“Do you smell that thief?” Gorm asked.
“No,” August lied. “Ten paces?”
Gorm ignored him. “That’s the smell of death cowboy. Hurtling towards you like a typhoon.”
“Ten paces or twenty?”
“Ten.”
“I’ve come a long way for you Gorm,” said August. “Only ten more steps and I’ll have gotten to where I’m going. You’ll be right where I want you.”
Gorm’s red cape billowed around him, spilling from his shoulders like blood.
“Enough talk. You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
They walked apart, turned, then the draw. Quick as lightning.
August unloaded his stolen revolver. Gorm shot, missed, and died.
“No,” August lied. “Ten paces?”
Gorm ignored him. “That’s the smell of death cowboy. Hurtling towards you like a typhoon.”
“Ten paces or twenty?”
“Ten.”
“I’ve come a long way for you Gorm,” said August. “Only ten more steps and I’ll have gotten to where I’m going. You’ll be right where I want you.”
Gorm’s red cape billowed around him, spilling from his shoulders like blood.
“Enough talk. You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
They walked apart, turned, then the draw. Quick as lightning.
August unloaded his stolen revolver. Gorm shot, missed, and died.
