Zoey couldn’t believe the heat beating down on her. Just moments earlier, she had been worried about freezing to death under several layers of clothing. Sara grabbed a hold of her arm and jerked her close to a large boulder.
“What’s the idea?” asked Zoey. Sara said nothing as the stagecoach ran straight past them. Sara pointed to its undercarriage. There was a man working his way between the coach’s spinning wheels. As he reaches the end of the coach, he gracefully pulled himself up onto the back of the coach. Sara and Zoey watched as he climbed across the roof and snatched the reins from the dead driver.
After stopping the stagecoach, he climbed off and introduced himself to Sara and Zoey. This daredevil wore shirt with fringes and a white hat on his head. There was a gun on his right hip, but its handle was pointed forward, indicating that he was left-handed. “The name’s Whitaker,” he drawled. “But everyone calls me Buddy.”
“That was pretty impressive. You ever do that before?” asked Zoey.
“Sure. All the time. You not from around here?”
“That’s an understatement,” said Zoey.
“We’d appreciate it if you gave us a ride to town,” said Sara.
“Of course, ma’am,” said Whitaker. He helped them into the coach. The women introduced themselves to the two other passengers, Mr. and Mrs. Williams from back east. As Whitaker started them on their way, Sara and Zoey conferred with each other.
“Okay, so this looks pretty convincing,” said Zoey.
“But we’ve been fooled before,” replied Sara.
“So, time travel?”
“If that were the case, why were our jackets not transferred also? Or any of our clothes for that matter?”
“Wormhole?”
“I’d certainly remember traveling in a tunnel of unstable spacetime,” remarked Sara.
“Instant matter transportation? No, those always give me a headache.”
“Virtual reality?” asked Sara.
“Pretty realistic if it was,” replied Zoey. “Hallucination?”
“Shared hallucinations are pretty rare.”
“A dream?”
“Which one of us is dreaming?”
“So, not a dream, not a hoax. What is it?”
Mr. and Mrs. Williams looked at each other. Neither had a clue what the two women were talking about.
The stagecoach soon arrived the small town of Patterson Valley. Whitaker helped them off the stage. The two women still had no clue as to their current predicament.
“Let’s head over to the saloon to mull things over,” said Sara.
“Great. I’m sure we’ll stay out of trouble there,” remarked Zoey. The saloon was as loud and bustling as any western movie Zoey had ever seen. Sara led her to the bar and told her, “Stay here while order something to drink. Keep to yourself, and they won’t bother you.”
Zoey tried to do just that, when someone shouted, “Hey!” Zoey ignored it at first, but it continued. “Hey, woman!” Zoey turned and saw the voice was coming from a particularly scruffy-looking cowboy. “Wha’cha doing here?”
“Excuse me?” asked Zoey, indignantly. “I have every right to be as you.”
“Naw, I mean why ain’t ya on the stage, enterainin’ us men.” This was met with guffaws from his friends.
“I’m not here for your entertainment,” shot back Zoey.
“Yer a real firecracker,” replied Rufus, the cowboy. “How about you prove it?”
Sara was returning with a glass of milk and a bottle of sarsaparilla. She saw the man taunting Zoey, but before she could do anything, one of the cowboys grabbed her to make sure she didn’t interrupt their fun.
“Sure,” said Zoey. “What did you have in mind?”
“You’re big talk. I reckon you can’t handle a gun like me,” said Rufus.
“Try me.” Rufus tossed her a spare gun belt. Zoey caught and started to put it on. It was at this time that Zoey started to think about the situation she had just gotten herself into. Sure, she had mouthed off to the rude cowboy, but she knew next to nothing about guns, and now she let him talk her into his challenge.
The other cowboys cleared away from the two of them, circling them as to make sure not to miss anything. “Let’s see who’s got the better draw, little girl?” said Rufus. “Count of three.”
“One.” Zoey could see Sara behind the cowboy, still held by one of his minions.
“Two.” Rufus flashed an uneven row of teeth under unruly whiskers.
“Three.” There was a loud gunshot that reverberated the saloon.
Click Here to Go To The Next Chapter
Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.
No comments:
Post a Comment