Camelot California

Chapter One

Chapter One

For many a petty king ere Arthur came

Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war

Each upon other, wasted all the land;

And still from time to time the heathen host

Swarmed overseas, and harried what was left.

And so there grew great tracts of wilderness,

Wherein the beast was ever more and more,

But man was less and less, till Arthur came.

-Alfred Tennyson

The sheriff's badge gleamed in the sunlight as Arthur Boone stepped out onto the silent street. A warm wind blew across the empty road kicking up dust and a tumbleweed in the eerie stillness. Arthur's boots thudded down the steps loudly in the relative quiet. He stopped in the center of the street, rifle held to his shoulder and ready. The curtains were drawn in all the windows. Two wagons were overturned further down the street as a barricade. Arthur wasn't fooled by the serenity of the moment. He had three rounds in his gun and four men left to kill. There was only one way this could end. With a lot of blood and a few dead men.

Arthur had been drawing their fire long enough to know that the wagon on the left side of the street had two men behind it and one of those men was out of ammunition. The wagon on the right hid two men and both of them still had plenty of bullets left. His real advantage was that all the men of the Bartlett gang were terrible shots. They liked to make a lot of noise and waste a lot of bullets. It was how they kept people afraid of them, riding around like wild men whooping and yelling and shooting up the place wherever they robbed. At this distance though he could hit them sooner than they could hit him. If he played his cards right he could still save this town. All it would take was a good aim, a sharp bayonet, and a little faith.

He strode a few steps further down the all but deserted street and a shot rang off, skimming over his head by several inches. This was close enough. A second shot sounded off and hit near his boot on the dusty ground. A third shot landed somewhere far off and not any place near him at all. That's good. Keep 'em coming boys. Use up as many shots as you can while your target is still too far off. Arthur supposed that he should have been afraid. Most men would be. Fear wasn't something that he was aware of very often. It was a useless emotion that did nothing but shut people down and make them ineffective and boring. He hated cowards. If it were time for him to die he might as well accept it and so should everyone else when it was their time. If it wasn't his time to die, well then, he reckoned there was nothing to be afraid of.

"You 'bout done hiding and ready come out and face me like men, or not?" he called out.

The street fell silent again as the outlaws conferred amongst themselves about what to do next. There were only a few options open to them. They could do the honorable thing and try to take him in a duel, one by one. It was unlikely they would chose that path but if they did he knew he was a better shot than any of them. Or they might try and make a run for it but with one of their people out of ammo it seemed like a risk that they would not take. No, they would all three come out shooting together and when they did he would need to be ready. He was well prepared for what he knew would come next. Ned was the younger and more impulsive of the Bartlett brothers. He would be the first to come out, guns blazing and not even bothering to take aim. He would be easy to take care of. Ned's cousin Stan was a man in his thirties and would probably not stand up until Ned was down. Once Ned was down, Stan would be emotional and that emotion would work to Arthur's advantage. Garret and Fred were at the wagon to the left and since one of them was unarmed, if they were smart they would wait for Ned and Stan before making a stand. Arthur was counting on them not being too smart.