Nutmeg Dolnoon was alone in the saloon; the day had been hot, the hours, long. She leant against the bar as she noticed the tall shadowy figure standing just inside the double doors. She reached inside her pocket, finding her small pistol missing. Sensing everything to be at stake, she gained leverage from the bar and launched herself across the room, into the figure, and onto the floor. Now loosely wrapped in a couple of coats, she got to her feet and then stood the coat stand upright, replacing the coats back to their original hanging locations. Picking a stetson off the floor and placing it on top of the coat stand, she looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar… “I’m Nutmeg Dolnoon,” she said, “and I’m ready for anything.”
Posted for Six Sentence Stories. The prompt word this week: Stake.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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