|
April 2006 Challenge: Write a story featuring Western clichés.
White hat vs. Black hat, someone getting waylaid with a large sum of money,
riding off into the sunset, an evil/stupid look-alike, a lady in distress, a
winner-take-all poker game, a gunfight, a crooked sheriff. Take
your pick! (Note, the story does not have to be set in OW, it just
needs to feature at least one of the elements.) Bonus points
if you can work in the phrase: "This town ain't big enough for the both of
us."
Moved to Blackraptor November 2009
The air was hushed and heavy,
with only dancing heat waves marring the stillness. One might almost have expected to see
tumbleweeds rolling down the middle of the path, so still and empty was the
landscape. The wind swirled up a tiny
dust-devil and then died, leaving only a cloud of dust to mark its
passing. Even the birds and insects
seemed to pause, holding their breath as they waited to see what would happen.
Across the narrow stretch of
land separating the combatants, two pairs of steely eyes met; challenging,
threatening, all but daring each other to make the
first move.
“This town ain’t big enough
for the both of us, Tanner,” the first combatant drawled, adjusting the brim of
his black hat lower across his eyes to block the late afternoon sunlight that
shone in them and threatened the accuracy of his aim. The fingers of his left hand twitched in
readiness. “You got a price on your head
and I’m aimin’ to collect. Five hundred dollars, dead
or alive.”
Tanner adjusted his stance
slightly, the better to balance the weight of the weapon gripped tightly in his
right hand. The light colored material
of his own battered hat was stained with a ring of darkness at the crown where
his sweat had soaked through. He
likewise settled the hat more firmly upon his brow. “Well then, I reckon you’re gonna have to
take me in dead, ‘cause that’s the only way you’re gonna beat me.”
“Brave words,” the man
sneered, looking down his nose at his shorter opponent. “You really think you can take me in a fair
fight, little man?”
A small smirk tilted Tanner’s
mouth. “Ain’t much fair about it. When it comes to lookin’ down a barrel at the likes of you, I got all the advantage I need.”
“Well then, pup, I suggest
you prove it,” the man growled. “Because
the time to meet your maker is at hand.”
Tanner’s eyes widened as he
watched the other’s gun rise up and take aim faster than he had thought
possible. Lifting his own weapon, he
fired, the shot going wild as he felt the impact of a hit against his right
shoulder. His opponent let go a
snarling laugh, sure of his victory as he again took aim, but Vin Tanner was
not going to surrender quietly. Dropping
to the ground, he rolled out of the way as a hail of ammunition poured down on
him, then came up on one knee and hit the gunfighter full blast in the chest
with his own second shot.
For a moment, his opponent
simply stood there, staring down at the dripping chest wound with a look of
utter surprise on his face. Then, his
weapon dropped into the dirt and he fell to his knees clutching both hands
tightly over the damaged area as though trying to hold his life-force inside by
sheer will. In slow motion he
knee-walked over to a small patch of grass, struggling to rise to his feet, but
finally he could go no further and he collapsed to the ground, staring up at
the bright blue sky overhead.
Vin came and stood over his
enemy, who now lay panting and coughing slightly as his end drew nearer. With compassion in his voice, Vin promised, “I’ll see you get a proper buryin’, pard.”
“You’re a good man, Vin
Tanner,” the dying man said, moaning pitifully.
Reaching out one hand, he clutched at Vin’s shirt.
“I never believed ya murdered anybody, but I
had to try ya.
My mother needs that reward money bad.”
“I understand,” Vin told
him. “You gotta do right by your ma.”
“Tell her I died with my boots
on, will ya?”
For a moment, Vin looked confused as he glanced down at his opponent’s
feet, confirming that he wasn’t actually wearing boots, but he only said, “I
promise.”
Again, the man coughed. “And tell my friends … that I want a white
headstone … and flowers on my grave … and lots of singin’
… and cryin’ … and fancy preachin’ at my funeral.”
Vin’s eyes danced with amusement as the list grew longer,
but again he said, “I promise.”
“Then I can die a happy
man.” With a loud groan, the man
released the grip on his killer’s shirt, falling back to the ground, his limbs
flopping and jerking, and gave one last choking breath as he went still, his
eyes closing for the last time.
Crossing the dead man’s arms
over his chest, Vin picked up his opponent’s fallen
weapon, blew on the barrel and gave it a twirl as he shoved it into an
imaginary holster and proclaimed solemnly, “And so the brave lawman Vin Tanner
lived to fight another day. He jumped
aboard his trusty horse…” He paused;
turning around in a circle as he suddenly realized that his steed was no longer
where he had left it. “Buck!”
Buck Wilmington jumped up
from the porch steps, where he had taken a seat to watch the battle. Striding over he knelt with his back to Vin. “Hop aboard,
kid.”
“Buck!” Vin
groaned again, his tone exasperated.
“Oh, sorry,” Buck said,
giving a snort followed by a good imitation of a whinny.
Happy, Vin
climbed aboard and nudged him with his knees.
When Buck compliantly rose, he resumed his narrative. “Tanner and his faithful horse companion, Bucklin, rode off to new adventure, always knowing they had
to stay one step ahead of bounty hunters like the wicked, but now dead,
Handsome Ezra.”
Taking off his hat, Vin waved it in the air and let go a triumphant whoop. Buck obediently followed the prompt and
galloped westward in the direction of the setting sun.
As the game drew to a close,
Ezra rose from the ground and dusted himself off as the eight year old was set
down and ran back to check on him. “That
was fun, huh?” the boy asked eagerly.
“You died really great, Uncle Ezra.”
“Thank you, Vin,” he said, exchanging a grin with Buck. “It was one of my better performances, I
think.”
He nodded vigorously. “I thought so too. When Chris and JD get home from JD’s doctor
visit, we should do it again for them!”
Pulling the wet material of
his shirt, still sopping from the blast he had received from Vin’s super-soaker, away from his
body, Ezra smiled ruefully. “Perhaps we
can just tell them about it.”
The End
Feedback: virginiacitygirl@comcast.net
Obviously this is set in the modern-day LB universe. LWTD stands for the “Larabee, Wilmington, Tanner, Dunne” ranch. I just didn’t want to give the game away before you read the story.