The Shot

Facing consequences can be hard.

Thomas’s spurs rattled as he walked towards the porch. He angled his hat to block the glare of the sun. The wind stirred up the dust on the ground. It had been dry, and the soil was parched. It was time to face the consequences of his actions. By the height of the sun it was nearly five PM. He lowered the scarf covering his mouth. There was no point in trying to hide his identity. The sheriff wasn’t going to like this.

He ground his boots into the dust and stepped onto the porch. The sheriff opened the screen door with a creak. “Thomas.”

Thomas flinched. It was as though he already knew. Had he been watching? Thomas hated it when the sheriff used his given name. He swallowed hard and confessed, “I shot Bucky in the butt, and he whimpered.”

The sheriff shook his head. “You know what this means, right?” The sheriff held out his hand.

Thomas groaned. He withdrew his guns from their holsters and passed them to the sheriff. "Will I get them back?"

"What do you think? Just be glad Bucky survived."

"I was not trying to hurt him..."

"You shot him. How did you expect that not to hurt him?"

"I thought I would miss..." Thomas frowned.

"Why shoot if you are going to miss?"

Thomas had no answer. He said nothing and pursed his lips. It was time to take his punishment. He hung his head. "I suppose you are going to lock me up now?" He swallowed hard as the sheriff mulled over the charges pending. This could be very bad or it might be okay.

"Just do not shoot the dog again!" The sheriff looked him over. “Head in and wash up. It is time for dinner."

“Yes, sir, Dad.” Thomas scurried in the house, thankful not to be grounded.

310 words