Slowest With a Gun

The whips will crack across the back of the steers that won’t move on. Every day comes closer now for the day they will be gone. All these ‘beeves’ on the trail, will be yarded sold and railed, and the cowboys who drove them here will all get underpaid. Three long months upon a horse; one night in the ‘star’ saloon; Five hours at the table; a young girl in his room. He's letting down his Texas hair from the range and starlit night, believing he can win tomorrow what he lost tonight. Morning shines, and those good times left his head a mess, he couldn't find a dollar sign when he went to dress. She must have slipped him something, in a drink she lured him on, now every cent that he had, like the lady has all gone. He sought her out with a cold hard grin; his gun flashed in her eye. She realized what this cowboy meant, that she could easily die. The melting smile’s now a nervous grin, uncommon with her guests, she lifted notes from in between, the cleavage of her breasts. Her parting smile bought his guard down when he turned his back to leave, then he thought he heard the hammer, from a colt held up her sleeve. He reeled away, then a deafening roar, left a hole right through the door, he drew and fired and a flash leapt out. She lay dying on the floor. There was no trial, there was no fuss, the lady had drawn first. The sheriff told the waiting crowd, he can't satisfy their thirst, so the hanging tree still hangs around, with a rope and knot undone, it seems out here the guilty are the slowest with a gun. His newfound fame had lifted him as a leader of the crowd, a cowboy who was mean and wild and one who’s becoming loud. He found a chair on the table where, high rollers urged their prey. When he pulled that wad of notes out, the dealer called out play. His eyes were filled with glitter as diamonds filled his hands, a fortune in the centre, folks heard the high demands. He only had to make the call, and take the stake then leave against a man who made his luck, from an ace held up his sleeve. He left the game at midnight; there were drinks all 'round the bar. ‘A cowboy’s beat the rollers!’ Leaked out from the ‘star’. Will he leave this place tomorrow with his fortune and his fame? The gambler knows his cowboys. He knows their cowboy game. Now the cowboy’s pockets empty, the cards won't go his way, the hands that he got yesterday ain't winning here today. He glared at the gambler smiling and he saw him wink and gloat, he knew he'd brought an ace out from somewhere in his coat. Steely eyes were matched, between the expert and the fool. The cowboy had been drinking, so forgot one golden rule. He made a move to stand, while staring at the gamblers face, a shot from beneath the table, claimed a victim of the ace. There was no trial, there was no fuss, the cowboy had drawn first. The sheriff told the waiting crowd, he can't satisfy their thirst, so the hanging tree still hangs around, with a rope and knot undone, it seems out here the guilty are the slowest with a gun.