Two Arrows In The Post
Two feathered shafts slammed into the wooden porch beam inches from the rider’s chest.
The horse tossed its head, hooves scraping the dry dust before settling beneath the porch roof.
The mounted man gripped the reins tight, his knuckles whitening as he glared upward under the brim of his slouch hat.
His jaw worked beneath a reddish beard, teeth grinding together as he pointed a gloved finger.
He barked that an agreement was supposed to be signed, his voice carrying out across the cracked canyon flats.
Refusal At The Homestead
On the wooden porch boards, a broad-shouldered homesteader in suspenders stepped into the desert sunlight.
Beside him stood a dark-haired woman in fringed buckskin, a quiver of arrows strapped across her shoulder.
The tall man held up an unfolded parchment bearing official stamps and bold block lettering.
He raised his chin, his shoulders squared against the open doorway behind him.
He told the rider flatly that he had made the trip for nothing.
The mounted man stared at the document, his lips pulling back in a snarl, but neither defender flinched.
Shadows Along The Ridge
The woman turned her eyes toward the high rimrock towering above the desert floor.
She spoke low, warning that the lone rider had not traveled across the basin by himself.
High above on the canyon cliff, black silhouettes cut into the pale sky.
A long line of mounted gunmen sat motionless atop the stone ridge, watching the cabin below.
Their horses stood side by side along the edge, dark outlines against the bleached horizon.
The homesteader shifted his weight, keeping his eyes on the trail as the odds multiplied above them.
The Bow Stretches Tight
The woman slid a long wooden bow from her side and lifted it in one fluid motion.
Her fingers caught the bowstring, pulling the feathered notch back toward her cheekbone.
The curved wood flexed, the iron point leveling directly at the man on the horse.
The rider wheeled his mount around with a violent jerk of the leather reins.
He shouted that the fight was far from over as his heels dug into the horse’s flanks.
The horse broke into a hard gallop, kicking up plumes of red sand across the basin while the woman kept the drawn bow trained on his retreating back.
Know someone who loves classic Western standoffs? Send this their way.