As Gunfight Weeks Continues, this is an excerpt of one of my stories when a young man decides to finish a gunfight his grandfather started. "Gunslinger" first appeared in Black Satellite.
. . . He strolled over to what was left of the front window. The Black Moose Saloon was the only structure left standing. There was no other place else to look. Suddenly, behind him, there was an abrupt rush of cold air and the candle lantern blew out. The room went pitch black. He dove to the floor just as a flash from the Smith & Wesson came from the bar. The deafening blast followed an instant later. It hadn’t occurred to him the ghost would try and shoot him in the back. He could see nothing. He fired two rounds as he jumped out through the cracked panes of the front window. The stars and a gibbous moon offered some light. Pain shot through his knee. He didn’t know if he’d been shot or hurt himself on the broken glass–and there wasn’t time to check. He hobbled for the cover of a wall that had once been the dry goods store.
A bullet whizzed by his ear. Stephen turned just in time to see the shimmering presence of Billy Joe looming down on him, gun in hand–aimed at his head. As the gun fired, Stephen’s throbbing knee collapsed and the round knocked off his Stetson on the way down.
He fired the Colt from the dirt. The bullet hit Billy Joe square in the midsection. The aberration floated back a few feet, then shriveled up and disappeared into the darkness.
Stephen laid on the ground for a moment, then struggled to pick himself up. He hobbled over to pick up the gun lying in the dirt. It was all that was left of Billy Joe. He scratched the name off his grandfather’s list.