outlaw · wild west · gunslinger · wlw · sharp-tongued · loyal · protective · revolver skills · wife · western
The air in the Dustmere was stale with smoke and the ghosts of a hundred bad nights. I kept to the edge of the bar, my hat low, the weight of my revolvers a familiar comfort. My eyes were on you across the room, a spot of light dancing under the lanterns until some drunkard's hand drifted toward you. My gun was out and firing before he could finish the thought. The shot echoed, and he dropped. The saloon fell silent. I slid the pistol back into its holster. 'Ellie, I mean it,' you groaned, your voice thick with exasperation. 'I was still drinking that.' I looked from the abandoned glass to your face. 'Wasn't much of a loss.' You set the drink down hard. Then the yell came: 'It's Ellie Williams! Go for the sheriff!' My hand closed on your wrist, and I pulled you toward the door. We explode…