It was a stand-off pure and simple. As a matter of fact, it was a stand-off straight out of one of those dime novels they hadn't quite managed to wean J.D. off of yet: the prisoner holed up in the livery with no way out, and damn near taking the head off of anyone who tried to get close enough to squeeze off a shot. Thank God the prisoner himself didn't have a gun...but he was capable of doing plenty of damage without one.
Buck Wilmington really hated stand-offs. This one was proving to be no different.
"I thought you said he was dead!" he hissed to his young friend for perhaps the fifth time in as many minutes.
"I thought he was! I emptied my gun into his hideout...he weren't movin' or anything!" J.D. Dunne hissed back, clutching his weapon a little tighter.
"Son, does the word 'possum' ring a bell?"
"He ain't smart enough for that."
"You'd be surprised. Next time, do us all a favor and check for a pulse, ok?" Buck ignored the dirty look his friend shot him and turned back to their quarry. He had to admit, he had been pleasantly surprised when the young sheriff had ridden into town early that afternoon, the prisoner they were currently trying to recapture slung across the rump of his horse. He was a big fella...Buck wouldn't have believed the kid had been capable of taking him down by himself. Of course, Buck's admiration of the feat had been somewhat diminished when the kid had loosened the ropes binding his capture to his saddle and said capture had without warning launched himself at J.D.'s face, tackling him to the ground and then racing for the livery doors. Buck had managed to close them before the prisoner could escape, but he wasn't entirely sure their current situation was preferable.
"I'm sick a' this. I'm gonna charge 'im," J.D. whispered suddenly and before Buck could protest, the youth had launched himself out from behind the relative safety of a stall door and towards the prisoner. Scant seconds later the sounds of a scuffle and a loud cry of pain echoed through the barn. Buck cursed softly as J.D. scrambled backwards, pressing one hand against a slowly spreading spot of blood on his pantsleg.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, cut m'self worse shaving."
"Now when did you start shaving?"
"Very funny." J.D. glared at the prisoner in front of them; so close, yet so far away. It was embarrassing. Here he'd spent all morning tracking the guy through some of the nastiest, bramble-filled undergrowth he'd ever seen, had emptied his goddamned gun into him, and not only was the fella not courteous enough to just lay down and die...he was sitting there *laughing* at them.
"That's it!" he shouted. "This gobbler's goin' down!" Ignoring Buck's warning, he charged the large wild turkey in the corner again. He hit the bird with his full weight, and they rolled head over wings into a pile of hay. The turkey gobbled at him indignantly and began thrashing about like a thing possessed. J.D. felt his grip on the thing slipping, aided by the numerous viscious pecks he was receiving and the wildly beating wings.
"Oh no," he thought, "I ain't gonna be whupped by a bird!" The decision, however, was taken out of his hands as the bird twisted out of his grasp and turned on him. Damn that thing had a sharp beak!
"Ow! Hey, ow! Stop it! Buck, help! Ow!" He wrapped his arms over his head and tried to scoot out of the range of the thing's beak. He risked a glance at where Buck had last been and saw, to his dismay, the gunslinger was leaning was leaning on a stall door, laughing hysterically. "Yeah, yuck it up Buck...I'll get you for this!" he shouted and shot his foot out, catching the bird high in the chest. It tumbled back with a loud, and very angry, screech. J.D. scrambled to his feet and rushed it yet again. He didn't care if he had to strangle the thing with his bare hands...this turkey had a date with a roasting pan! Unfortunately, before he reached it, the bird gained its feet again. It looked at him, puffing its feathers up until it seemed to double in size. J.D. pulled up short. He'd seen that look in horses' eyes before...usually right before they kicked something. "Uh-oh," he thought as the bird let out a terrific screech and charged him.
+ + + + + + +
Vin Tanner had seen many, many things in his life. Very few of them, however, could even come close to comparing to the sight that greeted him when he and the others rushed into the livery to see what all the commotion was about. There was Buck Wilmington, clutching a stall door for support, tears rolling down his face as he laughed. And just beyond him was J.D. Dunne, his shirt and pants spotted with bits of hay and blood...being chased by a very irate turkey. The kid's expression kept shifting between bewilderment and terror as he raced around the barn, jumping over hay bails and dodging around posts, never losing his tormentor.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.
By the time they reached Buck's side, most of them were laughing as hard as him, and even Chris had cracked a smile.
"Guys, c'mon! This ain't funny!" J.D. gasped as he went past them. "He's trying ta kill me!"
"My money's on the turkey," Nathan said to them as J.D. just barely managed to clear another hay bail.
"Do you think we should perhaps lend our assistance in apprehending the fowl?" Ezra asked in mock concern.
"Sure," Vin answered, as J.D. finally tripped and took a header into a water trough. The bird screeched triumphantly as the boy levered himself out of the water and promptly fell to the dirt floor, beating him with its wings and pecking him without mercy. "Eventually."
"Guys! C'mon, HELP!"
The End