Gun Fight

By Chris Gilman

A young skunk sits at the bar in the Rusty Horseshoe Saloon. A sad expression darkens his features as he gazes into the froth of his beer. The bar is packed with others who are drinking, talking, and gambling. Some at the bar, others crowded around tables, but none of them seem to notice the lone skunk drinking by himself at the bar.

The general noise of the saloon suddenly goes silent as four wolves walk in through the swinging doors. All eyes are immediately focused on them, except those of the skunk who doesn’t appear to have noticed the change in the atmosphere around him or the entrance of the wolves. He just keeps looking into his beer.

The four wolves take a few steps further into the saloon. They are instantly recognized as they enter the gloom of the saloon from the bright sunlight of the street. The Hunter Gang stands there with their hands on their hips. Near enough to their guns that no one doubts that they will draw if given any reason.

The wolf in the front of the gang gives a sneer before shouting, “Everyone out! This is our bar now!”

People all over the bar quickly, and carefully, shuffle past the gang and out the doors. In minutes the only people in the bar are the gang, the bartender, and the lone skunk still gazing into his beer mug.

The wolf glares at the skunk. “Maybe you didn’t hear me Stinky. I said get out,” he says menacingly as he fingers his gun.

Still, the skunk shows no sign of having heard him. He slowly brings the beer up and takes a swig from it before bringing it back down and licking the foam from his muzzle.

The wolf gives a growl, and drawing his gun, shoots the mug in the skunk’s hand. Returning his pistol to his holster with a twirl the other wolfs join him as he laughs loudly. The beer splashes all over the bar and the skunk. But the skunk doesn’t even flinch as much as a muscle as he looks down at the handle still in his hand.

After a few long seconds he turns his head to look at the gang as if they had just walked in. “You boys owe me a beer now,” he says in a calm voice.

The four wolves look at each other in surprise as they hear the skunk’s words. Finally the one in the rear starts laughing. “HAHAHAHA. The little Stinker thinks he can tell us what to do. How about I skin ‘em boys?” His voice is dripping with menace as he pulls a large skinning knife from the scabbard on his belt. The other wolves look back towards the skunk with murder in their eyes and their fangs showing as they sneer.

Suddenly a shot rings out inside the saloon and the knife goes flying from the wolf’s hand only to thunk into the floor at his feet. They all see the smoking pistol in the skunk’s hand. It had appeared there so fast, none of them had seen him move, almost as if it had appeared by magic.

They reach for their guns only to stop as the skunk thumbs the hammer back on his pistol with a loud click. “You boys should know better then to bring a knife to a gun fight. Now which one of you is going to buy me another beer?”

One of the flanking wolves sneers at him. “We don’t back down to no one. Especially not no Stinker.”

The skunk gives a small grin as he gazes at the wolves in front of him. “You boys are about ten seconds from starting something you won’t finish.”

The lead wolf snarls back, “Look here skunk. There are four of us and one of you. You might get one of us, but the rest of us will gun you down.”

The wolf in the rear rests his hand on the shoulder of the lead wolf and whispers something in his ear. The lead wolf turns his head and nods quickly. And his demeanor changes even quicker. “No offense ment friend,” he says as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a coin. Tossing it to the bartender he says, “Here, buy our friend here a new beer.”

With the skunk following their movements they back out of the bar and once in the street, turn and walk away.

The skunk turns back to the bar and slips his pistol back into his holster. He watches the bartender as he draws another beer and sets in front of the skunk. Taking grip of the mug he gives a polite nod before he takes a quick sip. Looking up at the bartender who is staring at him he raises his eyebrows.

“Who were those puppies?”

The bartender looks nervously out the door before he leans in close and whispers. “That would be the Hunter Gang. No one has even stood up to them, and lived for very long stranger."

The skunk gives a quiet chuckle. “Good.” He grips the side of his duster and opens his coat to show the silver-star on his chest. “Cause the law’s just come to town.”

The bartender steps back from the skunk in shock. “You must be nuts stranger. They are the only law in town, and the make their own laws.”

The skunk brings the mug up to him muzzle and grins again, “Not any more.” He throws back his head and finishes the beer in one gulp.

He places the mug back down and tosses a coin to the bartender. “I guess it’s time for me to do my job.”

The skunk stands and flicks his coat back to reveal a pair of large pistols. Turning his back to the bartender he walks to the doors and looks out. H pushes the doors open and steps out onto the street. His coat billows in the brisk breeze, revealing his guns and the silver-star flashing in the sun.

“So, you’re the law now are you?” yells a voice from up the street. The skunk turns his head to look where the voice came from and sees the Hunter Gang standing there with their guns out and pointing in his direction. The lead wolf has a snarl on his face as he raises his pistol and takes aim. "Now, you're just another grave."

A hail of bullets flies from the gang's guns towards the skunk. He stands there and shows not a sign of worry.

The bullets pass through him, but there is no sign that he even feels them as he stands there, steady and upright. No impact jerks, no blood. The hail of bullets stops as the gang lowers their guns in shock and their jaws drop.

The skunk looks down at himself and a small grin crosses his muzzle. He looks back up towards the gang and they stare at him in disbelief as he starts slowly walking towards them. "You boys just don't learn do you?"

Suddenly he stops and draws both of his guns. His hands moving too fast to be seen he pumps out round after round until both guns click empty. With a shocked look on their faces, the gang drops to their knees and finally fall face-forwards to the dusty street.

There is a moment of silence while the town watches in shock at what they have just seen. Suddenly a loud cheer erupts from the people who are running out of doorways and from around alleyways to stand around the lone skunk and find out just who he is.

He slowly holsters the smoking guns and tips his hat to the people gathering around him. He doesn't say a word as he turns and starts walking down the street that leads out of town.

One young fox calls out. "Hey mister, who are you?"

The skunk stops in his tracks and turns his head to look over his shoulder at the kid that is huddling tight against his mother. "The name's Charles Stripe." And with that he continues walking.

A deathly silence falls over the gathered town-folk as they watch him walk off. One old tiger is heard to say, "But, Charles Stripe died when my father was young. He was the sheriff that was gunned down by that gang of bank robbers almost fifty years ago."

The eyes of the entire town follow the figure as he walks down the street. Then a gust of wind kicks up a cloud of dust which obscures him for a second. When the dust again clears, the skunk is gone.

One child dashes out to the spot on the street where the skunk had disappeared. Looking around for any sign of the skunk he sees the cemetery. And there, plainly visible is a small tombstone with the inscription.

Here lies Charles Stripe.

Gunned down while defending our town.

His last words were,

“Never fear, I will protect this town till the end of time.”

The town-folk look back at the dead bodies of the Hunter Gang and once more in the direction that the skunk had disappeared in. Wondering what had just happened in their small town.

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