They called me Wild Bill, all my life.
Then I moseyed into Busted Gulch.
When I went into the saloon and the bartender asked my name, I said, "Wild Bill Temple."
There was a hush over the saloon.
I thought my reputation had preceded me, but then the bartender leaned across the bar.
"You have to change your name stranger."
I slapped back the cheap whiskey.
"Another barkeep. And why would I change my name."
Suddenly the saloon doors opened up.
There was another hush that fell over the saloon.
I turned, the bartender's voice in my ear.
"That's why," he barely whispered.
The man walked straight to me.
"You the one they call Wild Bill?"
"What of it?"
The man laughed.
"I am Three Gun Wild Bill Dakota Kid, Jr."
I dropped my glass to the floor.
He did exist.
I had heard rumours and there were talks, on the desert, late at night.
But I thought ...
"We have a situation, stranger. We can't have two Wild Bill's in Busted Gulch."
I swallowed hard.
I thought it was the end.
Three Gun Wild Bill Dakota Kid, Jr., laughed and slapped my back.
"From now on, you will be known as Billy Bob Pete."
He slapped my back again.
"Buy me a drink, Billy Bob Pete."
YOU ARE READING
Busted Gulch vol 1
AdventureCome to Busted Gulch and meet the unique characters there. A @lyttlejoe creation. An Old West story (kinda) in Poetry and Prose. A unique story that not only is a fun read but continues in the comments by the writers themselves. Come check out the...