Nutmeg Dolnoon sighed as she rocked in the rickety chair on the porch of The Saloon, looking at the row of shops over the street that had been abandoned. The dulcet tones of Violet Dolnoon emanated out through the double doors, drowning out the honky-tonk piano, the perfect accompaniment to the passing tumbleweed that rolled on by.
Angus Blade, in his trademark black outfit and stetson, slowly sauntered along the middle of the road, outlined in the reddy-orange glow of the setting sun behind him. A rattlesnake hissed nearby. ‘I told you, Nutmeg, to be gone by sunset.’ He croaked as he chewed a stalk of hay.
‘And I told you,’ Nutmeg watched the sun going down, ‘I ain’t going anywhere.’
Suddenly, the door to the old ironworker’s shop over the road burst open, and Maverick Mannering, Cesspit Jones and Herbert Hatherthwaite ran out, startling Angus.
The nearby rattlesnake hissed again.
Reverend Mannering grabbed Angus’s arms, twisting them both up behind his back. ‘And I told you never to come back into Ciudad Sombra ever again.’ He twisted Angus around, and Cesspit grabbed his feet, lifting them off the ground.
Herbert helped to carry the hapless outlaw over to the horses drinking trough, where they unceremoniously dumped him into the cold water.
‘You now have a choice,’ Maverick said, as Angus came up for air, straightening his stetson, ‘be gone for good, or spend the night in your soaking clothes, in the stocks.’
The rattlesnake seemed to laugh as Angus ran the way he came, into the sunset.
Posted for…
… a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr. They provide a picture and we provide up to 250 words based upon it.
The Mansionic Perspective 
Would you like to leave a comment?