Stories: Alias Smith and Jones
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The young lady stumbled out of the General Store and directly into the arms of the strappingly good-looking, unsuspecting cowboy.
“Whoa, ma’am,” the brown-haired man reacted and steadied her.
“I’m so sorry.” She smoothed her dress and then looked up. “I…” she stammered, seeing a dimpled smile spread across the most gorgeous face she had ever seen. “I…I am sorry, sir.”
“My pleasure.” The cavernous – deep enough to jump in and hide in – dimpled smile spread, reaching his eyes. “Are you alright, ma’am?”
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Tempted
by Storm Richards
Heyes and Kid leaned against the porch post. "I know what you're thinkin' Kid, but it's too risky."
Kid pouted as he watched the potential contestants line up. "One dollar to enter," the mayor of the town barked. "Just one dollar for the chance to win twenty-five dollars, step right up."
Kid sighed.
Heyes gave him a sideways glance.
"Kid, ain't ya gonna enter?" Kyle asked as he walked up to the pair. "It's your favorite."... |
“Okay, Wheat, we got it all set,” Kyle stated.
“What's all set?”
“First bandit.”
“First bandit?” Wheat queried.
“Yep. Since Heyes and Kid won't be back for ‘while, we’s figured out first bandit.”
“Huh?”
“Ya know, first bandit, second bandit, third bandit…who does what.”
Wheat stared blankly at Kyle.
“‘Kay, so Heyes is always first bandit when he’s here, unless it’s Kid then he’s first. But Heyes and Kid ain’t here so we need a new first. That’s you, but you’s... |
Hannibal Heyes lay fully clothed on top of the covers of the hotel bed, head and shoulders propped up by two pillows. His boots were neatly placed by the side of the bed and his gun and holster hung on the bedpost above his head and more importantly, in reach.
Kid Curry sat in the chair between the two beds, his sock covered foot propped up on his bed next to his empty holster. On the small table next to him, he had meticulously laid out the tools he needed to accomplish the ever so important task of cleaning his gun. With the gun in... | |
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