A Lawman meets his Nemesis
|The piano music stopped abruptly. Marshall Dustin T. Holloway stood steady at the bar drinking, barely tasting the rot-gut whiskey. He was watching the tall, lean rider behind him in the saloon’s mirror.
“I been looking for you Dusty, been looking all over the territory. Where you been hiding?”
The rider spoke slow, overconfident, Dustin thought. Ignoring the rider, He nodded to the barkeep for another whiskey.
“I’m talkin’ to you Holloway.” Sounding agitated now.
Dustin tossed off his drink, slapped a coin on the bar, and turned to face his worst nightmare.
“I hear you talking, Jesse. I just can’t seem to decide if you’re worth the trouble to answer.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing, you low-down dog. I was worth answering three years ago when we stood up together and made that town take notice. They chased us down the road, remember? What a time we had. And now you can’t decide if I’m worth answering? Why I ought to plug you right here and now.”
“Aww not again, honey. Not in front of all these people. You done shot me four times last year. And once, you even threatened to string me up out back of the house. Now how in tarnation am I supposed to maintain my reputation as a lawman if my wife keeps shootin’ me full of holes?”