Revenge is No Sweet Affair

The old mining town of Dentina was usually quite quiet this time of day, what with the sun beating down, and most of the townsfolk inside trying not to die of dehydration. So it happened, that no one was around to notice the young boy riding in from the west. He rode straight to the saloon, and, tying his horse up, walked in with more bravado than he felt.

The few patrons, mostly out of work miners, with decayed teeth and more hair than grizzly bears all, turned around to get a good look at the newcomer. The Barkeep, old Sugarcrumb, scowled, putting down the shot-glass he was dirtying with the rag. He recognized the boys face, and did not like it.

"Whaddya want, kid?"

"Heya, Sugarcrumb. remember me, do ya? I was afraid the old jawbreaker didn't have it in it. I'm looking for Cummercut."

The saloon turned completely quiet at the mention of the best gumdrop shot this side of the Sugarmount.

"And what would ye want with old Cutter, eh?"

"I thought you'da know, Sug."

"God help me I do. And so does he, don't ya, Cut?"

A grizzled, lean man, around 45 years of age, his hair streaked white, stood up and stretched.

"Course I do, Sugar. This little Jujube be wanting a mano-al-mano out in the road, I believe. We'll be stepping out."

Out in the street, Cummercut grinned at the kid.

"So, Jujube, son, how’s the dame? And your sister? How's Honeydew?"

"You don't deserve to know, ya blackguard."

"Ah, be hunting for revenge, eh? Believe me, yer old pop had it coming. T'wasn't wise to be sniffing around the Sugar Caves after them mines closed."

"I don't care, Cutter. Take it up with 'im over in the vat."

They walked over to the middle of the street and stood facing each other, some 20 yards apart.

"You sure you wan't this, kid? Me, I got nothing to live for. You, on the other hand..."

"Just take the peashooter out, Cut."

"Fine."

They both whipped out the gumdrop guns, and two shots rang out, breaking the somnolent silence, just as a gust of wind covered the street in blinding dust. When it cleared, old Cummercut was lying on the ground; a bullet wound slowly bleeding out on his chest. The kid walked over, clutching his own shoulder, the jam trickling out through his fingers.

"You've lost your aim, Cut. Thankfully, I've not forgot what ye teached me. Hope you're proud."

The vultures were already circling, and they swooped down as the kid rode off once more, back west. Inside the saloon, old Sugarcrumb shook his head and picked up the glass again.

"Ah, Chicle. So, the kid ain't lost a bit on the pop, eh? I still think you shouldn'ta gone trying to open the mines up agin. Now we gotta look fer another Sherriff."