Showdown at Sundown

Slowly, I stepped out onto the wood paneled sidewalk, looking at Diablo Lobo. I then moved deliberately out onto the dusty street. I used this pace to give myself the time to look around at possible ambush points. I know he’s not alone.

“Hurry up, ya dog, I haven’t got all day,” Diablo growled impatiently.

That’s the other reason to move slowly. He getting frustrated and a frustrated gunman will likely miss his target.

Of course Marshal Hawks’ warning was correct -- I saw a shadow up in the clock tower shift around. No doubt there’s another gunfighter up there who is now aiming a rifle at the back of my head.

“I told you before we don’t have to do this,” I gritted through my teeth at the outlaw. “Dying in the street ain’t right for any man.”

“You’ll be the one dyin’ in the street like a dog, dog,” he rumbled back at me. “You walk out of this town right now or draw.”

We stood face-to-face in the center of the street, separated by 20 yards of dust and hot summer air. I stared at him, keeping my eye on his shooting hand. He stared at me. A tumble weed rolled between us. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

Lobo drew his six-gun and fired. I drew my own pistols and spun sideways, leaning away from the energy bolt lancing across the air towards me. I could feel the sizzle and my sideburn singed as I fired at his hand with the pistol in my left. With the pistol in my right, I fired up at the clock tower.

Lobo yelped as the shot once again separated his pistol from his hand. Another shout was heard from the tower and a rifle fell clattering to the ground.

I stalked up to Lobo and pulled him towards me by his shirt. “This is my town now!” I spat in his face. “If you or anyone else from your gang puts one foot into Laramie Outpost again, I’ll shoot the guns right out of their dang hands. Understand?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he nodded affirmative. To really drive home my point, I socked him right in the jaw and he doubled over backwards into the dirt.

The other gunman tumbled out of the tower rubbing his injured shooting hand. I strode up to him and sent him sprawling with a punch to the jaw as well. I squatted down and hauled him up close to me so I could look him square in the eye.

“What’s your name?”

“B-B- Boris Angus!” he managed to blurt out.

“You like being shot in the hand, Boris?” I asked.

“N- no sir,” he replied.

“I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told Lobo,” I growled. “This is my town. Step foot into my town and you’ll get the same thing again. Get it?”

He nodded and I tossed him back into the dirt. He scrambled to get back up and he stumbled over to Lobo.

“Get goin,’” I said to them.

The two stumbled to the edge of town. “You ain’t seen the last of me, dog!” Diablo shook his fist.

“I got plenty of shots left,” I called back. “How many times you want to do this?”

People were looking through their windows and doorways, some of the braver ones even stepped out onto the sidewalks. Marshall Hawks was leaning against the frame of his door smirking.

“Almost like old times, huh?” the old lawman chuckled.

“Not quite,” I answered. “I had to let them go, though. I’m not the law around here…”

“Then you’re gonna need this.” He tossed something to me. I snapped it out of the air and took a look. In my palm sat a badge. “I’m gonna need a deputy if I’m gonna go round up the Jango James Gang.”

I smiled up at him. “You know where they are?”

He nodded.

“Then let’s go get ‘em.”