"Yer a coward," he growled. The ragged man had no objections. He had never claimed to be brave. He certainly wasn't the image of it now, with eyes trained on the dusty ground, unwilling to meet the eyes of the man who intended him dead. The challenger growled, baring his tobacco-stained teeth to the world.
"Yellow-bellied bastard!" A whisper rippled through the crowd. It was an affront to manhood, an attack on personal pride. Not a soul would blame the man if he drew. Yet his concern wasn't the acceptance of man. No, he followed the call of a higher power.
"Draw!" Up leapt two silver barrels, extending from each hand. They were quick about their business. One shot, two shot, three shot, and four. Each kicked up the sand around the vagrant's feet, meant to taunt, meant to frighten, meant to bring this little meeting to its ultimate conclusion.
Still, Silas' piece stayed by his side.
Just a short story I carved out. I kind of like ol' Silas. Maybe there'll be a western in my future, yet. There's something instinctual about wanting to back someone quiet and almost careless about their own safety. That self assurance I think can grab a reader.
I'm at nearly 20k words on the second novel of my series. It's plugging along well, and tomorrow should take me well over. I'm still waiting to hear back from agents. The more I hear about querying, the more I hear it's a slow, arduous process.
It makes anticipation all the sweeter, though. The kind words of Agent Bree Ogden's assistant, Ms. Jami Nord, don't hurt, either.
My friend Joe has some great things going on over at his Google Plus account. Give him a look: https://plus.google.com/109842641745210927992/posts
He's a grade-A world builder. He's got history, he's got plot, he's got languages, and even maps. Is it wrong to hate him just a little?
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