Friday, August 5, 2016

Item #124

A whip cracks, slicing through the silence. Simultaneously a flock of birds recently resting on the branches of a birch tree flap furiously away. Three figures stand tensely across the space of the corral. The whip pulls a Colt revolver across the dusty, hoof stamped surface.

The scruffy desperado holds his bleeding hand to his chest, willing himself not to cry out in pain. The discharge of his wound is barely noticeable amidst the grime thickly layered on his leather vest. "You had no call to get involved, Mister. We was doin' just fine afore you showed up."

Across from him stands a man of exceptional good looks. A finely tailored charcoal pinstripe three piece suit is complemented by an ebony cravat with a large diamond pin. He, too, looks toward the third figure. "I assure you sir, I had everything under control. Your assistance was unnecessary."

"I beg to differ," comes the reply. The whip is deposited smoothly in it's holder and the Colt is kicked deftly into the left hand. The right hand grasps the brim of a pale straw Stetson, pulling it off with a flourish. "And don't call me sir." Silky auburn hair cascades over her shoulders in waves. The revolver barrel points menacingly toward the finely dressed man. "You, sir, remove your piece and slide it over... slowly."

Blinking as the sun glints off her highly polished badge, the gentleman removes an ivory handled stub nosed Smith and Wesson from it's holster and gently places it on the ground. He kicks it toward the waiting sheriff, and shakes his head in disbelief. What kind of woman... He doesn't finish the thought

Miss Jean Louis picks up the piece with her right hand, keeping the colt in her left aimed at the gentleman. Her thumb strokes the figure of the stag carved into the handle and whispers, "I've missed you baby," before pointing it toward the desperado. "You can join your friend there." She motions for him to move. The desperado obeys quickly and stands beside the gentleman.

Miss Jean Louis whistles shrilly her eyes never wavering from the two forms now completely in her control. A long moment passes. Suddenly the sound of hooves is heard pounding in the distance, drawing quickly closer. A white stallion comes skidding to a halt next to her. She holsters the colt and her left hand reaches up to grasp the saddle horn. With a quick hop she glides smoothly across the surface of the saddle.

Her gaze never leaves the two men as she lifts the reigns. "I usually consider myself a kind hearted person. I hate to make you two walk all the way back to town, especially with your horses standing right here. But considering you both have a reputation for disappearing where lawmen are concerned, I'm gonna have to insist."

Heads hung in shame, the pair begin to shuffle toward the corral gate. "And in case either of you get any ideas on running, I taught Annie Oakley everything she knows."

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