Wanted

#1 | Dead or Alive

"Haven't seen 'em," said the old barkeep in a deep, gravelly voice after examining the sketch held before him. "Sorry."

The saloon was empty save for the bartender and his assistant and their first visitor of the day. On the other side of the counter, the tunicked cowboy draped in a raggedy poncho and donning a dark hat folded the paper into his pocket and let out a sigh.

"I see," he said. He tipped his hat with a "Thank you kindly for your time," and strolled toward the exit. Before the cowboy could push through the swinging doors, however, the barkeep called out saying, "Wait. Have I seen you 'round here before?" The cowboy shrugged and replied "Doubt it; I'm just passin' through," as he continued his exit.

Outside, the early morning sun scorched the small town with little clouds to shield a wanderer. As a single, large bird swayed in the wind high above, the cowboy untied his horse's reigns and began walking down the central road of sandy dirt and scattered cobblestones. The horse was similarly cloaked in cloth to protect it from the sun's rays leaving only its shining hooves revealed. Small, dark holes in the cloth allowed the horse to see from underneath its garments. The town was extremely quiet, even for the early hours of the weekend, but the cowboy kept along the main road which was all but vacant.

As the bartender shined his glasses in preparation for the afternoon and evening booms, his eyes caught sight of a familiar character. One of the many posters nailed to the announcements board displayed a sketch of the cowboy who had just left the premises.

Curtis "DAWN" Conrad

Wanted: DEAD or ALIVE

Reward: 10 G

The bartender choked on his chewing tobacco as he read the poster. His assistant patted his back and as his coughing calmed down, the barkeep rushed to the door. A 10-gold reward!? the bartender thought to himself as he swung through the batwing doors and looked up and down the road. He squinted under the sun and found the lone traveler not too far gone, but before he could call out, another figure stepped out in the road in front of the cowboy.

Curtis stopped and his horse froze in its tracks. A man in large boots and a wide brimmed hat stood with his hands on his hips facing Curtis. A gleaming badge at the man's breast revealed his authority in town and the quiet atmosphere began to make sense.

"Curtis Conrad," the sheriff called out. He stood roughly thirty feet from the cowboy and wore a revolver on his hip. "The Outlaw known as 'Dawn.' What are you doin' in our little town?"

"I think you're mistaken, sir," Curtis replied. "My name's Arthur Ray. I'm just passing through town; not meaning to cause any trouble." The sheriff spit on the ground and chuckled.

"You sure look like Curtis Conrad," he said with a heavy swallow. "Now quit yer playin' and come quietly. No need for reckless behavior here." He fingered the handle of his revolver. Curtis gave up his act quickly—it was obvious his identity was known before he even made it this far. Curtis kept his arms by his side and slowly worked his hand under his poncho. With the slightest nudge of his cloak, however, the sheriff realized the threat and drew his gun. Curtis froze.

That was pretty fast, Curtis thought. With his test complete, Curtis raised his arms above his head. As the sheriff moved closer, revolver still aimed at Curtis, the cowboy made a proposition.

"I call upon my right to a duel." The sheriff halted.

"Outlaws have no such right," the sheriff answered. "Besides, sheriffs are exempt from duels. I can only bear witness."

"Fine, then put me under arrest. I challenge my charge through a duel with the officer who detained me or a representative substitute," Curtis stood still and kept his hands high. His horse made not a sound nor movement.