Some time ago (August of 08) I wrote a piece for the 100 Word Challenge called Faster. That was the end of the story. This is the beginning.
Sheriff Dirkson Taylor sat on his horse atop the small rise in the land about a mile south of town. This part of Kansas there weren't any real hills - just gentle swells in the land that made it roll a bit. Down in that town the young gun waited. Sheriff Taylor had to put him in jail - he'd killed yet another man, this time in a fight that was hard to call fair. He needed to be held for trial.
The kid was fast. Taylor had faced 'fast' before, but none as fast as this one was. As he kicked his horse into a trot and rode down the face of the rise, he hoped that this one was like all the other 'fast' ones - 'fast'. Just fast.
He rode into town, tied his horse off at the jail, and walked down the middle of the one and dusty street in the town.
About thirty yards ahead, the kid stepped out into the street. He pulled the little leather strap off his holster, freeing his gun for the draw. The Sheriff did the same.
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