His rival known simply as Outlaw stared coldly back at him. The side of his mouth curled upwards into a crooked smile as he saw the display of emotions on Jacob’s face.
Outlaw had a thick muscular neck with a scarred, clean shaven and grimaced face. He was garbed entirely in black. His shiny black boots with silver clasps tainted slightly by the dusty and sandy road. The velvet black hat, shirt and jacket. Two leather bound holsters hung from each side mirroring Jacob’s. Jacob eyed the silver revolvers embroidered with gold designs. He thought about his own rusted, half-damaged guns and grimaced.
The sun scorched his face; he felt the heat warming the side of his face. His heart pounded and beads of sweat slid down the side of his face. He could hear the drumming now in his ears. The steady drumbeat thudded loudly growing in intensity. It wanted him to act, to move his hands now. He ignored it forcing himself to remain calm. He wanted vengeance, revenge for the killing of his fiancée by this notorious outlaw. Rage swelled up in him as he remembered how he had failed to protect her. He breathed out slowly expelling the fury.
Outlaw’s face was calm and composed. His black eyes were expressionless and his black hat shaded his face from the burning sun. He stared icily at Jacob, his face betraying no emotion. Jacob clenched his clammy hands. They were slippery now with sweat and hung inches away from his black revolver. His eyes followed Outlaw’s hands. They were poised at his sides, his fingers slightly curled. They were coated with sand and more importantly, they were dry.
Those hands would not fumble at the crucial moment. They would not slip on the trigger. Jacob stared down at the sandy road. It was too late now.
Outlaw’s hands moved a fraction and Jacob’s eyes caught the moment. His eyes narrowed and he felt the adrenaline course through his veins. His vision cleared and his senses sharpened.
Suddenly like a snake, Outlaw’s hands whipped to his revolvers. Jacob reacted in unison. His hands grasped the cool metal, his fingers sliding over the rusted catch. His fingers slipped. He fumbled over the trigger now slippery with sweat.
And pulled back firmly however before he could fire, something bit him. Directly in the chest. He stared in shock at Outlaw who stood ten yards away with his hands grasped firmly around his silver, smoking guns. It was like being punched. The bullet had driven his breath out.
Jacob collapsed to his knees forcing himself to breathe. He fell back hitting the road. Dust and sand sprayed across his back. Outlaw stood over him. His cold and calculating face analysed Jacob. There was no remorse or triumph in those black eyes. No emotion flickered across his face.
Outlaw raised the silver revolver directly at Jacob’s forehead. Jacob never heard the impending gunshot. Everything went black before that.
