A paladin, this guy ain’t. Also: I decided that in Westerns you should show people getting shot, instead of not showing them getting shot. Hey, I’m figuring this out as I go.


But there Jimmy was, sitting by a campfire by his wagon and his dead horse. The damned fool must have decided he was safe after all, because he was actually brewing a cup of damned coffee, without a care in the world. Well, right up to the point where Bailey whistled a greeting. It was comic, the way Jimmy started and scrabbled around – to see Bailey’s revolver pointed right at his head.

Fear cracked across the Royalist’s face as he raised his hands above his head. “But… but I saw you go over that cliff, Bailey. You and your horse both.”

“Well, Jimmy,” Bailey said in a calm voice, “maybe I’m a haunt. Or maybe you should’ve gone to check.” He shook his head, just a little. “See what happens when you don’t?”

Jimmy opened his mouth to say something – and that’s when Bailey shot him. The look on his face was something to see, briefly. He didn’t need a second shot, but Bailey gave him one, anyway. He believed in making sure of a dead enemy, you betcha.