Dead or Alive

“Haven’t seen ‘em,” said the old barkeep in a deep, gravelly voice after examining the sketch held before him. “Sorry.”

The saloon was empty save for the bartender and his assistant and their first visitor of the day. On the other side of the counter, the tunicked cowboy draped in a raggedy poncho and donning a dark hat folded the paper into his pocket and let out a sigh.

“I see,” he said. He tipped his hat with a “Thank you kindly for your time,” and strolled toward the exit. Before the cowboy could push through the swinging doors, however, the barkeep called out saying, “Wait. Have I seen you ‘round here before?” The cowboy shrugged and replied “Doubt it; I’m just passin’ through,” as he continued his exit.

Outside, the early morning sun scorched the small town with little clouds to shield a wanderer. As a single, large bird swayed in the wind high above, the cowboy untied his horse’s reigns and began walking down the central road of sandy dirt and scattered cobblestones. The horse was similarly cloaked in cloth to protect it from the sun’s rays leaving only its shining hooves revealed. Small, dark holes in the cloth allowed the horse to see from underneath its garments. The town was extremely quiet, even for the early hours of the weekend, but the cowboy kept along the main road which was all but vacant.

As the bartender shined his glasses in preparation for the afternoon and evening booms, his eyes caught sight of a familiar character. One of the many posters nailed to the announcements board displayed a sketch of the cowboy who had just left the premises.

Curtis “DAWN” Conrad

Wanted: DEAD or ALIVE

Reward: 10 G

The bartender choked on his chewing tobacco as he read the poster. His assistant patted his back and as his coughing calmed down, the barkeep rushed to the door. A 10-gold reward!? the bartender thought to himself as he swung through the batwing doors and looked up and down the road. He squinted under the sun and found the lone traveler not too far gone, but before he could call out, another figure stepped out in the road in front of the cowboy.

Curtis stopped and his horse froze in its tracks. A man in large boots and a wide brimmed hat stood with his hands on his hips facing Curtis. A gleaming badge at the man’s breast revealed his authority in town and the quiet atmosphere began to make sense.

“Curtis Conrad,” the sheriff called out. He stood roughly thirty feet from the cowboy and wore a revolver on his hip. “The Outlaw known as ‘Dawn.’ What are you doin’ in our little town?”

“I think you’re mistaken, sir,” Curtis replied. “My name’s Arthur Ray. I’m just passing through town; not meaning to cause any trouble.” The sheriff spit on the ground and chuckled.

“You sure look like Curtis Conrad,” he said with a heavy swallow. “Now quit yer playin’ and come quietly. No need for reckless behavior here.” He fingered the handle of his revolver. Curtis gave up his act quickly—it was obvious his identity was known before he even made it this far. Curtis kept his arms by his side and slowly worked his hand under his poncho. With the slightest nudge of his cloak, however, the sheriff realized the threat and drew his gun. Curtis froze.

That was pretty fast, Curtis thought. With his test complete, Curtis raised his arms above his head. As the sheriff moved closer, revolver still aimed at Curtis, the cowboy made a proposition.

“I call upon my right to a duel.” The sheriff halted.

“Outlaws have no such right,” the sheriff answered. “Besides, sheriffs are exempt from duels. I can only bear witness.”

“Fine, then put me under arrest. I challenge my charge through a duel with the officer who detained me or a representative substitute,” Curtis stood still and kept his hands high. His horse made not a sound nor movement.

“You’re an Outlaw; you can’t do that,” the sheriff retorted.

“But as sheriff, you can make exceptions in your jurisdiction,” Curtis stated. “Whether I’m an Outlaw or just an aggressive drunk, you can bend the rules a bit if it’s in your interest.”

Another voice cried out from the sheriff’s station saying, “He’s just trying to bait you, sheriff! Don’t do it!” The sheriff glanced to see several officers watching from the door and windows of the building.

“I meant what I said about not wantin’ any trouble here,” Curtis called. “Let’s have a duel and if you win you can arrest me, but if I win, then I leave.”

The sheriff replied, “You’re forgettin’ the part where one of us ends up dead in the dirt.”

“Listen, sheriff,” Curtis said in as polite a tone as he could muster, “let’s not make this more complicated than it has to be. I don’t think you want to do this.”

“Wha– no. You listen, Dawn,” the sheriff said feeling a bit frustrated. “You’re in no position to negotiate. Come along and if it’s a fight for your freedom you want, then that’s a Ranger’s job.”

“How about I don’t use a weapon and I call it a win if I can dodge your bullet?” The sheriff was stunned by the audacity of the supposedly very dangerous Outlaw which invaded his town.

“You’re not goin’ to give this up, are ya?” the sheriff asked. Curtis grinned underneath his hat. The sheriff let out a long sigh and mumbled, “I must be some kind of idiot.” He holstered his revolver as Curtis slowly lowered his arms. The officers at the sheriff’s office groaned in disbelief as the sheriff and the Outlaw met and took even steps out to about twenty paces before turning to face each other. The horse was leashed to a post outside the sheriff’s office, and still stood completely still unless instructed by Curtis.

Sweat beaded on the sheriff’s forehead as the sun rose to the middle of the sky. Curtis stood calmly with his right hand lifted to reveal a similar revolver on his belt. The sheriff’s righthand fingers twitched as he waited for another officer acting as witness to call the shot. By then, locals had begun peeking through their window shutters and sneaking around back alleys to spectate the duel which no one thought would occur. The bartender from before climbed atop his assistant’s shoulders to get a better view from down the road; others just used binoculars.

The directing officer raised a stone above his head with one hand. He lowered his arm before swinging it right back up and launching the rock into the air. The officer lunged out of the way as the collective heart of the town skipped a beat. The stone plummeted to the ground and just as a thud indicated impact, two shots were fired almost simultaneously. Some members of the hiding audience looked away while the rest were stunned by what they saw.

The sheriff’s gun smoked as the sheriff stood frozen waiting to see if pain struck his abdomen. Curiously, while the sheriff’s revolver was pointed at Curtis, Curtis’s gun was pointed far above the sheriff—almost straight up—and he leaned to one side as if actually attempting to dodge the bullet. No one was sure what to make of the spectacle, but not a few moments after the shots, a condor fell from the sky and onto the sheriff’s head causing him to stumble. Curtis sprinted at the distracted sheriff and sent a flying knee to his stomach which brought the sheriff to the ground.

Curtis knocked the sheriff out cold with the back end of his revolver and stood again. Without waiting a second, Curtis retrieved his horse while the townsfolk were still dazed by the horrible turn of events and began riding out of town. A few seconds later, some officers fired at Curtis as he tried to make his escape, and others raced over to try and awaken the sheriff. Curtis held his hat as he ducked as low as he could on the horse’s back and commanded it to move full speed ahead. Bullets whizzed by as the Outlaw kept his head low making it hard to see in front of him, but soon the bullets stopped and Curtis thought he had escaped the thick of it.

As he raised his head again, Curtis was greeted by another imposing figure standing in the middle of the road. The man wore similar garments to Curtis, though a little cleaner, and seemed undeterred by the speeding steed heading directly for him. Curtis decided he wanted nothing more than to leave town, so he charged on, but the man ahead stood firm. The figure reached at his hip and drew a revolver and fired two shots at Curtis and his horse. Curtis tried steering his horse out of the way, but the loose dirt made the horse’s hooves skid and caused Curtis to slip off his mount’s back.

Curtis tumbled along the ground as his horse ran toward the edge of town before slowing to a stop. He moaned in pain and clutched at the left side of his stomach. Looking up, Curtis could hardly see the man standing over him with the sun blaring above—not to mention the barrel of a revolver inches from his skull consuming most of his gaze, as well.

“A little bird told me you’re looking for a duel,” said the voice belonging to the hand holding the gun. His accent was slightly different than Curtis’s and those in town, but Curtis paid no attention to it. A head peaked from behind the revolver and the man continued, “The name’s Nathan Bowman; you can call me ‘Sly.’ You were looking for a Ranger, right?”

Curtis swallowed hard and he could feel the sweat beginning to drip down his face. Great, he thought. I don’t have time for this, especially since I didn’t actually dodge that bullet earlier. He continued putting pressure on his abdomen. Not to mention I only had one shot left; I was really hoping to buy some ammo before heading out. I can’t deal with a Ranger right now.

Sly interrupted his thoughts. “Y’know it’s actually quite fortunate for me that you’re here, Mr. Dawn.” Curtis adjusted himself on the ground to better see the Ranger, but the revolver aimed between his eyes ensured that he didn’t stand.

“I didn’t think Rangers patrolled out this far,” Curtis said.

“Well, you could actually be my big break,” Sly responded with a bit of excitement. “Get me promoted for work in larger towns—or even the Big City, if your bounty was higher, that is.”

“Don’t let the government’s numbers tell you exactly how much a man is worth,” Curtis groaned.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Sly replied. “Come on, get on up.” Sly gestured to the side with his gun and Curtis began to rise. “Hands up, come on, now,” Sly directed. Curtis stood facing a building as Sly felt around underneath his poncho. Sly’s expression became one of slight surprise when he found two revolvers at Curtis’s hips, both empty. Sly chuckled. “This really is my lucky day, huh, Mr. Dawn?” Curtis winced as Sly patted the Outlaw’s torso before stepping back from Curtis. Curtis turned around to finally get a clear view of Sly.

The Ranger wore a neat poncho stained blue with decorative borders and a clean hat. A band around his arm signified his rank as a Ranger. As an Outlaw by decree of the government, Curtis knew a thing or two about Rangers and could tell without Sly’s help that the Ranger before him was not of high status; he didn’t look like a rookie, though, and couldn’t have been more than a few years Curtis’s senior. Curtis’s guess was that he must have been demoted or something along those lines. Otherwise, he thought, there probably wouldn’t be a Ranger this far west.

Sly broke into Curtis’s thoughts once again, saying “Now I know what you’re probably going to say. I overheard your banter with the sheriff, and I’ll tell you right away that a duel could be fun, for sure, especially after what I witnessed up the road.” The sheriff then approached the two cowboys, still wobbly from his injuries and propped up on one side by another officer, and spoke in a submissive tone to the Ranger with his hat in his hands.

“Mr. Sly, sir,” the sheriff started. “I–I’m really not sure what came over me. I think it might just be best to lock this Outlaw in jail ‘til—”

“I’ll be calling the shots from now on, thank you,” Sly interrupted. “I think I’m more than qualified to handle this on my own, sheriff.” The sheriff apologized quietly and backed away. Curtis cringed very slightly at the exchange. Sly turned back to Curtis, who still held his hands high, and smiled a devious grin.

“I’ll be honest with you, Dawn,” he said. “I’m not very interested in a duel with you. Honestly, I don’t really want to throw you in jail, either. I’m sort of thinking that I could just shoot you dead right now and go collect the bounty, and a promotion, for myself. What do you say to that, Outlaw?”

“I think it’s a pretty cruddy plan, honestly,” Curtis mumbled.

“Yeah, well, things look different from my side of the gun,” Sly replied. Curtis paused for a moment before saying, “You’re not from around here, are you, Sly? East side of the Valley Strip?”

“Nope. I’m not from the Valley at all. I come from higher grounds. Just an unfortunate series of events led me to this crapshoot of a town.”

“You talk a lot more proper like than folks from my turf.”

“That’s just how it is when you’re raised in a fancy state like I was. I came here expecting to work my whole career in the Big City, but like I said, bringing your body in ought to boost my rank back up to where it should be.”

“You seem like you’d fit right in with the big wigs,” Curtis said with a hint of sarcasm.

“You’re damn right, I do,” Sly asserted. “But enough chit chat. Time to say your final goodbyes to this world, Dawn.” Sly pulled the hammer on his revolver and took aim, but just as he shot, Curtis flung his poncho in one direction while lunging the other way causing Sly to flinch and give Curtis enough leeway to roll away from the shot. Sly cocked his gun twice more and fired two more bullets as Curtis ducked into an alley. Holes were left in the side of the building, all three having missed Curtis.

“Aw, now you’ve gone and made me shoot the bakery,” Sly groaned. Curtis’s breathing was heavy as he knelt behind the bakery for a quick break. His stomach ached immensely and he was sure the bleeding would cause him to black out soon enough.

That was five, he thought. One more shot, then I can make a break for my horse and get the hell out of here.

“Come on out, Dawn,” Sly called from around the front of the bakery. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.” Curtis rummaged the alley for anything he could use to escape Sly’s last bullet. Sly paced slowly back and forth while keeping an eye on both sides of the building that Curtis could use to escape the alley. He stopped and listened: some slight shuffling behind the building told him that Curtis was making his way around the far side, but Sly was ready for him. Seconds later, a single boot stepped from around the corner followed by a tunicked body.

Sly didn’t hesitate in the slightest before taking the shot and hitting square in the middle of the tunic, but Curtis wasn’t the target. Curtis sprung from behind the building following the explosion of bleached powder as Sly realized what had happened.

“What!?” Sly shouted. “This bastard dressed a bag of flower in his shirt and hat to bait my sixth shot!” Sly couldn’t believe he fell for such a rudimentary ruse. Curtis sprinted toward the edge of town where his horse waited, but victory was not assured. Enraged, Sly cocked the hammer of his revolver one more time and fired. Curtis turned back in horror as a bullet tore a hole in his undershirt and collided with his chest. The Outlaw’s body slammed to the ground causing a cloud of dirt to splash in its wake.

The sheriff and other officers watching were just as shocked as Curtis was. Sly widened his stance and held his gun high into the air.

“That’s right,” Sly announced. “Every Ranger has his shtick.” Sly flung his arms out to push his poncho back and drew another revolver from his other hip “Mine? Dual-wielding seven-shot revolvers!” Sly held the fully loaded gun in his left hand and continued holding the empty one in his right. He laughed maniacally before calming down and turning to face the sheriff. “See? I told you I could handle it. Now I can finally get out of this town and work my way back to the Big City.”

The sheriff gulped. But as Sly continued celebrating the victory, a long two-note whistle cried from the body on the ground. Sly’s laughing halted and his smile instantly turned to a frown. Before he could react and fully face what he thought was Curtis’s corpse, the horse raced toward Sly. Sly was quick, however, and swiftly fired off two shots from his second revolver. The bullets tore through the horse’s cloak, but with two loud CLANGs the horse was undeterred and leapt over Sly’s head. Sly was bewildered by the height of the horse’s jump and paid no mind to the shining hooves about to smash his body into the ground disarming him.

Sly struggled to his hands and knees and faced the horse which was then partially uncovered. Every spectator had wide eyes and a hanging jaw as they observed the silvery exterior of the horse glistening in the sun. The horse’s metal body groaned as it reared up and let out a ghastly neigh sounding like the sound of gears and wheels turning within a mechanical beast. Steam bellowed from the horse’s nostrils as its shining hooves shook the ground. Sly was frozen. He couldn’t believe what he saw, but he wasn’t given much time to process the sight before Curtis called out to him.

Sly turned to see Curtis pull a bread pan out from his undershirt—a bullet still embedded in a large dent in the pan—and hit Sly across the face with it, twice for good measure. Curtis tossed the pan to the side and apologized.

“I guess I’m not your big break after all,” Curtis said to the incapacitated Ranger. Large bruises already formed and were quickly succeeded by massive lumps on his forehead and cheek. A few teeth were loosened from Sly’s jaw, as well, and shook as he took gasping breaths. Curtis kept one hand on his bullet wound from earlier as he gathered his then bullet-hole-filled poncho and tunic, and replaced the hat on his head. He gathered his revolvers from the ground and loaded one of them with the remaining bullets in Sly’s gun. As unique as they were, Curtis had no interest in wielding the seven-shot revolvers.

He flung himself onto the metallic horse and tilted his hat to the sheriff. The sheriff and other officers were still too dumbfounded to open fire on the Outlaw as he raced out of town. Not too far from town, Curtis passed a large sign stating ‘See you soon…’ on one side, and on the other, ‘Welcome to Sunnyville.’ It was about a day’s journey on horse to the next town, but Curtis needed to travel slowly so as not to disturb his wound any more. He didn’t feel safe stopping before night, however, so he pressed on.

Next stop, he thought, Coyote Run.

To be continued…