Western Bravado

Western Bravado

“I tell you boys, iffen I seen that there skunk on them wanted posters, I’d...” Gilly started.

Gulch spit into the spittoon beside him and wiped his moustache on his sleeve.

“Don’t start that again.”

“Are you sayin’ I’m yella?” huffed Gilly.

“No! Heaven fer bid. I jest see you as overly cautious, is all.”

“Is that so? Why don’t we jest step outside and find out!” Gilly said, bristling.

Gulch slurped up the last of his redeye and grinned at Gilly.

“Sure, you wanna do this? If ye are, let’s make a wager. If I win, you buy me dinner and whiskey for the rest of the night!”

“What if I win?”

“Then you git the same from me and I lay off ya about all your boastin’ fer as long as I’m here.”

“How long you stayin’?”

“Not sure yit, might jest depend on this here wager.”

“Let’s go then, tin horn!” Gilly said as he ushered him through the saloon’s swing doors.

The people inside ran outside and lined up on the boardwalk.

Gulch threw the first punch and Gilly ducked. The scuffle went on for at least half an hour. When the dust settled, both men were standing. But of the two of them, Gulch looked the worst. He grabbed Gilly’s battered hand and held it up high.

“Thanks, fer the meal and the bottle, Mr. Gulch!” said Gilly much later.

“You deserved it! I ain’t been hard pressed like that in some time,” the other man said with a belch.

“Does that mean yer leavin’ town, then?”

“Cain’t, been hired as the new sheriff. Lookin’ fer an able deputy. How ‘bout it?”

Gilly grinned and pumped his hand.

“Fer shore, that way I don’t gotta boast anymore when I catch a poster boy!”