White Boots
Vance Murray
Two of the Amos boys laid on the ground sorta twitching. It was the first time I’d seen boots as white as his. I knew he wasn’t from here, and it's 30 miles to Alamogordo, so I couldn’t figure out how he kept them that white. The wood creaked as he stepped forward, all he did was put his shooter back and sit down. The music started playing again. He sat there at the empty bar while everyone kept rambling, the Sheriff put down his cards and went to the bathroom. I stood there for what felt like an hour. Eventually, they stopped twitching. When he got out of the Bathroom the Sherriff and the bartender dragged them, somewhere.
It was too dark to ride home, so I checked into the inn, and he did the same. He didn’t have any baggage other than his rifle, but the lobby man didn’t charge him. He charged me though. I didn’t even try to sleep in the itchy blankets, I just sat looking at the door. It was then that time began to fly, and I slept in the morning. I woke up to shots louder than I’d ever heard, after they were all gone for about half an hour, I walked outside. My horse was gone, and so was he. My boots were mostly dirt by the time I got back to the ranch. I stepped in and collapsed on my bed.
After a few days, we ran low on flour, hay, and molasses and I had to go into town, so I borrowed Jim’s horse and went with my boy. I stopped at the saloon; it was the first time there’d been seats open at the tables. I sat down and played solitaire with half the cards, the sun came up, and stayed there. The boy went to go meet to his friends. Eventually, I got up and walked across the sand street to the General Store, there were a few more holes in the door. I walked into the store, past the shelves, and to the desk “Hello?” I said, there was no reply, “Excuse Me?” I said louder. Looking around the back it was also empty, except for the mice squeaking under the floorboards. I wasn’t going to ride home empty-handed, so I grabbed what I needed, and left.
Before I could have ridden off, I heard shots come from both of my sides. Across the street I saw that strange man standing there motionless, I couldn’t quite see much of him, except his wrinkled cigarette. I stared at him for a second, mesmerized by him, he stood there with despair in his deminer. I heard a sort of gargling noise, and as a turned my head I saw my boy with a few others. They were all on the ground with pistols in their hands, lying there dying. Without thought I ran outside and tried to help them; I didn’t know how, but I couldn’t keep watching. I knelt next to him, grabbing him and the red sand, I saw his mind leave his body. Pulling him closer, I looked at his pistol next to him, I pick it up as fast as I could, but of course, he was faster.
Text goes here.
It was too dark to ride home, so I checked into the inn, and he did the same. He didn’t have any baggage other than his rifle, but the lobby man didn’t charge him. He charged me though. I didn’t even try to sleep in the itchy blankets, I just sat looking at the door. It was then that time began to fly, and I slept in the morning. I woke up to shots louder than I’d ever heard, after they were all gone for about half an hour, I walked outside. My horse was gone, and so was he. My boots were mostly dirt by the time I got back to the ranch. I stepped in and collapsed on my bed.
After a few days, we ran low on flour, hay, and molasses and I had to go into town, so I borrowed Jim’s horse and went with my boy. I stopped at the saloon; it was the first time there’d been seats open at the tables. I sat down and played solitaire with half the cards, the sun came up, and stayed there. The boy went to go meet to his friends. Eventually, I got up and walked across the sand street to the General Store, there were a few more holes in the door. I walked into the store, past the shelves, and to the desk “Hello?” I said, there was no reply, “Excuse Me?” I said louder. Looking around the back it was also empty, except for the mice squeaking under the floorboards. I wasn’t going to ride home empty-handed, so I grabbed what I needed, and left.
Before I could have ridden off, I heard shots come from both of my sides. Across the street I saw that strange man standing there motionless, I couldn’t quite see much of him, except his wrinkled cigarette. I stared at him for a second, mesmerized by him, he stood there with despair in his deminer. I heard a sort of gargling noise, and as a turned my head I saw my boy with a few others. They were all on the ground with pistols in their hands, lying there dying. Without thought I ran outside and tried to help them; I didn’t know how, but I couldn’t keep watching. I knelt next to him, grabbing him and the red sand, I saw his mind leave his body. Pulling him closer, I looked at his pistol next to him, I pick it up as fast as I could, but of course, he was faster.
Text goes here.
Vance Murray is a Senior at NMMI. After finally graduating he wishes to commission as an officer in the Marine Corps.