Jack and the six-shooter

The first time Jack Miller pulled the trigger, nothing happened. He was fairly sure that nothing would happen on second or subsequent attempts either, but decided to find out the hard way. Being but a junior bank clerk, it was the first time Jack had picked up a gun. He usually held nothing more dangerous than a pen and even that with great care. But when the township schoolteacher Miss Rosalynd Jenkins was backhanded by the oaf William Ruggin, Jack had instantly called him out and had been hastily supplied with a sixshooter.

The Colt 1873 Frontier Six-shooter was a mighty weapon. Mostly reliable, mostly rugged, mostly accurate. But Jack had forgotten a pretty fundamental fact of handguns. They mostly needed bullets to work properly. And standing in the middle of Main Street with plenty of other bullets flying over his head fired by a laughing Billy Ruggin was probably the worst time to find out that he'd just made the most stupid mistake of his life.

And then he made what some called the second most stupid mistake of his life, and what others called the most cunning play they'd ever seen. Jack, having learned to count at an early age, dropped the useless Colt, and started walking towards Billy.

The End

1 comment about this story Feed