Main Character: Buck
He would shoot the next person who asked if if he was all right. “Hell no, I'm not all right” he thought to himself as he slowly made his way down the boardwalk toward the sheriff's office.
Tugging his hat lower or at least trying to, hoping to shut out the sun''s light that seemed to be trying to drill through to the other side of his head, he did his best to quicken his steps to reach the cool dimness inside the jail.
Finally getting inside and easing himself down into the chair, he closed his eyes, and lay his face down on his arms on the desk. Thanking God above that there weren't any prisoners at the moment, he didn't think he could taken their noise or the smell, and he knew definitely he wouldn't have been able to take both.
Finally he could feel the tension begin to ease back as the stillness filled him, only to have it returned ten fold when the door opened with a voice calling out.
You on duty? Thought it was my turn” Josiah boomed in a cheerful voice.
Squinting up in the best glare he could muster, “I'm here” his voice though whispered got the message across.
Brother, you don't look too good, are you all right? Maybe I should go find Nathan...” Josiah offered, tilting his head trying to get a better look at the turned down face.
No, just leave me alone,” was a barely spoken breath of an answer that came.
He heard the door close as his friend left, and grumbled to himself again, ”One more person asks if I'm all right and I'm going to shoot someone.”
Again burying his face into his folded arms, he once more let the quiet do its work and ease the hammers in his head.
He had just felt the first sign of the pounding pain receding, when again the door opened and a voice, though smooth as honey, still set the hammers banging again.
Oh, I was looking for Mr. Sanchez. I thought this was his allotted time to do the overseeing of our law enforcement duties.” Ezra announced when he saw it wasn't Josiah sitting behind the desk.
No, I'm here. Go away.” The squinted glare once again appeared up from his arms.
Good Lord, you look decisively close to a walking corpse. Are you all right? Should I go and retrieve Mister Jackson to see if he can possibly bring life back into your coloring?” Ezra asked.
No, just leave me alone,” he growled low and menacing. He buried his face once more into the darkness of his arms as he heard the door close, again thinking. “So help me, next person comes in that door asking me if I'm all right, I'm going to let them have it.”
Trying for a third time to ease the tension that was banging away inside his skull, he didn't even get the chance to feel the quietness when the door flew open again banging against the wall.
Shooting out of the chair with his gun drawn and aimed, he stared confused and angrily at his six friends filling the doorway and office.
“Heard you weren't looking too good there, son, you have a bad headache or something? Are you all right?” Buck asked.
Hell no, I'm not all right! I've got a hangover that would put down a herd of buffalo and all you know it, since it was all of you shoving drinks at me last night when you found out it was my birthday,” Vin huskily growled before collapsing back into the chair with a moan and burying his head in his arms, wondering if the sound his mare leg would make shooting his friends, be worth making his aching head finally split open...
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