28
Legend of.....
Spittoon
Dirty Money
Untitled
by
Mr. White
Vultures circled high above. High noon. Hardly a shadow for anything. It would be death for any soul out in the open desert unprepared. Not him. He had a purpose. And he wasn't going to be put out by nature being what it was. After the flash flood he figured that as long as he had his hat on, sunshine couldn't do so much harm. His hat was dry again. If those birds didn't quit it, they would be the meal before what ever was at the sundry.
The rider squinted and kept his mount at a decent pace. Both were tuckered out from travel. First the rain, then the flood, then the coyotes. Up in the distance, rippling like a ghost was Rio de Santos. No matter what it was called. It was a place to rest, feed and water his horse and clean guns. A real cowboy knows that if he tends to those they'll never let him down.
What he didn't know is moving faster than the wind was his own reputation. A guy as mighty, as bad and bold as this man don't go unnoticed. It's like trying to hide a buffalo in a general store. People talk and stories come to life and run. Rio de Santos knew he was coming. The honest people, repressed by the rotten, no good mayor privately hoped for him to come sooner. His enemies, the men who don't try and hide their deeds plot. Not without fear. They were shaking in their boots. Would they be able to form a posse in time? Nope. Even with the man not yet in town, it was too late for them.
Word had it that he could take out not one but two eyes in one shot if he needed to. And if he needed to, it was a promise they'd never see anything ever again. Could have been that he was that good of a shot or maybe he was blessed by a shaman. Or maybe his own will itself made bullets hit their mark out of fear for what he'd do to them.
....that's all I got so far. I was thinking of writing it out by hand. Sure wouldn't take so fucking long.