“Don’t take your gun into town,” his mother begged.
Billy Joe laughed, continued preparing for the social. Boots shined, clothes pressed, hair slicked.
1861 Navy Colt at his hip. His father’s bequest , which his mother hated. He could handle it.
She pleaded again. He kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t be late.”
A boy left the farm; a man rode into Tyler, hitched his horse outside the saloon. Ordered his first whisky, fancied he heard a stranger mocking him. Dropped his hand. The stranger was faster. Behind him the bar mirror spiderwebbed.
The stranger shrugged. “Kid drew first.”
Billy Joe laughed, continued preparing for the social. Boots shined, clothes pressed, hair slicked.
1861 Navy Colt at his hip. His father’s bequest , which his mother hated. He could handle it.
She pleaded again. He kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t be late.”
A boy left the farm; a man rode into Tyler, hitched his horse outside the saloon. Ordered his first whisky, fancied he heard a stranger mocking him. Dropped his hand. The stranger was faster. Behind him the bar mirror spiderwebbed.
The stranger shrugged. “Kid drew first.”
