You could hear horses go from gallop to trot as they neared the saloon. The dust began to settle behind the swinging saloon doors. Boots began to walk on the sidewalk and the clinking of the spurs grew louder as they got closer. I heard all of this as I was drinking some whiskey and staring at the bar. As a man in my position I am used to listening for these things. The doors swung open then close and the boots and spurs stopped. I could hear some of the folks in the place get up and leave and the bartender was getting out of the line of fire. By then I could tell this wasn't going to end good. It was completely silent then I heard the stranger pull back the hammer to his gun. I didn't wait another second. I spun around and fired twice. There were a total of three shots. The stranger was on the ground and I wasn't hit anywhere. But when I turned around to finish off my whiskey the bullet from the strangers gun had hit my glass. So I took it as a sign I should stop drinking. But after thinking about it for a while I felt foolish and ordered another round.
© Copyright 2016 James Eastwood. All rights reserved.
Poem / Poetry
Short Story / Westerns
Poem / Other
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