Why Women Can't Vote (687 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.29 on 7 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by sword (View user info) at 2005-03-01 01:46:09 EST
"If you reach for that gun you are dead" came the slow southern drawl ennuciating what the voice's owner obviously thought was pure simple fact. Bill "The Hound Killer" Harrison was known for one thing and one thing alone and I will give you a hint. It wasn't for his card skills.
Old Bill was maybe a decade before or after 40 years old. At this point it was hard to tell, Bill had a big straw hat streached down over his head so that it just barely obscured his eyes. His skin was torn, scarred and wrinkled but not noticeably more then anyone else's at the table. To make matters worse at this point I was not in my most observant state of mind. I had just spent the last 6 hours of nighttime playing lots of poker and doing more then a little drinking.
Bill got his nickname somewhere in Texas where he was shot in the side with an Apache arrow. The Indians killed his horse, stole all his belongings and beat him half on to death before abandoning him in the wild. Their, rumor has it, he wandered for nigh onto two weeks while a wolf pack trailed him. The wolves figured Bill for an easy mark but found out they were wrong when he killed two or three with his bare hands. He ate the wolves he killed raw and finally walked back to the nearest town. Now why exactly they call him "Hound Killer" instead of "Wolf Killer" I will never know, but I do know this. I once saw a man asking him that very same question and before the words were even all the way out of that fellow's mouth Bill spat in his eye. The curious man reached for a gun and Bill shot him dead. I don't like to get too involved with a fellow like that.
Nevertheless Bill had come on in to this here saloon almost 2 hours before dawn, that being almost 3 hours ago, and started to play cards with us. It wasn't long before Bill had lost quite a bit, he may have been pretty savy with a gun but he wasn't a card player. If I had been a bit more sober I would have recognized this for the bad sign it was, but such was not the case. I am a card player at heart and to used to the more civilized manners of New York City where I was born and bred. Around now Bill had finally realized he was out of money and he had just finished announcing that he thought we were all dirty cheats and that he would be taking his money back.
I had a fair mind to let him. I figured I would have still made a little profit from tonight and a little bit of money was a lot better then a little bit of lead flying at my head. My fellow players though weren't so keen on the idea. The youngest of us three was the most vocal about his objections as is often the case. He was a young lad but tall and as hearty as only the recently born can be. Strapped on a belt around his massive waist was an old pistol that looked like it might have been handmade, by the boy's father.
I began to lean back in my chair opening the way for a hasty retreat if I found it necessary and looked over at the other player who only had one name as far as I knew and that was Whitney. Whitney was a thin fellow but remarkable for being the ugliest man I had ever laid eyes on. He also had a dangerous air about him but not nearly the reputation of The Hound Killer. I noticed Whitney was also leaning back in his chair. The barkeep was rustling underneath the counter but he kept his eyes downcast. He knew what was coming and no doubt wanted to avoid it but he knew better then to mess with Bill Harrison. The boy growled an answer to Harrison's first threat "You
try an take yer money back an yeh'll get somethin else in its stead y'hear?" but for some reason this less then eloquent speech did little to deter Bill, he cared more for money then this child's life.
Bill leaned in over the table nice and slow and with one hand scooped up all the money on my side of the table. Without any sudden moves I slipped back from my chair and took two steps back. Bill then reached across and grabbed the boy's money with the same hand he used before, his left one. What happened next almost came to fast to see but what I think happened was this.
The boy went for his gun and nearly cleared leather before The Hound Killer sent a bullet through his neck. Bill was moving fast the entire time and even as he shot the boy he kicked out with his foot hitting Whitney's chair. Whitney had been waiting for some oppurtunity and while the boy apparently had Harrison's attention he went for his gun and had it leveled at The Hound Killer when his chair went flying out from under him dropping him to the ground. Whitney fired a round in suprise as hit the floor but his aim was off and even as he tried to recover Bill fired three more shots straight through him.
I took another backward step then hitched up my dress and turned to flee out the door.
User Reviews
Submitted by Faithless_Whisper (user info) at 2005-03-01 13:31:23 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
I've read better.
Submitted by thaumaturge (user info) at 2005-03-01 11:50:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Is this a true story?
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-03-01 11:44:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It says it's for dogs, but she can't read.
-- Homer Simpson
Simpson's Roasting on an Open Fire
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2005-03-01 05:26:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Not bad.
-Dave
Submitted by Joemama (user info) at 2005-03-01 03:07:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Tigre (user info) at 2005-03-01 02:05:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good story
Submitted by Deamon (user info) at 2005-03-01 01:58:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
nice title. Good story. True?