A Sure Bet

"As far as I'm concerned you're already dead."

Charlie steps forward rubbing the stubble on his neck slowly making his way to the front of the crowd.

"Then certainly, you have under estimated me."

"The only thing I under estimated was how much of a prick you were. Now have you ever seen one of these?" Charlie tapped the side of his holster. The man before him shook his head.

 "I bet you a box of them fancy cigars and your life I can get seven rounds in you before you even draw." 
"And what if I win?"
Charlie smiled.
"Trust me, you won't."
A couple of the men in the crowd chuckled, some raised eyebrows.

"I never..."
"You never what? Felt a womans touch?"
Several men broke out into hysterics and even Cain cracked a smile.

Lincoln grew red in the face and pulled his jacket back only to fall to his knees as six rounds tore through his chest faster then he could bleed. Charlie started to stroll forward as he slipped another round into the chamber.

Lincolns' eyes crossed slightly as they looked up at the barrel pressed against his skull. Blood started to pool at his lips. He grabbed Charlies wrist in protest to his withdrawal from the gentleman's inside pocket.

"Now a bets a bet."

Charlie squeezed.  Lord Lincoln Cole the third hit the ground without the better part of his skull.

The End

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