Chapter Selection: 1 2

2.

Boyd had lost the next game too, and was fast approaching boiling point. Three players had come and gone, the atmosphere too much to play cards in. Chris Packer was hoping that Boyd would tire, especially as he only had a few Dollars from his wages left. Unfortunately Boyd's next hand had proved a winner, and he was convinced his luck had turned the corner. "Haha, knew it, you see, I ain't going home till I'm back on the level again!" Packer groaned inwardly, and then tensed when he saw Curtis Milner walk back in through the Diamondback's doors.

"BOYD!" Curtis stood with his back to the bar, and called out. Boyd's smiled faded fast, as he realised Milner was now wearing a gun. He stood up slowly, and backed up sending the chair clattering across the floor. He wasn't scared of much, or intimidated by many men. He had been a bully at school, getting pretty much what he wanted, when he wanted it. He had grown up faster and taller than most his friends, and frequently he was hired for when muscle was required. He wasn't stupid by any means, but learnt he could earn a living without having to think much. Now, as he looked at the man standing opposite, he could either talk or fight.

"You ought not to have said that about my father," Curtis said. "You can say you didn't mean it, and we walk away from this, or you can stand by your words and one of us wont." No-one in the bar dared to move; people backed up as far as they could, or crouched behind tables. It was silent as both men squared off, weighing up options and choices. Boyd smiled, "Aw now Curtis, you gutted me and didn't even show me the hand that did it. That's not right fair." Curtis didn't move, or smile. The anger was rising in him like a volcano ready to blow, and the smug son of a ….. was standing there smiling. "It ain't about cards no more, you take back what you said, or back it up. Either way, you don't get to crawl out of this one." Boyd stopped smiling; he had never seen Milner like this. He always thought of him as just a little man in the growing town. He had seen him ride at the county fairs and such, but he was an unknown quantity with a gun. Boyd had often pulled his own weapon; to make a point or contest a card play. He had never fired a shot in anger, and had often wondered what would happen if he had to.

Now, confronted by Milner, he had to decide; his reputation was on the floor between them. If he backed down he would never be able to walk thought town with the same authority; everyone would say he lacked the sand to back up his words. Same time, he might not have to worry about walking through town again if Milner was handy with the iron. His throat was dry, and his head ached from the drink. His palms sweated, and he rubbed them down the seams of his trousers. Was there a way out to save face and not take the chance that Milner would kill him? He mind worked frantically for a way out.

"I ought not to have said what I did, that's true, but you shouldn't have come in here wearing that gun to talk to me!" Boyd was feeling good again, like he was in charge. He had thought of the words to try and turn this around; make Milner look like the man in the wrong. "I was just playing cards an' all, and you come in here riled up and wearing!" Job done, thought Boyd. Milner couldn't recover from this, surely? He had to walk away, or say something. The old cockiness returned and he smiled again. Milner's next words wiped the smile clear off and into the next county; "Say you're sorry."

Boyd Carlton had never said sorry in his life, and the rage steamed inside him as he realised he now had to apologise or act. He knew there was no way out now, and that he could no more say sorry than rope the moon. Milner knew it too, as did the whole bar. Hoping to avoid any shooting, Chris Packer crept up from behind the bar, and stepped warily into the space between the two men. He had wanted to step in earlier, when something could be done to stop it going any further, but he knew Curtis' demand for an apology would never be forthcoming from Boyd. "Boys, we can work this out. Ain't no need for nothin but words here." He stood with his back to Curtis, hoping to calm down the enraged Boyd. Curtis was now unable to see Boyd's hand, and as he sidestepped slowly to the right to make up for this Boyd made his move.

Stepping in closer to Packer, using him as a shield Boyd drew his .45 and thumbed back the hammer. Packer lifted his arms; hoping to avoid harm as Boyd fired three shots in rapid succession. The first missed and ploughed into the bar, the second shot followed it deep into the woodwork, but the third found it's mark in Chris Packer's hip. He spun off and hit a table, as Boyd tried to take better aim at Milner. Curtis had the Remington and crouched down low as Boyd opened fire hitting Packer. Once he was falling out the way Curtis cocked the hammer and lined up his shot, as Boyd fired a forth.

The .44 shot powered into Boyd's jaw; pulverising the bone and driving up deep into his brain. Killed instantly, he hovered above the sprawled Packer before pitching over dead. Curtis stood up, his left hand cupping his ear where Boyd's last shot had taken off the lobe. He walked over to where his adversary lay, and took a deep breath. Two men ran out from behind the piano and lifted Packer up; one other went to fetch the Doctor.

"Shame it had to end this way", one said as he tried to stem the flow of blood from Packer's thigh. Curtis holstered his gun, and picked up Boyd's Peacemaker. "You can do many things, get away with most, but you don't insult a man's family." He said and handed the gun to the barman, "Use it to pay for the Doc." Curtis finished the drink on the bar and fished out the cards from the game; three three's and a six. Dropping them on the floor by Boyd's head Curtis walked out the Diamondback saloon to his room.

END