Number One Title

Pete stood his ground, with his feet stretch apart and his head staring straight ahead. Raul stood across him, forty meters in front, staring back at him. The silver star glinted in the moonlight, the number one title. I will have it, Pete assured himself. He had practiced too hard to fail. His right hand was above his waist, hovering over the butt of his revolver which was holstered in his belt.

“Kid”, Raul shouted from across, “it does not have to be this way. I will kill you.” Pete tried to ignore that threat. The whole town was watching them, he knew. They may not be out on the street, but they were hiding inside their wooden houses, cautiously peeping through their windows. Pete adjusted his stance, and his leather boots crunched on the dry gravel.

He flexed his hand. The dry wind stung his face, but he could bare it. There were still staring at each other. Perhaps, Raul thought the first person who made the move would die. But he would not. Pete practiced too hard and long. He had to go back to his father; he would prove to him, that he could be more than just a miner’s son. Raul still stare at him. His face was impassive as his hand hovered over, his own holstered revolver at his face.

Pete felt his eye start to grow heavy. They would water soon and he would need to blink.

He did it, the gun jerked out from his hostler. Maybe it was two shots that rang out or maybe it was one shot that rang out. He felt himself throttle backward, hitting the ground. The revolver slipped from his hand, he did not even know if he managed to pull the trigger. Dust seemed to erupt into the air and into his face. Then the pain washed over him. He lifted his head up. He could see a wet red slick pouring out from his gut. His brown shirt was drenched in his blood, spreading over. He stretched out his hand and pressed his found. He felt a moan of pain escape his lips.

He heard boots approach him. He lifted his head up. It was Raul. He squatted down near Pete. “You think it easy being me, boy?” he asked. There was pain showing on his face. “You fools always come for glory, and each time I have to put a bullet in you. But no matter one day someone better than me will come and put a bullet inside me... that’s the burden of the number one title.”

Maybe it was during or maybe it was after Raul finished speaking that Pete drew his last breath.