering down. Watching through open cracks, doors, and windows. The Bartender with some cash in hand comes out, he clears his throat and says loudly, "Alright you two, on my mark fire!" The Bartender looks at the boy, "Are you ready?"
"Yes sir." The Bartender turns to The Gunslinger, "Are you ready?" He gives a small nod. The Bartender lifts his arm, taking his last glances at the too then shouting, "Ready! Set!" The heart of the boy is racing. Never had he thought he would get this far, and he finally had the man he wanted right in front of him. He can finally take his revenge. His fear starts to become courage and confidence. Years of tracking down this man all for this moment. Memories of his father stand behind him, bringing him to this one specific place and time, all the years without his father. Watching his mother struggle every day to care for him. Finally, he can return home and let his mother know their father was avenged. His hand hovering over his gun ready to finish the job. Subconsouly the boy had expressed a small grin. The whole town has stopped in time for this one moment. Quietly waiting in anticipation. "Fire!" Only a single shot was fired that day. The boy falls back, looking up at the sky. With his hands still on his side, he can be seen with a slight smile on his face as though he had frozen in time. Shouts of profanity from the bar can be heard as some of the men had lost their bet. The Bartender starts to way back, counting up the money as he walks back into the tavern. The Gunslinger walked up to the boy and looked at him. Blood pooled underneath the boy, leaving the boy cold and now an empty husk. The Gunslinger reached down to his boot, reaching in and taking out a small knife. Unsheathing the knife and making another notch on the handle of his gun. Putting back his knife and holstering his gun, The Gunslinger pats down the boy and takes any money he has. With some money in hand, he makes his way back to the tavern. Getting another drink and going back to playing cards. Just another day in this small town. A few days go by, and the body of the boy is gone. Either taken by the undertaker or taken by some madman wanting his belongings. No one truly knows what happened to the boy's body, but the town knows where he had fallen. The blood of the boy had remained, leaving a bloody spot in the sand and dirt in the middle of the road. The Gunslinger continues to visit the tavern, drinking his days and sorrows away. But little did he know there was an arrival of a man who shall change him once again. It was the break of dawn when a ranger had rode into town, roughly the same age as The Gunslinger, he had come riding from the west. Visiting the town and looking for a specific outlaw. Word spread quickly of his arrival, not many men of the law come out to no man's land, especially not a ranger, and yet The Ranger had done so. He had come to do a job and make it quick. Many eyes were on The Ranger watching in anticipation. The Ranger had gone around town looking for the infamous Gunslinger. The towns folk that he had asked directed him to the tavern across the street. As he was walking towards the tavern The Ranger spotted the place where the boy had left his mark. Taking off his hat to pay respect for a moment, and return to business as usual. Entering the tavern The Ranger sees The Gunslinger sitting at the bar alone and quiet, while around him a bustling scenery. The Gunslinger, in his own little world, slowly sipped at his beer. The Ranger already noticing he has an eye on him makes his way to The Gunslinger, as he does. More voices fall silent and stalking eyes follow his movements. Taking a seat next to The Gunslinger, he orders a drink. "I'll take a whisky." The Bartender quickly fixed him his drink, and as he did so The Ranger took out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. Placing is on the table in between himself and The Gunslinger. With a friendly demeanor and a small smile to express his kindness, "I came a long way looking for you. Uncle Sam sent me all the way from Arizona to find you. Twenty-five thousand for your head, dead or alive. You don't seem like the kind of man who would willingly walk out of town with chains on." As he finishes his sentence The Bartender places down his drink. "You sure you have the right man?"
"Oh, I'm sure, a man like you stands out like a sore thumb." With a sigh The Gunslinger gets up from his seat, leaving his drink. "Alright, let's make this quick. Bartender, keep my beer here, I'm not done with it yet."
"The same for me, I'm gonna want to finish my drink later." The Bartender looked at The Ranger with despair, knowing what was to come. The two men walk out as the rest of the compatriots run up to the bar to make their bets. The men gather in the middle of the street, and those around to see quickly make their way off the roads. Returning inside to watch from safety. Soon The Bartender follows suit, making his way out and calling out to the men. "Alright gentleman, are you ready!?" Both men nod their heads, silently watcher the other man. "You can still walk away, you don't have to die today."
"They'll hang me for what I've done. I can at least die on my feet out here instead of my neck"
"Then you shall be fall today."
"You best hope your hands are faster than your wit." The men's demeanor turns to silence and concentration. Staring one another down with intensity and vigor. No more time for games or talking, it's time to throw their lives away and risk it all. "On my mark!" The Bartender shouts. Both men ready their stance. "Ready!" Time slows down as if god himself wishes to watch every detail of this showdown. Their breaths slow down, anticipating their moment to act. "Set!" They set their hands hovering at their side, just inches from their guns. With silence, piercing the town to where even the falling of sand can be heard. These two are no ordinary men, but something more. Moving faster than any more that stood before them, and now to test their true abilities to their greatest degree. "Fire!" At that very moment, only one shot was fired. With a thud, the man falls, and his life abruptly ends in the blink of an eye. All he could have done was draw his gun. As the man lay there lifeless, The Ranger walked up to The Bartender and said, "Hope you left my drink on the counter."
YOU ARE READING
Outlaw
Short StoryUsing the song Big Iron by Marty Robbins as inspiration, I wrote this story as a background story that leads up to where the song takes place.