The outlaw’s canteens were dry after rationing for days on the run. Decades as a hired gun following the not-so-civil war had placed a hefty bounty on his aging head.
Now, a hesitant posse was closing in, wary to confront the wily gunslinger.
He guzzled the dead man’s water, pleased with his fortune. They’d shared an uncanny resemblance when they met on the desolate road to Mexico.
Tossing an offering of gold on the ground by the corpse, the outlaw rode south in the dead man’s clothes. The posse would have its bounty, and he would retire with peaceful freedom.
©2022 Chris Gage. All rights reserved.