Not all Cowboys come from Montana

by

I.J. Parnham

CHAPTER ONE

Two mean-looking cowboys went into the saloon.

As one, the saloon folk looked up. They obviously appraised the newcomers as being trouble. Sally, the saloon-girl, was really worried and everyone else started acting in a really nervous manner.

The cowboys went to the bar, acting all arrogant and tough. They ordered drinks in a surly manner, then looked around the saloon.

John White was at the bar. He was a nice man who was always courteous and always avoided trouble, whatever the provocation, so when the mean cowboys wandered down the bar and acted real nasty towards him, he wasn't concerned and left the saloon...

***

Obviously, that's another western masterpiece well underway there, but believe it or not, with a little more showing it could be even better :

CHAPTER ONE

Gut Sack and Rock Hard swaggered into the saloon. Gut had a patch over one eye and a deep scar ripped across his broken nose. Rock had two gunbelts criss-crossed across his chest. No mention there of them being mean-looking, but I reckon they are.

As one, the saloon folk looked up. The piano player stopped playing and in the silence, a collective gulp echoed through the saloon. Yup, they've appraised Gut and Rock as being trouble.

'Go be nice to the gentlemen,' the bartender said to the saloon-girl, Sally.

Sally fluffed her hair and sashayed towards them, but as Gut spat on the floor and leered at her with his one good eye, she gulped and scurried behind the bar to hide. She's really worried.

Gut and Rock swaggered to the bar.

As usual, Old Walt was littering up the end of the bar, but, to clear a space, Rock kicked his legs from under him. They sure are acting all tough and arrogant.

Walt's frail form crunched to the floor. He rubbed his elbows as he darted a glance at Rock, then whimpered to himself and scampered outside. And he's acting in a really nervous manner, too.

'Whiskey,' Rock muttered, slamming a fist on the bar.

'In a dirty glass,' Gut added. They're either ordering in a surly manner or they're Bob Hope fans.

As the bartender poured their drinks with a shaking hand, Rock peered around the saloon. His cold gaze fell on John White at the other end of the bar.

Rock chuckled to himself and swaggered down the bar. He looked John up and down, then spat on his boots.

John hunched over his whiskey and smiled at Sally, who was hiding behind the bar.

'Don't worry,' he whispered. Yeah, John's a nice man.

Rock grabbed John's shoulder and swung him round.

'I don't like you drinking in my saloon,' he muttered. Ah, Rock's acting real nasty.

John tipped his hat. 'Then, I'll go.' And John avoids trouble.

'Hey, I don't like your attitude.' Rock fingered his gunbelt. 'So, if you ever think of coming back in here, remember that I'm the meanest shot in Montana.'

John sauntered by Rock, but stopped in the doorway a moment. He's not concerned.

'And you ought to know, I'm not from Montana.' John's left, but...

***

This really is a masterpiece! I reckon I'll stop there. I just have to write this story for real.