The Ocean’s City

“We got some outlaws, boys!” The bartender shouted in excitement to no one in particular. He was already ready, rifle locked and loaded, and he was about to scout the danger.

Willie’s eyes turn bright blue, like the cloudless sky outside. His lips turned up in hope as Hutson glanced at Dalton, released Willie, and rushed to the windows.

I followed, peeping over their shoulders in time to see an army of men riffled up, ready for a rumble. A small boy and a young girl, who could be his little sister, scurried across the dirt road into a building for protection. A lady urgently ushered the two children in. The street was no longer bustling with busy people. The outlaws took over the town, and they all sat stunningly silent.

One rider looked around the town, scooping every building. He spat. Even from here, I could see the brown hew of his saliva as it flew to the dusty floor. “We don’t mean any trouble!” He hollered loudly for everyone to hear.

“We just came for a pretty gal, not from around here, and the two men she came with.”

The pace of my heart picked up. The outlaw was talking about me. Why?

A man came out of his hiding spot. He wore black from head to toe, and his face was obscured by the shade of his cowboy hat. “Now, Hilton. You know the rules… we don’t dillydally with the likes of you unless—”

Hilton raised his hand, summoning a rider forward. It was strange to say the horse was recognizable. Perhaps it was the tack, or maybe an intuition deep down, but nonetheless, I bit on my bottom lip a bit too hard. I could taste traces of iron. My eyes followed the horse to the familiar face of the rider, and I didn’t have to wonder where I had seen this face before because I had already seen it earlier this morning.

“Get rid of them,” Hutson demanded.

“I can’t!”

“Someone else is here?”

Dalton gave a look as he contemplated his dilemma. “Shit!”

“What do you mean, someone else is here? Who?” I pipped in. Both men turned. Hutson gave me his famous look of “You are getting in the way of things,” Dalton seemed shocked I was even behind them. He grabbed my arm and swung me away from the window. I stumbled to the middle of the room. Then, with the urgent look of a commander preparing for war, he silently snapped his fingers, pointed at Willie, and then back to me.

Willie instantly understood and lightly tugged me away, guiding me behind the bar. I had to strain my ears to hear the voices outside. “We are just looking for wanted men. They are murderers, killed my men, been staying out in old man Dutchman’s estate. They ain’t the kind you’d like to keep in your town.”

There was a steady clanking sound coming from the man’s spurs. There was a certainty to the way he made every step. He wasn’t one to back down. “I’m the sheriff in this town. If that is true, then I will deal with them. In the name of the law.”

There was silence, followed by disturbing laughter. “I was afraid you’d be so stupid.” Bam! The sound of loud pop flew to every corner of the earth that had ears to hear it. The silence and shock of the noise lasted only a millisecond before people registered what was expected of them. A string of gunshots roared over the town.

I placed myself in a fetal position, and Willie pushed me farther to the floor. He shouted something in my ear, but I couldn’t understand what he said. My mind struggled to cope, and I thought about how I couldn’t hear the laughter of the children running anymore. How it was robbed by this loud monster, hungry and feeding off of joy, only leaving chaos in its steps.

Each shot had my eyes flinching closed. With each flinch, I would open my eyes again and stare at the odd angle on the floor. A thick layer of dust danced above the wooden floor. The bartender would have to sweep after this. What dust that had already settled marked footprints.

I noted the footprints and thought about how they had gotten there. My mind was in a safe state of not feeling, but was instantly disrupted when I realized they could only be Willie’s footprints.

I sat up, my brain suddenly aware. A stray bullet flew my way. It had already hit a barrel before I even reacted, ducking to the floor as if I thought I had the speed to dodge bullets.

The nerves in my chest said to laugh at my ridiculous self, but a part of my brain brought me a sense of duty, telling me it could wait. I crawled on my hands and knees to peer behind the bar.

Dalton and Hutson were no longer in the saloon. The bartender sat wedge behind a few barrels. He would sit up, point his gun outside the window, shoot, then duck behind the barrels again. He wooed them every time he made his shot and gave them a small curse before sending them off to their deaths.

I glimpsed at Dalton in the mix of gun smoke and dust. He somehow retrieved his gun from the saddle and posted himself. Many gunshots were coming from every direction. It was like the whole town had a tough grit, and no outlaw could simply come in without getting his head blown off.

Willie was nowhere to be seen in any direction. His footprints led to the back of the bar and ended where a window was open, and the curtain slightly fluttered from the wind. I poked my head out to inspect the area for danger; it was an odd contrast of calm compared to the chaotic scene on the other side of the salon.

I worked the cotton dress in my hand and crawled out the window to another street, which was significantly smaller and housed more homes than businesses.

Several heads that seemed to be children ducked down as I inspected the street more carefully. Then, a small girl with brown eyes full of innocence and life looked at me wide-eyed. Her freckled face was frozen with fear as she waved her small, chubby hand, urging me to come hide with them.

I smiled, nodding, trying to tell her it was okay. Then I stepped toward the commotion, feeling Willie had gone this way to find a stray horse. Dust flew as two men broke from the cluster of war on the other street. Their feet shuffled like they were dancing, but their hands said otherwise.

A fist collided with its opponent’s face, knocking him out cold. I froze like a deer in headlights. It was a grave mistake. I should have been diving under the wooden porches or lying in what grass was puffed at the edges of the building, but I didn’t, and it was in vain.

The man who won the brawl wiped the blood from his lip as his eyes landed on me. I looked at him, pleading for him to just continue with the gunfight, but he let out a whistle. Louder than I had thought, a human could have imaginably whistled.

“I found her boys!”