Luke continued to stare at McCleod as he slowly approached. He bore into the man with an icy, hate-filled glare. While McCleod approached Luke imagined his death in a thousand ways, each more terrible and painful than the last. Luke touched the side of his holster. It wouldn’t be as painful as he wanted, but a bullet would have to do.
As McCleod drew closer, his 47 years flashed before his eyes. How many women wept because of him? How many children had grown up without a father because of the speed of his hands? He paused for a moment and doubled over with a long, harsh-sounding cough. What did it matter if the boy killed him? Truth was, he was dying anyway.
The two were now in firing range as the sun continued to beat down. “McCleod!” roared Luke. “You know who I am?” McCleod just smiled grimly. He decided he would be defiant to the last. “You’re the son of that lawdog I plugged in the store!” he growled. “It was an even break! I was faster!” Luke was beside himself with rage, but he had to keep his emotions in check. “You killed him in cold blood, you cur!” he spat. “I’m gonna enjoy sending you to hell!” The two faced each other and stared down, each with his hand moving slowly to his gun. In moments, one of them would be dead.
Suddenly , McCleod’s hand flew from his side and clutched his chest. Instinctively, Luke drew his gun with nearly imperceptible quickness and fired. McCleod slumped forward and fell on his face in the street. Hot tears streamed down Luke’s face as he ran up to the man and began to kick him savagely. McCleod couldn’t feel it anymore. The heart attack he suffered just before the draw had done the work Luke’s gun was supposed to do.
Luke stared down at the man he had hunted for so long, tears of anger trickling down his sunburned cheeks. It couldn’t end like this, he wouldn’t accept it. He holstered his gun, turned on his heel, and strode grimly down the street. The hate and rage he still felt could not be overcome. It could never be tamed. He would have to find another McCleod.
The End
Realistic Fiction
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There is nothing as a gun draw. You see it in Westerns and you wonder,”Who will draw first?” Its great you wrote this.
I like how I felt like I really understood both of the characters in such a small amount of time.