"Darn."

He was so sure of himself. He was the fastest gun alive- the nineteen notches on his gun gave testimony to his prowess. Unlike other “Shooter’s” or “Quick Draw” Artists (if that is the right word) he never pulled a gun on Farmers or Tender feet Pilgrims.

Sure they carried a gun- everyone in the West did. Some of them might even be decent shots. But they weren’t in his Class. Not many were. So he only drew his gun on worthy opponents.

Bad Billy Bonny, Fat Gut Stewart, Black Bart, those were just a few of the famous gunslingers he had sent to meet their judgment. Every single one of them dying with a look of surprise on their face, and a whole just near their heart.

It made him smile. This time would be no different. Big Red from Snake Canyon had called him out. Not for any particular reason. Just to see who was the fastest draw. Big Red could pull the trigger faster than most folks. Everyone always said they had only heard one shot. One.

But when they turned the bodies over, they always found two bullet holes. Both not more than a quarter’s with apart; right in the middle of their chests. Good shooting for sure. But pulling a trigger fast, and clearing leather fast are two different skills.

Big Red called out:

“You ready?”

“Yep.”

“Draw!”

People swore later that they only heard one shot. But there were two bullet holes in the body.

When Big Red pushed the body over, he heard the man’s last words:

“Darn.”