Benny was alone in the store room of the Red Stag Saloon. There was a door that lead into a back alley.Benny walked up to the door and grabbed the brass handle. He started to turn the knob then stopped. He looked over his shoulder towards the empty saloon. He saw Carl was still passed out drunk on top of the bar. Carl’s large stomach rising and falling as he snored.Shaking his head, Benny let go of the door knob. With his left hand, he traced his fingers along the cracked leather of his belt. He stopped when he felt the wood grip of a rusty .32-30 Colt Single Action Army revolver.
“Oh boy I’ve done it now,” Benny said to himself as he pulled the pistol out from his belt.
Benny stared down at the old pistol as he wiped sweat from his forehead. Backing away from the door he looked around the store room and spotted a whiskey barrel in the corner.
“Well, hello Jasper,” Benny said to the barrel. He stuck the pistol back into his belt. He did so that when he went to draw the Colt it would be done in a cross draw motion with his left hand.
“Hey Jasper, sorry I’m late,” Benny said as he squared up to the whiskey barrel.
“Jasper, I need to tell you something,” Benny again said to the barrel, this time reaching down for his revolver.
Benny went to draw the pistol. However, the barrel’s front sight got caught on his belt. It took him two tries to pull the gun clear.
“Dang it!” Benny huffed as he stomped his left foot. He stuck the pistol back into his belt line. This time he turned the gun so the front sight pressed into his skin.
“Jasper, look, change of plans,” Benny said as he raced his left hand down to the butt of the Colt. This time he pulled the gun clear and pointed it at the barrel. Focusing on the front sight he reached his left thumb up to the hammer. But his thumb was sweaty and slipped off.
Benny wiped his left hand on his pants. Taking his time, he dug the skin of his thumb into the revolver’s serrated hammer before pulling it backwards.
Click, click, click.
Snap. Benny’s left pointer finger had been resting on the trigger causing the hammer to fall.
“Oh Jesus!” Benny shouted as he dropped the revolver.
Benny stared down at the revolver then looked over at the whiskey barrel then back to the revolver.
Bending over, Benny picked up the pistol. Slowly he set the hammer to half cock and opened the cylinder gate. Spinning the cylinder, he saw six empty chambers.
Benny again looked at the empty chambers.
“I couldn’t teach a hen to cluck, I swear.”
Benny looked around the room.
“Where the dang hell?”
Benny walked over to the whiskey barrel and placed the Colt on top. He reached his hands into his front two pockets. In the right pocket he found a packet of matches, in the left a folded envelope. He opened the envelope and ran his fingers over the ten Fifty-dollar Green Back notes inside.
Tossing the envelope and matches next to the Colt, he checked his back pockets. In his right pocket he found two .32-30 caliber bullets and in his left pocket he found one more.
“Thought Tubby gave me six,” said Benny as he again checked his now empty pockets.
Benny loaded the three rounds into the revolver’s cylinder. He ensured that when he cocked the hammer it would fall on a loaded chamber. He again placed the pistol in his belt in a cross draw position. He practiced twice grabbing the butt of the Colt and tripled checked that the front sight was digging into his skin.
Benny walked up to the door that led into the back alley. He grabbed the brass handle then looked back at the whiskey barrel. He saw the envelope of green backs on top of the barrel.
“Rule one, of being an assassin, don’t forget the money,” Benny chuckled to himself.
Benny walked back over to the barrel and picked up the envelope. As he refolded the envelope he heard the sound of brass slowly grinding against brass.Dropping the envelope, he spun around on his heels and faced the back alley door.
The wooden door swung open and slammed against the wall. Light from the mid-day sun flooded into the room.
Benny raised his left hand to his eye brows and squinted.
“You talk loud Benny.”
Benny’s words were cut short as a lead slug punched into his stomach.
Benny’s knees buckled and he doubled over, his hands reaching down to his belly.
Click, click, click.
Benny heard the fast re cocking of a revolver. He went to reach for his Colt. But his bloody fingers slipped off of the wood grips.
“First rule of gun fight’n Benny, shut up and shoot.”
“Shoulda stuck to Faro, huh Benny?”
Benny’s vision became blurry and his breathing choked with blood.