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March 24, 2009

Tuesday

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

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"Whoa, whoa! Where you headed, partner?"

Felix froze on the spot and slowly turned to face the voice. His combover flopped wrongways, grazing his left shoulder instead of covering his shiny, sweaty pate. He was out of breath and out of time, a hundred yards from the gate and freedom.

Black shirt, black jeans, black boots, and mirrored sunglasses towered over him. He could hear the fabric straining to contain the bulging muscles on the guard. His voice boomed like dynamite in the hills.

"Mitzi played; now you gotta pay. There ain't no bonin' and boltin' at the Bunny Ranch."

Posted by: R.A. Porter at March 24, 2009 2:02 AM · Permalink

Stepping onto the dusty street Clint moves with long slow steps past the front of the Longbranch Saloon. From behind the swinging doors the redheaded bar-keep watches, a grim smile painted on her pale face. Nodding his head toward her Clint touches his fingers to the brim of his black hat. From his office 'Doc' steps to the street, his worn bag in hand. A rider spurs his horse into a nearby alley. At the far end of the street the marshal stands, his hand hanging inches above his gun.

Maybe Clint should have stayed back at the ranch today...

Posted by: JerryD at March 24, 2009 10:45 AM · Permalink