A Lust For Lead by Robert Davis

then drew with the other.
In the very next instant, the .44 calibre bullet fired from Tom Freeman’s Schofield revolver smashed through Kutcher’s ribs like they were made of glass.
It was followed by another and another, and Kutcher fell to his knees. His eyes were wide with shock and he did not appear to be able to make sense of what had happened to him. He looked down at himself in bewilderment, saw the blood that stained his shirt and reached out with a shaking hand to touch it. Finally realising what had happened to him, he gave a small cry of alarm. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth and ran down his chin.
Freeman calmly walked the distance that separated them and shot Kutcher through the elbow, causing him to drop his gun. Kutcher opened his mouth to scream but was silenced as Freeman suddenly thrust the barrel of his revolver into his mouth. He used it to turn Kutcher’s head until they were looking eye-to-eye. ‘Looks like your hands aren’t as fast as your mouth, son.’
He glanced sideways to where Kutcher’s girlfriend stood. She watched helplessly, her hands tightly clenched, not making a sound. A girl like her had seen plenty of men die.
Kutcher tried to call out to her but gagged on the revolver in his mouth. He choked, spitting up blood that landed on Freeman’s boots.
Tom Freeman stared at him in disgust. ‘She’s a pretty girl,’ he said quietly. ‘What was it, you think, that attracted her to a nobody like you? Was it your pretty-boy face or your smart mouth?’
Tears began to roll down Kutcher’s cheeks. Freeman exaggeratedly cupped a hand to his ear as if waiting for his answer. Seconds passed. Kutcher slipped in and out of consciousness.
Hearing no answer, Freeman gave a shrug. ‘Guess it couldn’t have been your smart mouth then,’ he said. He tilted his gun sharply, so that it was aimed straight up through the roof of Kutcher’s mouth, and pulled the trigger.
    The shot rang out loud and was followed afterwards by a long silence, broken by the heavy thump as Kutcher’s faceless body toppled over into the dirt. Tom Freeman wiped the blood from his hands and from the barrel of his gun and strode casually away. He tipped his hat to Kutcher’s girlfriend as he passed her.
The girl barely seemed to notice him. Her face was blank, drained equally of both colour and expression. She looked as if she was having difficulty coming to terms with what had just happened. Her eyes began to shine with tears as the shock subsided, but she admirably held on to her composure. When the invigilators came to drag Kutcher’s body away, she stepped down off the boardwalk and quietly followed them.
Shane did not expect that she would survive much longer. Covenant had a way of dealing with its unwelcome guests and now that Kutcher was dead the girl had no further excuse for being there. The town would swallow her up and nobody would miss her.
A part of him wondered if maybe he should feel sorry for her, but he had problems enough of his own and none of his pity to spare.
Only two more bouts remained and then it would be his turn on the crossroads.
The next hour passed quickly and it was not long before another pair of gunfighters stepped out to face each other. This time, the fight was between Evan Drager and John MacMurray.
Evan Drager was a freak of a man. Shot in the head five years ago, his injury had left him with a large star-shaped scar that covered the left-hand side of his forehead, leaving him partially bald. All of the muscles along the left-hand side of his face had been paralysed by the injury and it was only the right-hand side that showed any expression; the left remained slack.
‘This could be interesting.’ Buchanan commented. Like Shane, he had never actually seen Drager fight, although he had heard the rumours. In the days before his injury, Drager had been a man of little repute, a brawler, a cattle rustler and a small-time crook. He had picked a fight with the wrong man coming