The Banker and The Scatter Gun.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Westerns  |  House: Booksie Classic
He stopped at stepping on the first step, Just outside the shade of the porch,

His hand rested on a porch post, Just below an old kerosine torch.

His eyes sharpened to a pinpoint, Silently he called her a name,

Submitted: March 02, 2007

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Submitted: March 02, 2007

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He stopped at stepping on the first step, Just outside the shade of the porch,

His hand rested on a porch post, Just below an old kerosine torch.

His eyes sharpened to a pinpoint, Silently he called her a name,

He dared to go no farther, For twin barrels stared at him through a pane.

He doffed his hat in a gentlemanly manner, With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Sweat rolled from his forehead, Brought on from a noon time sky.

"Not inviting me in? Thought you were friendlier than that."

Spittle filled his mouth, He turned his head and spat.

"No matter, I’ll say my piece here. What I got sure won’t take long.

I’ve offered you more than fair money." Actually not more than a song.

He eyed the twin barrels in the shadow, Waiting for something in reply

The quiet was ominously loud, Suddenly he realized he was dry.

His hand reached for an olla, Hanging just in the shade,

His fingers slid to the handle of a dipper. He drank until his thirst was stayed.

He thought there would be no witnesses, A woman alone way out this way.

He would sign her name on the paper, Dead, she would have nothing to say.

"Your man’s been dead over a year, Ain’t no way you can make this place pay,

Soon you’ll be asking for a loan, And I’m offering the going rate."

His hand itched to go for his pistol, Just shoot her and it would all be done,

Still he stayed his actions, There was something about that scattergun.

Leaden eyes sighted down the barrels, Unseen hands firmly gripped the stock.

This place was hers alone, With blood and sweat her husband had bought.

"This place has got good potential, Cattle could fatten on the feed,"

He didn’t mention the minerals or ore, But his eyes filled with greed.

"Guess I best be going," The noonday sun heard him say.

Would this draw her out past the doorway? Would he have time to make his play?

He turned away from the porch step, Crossed to his saddled horse,

Lingered just an instant, But heard twin clicks that felt no remorse.

He mounted on his mode of travel, turned and rode slowly away,

He may own the place in the future, But the future certainly wasn’t this day.

The scattergun pulled from the window, but her eyes stayed on the fading man.

When the horizon engulfed him she eased into a chair by a stand.

The scattergun broke open, she stared at twin empty barrels,

If the man had only known, her life would have been in peril.

The scattergun had been empty, still with bravado she fought.

But she must go into town, and buy some powder and shot.


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