Posted by: Caitlynn | January 18, 2010

Genre #13 — Western

(For more information on my Genre Self-Challenge, read previous entry here.)


“The Silver Pistol”


“Get on outta my saloon, boy,” Mr. Smith said as two large men shoved young Billy Evans out the swinging doors and into the dusty dirt road. He stumbled and fell flat on his face, causing a roar of laughter to erupt from within.

“Aw, but Mr. Smith, sir,” Billy protested.

“Not another word from you, hear?” the older man cut him off. “Now I’m Maybelle’s father, and I don’t need advice from the likes of you on what’s best for her.”

Billy stood up, not bothering to dust the dirt of his clothes. “But that George Richards is nothin’ but a snake!” he shouted after the barkeeper. “He don’t love Maybelle, not like she deserves.”

“And who does? You?” a gruff voice mocked from inside the saloon, sending its owner and the other drunkards into another fit of riotous laughter.

He tugged on the rim of his hat to shield his reddening face. “I…I don’t s’pose I was gonna suggest anything of the sort…”

At that point, however, nobody was even listening to the scrawny young man anymore. He looked down, kicking absent-mindedly at the dirt and loose pebbles at his feet. When he glanced up, first at the saloon doors, then at Maybelle’s room, he caught a brief glimpse of her moving away from her window.

He sighed. “I reckon she probably heard all that,” he mumbled.

Billy hesitated a few moments more before deciding that Maybelle would most likely not return before he began shuffling down the road back home.

After he had walked for a good while, though, he heard the trot of horse hooves approach. He initially just stepped to the side so the rider could pass, but then he heard, “Well lookie here! If it isn’t little Billy Evans.”

Billy grimaced inside, forcing himself to look up at the other man. “George,” he answered curtly, quickly tilting his hat and attempting to walk past.

“Not so fast there,” George said, steering his horse in front of Billy. “Where might we be coming from, hmm?”

“It ain’t none of your business,” the smaller man spat out.

George got off his horse but still towered over Billy. Taking a step forward, he said, “Now sure it is, Billy-boy. You were off visiting my Maybelle again, weren’t you?”

Billy turned his head to the side, pretending to ignore the other man. This only served to anger George further, however. He grabbed Billy by the collar, saying, “You answer when your better asks you a questions, understand?”

“Sure,” Billy smirked, raising his eyebrows. “Soon as someone my better asks me something.”

George smacked Billy across the jaw and released him, sending the smaller man stumbling back. “Don’t get so arrogant just because Maybelle fancies you a bit…” he muttered, stopping himself from saying anything more.

Billy looked up in surprise as he rubbed his jaw. “She fancies me?” he asked, his voice quiet at first. Then, upon seeing the flustered look on George’s face, he couldn’t resist adding, “Well now, I guess she’s not so much your Maybelle after all, is she?”

The brawnier man grabbed Billy by the shirt again and dragged him to his feet. “She will be,” he hissed between gritted teeth. When Billy continued smirking in response, George became even more furious. He punched the boy until he was bloody before roughly tossing him against the wall of a nearby building. Billy collapsed to his knees again, and George mounted his horse. “Mark my words, Billy-boy,” he called back over his shoulder as he began riding off, “she’ll be mine soon enough.”

It was shortly after the sound of trotting hooves disappeared that Billy collapsed completely and blacked out.

When he came to, the first thought he had was, “Maybe I ought to go and visit Maybelle once more tonight. Something don’t feel quite right.” He began scrambling to his knees again. “‘Course, not that I’d be much suited for her, either,” he grunted. As he was pulling himself up, his hand brushed against something cold and smooth. He looked at what he touched: a shiny silver pistol he had never seen before.

“What’s this?” he asked to no one, picking the gun up to examine it more closely. “Well, I s’pose I ought to ask around about it,” he said, taking it with him. “Now to see Maybelle.”

When he reached the saloon, though, the barkeeper and customers were all in a frenzy. Concerned, Billy approached the crowd and asked, “Mr. Smith, sir, what’s going on?”

“Going on? Maybelle’s missing, that’s what’s going on,” he scowled. “We heard a shriek, an’ by the time I got up to her room, she was no where to be seen!”

Suddenly, George’s words passed into Billy’s head: “She’ll be mine soon enough.”

He grit his teeth. “That snake,” he muttered. He ran up to a nearby horse and swiftly got on.

“Hey—” its owner began.

“I’ll be borrowin’ this,” he called back as he rode off.

How he knew where to go is anyone’s guess. When asked later, not even Billy himself could say. But before long, he caught up to them at a secluded spot on the outskirts of town. George was advancing on poor Maybelle, who was all in disarray but clearly putting up a good fight.

“Hold it, Richards!” Billy shouted.

“Billy!” Maybelle cried upon seeing him. “Thank goodness.” She put all her strength in delivering the final, well-placed kick that all otherwise defenseless damsels know to place, succeeding in temporarily sending George back a few paces. The moment his grip loosened on her, she dashed away from him and flew into Billy’s arms.

“Maybelle,” he sighed into her hair. “Are you okay? Please tell me you are, or else…” he trailed off.

She nodded. “I am now. But you got here just in time, I reckon,” her voice shook out.

Billy forced himself to pull away, stepping in front of Maybelle to shield her from George, who had managed to rise to his feet again. “I’ll be takin’ Miss Smith back to her daddy now,” he said. “And I’ll let him decide what to do with you, too.”

He turned his back to George and moved towards the horse. Before he could get there, though, Maybelle cried, “Look out!”

Without even thinking and in one fluid motion, Billy spun back around and drew the pistol he had found earlier, shooting the gun George had in his hand before the snake could fire.

George looked stunned. Maybelle looked stunned. Even Billy looked stunned, continuously glancing back and forth between George’s wounded hand and the silver pistol in his own. “Now how did I…?”

Billy brought Maybelle back to her father safely that night, and her father, upon hearing what had happened, granted Billy his daughter’s hand – which Billy, of course, readily accepted. George slithered away and was never seen or heard from in that town again. And when Billy meant to show off the gun he had earlier discovered and made ample use of, he discovered that it had mysteriously vanished. It, too, was never discovered again.



  1. Heehee! This must have had you laughing all the way through writing this. I love the part where everyone is just stunned! TOO funny and hilariously done. I’m so glad the snake got what was comin’ t’ ‘im. (and of course, that Billy and Maybelle were all nicely happily ever aftered) ^_^

    • Hehe…oh yes, it was definitely a lot of fun to write. 🙂

  2. Oh the typical Western. Really good!

    • Yep, pretty standard stuff. 😉

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