[Short Story] [First Draft] Playing Cowboy

[Felicity]

His cloak flows behind him, waving like a flag and boldly announcing his presence to the town as Andrew Cainsworth, wanderer of the world and the best shot in the Frontier, strides into the small, dusty town of Old Newart, a broad smile on his manly, chiseled face. He brushes his long dark hair out of his perceptive blue eyes as he scans the small town, the settlement was nothing more than a clump of buildings gathered around one long, dirt road. You could run from one end of town to the other in a few minutes if you had the will to!

Nevertheless, Andrew continues onwards, his bindle over his shoulder and his trusty revolver Rose at his hip, moving towards what seemed to be the saloon. It was the only building that seemed to be inhabited, music and laughter flowing through the doors like the scent of a warm apple pie.

Andrew pushed aside the wooden doors, the hinges creaking loudly as he did. Not that it mattered, the noise couldn’t be heard over the festivities. Well I’ll be damned! Andrew thought to himself. What’s all the ruckus about?

The small bar was alight with merry townspeople, dancing amidst themselves, laughing and singing with sparkles in their eyes, some with the smell of alcohol on their breaths. Men and women twirled and spun together and away, swapping partners and continuing to dance with a grace not unlike a well functioning machine.As Andrew made his way to the bar for a drink, one girl caught his eye and his hands, dragging him in to join. Andrew happily joined in, mixing his own deep laughter in with that of the townsfolk as he moved along with them, as natural as breathing.

After a turn or two he took the chance to bow out, to the disappointment of his newest partner, a lovely woman if ever he saw one with warm brown eyes, a heart shaped face and soft golden hair. He flashed her a bright white smile, a promise in his eyes to come back as he turned to the bartender.

“Hey there friend” Andrew greeted the bartender jovially, hardly out of breath from his dancing. The bartender smiled back just as happily, immediately pouring a rich black brew into a mug that frothed up over the edge and putting it in front of Andrew.

“Don’t worry about your tab friend, all drinks are on the man of the hour” The man explained in response to Andrews raised eyebrow. Andrew nodded gratefully and took a sip of the admittedly delightful drink.

“Where is the man and why is he the man of the hour?”

A nod towards the dance floor center was the answer. There was a young man, covered in dirt and muck surrounded by merry men and women who was smiling and singing more than anyone in the room. “The lad over there, Mcmillan, struck liquid gold. Said he was gonna revolutionise the town.”

“Well maybe I ought to go offer congratulations” Andrew said, putting down the finished drink and starting to move towards the man. No sooner than he started this did the saloon door slam open as a group of three ill-tempered, angry looking men stormed in. The cheer died down almost immediately and silence reigned, quiet but for the men’s stomping. The man in the lead wore a wide brimmed black hat on top of his his huge head and a bandanna around his neck to hide the multitude of chins he must have had, being a jiggling walrus of a man. Behind him was a muscled mountain of a man, at least seven foot tall and angry as a hungry honey badger, and a slim waif of a man. He held himself confidently though, like he knew how to fight.

“Mcmillan!” The man roared, big black bushy eyebrows knitted together in anger “How dare you stake claims on that reservoir! You know sure as shit that it’s my land and my oil!”

The younger man, Mcmillan, stepped forward just as angry. “‘Cus you know as well as I do that you don’t deserve it Jameson! You’d do nothing but spend every penny you could squeeze out of it on yourself and condemn this town!” He paused, taking a breath before he continued his tirade “Hell, that ain’t even your rightful land, everyone knows you forced it from ld Selmy then shot him right after! No more I say, ain’t no more are we puttin’ up with your shit! I’m using this money to make this town into something special and you ain’t gonna be around to see it!”

“Yer talking big shit here Mcmillan!” The man called Jameson barked back. “But you know that ain’t no one in this shithole got enough spine to stand up to me and my boys! So you get yer ass out of here before I kick you o-”

A gunshot rang out, skimming the brim of Jameson’s hat and silencing his boorish rebuttal.

“Now, I don’t know shit about what’s between you two” Andrew Cainsworth, the best shot in the western frontier, drawled “But this Mcmillan was nice enough to put my drink and everyone elses on his tab so I ain’t gonna sit by and watch someone bully him out of what’s his” Andrews sky blue eyes bore into Jameson’s beady black pupils, the confusion and fear started to fade and anger started to leak into them now but before he could open his mouth, Andrew fired.

One shot, in the stomach of Jamesons first goon, toppling the large man immediately as he started to choke up blood.

A second shot, in the right hand of the second goon, who was reaching for his own weapon. He screamed and clutched at the wound, eyes bulging as he struggled with the pain.

A final shot, right between Jamesons now terrified, beady, little eyes, dropping the fat bastard to the ground with a resounding thump.

“Especially if the guy doing it is no good murdering scum” Andrew finished, holstering Rose, his bright blue eyes now lit into a violent blue blaze of fiery anger

Before the town could cheer for the death of the tyrant Jameson, a distant call caught the attention of everyone.

“Time for dinner everyone!” We have pizza!”

And all the kids immediately stopped playing and rushed indoors excitedly, the adventures of Andrew Cainsworth, best shot in the western frontier, finished and forgotten.