Encounter, by Bobby Warner

Me and Jimmy seen the dust of some riders on the canyon trail. “Looks like six mean snakes,” Jimmy said, squinting into the sun.

We’d just come up from Bad Hills without no trouble. That was about to change.

The other riders stopped and drawed their pistols. “You two buzzards empty your saddlebags. We need everything you got!”

Jimmy and me drawed at the same time and nailed three of them. Jimmy winged the leader, and the other two turned tail. “What about him?” I asked.

“No problem,” said Jimmy putting a slug between the man’s eyes.

We continued on.

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