Chapter 1
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I stared in awe at my father’s precision. Three glass bottles shattered at once, leaving over twenty left sitting on the wooden ledge. My father chuckled when he saw my face and ruffled my brown hair. “You wanna shoot like that?”
I nodded eagerly, excitement flooding my veins. I looked up into my father’s brown eyes and he smiled, handing his gun to me. “Give it a whirl, son.”
I gaped at the gun in my hands, not believing my father would let me hold it. I was only ten years old. Never had I held his precious weapon, a weapon given to him with his golden Sheriff badge and huge black hat.
My father clapped me on the back, causing dust to rise from my brown jacket. I sneezed into my sleeve and wiped my nose before my father shoved my forward toward the bottles. “C’mon, son, give ‘em your best shot.”
I held up the gun and pointed, trying to look exactly like my father. My hand was shaking and I couldn’t aim. My bullet could be going anywhere, but I pulled the trigger and was knocked off my feet from the sudden force. My father caught me and stood me on my feet. “Good job, son! For a first timer, tha’s pretty good.”
I looked up at the glass bottles. None of them were broken, not even cracked. I didn’t understand how I did a good job. However, my father was still proud. He jammed his Sheriff hat on my head. “We could use you on the force!” he said, clapping his big hand on my shoulder. My knees buckled under the great pressure.
He took the gun from my hands and shoved me back behind him. “Watch carefully, son,” he said. He parted his feet and bent his knees slightly. One arm was held out behind him while the other pointed toward the bottles. I took his stance in and forced it into my memory for when I would hold a gun again. He didn’t move for quite some time, and I was beginning to worry when a Bang! sounded and a bottle shattered.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
One after the other, without pause, the bottles exploded from the force of the bullet. I looked back to my father. He didn’t move from his stance—not an inch. He shot another bottle, then another…I tried to copy his stance, separating my feet and holding out my arms. When my father finally stood up, I quickly resumed standing, scratching my head when he turned to look at me.
“Wan’ another go?” he asked, holding out his gun.
I jumped on the spot and ran over to him, gently picking up the gun from his hands. I separated my feet, trying to copy my father. He helped me position my feet in a more gripping stance. I held out my arm behind me, my other pointing toward the bottles. My father fixed the hat on my head before taking a step backwards. I could see a lot better.
My hand was still shaking. I was going to miss the bottles again, I knew I would. I braced my knees so I wouldn’t fly back into my father’s arms. I gritted my teeth as I pulled the trigger. I stumbled backwards, but caught myself before my father could catch me. He wouldn’t’ve anyway as he applauded me.
“You got one, Bradley! Tha’s m’boy!”
He tackled me to the ground and I laughed, the hat flying off into the dust. He started tickling my sides and I rolled around in the dirt yard, my brown jacket and jeans covered in the pale brown dust. I couldn’t breathe from my father’s continual tickling. When he stopped to let me breathe, I rammed into him, knocking him to the ground this time.
“Hey, Sheriff.”
We stopped and looked up at Deputy Luke standing in the backdoor of the Sheriff’s office. He laughed at the sight of us two roughhousing. “Yer son’s beatin’ ya, Sheriff.”
“I said we could use ‘im on the force,” my father said, ruffling my hair. “He shot ‘is firs’ two bullets and got a flask already.”
“Really? Mus’ be beginner’s luck,” Deputy Luke said with a wink, stepping down the wooden stairs. My father stood up and I followed suit. Deputy Luke’s blue shirt and black pants were much cleaner than my father’s suit. His friendly blue eyes swept from me to my father. “There was a figh’ down in the bar, Sheriff.”
“Again?” my father grunted, swinging his gun into its holster. “Did you take care of it?”
“Supposedly one had a gun,” Deputy Luke continued and my father’s brow furrowed. “He sho’ the bartender in the shoulder, missin’ his target. He’s sitting in the jail cell now.”
“I’ll go see ‘im,” my father said. He went to pick up his hat before walking into the office. Deputy Luke turned to me and looked at the glass bottles.
“So you sho’ one, eh?”
“Yeah!” I said, bouncing on my toes. “It was amazing! I blasted that bottle to bits just like a Sheriff!”
Deputy Luke laughed and drew his gun. “Let’s see how I fare against the Sheriff.”
I quickly stepped back to allow Deputy Luke some room. To my disappointment, he didn’t take on my father’s same stance. He stood there on two feet as normally as any beginner would. He held out his gun, holding it with two hands.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three bottles down. I gaped. He shot just as fast as my father, and obviously just as accurate, but he didn’t stand like my father at all. How could that be? Deputy Luke saw me and grinned. He settled his gun into its holster, asking, “You wanna hit the bar with Book? I got another King tale to tell.”
I gasped. “Definitely!” I ran straight through the office.
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Reviews appreciated.
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I fixed the grammar mistakes, thank you very much for catching them. I fixed the dialogue in that one spot, Insomnia, so thanks for that.
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