Hot midday sun streamed through dusty windows as the saloon doors swung open. A man dressed in black strolled in and walked up to the bar.
“Whiskey.”
“Coming right up, Sheriff.” The barkeep pulled down a bottle of the good stuff and grabbed a clean tumbler.
The Sheriff tilted up his black hat and grabbed the glass. He leaned against the bar and looked around the room. His mean snarl melted into a grin.
“Billy, you dumb drunk. Bit early to be drinking?” The Sheriff nodded at a young man posted up at the bar.
“I’d say the same to you, Sheriff,” Billy hoisted up a glass of booze. “To the law,” he said and drank the liquor, letting it linger in his mouth, the bitter taste a welcome gift. The alcohol warmed his belly and doubled his courage.
The Sheriff walked over to Billy. He stretched back his shoulders, towering over the kid. Gulping down his own drink he said, “Yes. ‘To the law,’ Billy. You really ought to clean yourself up. Looking like a goddamn disgrace.”
All eyes were now fixed on the two men; the man in black and the blond, drunk kid. Billy pointed his finger at the Sheriff’s head. He cocked back his thumb, “Click. Boom.”
The Sheriff knocked Billy's hand out of his face. “I’m getting real sick of your attitude, kid.”
“I’m getting sick of you always buggin’ me. Leave me alone.”
“Now it ain’t that simple, Billy. This place needs order, it needs rules, and it needs a hierarchy. You see, I’m at the top of that hierarchy and you...” the Sheriff looked down on the floor. “You are the dirt beneath my boots.”
Face turning beet red, Billy looked into his glass. The Sheriff’s loud laugh rang throughout the room, specks of spittle flying out of his face.
“That’s a good boy Billy. Now you know your place.” The Sheriff patted Billy’s shoulder as he made his way to the door.
Billy gulped down the rest of the booze, not letting it linger this time. He threw the empty glass. It hit the Sheriff in the back of the head.
“Oh, Billy. You shouldn’t have done that.” The Sheriff bent down to grab his hat.
“Let’s settle this like men.”
The Sheriff grinned, putting his hat back on. “Yes, Billy. Let’s.”
The two men walked outside, Billy following the Sheriff. The patrons poured out of the bar after them. The Sheriff took his time walking to the end of the dirt road. A shot rang out. The Sheriff crumpled to one knee, grasping at his pistol. Another shot. The Sheriff hollered grabbing at his arm, letting his pistol fall. Billy walked up to the man on the ground, kicking his pistol aside.
“B-Billy that wasn’t fair.”
“You ain’t ever treated me fair.”
Billy cocked back the hammer, pointing the gun at the Sheriff’s head. Crows and vultures dotted the buildings. Everyone watched. A shot. The birds flew up into the sky.
This is my entry for the Fictioneers Writing Contest.
Thank you to these fine Writers' Block members for making editing suggestions:
