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A Pair of Polished Peacemakers: Is There Such A Thing As A Magical Gun?

A Pair of Polished Peacemakers: Is There Such A Thing As A Magical Gun?

Bruce Harris
0/5 ( ratings)
“Joe Stink?” asked the man.
The drunk took another swallow, ignored the stranger. “Another bottle, Jake,” he said, slamming down a shot glass.
Jake Stoddard tended bar at the Tumbleweed ever since anyone could remember. A big man, always neatly dressed, known for his polka-dotted bowties. He stood out among the Tumbleweed’s clientele.
“You sure, Joe? You’ve had enough.”
Joe Stink dropped a large gold coin onto the bar. “Your best bottle, Jake. My money's good here.” Stink was drunk. He was always drunk. It didn’t matter the time of day. Rail thin, Stink regularly consumed three-times as much beer and five-times as much whiskey as any drunkard sleeping one off in any jail cell in any town.
The large bartender reached under the bar and set a fresh whiskey bottle in front of him, then turned and walked away.
“Joe Stink,” the man in the dark coat said again. “I can help you.”
Through slit eyes, the inebriated Stink grunted, “Huh? Who’re you? Whaddya want? Do I know you? What’s with the face bandage? I can’t see yer face.” He filled a shot glass.
A pleasant grin, hidden by bandages creased the man’s face. “You might think you know me, Joe. But, I assure you, you really don’t. As for what I want? Well…” The man seemed mesmerized. He didn’t speak for several minutes.
Stink poured shot after shot, swallowing each with a belch. “You was sayin’…”
To Stink, the man’s voice sounded as if it came from above his bandaged face. Yet, the man’s lips enunciated each word with precision. “I want lots of things,” the man continued, “But more importantly it’s what I don’t want. That’s why I’m here.”
Format
Kindle Edition
Release
November 10, 2017

A Pair of Polished Peacemakers: Is There Such A Thing As A Magical Gun?

Bruce Harris
0/5 ( ratings)
“Joe Stink?” asked the man.
The drunk took another swallow, ignored the stranger. “Another bottle, Jake,” he said, slamming down a shot glass.
Jake Stoddard tended bar at the Tumbleweed ever since anyone could remember. A big man, always neatly dressed, known for his polka-dotted bowties. He stood out among the Tumbleweed’s clientele.
“You sure, Joe? You’ve had enough.”
Joe Stink dropped a large gold coin onto the bar. “Your best bottle, Jake. My money's good here.” Stink was drunk. He was always drunk. It didn’t matter the time of day. Rail thin, Stink regularly consumed three-times as much beer and five-times as much whiskey as any drunkard sleeping one off in any jail cell in any town.
The large bartender reached under the bar and set a fresh whiskey bottle in front of him, then turned and walked away.
“Joe Stink,” the man in the dark coat said again. “I can help you.”
Through slit eyes, the inebriated Stink grunted, “Huh? Who’re you? Whaddya want? Do I know you? What’s with the face bandage? I can’t see yer face.” He filled a shot glass.
A pleasant grin, hidden by bandages creased the man’s face. “You might think you know me, Joe. But, I assure you, you really don’t. As for what I want? Well…” The man seemed mesmerized. He didn’t speak for several minutes.
Stink poured shot after shot, swallowing each with a belch. “You was sayin’…”
To Stink, the man’s voice sounded as if it came from above his bandaged face. Yet, the man’s lips enunciated each word with precision. “I want lots of things,” the man continued, “But more importantly it’s what I don’t want. That’s why I’m here.”
Format
Kindle Edition
Release
November 10, 2017

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