Cowboys and Angels

Gunslinging country was Kate's front porch. A wide stripe of gravel and pressed dirt cut off a dreamy green pasture in front of her ranch-style home. Rusting, biting barbed wire stretched comfortably across the horizon. Although her place was a little ways from town, it had seen many scores settled.

She rocked gently in her chair, thankful for the breeze and the sweat off her iced tea. Like the calm before the storm, she knew trouble was brewing, as the strange silence made the air uncomfortably stagnant at times. Only the timid wind chimes rang with trepidation.

  The buzzing of cicadas set a perfect scene and they waned back and forth, singing like a siren. Kate gently rocked to the rhythm, waiting for a stir. Cued by the whinny of a neighboring horse, the first one arrived, appearing from a barn. He was short and round in the face with youth. He was a local, and a feisty one at that. Kate barely recognized him with the strong tan set deep in his skin and a fresh haircut that kept the blonde shagginess out of his eyes.

“Bellus!” He shouted for his foe, stomping halfway across the yard, directed by a mission. “You come out here, you scoundrel!” The heat from the sun boiled up to his eyes and Kate wondered what this riot would be about. Sometimes it was money, sometimes crime, or sometimes something entirely different. No matter the cause, the entertainment was free and better than town gossip or farming chores. Kate rocked in her chair, yearning for the contingency. 

“Face me now, or face a coward's death.” with his last threat, the boy shoved a cattleman on his head to shield the sun. As dramatic as it was, his calling did the trick. A second figure emerged from the thicket and strolled to the other.

“Now, now, is that any way to welcome a stranger into your town?” The new one replied with a keen smile. His walk was wide and commanding. Kate doubted anyone was welcome here with the way fights sprouted out of thin air. If you weren't a lady or a horse, you were bound to know the bite of a bullet.

“Not if that stranger has eyes on my girl.” The first one looked straight past the rim of his hat with admonishment. “You best saddle up and leave because no one is stealing Miss Marcie from me.” The young one crossed his arms in almost a pout but stuck out his chin for intimidation. “I know your tricks and don't want them in my town.” Unfortunately, Bellus didn't seem frightened by this accusation. He brightened at it and even winked at Miss Marcie on the sidelines. How she got caught up in this, Kate didn't know, the lad was a real doll.

“I ain’t leaving,” Bellus chimed matter-of-factly. “And your girl is with me now. Miss Marcie took one good look and knew I was a better cowboy than you. But don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe Callum.” That cheeky grin emerged once more as he pretended to press out his fine clothing. He puffed with bravado.

Now that was a threat. Stealing a girl was a high crime in this country. Kate's eyes lingered between the two. Bellus was visibly older with a few good inches on Callum. Despite the spurs on Bellus’ boots, Kate knew he had never ridden a horse. He was much too scared of them. While some might place bets on who would win or lose, She just watched. Let fate decide who would skip away from this one.

“Then I dare you to a draw. You can leave dead or alive.” Callum stuck out his hand for a deal with the other gentleman. “I’d prefer the first one.”

“Then you got yourself a draw.” Bellus accepted eagerly with a firm handshake. The rules were settled and they stood 20 paces from the other. Their hands were at the ready and waiting for the signal.

“Let us end this foolery right now!” Bellus taunted

“Gladly.” Callum made a quick draw and Bellus did too.

In a flash, their guns were aimed and the air splashed with gunfire.

Zing!

Zang! 

Callum dodged to the left, making Bellus miss. Bellus leaped for the bushes and made a classic baseball sliding stop. They popped a few from their places and the tension rose as they reloaded. Again they sprung on each other.

In a whirl, they both fell to the ground. One gripping his shoulder, the other his thigh. What a turn of events! They had both been hit. Brutally taken down by their enemy. This was an awful commotion, but Kate did not move, only more curious about what would happen next. A Western woman knew never to get caught in the crossfire. However, from her place, she could see their clothing was already soaked from the direct hits.

After withering for a few moments on the ground, both sat up, unharmed.

“Heeey!” Callum sounded exasperated “I was supposed to be the one who got shot!”

“No! I was!” Disagreed Bellus. Now, Kate worried a real fight was to begin. “I guess that makes us both pretty good cowboys.” Bellus finally added, witty as ever and earning a giggle. She had raised that one right, fighting fire with humor.

Kate was chuffed at the conclusion “Alright boys, it's time for supper.”

“Already!?” Callum fussed, brazenness not lost to the wind. “But Mom, I still have dinner cooking on the cowpatties.” A familiar pout started to emerge, but no chin this time.

The woman understood that meant nothing more than mudpies or dandelion soup. She also knew gung-ho boys were hard to argue with, so she played along, knowing they would eat her out of the house and home when they returned. “Okay, go put out your cow patties. Then come in and eat your mom's cooking.” Kate stood and plucked Miss Marcie, an old Annabelle doll, off the stairsteps, sure she would’ve been forgotten and left to weather. Both boys jumped up and ran for the back of the house, water guns in hand. There was no harm in letting them play a little longer, forever in their imaginations, and sure to be plotting new adventures for tomorrow.