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A voice from behind both unsteady and unexpected babbles, “Tu… turn around slowly… and keep… your hands in view.”
I froze, took a second to catch my breath, thinking, wondering what the hell have I gotten myself into? Minding my own business, a stranger. Feeling dizzy, shoulders tighten, jaw clenched, come on, keep breathing, steady. Could see the server headed to my table, food in hand, stopped, now watching the scenario play out. Her eyes transfixed on the weapon aimed at my back, tilts her head to the right, eyes the weapon, now confirmed, unsure of what she should-do… as was I.
“Turn around slowly,” he repeated, boastfully, “I heard bout you. You’re famous around these parts. You’ve got a reputation. Shot some doc in the back, how you out-drew three, and a ladies’ man. Been hoping you’d crawl out of your country club on the hill. Bingo, today is my lucky day.”
Turning, squinting, focusing on the form before me, “I don’t recognize you. Have we met?”
“Interlock you fingers and place your hands behind your head, and shut up,” he demanded, his weapon at his side, twitching, ready to fire.
The room had maybe five or six others, but I was not sure who was here with whom. But, of course, my dinner was ready, smelled edible. Looking at the server, “Just set it on the table, please.”
Centering, trying to determine who, what, still clueless, “Sir, it seems you have misidentified me. I’ve been on the road, saw some lights, hungry, stopped hoping for a meal, a little peace-and-quiet.”
“Take the food back to the kitchen. He won’t be eating, Don’t wanta waste it,” he added confidence now peaking.
“Mitch, check his back to see if he has that SOB. holster. If yes, he is the one, remove it with care.”
“He does,” placing it on the table to my left.
“Is there a sheriff, maybe a magistrate around that might intervene?” asked hopefully.
“Got a governess, but doubt she’d be much interested in you, maybe a reward, don’t really give a… sorry ladies present,” he concluded.
“They say you never gave my brother a chance, just shot him dead where he stood, never touching or even reaching for his gun.”
“They say they buried him with his saddle and you stole his horse.”
“They say you just walked out, stepping over his body.”
“I don’t know this they, and I know not of what you speak,” I lied, thinking what were the odds.
“I say,” Mitch announced, now standing next to his friend, “I watched, saw the whole thing, cold blood, it was.”
I close my eyes, trying to relax, to think. “Okay, so you seem convinced I’m the one, and there’s not much I can say to convince you otherwise. So… is your goal to shoot me where I stand?”
“Shoot you where you stand, that’s ironic, no, we’ll vote, then I’ll shoot you. We’re not executioners, we’re law-abiding citizens.” He snorts, laughing at his own diversion. “Everyone in here that heard his BS and thinks he’s innocent raise your right hand.”
Looking around, “Seems they all think you're a liar.”
Hum, do I reach for the pistol on the table or my sidearm, maybe talk him down, faint, beg?
“I’d like to hear more. Heard a different version. Can I vote?” a familiar voice from nearby interjects.
“What the… sorry miss, you’re fine but still out voted.”
Addressing me, “Sorry friend, apparently my vote - nullified,” she replies, turning away.
“But, then again, I brought a friend, and he brought a friend,” entering from the kitchen doorway.
“Listen, you need to butt out, none of your…” big brother, distracted, shifting focus, bellowed.
Unable to complete his sentence before Addison drew, cocked and finished the sentence, “business,” suggesting he stand down. Meanwhile, both Cody and Joshua join the confrontation, suggesting everyone relax, eat, drink, and not get involved, and “keep your hands on the table.”
“So, having a bad day?” silence filled the air.
“Your lucky day. Now get you pistol and put back in your back holster. Tip the nice lady. Then exit through the front door where another awaits with horses readied for our exit,” Addison directed. “And if someone should stick their head out the door before we’re gone, our other friend will greet you with a scattergun. Clear? Oh, and dude, be sure to limp. It was so realistic.”
“Oh, bro, holster your weapon. If you think I won’t drop you where you stand and then Mitch before you hit the ground, you’re absolutely mistaken.”
Slipping back, “Good day, gentleman.”
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