Six Gun Justice

Excerpt:

My story is “Ghost Town Gambit” 

featuring gambler John Denton 

as he finds himself in the middle of  of two posses

The sun speared into Denton’s eyes and he woke with a start. For a few seconds, he forgot where he was. He stood, gun up, aiming it around the saloon, looking for the sound that woke him.

He found nothing other than Queen of Spades. The roan softly pawed at the floorboard. Grass grew among the cracks. Her lips sought the sweetness.

“You scared me, girl.” Denton looked outside. The early morning sun shone brightly down on old Main Street. He cursed himself for sleeping so long. He wondered if he was still comfortably ahead.

Hurriedly, he put back on his favorite suit, the one he had laid out to dry the previous night. No shrinkage. Maybe it was a good omen, although Denton prefer to make his own luck. He saddled Queenie, ate another bit of jerky, and gave her a handful of grain. He led her out onto the muddy street, taking care not to dirty his boots. Denton mounted, pulled the reins, and set off at a slow trot.

He made a point to keep his eyes peeled on the east ridge, the one he had passed the previous day. True, he faced west and was doing his best to put distance between himself and the men looking for him, but it never hurt to manage one’s rear.

John Denton smiled. He was free and clear.

Riding to the top of the western ridge, he angled Queenie around mesquite trees and a wall of rock where he saw all the layers of geology. He didn’t hear the gunshot, but he felt the pieces of rock flake off from the bullet’s impact.

“Son of a bitch!” Denton slid off Queenie and scrambled behind a small rock outcropping. He drew his pistol. His horse, trained to keep her cool amid excitement, only moved a few paces from him.

Another gunshot. This time, he heard it. The slug found a home in the limestone. It knocked rubble down beside him.

Whoever was shooting at him was getting closer to the mark. It couldn’t be the men chasing him. They came from the east. It made no sense to come all around the town and ambush him from the west.

Denton got his feet under him. He whistled for Queenie. Snapped his fingers. The horse obeyed and approached him. In a swift move, Denton reached up, snagged his Winchester rifle, and ducked back behind the rock. A bullet pinged off the outcropping. Denton barely made it in time.

From down below came a man’s voice. “We know you’re up there! Come on out and bring the rest of your gang with you!”

“Gang?” Denton muttered to himself. He cupped his hand to his mouth. “You’re wrong. I’m…”

Three rifle cracks sounded in quick succession. Hot lead found new homes in the limestone.

Denton ducked lower.

As trained as Queenie was, even she got restless. Not being a stupid animal, she hung close by the ridge.

“Why in tarnation do they think I’m with a gang?” Denton asked.

Another voice, much closer, and behind Queenie, said, “Because we’re here.”

Denton whirled, bringing his Winchester up with both hands.

A man crouched behind another rock. The sun glinted off the pistol in his hand. His face hadn’t seen a razor in days. His body and its stench needed a good cleaning. His red shirt showed wrinkles on top of wrinkles. The bandana around his neck used to be green. The brown hat atop his head was missing chunks and bits along the brim. It drooped low over his face.

“Who are you?” Denton demanded.

“Name’s Butch. I’m part of the gang that there posse from Fort Davis is lookin’ fer. I was sent out to scout their location. A better question is who are you?”

Denton didn’t lower his rifle. “John Denton. I’m just passing through. Stayed the night in Oakley.”

“Funny. So did we. Wonder why we didn’t hear you.”

“I was in the saloon. You?”

“Livery and the hotel.”

Denton thought about the town’s layout. He had passed the livery on the way to the saloon.

Butch said, “I need to go back, talk to Musgrave.”

“Who’s Musgrave?”

“The leader of my gang the posse’s after.” He indicated the Winchester. “I think it might be a good idea if you were to come along.”

Denton considered his options. He wasn’t sure the trigger-happy posse looking for the Musgrave gang would give him a chance to explain. And the men pursuing him would happily welcome him. In handcuffs.

Lowering the rifle, Denton nodded. “Lead the way.”