Tex Mannion dove for cover and came up behind the water trough, both six-shooters drawn.
“I know that’s you, Curly Bob!” he called. “Show yourself you bushwackin’ son of a bitch.”
Curtains fluttered in an upstairs window of the hotel. Tex stood and emptied his Colts.
Later, at the poker table, Tex admitted to the other players that it had been pure dumb luck that that whiskey salesman had landed on top of Curly Bob.
Post a comment
Comments are moderated, and will not appear until the author has approved them.
Your Information
(Name and email address are required. Email address will not be displayed with the comment.)
I didn't realize you could kill a man by downing 40oz bottles of Colt .45...
Posted by: actor212 | Friday, October 02, 2009 at 04:59 PM
Just don't commit murder in Reno, NV less'n you wannabe jailed for life in Folsom Prison, Ca.
That's what Brad DeLong called federalism.
Posted by: Linkmeister | Friday, October 02, 2009 at 08:06 PM
Y'know, I heard Lance Mannion once shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
Posted by: actor212 | Saturday, October 03, 2009 at 07:34 AM