Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Blog

Blogathon 2006: Chapter 17.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Solitaire had the upper hand, and it was now holding a pistol, pointed at Dove. "Funny how this little piece of iron and lead in my hand makes it right to say anything I want."

His gaze never breaking, Dove slowly moved a few steps closer to Solitaire.

"You might want to stop right there," Solitaire said. "Or, at least take a step to the left so you don't bleed on my fine rug when I put a few holes in you."

Dove stopped moving, his mind formulating a plan, counting on the fact that the man in front of him was little more than a coward when on his own. The muscles in his legs began to tighten.

Solitaire went on, his gun never wavering. "I know how the Ruby Hills got their name, and who it was that put them on the map. It's not often you find a son willing to kill his father in the name of the law. Particularly a son who used to be an outlaw himself."

Dove's jaw twitched; his gaze remained strong.

"What was it that they called your pa, now...Noon, was it? The Man called Noon? That's right about the time you shot him, isn't that right?" Solitaire's gun was lowering slightly as he became more involved in telling the story he was sure Dove couldn't handle hearing. "How was it that you ran with your pa's gang only to shoulder up under a silver star and shoot him down like nothin'?"

Dove made his move, leaping forward but down low, clipping Solitaire in his knees. A shot rang out as Solitaire, caught by surprise, pulled the trigger, shattering a lamp and a clock on the other side of the room. Dove thrust his hand into Solitaire's boot, fingers grasping the handle of the Bowie knife he'd seen hidden there when they'd had their friendly chat out in front of the hotel.

Solitaire crumpled to the ground, his weight off-balance and carrying him backward, head hitting the laquered edge of a chair, eyes rolling back with a groan. He was out and Dove was unable to use the knife that he held in his hand in good conscience.

Dove walked over to the mantle and picked up the gold nugget. Without missing a step, he placed the gold on the table in the middle of the room, and headed for the door. As usual, waste and disaster was in his wake, but, for tonight, Solitaire was only going to have a headache to sleep off instead of damnation.

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Labels: blogathon