High Noon for the Solitary Man
The sun seared the dusty main street of a small town in the West. As it beat down from above, a solitary figure stood in the middle of the thoroughfare waiting. The appointment was made for high noon, and the mission bells would soon toll exactly that. A dust devil whirled down a cross street.
DING!
The man looked down the street. His appointment was a little early.
DONG!
He was a tall, muscular cowboy dressed in leathers and chaps.
DING!
His facial hair shadowed his jawline, cheeks and sideburns. His mustache was full.
DONG!
The man’s spurs clinked with every step as he made his way down the middle of the road. There was a certain finality to the way his spurs sounded when he stopped moving forward. The mission bells chimed off the hour – high noon.
There would be no shade or sun to give one fighter or the other an advantage. Of course, they could have chosen any time if they would have met on a north-south road, so that the sun would have affected each of them in the same way, but the figure supposed that just wasn’t the way things were done in the West.
“You ready?” The man’s voice was gruff from years of smoking and drinking.
“We don’t have to do it this way, Johnson. You could just give yourself up and come quietly. There is no reason for one of us to die today.” As he spoke, the star on his chest flashed. The solitary figure was the law in this town.
“You know that ain’t going to happen, sheriff.”
The sheriff knew that, but he had to try. Johnson’s offense wasn’t really that big of a deal, but when it came to pride… well, a man had to do what he had to do.
The two men squinted at each other. Each watching the other’s right hand. Then came the draw.
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DING!
The man looked down the street. His appointment was a little early.
DONG!
He was a tall, muscular cowboy dressed in leathers and chaps.
DING!
His facial hair shadowed his jawline, cheeks and sideburns. His mustache was full.
DONG!
The man’s spurs clinked with every step as he made his way down the middle of the road. There was a certain finality to the way his spurs sounded when he stopped moving forward. The mission bells chimed off the hour – high noon.
There would be no shade or sun to give one fighter or the other an advantage. Of course, they could have chosen any time if they would have met on a north-south road, so that the sun would have affected each of them in the same way, but the figure supposed that just wasn’t the way things were done in the West.
“You ready?” The man’s voice was gruff from years of smoking and drinking.
“We don’t have to do it this way, Johnson. You could just give yourself up and come quietly. There is no reason for one of us to die today.” As he spoke, the star on his chest flashed. The solitary figure was the law in this town.
“You know that ain’t going to happen, sheriff.”
The sheriff knew that, but he had to try. Johnson’s offense wasn’t really that big of a deal, but when it came to pride… well, a man had to do what he had to do.
The two men squinted at each other. Each watching the other’s right hand. Then came the draw.
Want to read more or write the next section? Check out this page on how to do it.
