Writing

Adding onto my silly little story

Scene beginning in the ale house within the mining settlement.
I spent a little more time on the first draft for this one, Its kind of nice.

Chapter 6:

Only a handful of men were in the bar as John entered. One table had a game of poker going, and most of the men were nursing warm drinks, lost in their own muttered conversations. A glowing potbellied stove sat in the corner, driving the day’s chill out of any man who entered. The foaming mug of ale set before him warmed his hands and tasted good. A long ride back to Fairview waited for him tonight, but for now, sinking into a chair by the crackling stove was all he had the willpower to do.

John’s mind drifted back to the twisted face of the frozen corpse at the outpost. The killer had dragged the dying man inside the outpost building for questioning before delivering a final bullet to the head. Looking around from the outpost clearing, John had spotted multiple firing positions—caves and nests carved into the ice and piled with sandbags, dug by the miners to fend off roving militias that ventured this far north. Yet the man had been ambushed, likely shot down from their own shooting nests. The marshal’s two deputies would return to town soon with a clearer report on where the killer came from, and John desperately needed that information before heading back to town. It seemed men out here struck and killed without reason, and the sooner John could wrap up his case, the better.

A group of men began filling the bar—young, wild-eyed men drinking mugs of ale, roughhousing, and having fun. John made a point of ignoring them, but he caught the occasional knowing glance his way. Heading out now, in the eyes of the miners, was considered downright irresponsible, and he was sure to stir up trouble on his way out. As time went on, the glances came more frequently; sooner or later, one of these men would start pushing, and John didn’t care which. A wiry blond-haired kid with a bandana tied around his forehead looked a little too sure of himself, touching the single pistol in his tied-down holster. The ratty kid smirked at him again, even as John met his glance. The kid seemed keenly aware of the gun on his hip, as if he’d just put it on a moment ago. John finished his warm drink and stood up; the right thing was to try leaving before someone got hurt. It was always better to give these men an easy choice to avoid a fight. John stepped toward the door, and immediately, the yellow-haired wiry kid and a couple of drunks blocked his path.

“Going somewhere, mister?” The kid was jumpy and looking for a fight. In a mining outfit like this, he’d get fired for killing a fellow miner, but outsiders were fair game for anyone to push around. Some young kids like this one thought their status among the older men was gained by being known as a fast hand. Kids like these were the worst kind.

“I’m heading out of town at the request of the marshal, and I’m telling you now, don’t fucking start it.”

“Start what?” The shit-eating grin was impeccable, and John was barely restraining himself.

John took another step forward, and the room began to clear out. The kid’s hand hovered over his pistol.

“I heard you reported Grayson’s body, thinking you’re something special. Nobody else was out in the slip that night. You expect us to believe you didn’t put the bullet in him?”

There were a couple of onlookers and men listening through the doorways for John’s reply.

“There were multiple men out in the slip this week, and the marshal’s men are looking over the scene now. They’ll see the killer’s prints from the cave network, while mine only came in from the road. Back in town, they know I only arrived yesterday, so there was no way I could’ve killed him.”

The evidence was almost too clear, and the kid couldn’t say anything else without sounding stupid. There were only two ways out of calling someone a murderer: back down from the accusation, or kill. His face wavered for a second, then the grin returned.

”You calling me a liar?”

Even as John started to reply, a flash in the kid’s eyes warned he was already starting to draw. The gun came up, spitting flame into the ground, and John felt his own pistol fire three times, center mass. The kid folded onto the ground, coughing out the last of his life onto the frosty floor, fingers clawing into the ground as blood pooled around him.

John stepped over the pooling blood and out the door in disgust, just as the marshal and a couple other men came running towards the bar. John finished reloading and dropped his pistol back into its holster.

“It’s over now, marshal, some yellow-haired kid tried his best and got a couple of shots off into the floor. He’s not gonna make it.”

The Marshall glanced from the kid’s body to John “All the same, you’d better clear out tonight. They knew this kid was bound for a bullet, but they don’t take kindly to losing someone they know, no matter how foolish.”

John was already untying his sled. “I was gonna head out after this anyway, but I want to speak with your two deputies before I leave and see what they found with that killing at the outpost.”

The marshal nodded, and the sled’s engine roared to life, a crowd of men had gathered around the body, watching. John muscled the sled around quickly, and sped toward the marshal’s office.