A gunshot rang through the single dirt road passing through center of town. The smoke from the barrel, omniscient, gazed upon the enemies. Every citizen ran indoors, silently peeking out their windows. High in the sky, the sun rained on them. The leather smell lingered and the dust gathered in eyelashes.
A lonely tumbleweed traveled between them.
”I heard you was spreadin’ rumors ‘bout me, Mysterious-Man-I-can’t-see-because-he-has-a-bandana-over-his-mouth.”
“…That I was.”
“It’s time for me to end this, once and for all.”
And before the young, arrogant boy could even flinch, the Mysterious Man reached for his gun and –
“Dwight!”
Falling over, Dwight hit the wooden floor. “Aaaah.”
“What did I tell you about daydreaming?”
“Sorry.”
“Someday, some Mysterious Man is going to come in and steal from the store and what will you be doing? Thinkin’ about girls and guns. Or just girls. Or not girls and just guns. And then you’ll get shot. With the gun that you’re thinking about.” His father said as he walked out the back door.
“No I will not!”
“Okay, Dwight.” He said as he began to walk out the back door with a few boxes. “Don’t forget to restock the beets. I’m going to go look at the horse selection they have today down at the Wagon Barn.”
“Fine.”
Dwight kicked his foot against the counter.
“Damnit!” It hurt more than he thought it would.
He hated working at this stupid general store. It was so stupid. He wouldn’t even be working here if his dad was still alive.
Before his dad died, he had been a bandit, traveling the west on stolen horses and plundering and surviving on expensive, extravagant goods. His family had been the best outlaws. Ever. Until one day, in the middle of a bar, his dad got shot in the back of the head by Sherriff Creed. Point blank. Needless to say, Dwight wanted revenge.
But things were different now. He helped with the general store, restocked beets, and spent his nights looking at the stars, thinking about what could’ve been. His father’s best friend, Michael Scott, was his new father now. He took care of him. And made him help with his stupid general store.
As he restocked the beets, he thought about the adventures he could be having, the gold he could be pillaging, the women he could be swooning. If only…
“Dwight!”
He almost fell again. Michael’s voice echoed through the store.
“What?”
“I got us some horsies! Naaaay!” Michael said, breathlessly.
“Okay. Let me inspect them. For diseases and imperfections.”
“No! Idiot. I bought them for travel purposes. Not for that."
“Travel?”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean…?”
“Yes. We’re going west. Pack your things. Find some cowpokes. It’s time to go.”
-
Dwight went to the local tavern to say goodbye to his friends. Or at least his acquaintances. Or at least people who knew him. Or at least people who knew of him.
“Attention, everyone. I have an announcement to make.”
The piano player stopped on a strange, minor chord. The girls stopped cooing and the men became strangely silent.
A glass filled with beer shattered on the ground.
“I am going to Oregon. If anyone of you is up to the challenge, follow me.”
He turned, confident, yet with no one behind him, and left.
Jim wasn’t the best cowboy. He tended to forget to feed the cattle and usually just drew pictures. He wasn’t that great, mind you, but he did it anyway. It was that or drink until he forgot about his life.
He was sick of this town. He was sick of living with his mother and sick of looking at the same cows day after day.
And he would follow him.
-
“Dwight! Wait!”
Dwight turned. “Wow. I definitely thought there would be more people.”
“Okay. Well, can I join you?”
“Sure. But you do realize that you’re going to have to bring your own supplies, right?”
“Of course.”
“And you do realize that Michael has night terrors and screams relentlessly during the night?”
“…Of course.”
“And you do realize that –“
“Okay Dwight. I’ll realize that later. I just need to get out of here.”
“Fine. Get your things. Meet me at the general store at sundown.”
“Alright.”
-
Jim gathered his gun, a few cans of beans, his drawing utensils, and some whiskey. And a picture. It was a picture of his father, one who had died years before while tending to the cattle. His mother never really told him all of the story. Getting trampled to death is gruesome enough.
As he walked to the corner general store, he smiled. This was the last he would ever see of this town, of these silly, close-minded people. He was ready.
He saw the wagon and began storing his few supplies.
Inside, there were numerous pillows, blankets, and barrels. Something inside him made his spine shiver. He was genuinely happy in that moment. Just the thought of leaving this place made him estatic.
Suddenly, the barrel of a gun met the back of his neck.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was invited by Dwight. To go to Oregon.”
“…Oh. Sorry.” Jim turned around to see an older man with bushier eyebrows. He turned to the back of the store. “Dwight, I thought you were going to get some hot girls.”
“They…died.” Dwight said.
“Oh well.” He turned to Jim. “Sorry about that. I’m Michael. But don’t be offended. You’re hot too.”
“I’m Jim.” He said, momentarily stunned. “When are we leaving?”
“Now. Dwight just needs to get his things and then we travel!”
“I need my chess set!” Dwight yelled frantically from inside the store. “Where’s my chess set?!”
“I think I sold it.” Michael yelled.
It was momentarily silent.
“No!”
They were ready.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
