Billy Hutchins and the Unloaded Gun

It wasn’t until the moment precisely after Billy Hutchins had pulled the trigger that he realized his revolver had been unloaded. This is an awful time to realize that such a thing has happened. It was especially awful for Billy since he was 40 paces out from the infamous outlaw Everett “Red,” who seemed to have drawn just a second slower than Billy Hutchins. Everett “Red” would take his shot in exactly one second, and the cosmic coincidence required for both of them to have brought unloaded guns to their duel seemed unlikely to Billy.

Billy wondered for a moment who might have set him up. Only a few people would have had the chance. But if Billy didn’t think of something practical in the fraction of a second he had left, then he would never have a chance to figure out who had crossed him at all. It was then that his mind was filled with gratitude, gratitude that tucked inside his belt near the small of his back he always had with him a second gun.

BANG! BANG!

Billy Hutchins hit the ground hard. He had drawn with his left hand and dove right to try and dodge Everett’s shot. The fall had knocked the air out of Billy’s lunges. While Billy struggled to collect himself he locked eyes with Everett. Everett’s eyes were full of surprise and spite. His hand was clutching a bleeding wound on his chest.

“You weren’t supposed to–” Everett began.

BANG! BANG!

Billy let two more rounds rip and Everett collapsed into the dust of the town’s dirt road. Billy thrust himself to his feet, still heaving. He felt invincible. The adrenaline had him convinced that he could not be killed. Reality soon set in. He started to feel a dull sting in his left bicep. He looked down and saw his left arm hanging limp. Everett’s shot had caught him an inch above his elbow.

“Shoot,” said Billy.

“HEY! You dog! GIT OVER HERE!”

Everett hadn’t been a loner. He traveled with a small group of unsavory individuals. Three of them had come to watch the duel. They had been grinning evil grins while the two men walked their paces. They weren’t smiling now.

One of Billy’s guns dropped from his left hand. He scrambled to pick it up with his right. Now he was clutching them both awkwardly in one hand. His three new foes were fast approaching. One of them was kneeling down to check on Everett. The other two were about fifteen feet from Billy and reaching for their guns.

“Hold on now…” Billy said through gritted teeth. He tried to raise his left arm in a conciliatory gesture but found it excruciating to move. “I’m sure we can–” Billy whipped his revolver up and let off its last two rounds. He didn’t wait to see the fruits of his labor. He took off right away down an alleyway. However, he could hear one of the men howling, as well as the cracks of a few shots and the zips of bullets flying past his head.

He dashed through the back alleys of the town leaving the shouts of Everett’s men behind him. He felt queasy and lightheaded. He needed to get to the saloon as quickly as he could. At the saloon, Billy knew he could find a few people he called friends. He would need friends when Everett’s gang got after him in full force. However, a major issue for Billy was that it was likely one of his “friends” had set him up and unloaded his gun. He needed to figure out who it was, and fast.

Only a few people could have gotten to his gun. Callie Reeves had been awful sweet on him the night before. He had even let her handle his piece while bragging about how this would be the gun that killed Everett Red. Callie was an entertainer. She was great at card tricks amongst other things. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she had slipped a few rounds out without Billy noticing.

Billy leaned against an alley wall for a moment gasping for breath. He listened carefully to the sounds of the town. In the distance, he could hear angry shouting. It sounded like more than two voices. Everett’s gang was starting to rally, but Billy had some distance on them. As soon as he could he kept on running.

 Billy thought about last night. He had passed out for a short while at the bar of Frank’s saloon. Frank might have done it while Billy was out cold. They would have had to pay Frank a hefty sum to Cross Billy. Billy was one of Frank’s best customers. Then there was Joseph Cobb. Joseph and Billy had been tracking bounties together for five months now. Joseph had had more chances than anyone to stab Billy in the back and he hadn’t done it yet. He almost trusted Joseph completely, but Billy had learned better than to trust anyone besides himself.

Billy came to an alleyway looking out across the street towards Frank’s saloon. He stuck his head out and checked both ways to see if anyone was coming down the street. It seemed clear. Billy made one last sprint across the street and in through the doors of Frank’s saloon. The place was almost empty. Not many people were still here this morning. Most had gotten their fill of the place last night and were now regretting it elsewhere. Frank was at the bar zealously cleaning glasses, Callie Reeves was obsessively shuffling a deck of cards, and Joseph Cobb was standing attentively at the window polishing his revolver. They all lit up as soon as Billy burst in.

“I heard a few more shots than I expected boss,” said Joseph.

“Bet you did,” said Billy. Cobb’s brow perked up.

“Oh gosh,” said Callie. “You’re bleedin’ bad Billy!”

“Let me git ya a clean rag,” said Frank. He set down the used rag he had been cleaning glasses with and started to look for another one. Billy picked the used one up.

“This’ll do,” said Billy. He used his right hand to tie the rag in a knot around his gunshot wound. Using his teeth he pulled the knot real tight. The alcohol-soaked rag stung.

“We ain’t out of the woods yet?” asked Joseph.

“Don’t think so,” said Billy. “Everett’s pals aren’t taking his losing too well.”

“So the shows over for Mr. Red?” said Callie. “He certainly won’t be missed but I still think you’re a fool for picking a fight with him Billy.”

“Everett knocked over his drink an spat on his boots,” grumbled Frank. “Some things a man’s gotta be willin’ ta die fer.”

“I wasn’t planning on dying!” snapped Billy. “I was willing to kill for it.” He eyed Frank down. Frank seemed caught off guard by Billy’s rough reply. Billy pulled out a stool and slumped down at the bar. He slapped his pistols on the table. “Help me load em, Joe.”

“Sure thing,” said Joseph. He pulled up another stool. Billy had purposely placed his unloaded revolver down in front of Joseph. Billy intensely scrutinized every muscular contraction on Joe’s face as he checked the cylinder. Joseph’s brow furrowed once again. He held up the gun showing the bare cylinder. “Helps if you put shells in boss.”

“Yeah..,” said Billy, his eyes locked with Joe’s. “It’s a heck of a lesson to learn on the fly.”

“Really?” said Joe suspiciously. Joe slowly looked from Frank to Callie. Billy’s eyes stayed trained on his partner. Joe leaned in and whispered, “Callie’s got pretty slippery fingers.”

“What exactly is going on here?” Asked Callie with a bit of anxiousness creeping into her voice. “I know you’re shot, Billy, but that’s no reason to go snapping at your friends!”

“If it’s the pain, I might have somethin’ fer it,” grumbled Frank. He placed a small bottle of his own brew of moonshine on the bar in front of Billy. Billy slowly picked up the bottle. If Frank was the traitor, Billy thought, it could be poison. But his left arm was stinging even worse now. He winced just thinking about it. Billy started to think that it likely wasn’t any more poisonous than Frank’s moonshine was meant to be. Billy licked his lips. He almost took a sip before he snapped back to his senses. No! He needed to be sharp. He needed to keep his wits about him.

“This ain’t no time to drink!” Billy slammed the bottle back down. “Any minute now Everett’s crew are gonna–”

BANG! BANG!

Two shots shattered one of the front windows of Frank’s saloon. 

“MR. HUTCHINS!” A voice familiar to Billy shouted from across the street. It was the voice of the town’s sheriff. He spoke in an unmistakable sophisticated drawl. The man liked to use long words when short words would do. Billy hated him. “I WOULD RECOMMEND,” the Sheriff continued. “THAT YOU STEP OUT FROM THE SALOON WITH EXPEDIENCY SIR. OTHERWISE, I CANNOT GUARANTEE THE SAFETY OF ANY INDIVIDUALS INSIDE WHO ARE PRESENTLY UNINVOLVED WITH THIS SITCHIATION.” 

At this time, most of the people inside Frank’s saloon vacated themselves out the back door. As far as Billy could tell while lying on the floor, only four fools had decided to stay. Joseph was lying next to him, reloading Billy’s guns. He could hear Frank fumbling for the double-barrel shotgun that he always kept hidden under the bar. Billy turned to look behind him and saw Callie cock two derringers she must have been hiding up her sleeves.

“HOLD ON JUST ONE MINUTE!” shouted Billy. “How many out there?” he whispered. 

“Bout seven I reckon.” Grumbled Frank from behind the bar. “Countin’ the Sherriff.”

Billy needed to think. There were at least seven guns out there that wanted to plug him full of holes and at least one in here that was probably fixing to shoot in the back. He could solve at least one of those problems.

“Joseph, where’s your carbine?” whispered Billy.

“Upstairs, in our room.”

“Good, get up there and post up.”

“Sure thing boss.” Without another word Joseph army-crawled across the floor and up the stairs.

“Frank!” whispered Billy.

“Yessir!”

“Get on outta here you crazy old man! Get yourself to the storeroom!”

“But–”

“No buts! Last thing I need is your blood on my conscience! This ain’t your fight!” At this, Billy could hear Frank grumble as he made his way down the hall toward the storeroom. Billy shuffled around while still lying on his chest to face Callie.

“Now don’t you dare tell me to go run off you fool! I ain’t gonna just watch!” whispered Callie in harsh tones.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Billy with a smirk. “Joe and I have our horses tied up out back. I need you to go and see if some desperado is waiting to ambush us out there.”

“Oh,” said a surprised Callie.

“If there is, deal with him. Use your wiles or your deringers. I don’t care which.”

“Hmmph!” Callie crawled off in a huff.

“MR. HUTCHINS!” shouted the Sherriff once again. “I AM A PATIENT MAN…BUT YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT!

“I’M COMING OUT NOW!” shouted Billy. He checked the guns that Joseph had been loading for him. They had actually been loaded up this time. He holstered both of them to be drawn with his right hand. His left arm was nearly useless at this point. Billy groaned in pain as he struggled to pull himself up from the floor with only one hand. This effort brought him to eye-level with the small bottle of Frank’s moonshine. The temptation to dull the piercing sting of his gunshot wound was intense, but Billy once again decided against it. He did however place the bottle in his pocket. Maybe he would live to enjoy it later. 

Billy stepped out from the saloon. He stood on the front porch. As his eyes adjusted to the sunlight his foes came into focus. Standing on the other side of the street were six of Everett’s thugs. In the center of them all, there was the Sherriff. He was replacing the two shots he had used to shatter the windows of Frank’s saloon. The man dressed like he talked, undeservedly debonair. He wore all black and his clothes were more expensive by a long way than nearly anybody else’s in town.

“Will you be coming quietly, Mr. Hutchins?” He asked without looking up from his gun.

“Why am I coming with you?” asked Billy. “You haven’t had a problem with duels before. At least the ones Everett won.”

“I am not in pursuit of you for the duel Mr. Hutchins. Surely the second man you shot leans more toward a killing of the cold-blooded variety.” Mr. Hutchins flicked his wrist and popped the cylinder of his pistol back into place. He met Billy’s gaze with a grin. “I think the hangman may agree.”

“They were going for their guns first,” said Billy grimly. “Ain’t my fault they can’t lose gracefully.” At this, a few of Everette’s men visibly bristled.

“Unfortunately for you Mr, Hutchins, you left two of them alive. As far as testimonies are concerned it’s two to one. And you do have to be alive to give a testimony.”

“I’m sure the pesos they put in your pocket have nothing to do with it.” 

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about Mr. Hutchins,” The Sherriff spun his revolver around a few times before placing it back in his holster. His hand hovered above the grip. “Now I will only ask one more time. Will you be coming quietly?”

Billy just shook his head slowly before raising his hand into a drawing position. The street became almost entirely silent. The only sound was the light breeze blowing the men’s coats in the wind. Every man held their breath waiting for the first shot to ring out.

BANG! BANG!

Two shots were fired from somewhere behind the saloon. There was a split second of confusion before Billy Hutchins drew his gun, dove left, and fired once while sailing through the air. He hit one of Everett’s men before crashing into the ground and scrambling behind a crate on the front porch of Frank’s saloon. Bullets tore the edges of the crate to shreds as Billy’s foes returned fire.

While they were suppressing Billy, Joseph Cobb shot through the second-story window of the saloon. He was deadly accurate with his carbine and he didn’t miss once, dropping two of them with four shots.

“Spread out you greenhorns!” shouted the Sheriff. The Sheriff narrowly missed Joeseph Cobb with two shots. It was enough to keep Joe’s head down while the Sheriff ducked for cover. Billy popped up over the crate and let off three shots at some of the thugs that were firing up at Joe. Two more of them went down. 

Before Billy could get back behind the crate the Sheriff grazed his good arm with an almost deadly discharge. Billy slumped back against his cover. He could hear the sole remaining one of Everett’s henchmen charging his position. Just then, Billy saw Frank peer up from behind the bar inside the saloon. He hadn’t gone into the storeroom. Frank shouldered his double-barrel shotgun and aimed in Billy’s direction. If Frank had been the one to betray him, Billy was a goner for sure. He closed his eyes and waited for the crack of Frank’s shotgun. Billy heard one last BANG! He opened his eyes and saw the last of Everett’s henchmen, having been shot by Frank, collapse beside Billy onto the front porch of the saloon.

“Tell me to high-tail it,” Frank grumbled. “Ungrateful whippersnapper.”

Only the Sheriff remained. He was posted up behind a barrel on the other side of the street. Billy got to his feet.

“Will you be coming quietly, Mr. Sheriff?” Asked Billy. The Sheriff let out a long sigh from behind his barrel.

“No, I don’t think I will…..In fact, I intend to speak, Mr. Hutchins. There’s something I think you might very much like to know about your frie–”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The Sheriff crumpled into the dust behind the newly perforated barrel. Joseph Cobb had penetrated his cover with his rifle.

“Did I get him boss?” yelled Joe from the upstairs window.

“…You got him, Joe,” uttered Billy, his expression grim.

*****

Joseph and Billy frantically packed their things. They were getting out of town pronto. While running about their room Billy ran into Joseph hard, knocking him back a bit. 

“Excuse me, boss.” 

“Sorry friend,” said Billy, a dark expression on his face. Once they had their things together they rushed down the stairs and past Frank. Billy gave Frank a nod and promised to pay him back for the window someday. As they stepped out into the alley behind the saloon Callie sidled up to Billy.

“They woulda got you, Billy,” said Callie as she motioned toward two dead men that had been hiding out behind Billy’s and Joe’s horses. “Maybe I should have let em. Saving your skin is only putting off the inevitable with the kinda calls you make. Can’t you at least let Frank patch you up some more?”

“Would if I had time, Callie,” said Billy. “Gotta get on the road before a marshall shows up.”

“Write me when you get settled in some other town, will ya?”

“You gonna visit?”

“No, I’m gonna bill you for the bullets. I used my wiles and my derringers I’ll have you know.” Billy chuckled and turned back around to get on his horse. As he did, he once again bumped into Joseph. They bounced off each other. 

“Watch it boss!” said Joe.

“Won’t happen again,” said Billy.

Without another word, the two men mounted their horses, waved goodbye to Callie Reeves, and rode off. Unfortunately, they were about four hours early to go riding off into the sunset. Once they got past the city limits Billy slowed his horse to a halt. He hopped off his horse and looked wistfully back into the town. He let out a long sigh before speaking.

“You almost got away with it Joe,” said Billy. Joe visibly stiffened up. “I thought you were a little too hasty in putting down the sheriff, but I wasn’t sure till I got your wallet,” Joe reached into his pocket where his wallet should have been and pulled out a small bottle of Frank’s moonshine. Billy held up a little leather wallet stuffed to the brim with bills. “It’s a lot fatter than the last time I saw it.”

“When you bumped into me…” said Joe.

“Yup, Callie ain’t the only one with slippery fingers,” Billy tossed the wallet into the dirt road between them. “How much is in there now? A Hundred?”

“One-seventy.”

“That’s about right I guess,” Billy sighed again. “Did you forget about my second gun?”

“Not exactly,” said Joe as he hopped down from his horse. “Had to leave you a fighting chance, didn’t I?”

“Well, I’ll pass that goodwill forward,” said Billy as he squared up with Joe. “Get ready to fight.” The two men stood about 10 feet apart. It would be hard for either one of them to miss the other.

“You’re still hurt pretty bad,” said Joe with a grin. “You sure you wanna throw down boss?” Billy just gave him a silent node. He wasn’t smiling. Both men cocked the hammers back on their six-shooters and let their hands hover just above the grips of their pistols. For a brief moment, a quietness hung in the air. The only sound was the light breeze blowing their coats in the wind.

“Draw!” shouted Billy. Their guns cleared their holsters in a flash. Both of them put the other in their sights at almost the same instant. And it wasn’t until the moment precisely after Joseph Cobb pulled the trigger that he realized his revolver had been unloaded.