Previously: The Timely Adventure of the Old West P. 2
Continuously…Sheriff’s Office / 2:15 PM
Stepping outside, the calm drifty stopped to properly light his cigarillo. Shielding out the wind, he struck three wild matches of wood. As the flickering flame lit the browned tip, the cowboy drew in the flavor, before proceeding to take a step off the porch. But, he was soon interrupted by the pompous posture of sharply dressed man. Covered in the suit of wealth and the scent of inner city pride, he rudely bummed into Grey with the politeness of a ‘civilized’ man, as they like to deem themselves. The southern boy halted in his steps, as the gentleman ignored him, and walked into the presence of the Marshal. “Ow, for f&ck’s sake…not you city wussies, again…”, the head officer’s raspy voice grunted with irritation.
Grey returned to what he had to do. Finding his horse, he unhitched it, before mounting the black hide of the majestic stallion. “Com’ on, boy…we got somewhere to be…”, he patted the mustang, as it turned around and started galloping out of town. But, on his way, the roaming boy spotted the odd contraption that the gentleman brought to the town. Black, bulky, and mechanic, the vehicle caused Grey’s brow to rise. “…see this”, he addressed his horse, “if those city folks had their way, this land would be filled with those things…”. He stared at it longer, before noticing the deadly glace of an older fella. Appearing to be as old as the elderly Marshal, the well-dressed figure carried a mug of content.
Grey tipped his hat in a pass-by greeting, but received even more of a mugged glare in return. With no reaction, the southern cowboy knew this man though highly of himself, and his prestige city life. As well, the boy knew he thought little of the savage folks who lived in the blazing territories of this country’s rural outback. So, with a drag of his smoke, the outlaw rode out of Westomb, and into the dusty desert.
=====================================================================================
Somewhere between Westomb and Duststone / 3:00 PM
“Ya tired boy?”, he asked his horse, who has slowed down. With the dry air blowing against them, and the orange sky blinding them, the two couldn’t wait for sun-down. But, that was a long time away, and they were tired now. So, pulling out to the side of the road, Grey headed a bit into the roadside. As he dismounted, he pulled his cigar from his lips. With a light spit of the after taste, he walked up to the face of his friend. “What’ll be…an apple or a carrot?”, he asked his companion, before digging through the steed-mounted satchel.
“How about all you’s got”, the outlaw paused as he heard the sound of gun cocking. Hearing multiple, he knew he was in the presence of some scavenger gang. Raising his hands in surrender, he turned around. “Hold it…..slowly…”, he slowly turned to see the dry yellow bushes were now filled with six gun-wielding men. Rough and dirty in appearance, the Scavengers all had the same look of a ruthless appetite. “Give up your possessions…”, one of the man commanded. “…and your guns”, another man filled in.
As he stared at them with a gaze of unknown thought, they grew unpleased. “What are ya, stupid?”, a shadow blocked figure yelled, before two of the men stepped closer. “…give you weapo-”, they began, before they were interrupted with the quick draw of their victim. Pulling and firing six shots of his Peacemaker, Grey smiled as he hit all of them with ease. But, standing in the open, he was hit by the reaction shot of one of the falling men. Stumbling back into his horse, which stood stilled, he felt the rifle bullet dig into his shoulder. “Ahh!”, he yelped before seeing the dead group. Regaining his footing, he patted his steed’s hide with a smirk of his far.
Quickly rushed to check the bodies for anything important, he mostly found ammo, cigs, liquor, and unimportant letters. However, as he looked through them, he noticed the wanted poster, with his face on it. “Wanted…Grey Silver for $500,000”, he read, before hearing the galloping of an escaping scavenger. Standing in confusion, he looked over his shoulder to count the dead bodies. “God, I hate sevens…”, he noticed that there was a seventh gunman, who had ran at the sight of his group easy decease. Eyeing the speeding horse, he knew this ordeal probably wasn’t over. “They had my bounty, they have my name…they’ll be after me, soon…”, he thought with eerie foresight.
Turning around and heading back to his horse, Grey gathered all that he needed and wanted, before being off. “Com’ on, Pache…lets quickly get to town”, he looked over the dry horizon. As he steed started moving, he turned to the road, grunting at the stretching of his wound, “I’ll feed you then…”.
=============================================================================
Next: The Timely Adventure of the Old West P. 4
d^_^b
Log in to comment