How to say goodbye to a stranger

The sheriff of Carson City leaned on the hitching rail of his jail looking out over the town. He took a last satisfied drag on his roll-up before spitting it onto the ground below him. The town was quiet, people just going about their normal business, early morning shopping and such. The distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer came over the noise of buggy wheels rattling down the street, just an ordinary day, very civilised and peaceful.

One of the girls from the saloon across the way shook a duster out of an upstairs window and waved to him. He raised his hand in acknowledgment, maybe he’d follow up her invitation in the evening.

Then a smart looking stranger trotted past, nothing wrong with that but the Sheriff’s keen eyes narrowed as he noticed the smartly cut coat and the well worn holster of the six gun at his hip. He filed the newcomer in his memory for future use; ‘gambler looking for trouble’.

Slipping the safety loop from the hammer of his own gun, he smiled grimly and walked over to the man as he hitched his horse to the rail outside the saloon.

“Howdy stranger you stopping long, or just passing on through?”

“I’m looking for the man who reckons he’s the fastest gun slinger in the County. I reckon one of us will be dead before nightfall and I don’t expect it to be me!”

“Well now son, without wishing to boast I reckon that’ll be me.” The Sheriff held up his gun hand to show his peaceful intentions. “Come into the saloon for a welcoming drink and we’ll discuss the matter before we resolve it”

The bar-keep poured a couple of shots of red-eye and slid them down the bar then smiled at the pair. “Reckon you’ll be going over to the barn in a moment or two,” he said, “we’ll soon have more lawmen in this town than there are inhabitants!

The gambler raised his eyebrows questioningly at the Sheriff.

“We have a little custom in this town. When folks like you come along we like to invite them into the barn where we have a shooting range. It’s well out of the way in there and the good citizens of this town feel safe on the streets while we answer the questions we may have about each other. We’ll have a little competition and after that if you feel so disposed we’ll go out into the street and have it out in the time honoured way. If you decide otherwise you can join up with me and become another deputy.”

“Another deputy?” queried the gambler.

“Yup, we got eight of the blighters now, we’re the most peacefullest town out this way and that’s the way I mean to keep it!”

The stranger grinned all over his face, “who could possibly ignore a gamble like that?”

The barman gave the Sheriff the keys from the rack behind the bar, then watched as the two men left the salon and walked together down the road. “I’d give a months pay to know how he does it,” he said, “but then I couldn’t hit the wall of the barn even if I was inside!”

For the next half hour the rattle of gunfire echoed from the old barn. The inhabitants of the town went about their business as normal, but every now and then men wearing deputy’s badges would smile knowingly at each other as a single shot rang out.

30 minutes after the men had gone into the barn they walked back into the saloon. The gambler was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Drinks all round barman,” said the Sheriff “we’re celebrating goodbye to a stranger and hello to our 9th deputy!”