The sweat rolled down the temple of my head. My hand tense as a wire and as calm as a gentle breeze. The bastard on the other side of the street is doing just as well as I am. Lead bellied and itching to strike. This is what I love, seeing the other try to hide their terror behind they eyes. Though this one, this one. . . He's confident. This ain't his first rodeo seems like. Though it'll be his last. I'll see to it.
And like a cobra, I strike. My grasp tightens around the handle of Emilia and I aim at the sonuvabitch. He's quick, maybe as quick as I, but alas he's too late. Maybe by even half a second, but he's late. And that'll cost the fucker. I pull the trigger and Emilia fires her vengeance upon the man on the other side of the street. He stiffens, his left eye and gone and replaced with a red hole that quickly spurts some of the bastards blood and brains. That's quite a shock, didn't know he had any. Now that I take a look, his head now seems a bit mishaped. Though he falls back before I could admire the carcass any longer.
After a second I blow the tears billowing from Emilia's barrel and put her away with a loving tap. I mutter comforting words to her, apologies and reassurances, as I walk on over to my dead friend. I look down to see, well, nothing less than a mess. His left eye is a bloody mess and his other eye seems to have popped out a little. The head seems a bit bigger, maybe I scrambled his brains a bit and broke the cranium encasing the organ.
"Burn in hell there, muchacho. I wanna see you nice and crisp when I get there." I say bitterly and turn. The people of Hellfire stare from where they stood. An older man, he seems familiar, hobbles over.
"Missah Kraus, when's you the sheriff 'gehn?" The old man asked as he looked at the corpse of a dead white man.
"I ain't out of retirement. Just settling some scores. Get the deputies to clean this feller up." I reply as I adjust my hat and glance at the dead man. "And tell Sheriff Wydell I says hi."
"Okays missah Kraus, I's get right on it's." The man says as he hobbles away to the jail, a few deputies already rushing out to investigate the shooting.
I turn as I pull a list from my vest pocket. My hand fumbles around my other pockets for my pencil. My fingers find it and pull it out, I search the names written on the paper. I cross out 'Jim Hayes' and continue on my way.
. . .
Wrote this one on Discord
