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"Ya' really wanna do this, fella'? You know what yer' gettin' yerself into, don'tcha?" called the arrogant voice of Derrick Lambert from across the town center, the townsfolk lining the streets to watch the legendary outlaw take on the newcomer cowboy to town. Waitin' on the sheriff of th'town, a damn fool who couldn't see this outlaw was walkin' round like he owned the place, to come out and declare the draw. 6 o'clock in the evenin', the sun goin' down in the distance as the desert skies darkened overhead. Nice little scene for a final battle, wouldn't ya' say? My eyes closed as I looked to the ground, trying to ignore the stares of practically every single townsperson lining the streets. It was as though all of Redemption had came out to see one of us die today, stopping their every-day activites just for the occassion. Finally, it was time. The sheriff, a portly man wearin' a gleamin' badge, his face lookin' nervous as he held the brim of his hat with some sense of anticipation for the events that'd follow. I could tell by the look in his eyes...he was afraid of this Lambert fella', knew better then to risk his life and cushy sheriff position. Damn cowards runnin' these towns nowadays, I swear... "Ya'll sure about this now? Ya' really wanna..." "Th'boy says he wants ta' duel me, an' he damn well's gonna do it, sheriff!" demanded Lambert, casting a glare over at the portly man, "It's either duel or die, sheriff...I ain't called a lunatic fer' nothin'." An audible gulp sounded from the sheriff's throat, as I rolled my eyes and frowned, continuin' to stare at the ground in front of me. I could hear the nervous mumblin's of the townspeople, who were obviously just as afraid of this man as the sheriff. Had I mis-judged the worth of this bounty, then? With this whole town at his feet...th'man must be somethin' feirce--maybe he was the one destined to be my final duel? The glint of a pistol in the corner of my eye, the sheriff slowly lifting it into the air... "Alright then gennelmen, on my mark," he began, his voice trembling with fear and anciety towards what may happen after the duel's completion. Should I fail, he knew that he'd be next in line to face the outlaw lest the townspeople ridicule him fer' bein' a coward. After all, there was only so long the sheriff could hide 'fore the challenges start hauntin' him. The clock ticks foward, the crowd along the streets completely silent now, their mumbles fading off with the breeze carryin' the tumbleweeds out again. No doubt there were bets n'wagers on this draw...money an' booze all served up at the cost of one man's life. That was the way of the people in this world though, somethin' I'd learnt to live with years ago. Ten seconds. Most of th'time I'd be thinkin' of things to get my mind off the duel...the fact that I was about to kill another man usually in the back of my mind. Yet for some reason this time...there was nothin' left to think about, 'cept that I could very well die facin' off against the man standin' all those paces away from me. Five seconds. A quick prayer for forgiveness, a single bead of sweat dripping down the side of my face. One second. My entire future, riding on the time spent drawin' a gun from its holster... No seconds. |