The stranger came in like a desert apparition and approached the bar in his faded brown duster and spurred boots; his face was concealed by a dark gaiter and folded cattleman shielding his eyes. Silence befell the saloon as patrons quietly clutched their drinks. Burl the barman stood statuesque as ever with arms remaining crossed waiting for the stranger to speak. The words never came.

“What can I do you for, friend?” Randy shouted from the other side of the bar.

All eyes were on the stranger. He removed his cattleman revealing a magnificent mane of hair then lowered the gaiter. His chiseled features awed the women and whores. “I’m looking for James,” Vic spoke. His Scottish accent was recognizable from anywhere.

“Well it seems like you found him,” Randy said, resting his hand on my shoulder.

Vic reached into his duster and placed a six inch .357 Colt Python on the bar. “He’s coming with me,” he ordered.

Randy nervously chuckled. “Sir, I should remind you that weapons aren’t allowed on the premises,” he said.

“Aye, I know,” said Vic, “let him go and we’ll walk out of this establishment peacefully.”

Eyes shifted to Randy. Knowing his hand has been called, he leaned his head back and smiled. “Sure thing stranger,” he says. “Far be it from me to hold someone against their will.”

I clutch the Browning pistol tightly. I back away from Randy and inch closer to Vic on the other side of the bar. As I did, I see the Madam exit her room and tightening her robe while watching the unfolding scene from the balcony. Vic notices her too. With eyes distracted, Randy silently signals to Burl. The barman reaches below and pulls out a 12 gauge and aims it at Vic. With milliseconds to spare, the agile Scotsman grabs the Colt Python from the bartop and drops to the ground. Burl unleashes the shotgun which resulted in an explosion of shattered glass and splintered wood. I lift the Browning at Burl and fired. The bullet struck the barman in the left arm and he shrieked as blood splattered on whiskey bottles behind him. Then, like a bolt of lightning, Vic leapt over the bar and grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and deflected a second round. Vic pushed the shotgun back into Burl’s ribs then ripped the weapon away and smacked the butt onto the barman’s nose.

Burl lay pathetically on the ground with hands in front of his face and nose bloodied. Vic stood over him, dropped the 12 gauge, and took out the Colt. While staring down the barrel, Burl began to shake and cry. “Marka odpusť mi,” the barman uttered in a foreign tongue. Vic pulled the trigger and the bullet lodged into the artery of his neck and the Madam screamed an ungodly sound from the balcony as blood pooled around the Scotsman’s boots.

Randy was petrified in awe. Patrons rushed quickly out of the saloon and with the barman dead, Vic and I aim our guns at the beleaguered bar owner. Only Jim remained sitting in the back, blissfully unaware of the commotion surrounding him while the Madam wept uncontrollably above.

“Is this how this is gonna go?” asked Randy with hands in the air.

“It seems like you left us with little option,” I said.

Randy was seeming remorseful and he closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re right,” he said. “I should have known it would end this way. I should have told you the truth sooner.”

“I suppose it’s a little late for truths now,” I say.

“Is it?” he asks, opening his eyes. “Haven’t you ever wondered why I’ve kept you close all these years?”

I did know. I’ve always known. “Because you’re my father,” I say.

Randy was flabbergasted. “Well shit,” he said. “I guess I have no more tricks up my sleeve. Sorry James. I know I could have been a better father to you. You probably think you’re a better person than me. But it would take a real sicko to shoot ME, your own flesh and blood.”

I could hear Vic cocking his Colt. “I guess that makes me a humanitarian,” the Scotsman said.

But before he could get a shot off, a rifle round whizzed from the balcony and grazed Vic on the shoulder. The three of us drop to the ground and I could hear Karl shouting from above. “Get some of this you cocksuckers!” he yelled and aimlessly fired another round.

“Are you okay Vic?!” I shout from the other side of the bar.

“Aye!” he yelled. “I’m only knicked!”

“Karl, so help me god, I’m gonna feed you to Penelope!” I threatened.

“Come and get me mother fucker!” he retorted. He fired another round and shattered glass fell all around. I crawled to the other end of the bar to catch a glimpse of Karl’s whereabouts and noticed Randy escaped to god knows where.

“Where’s he coming from?!” Vic shouts at me.

“He’s on the balcony but I can’t see him!” I say. The Madam’s constant weeping also stopped.

“I’m gonna smoke him out!” says Vic. I could hear the flick of a lighter and within seconds Molotov Cocktails were thrown from behind the bar.

“Jim, you better get the fuck out of here!” I shout.

Noticing the few scattered flames, Old Jim looks up from his cards and doesn’t bat an eye. “I’m comin’ home pa!” he says.

“Goddamnit,” I say from under my breath. I leap to my feet and rush past the burgeoning flames to grab the old man. But this blew my cover and shots rang out from Karl’s rifle.

“Gotcha asshole!” Karl shouted.

But Vic sprang up from behind the bar to find Karl knelt down sniper-wise on the balcony. He fired one shot into his shin which caused him to drop the weapon and scream out. “Fuck me!” he cried. Then he fell forward through the frail wooden railings and onto Old Jim’s table. While he writhed in pain, I give an order to Vic.

“Grab him!” I say.

The inferno engulfed the once proud Candyland Saloon. It was safe to assume that both whores and Johns, along with Madam Joelle and Randy, safely escaped the fire with the parking area deserted. Vic and I watched from a safe distance, along with Old Jim and an injured Karl in tow, as the hellish flames overran the compound and we marveled. Then an old friend appeared from the shadows; the stem of a lolly pop jutting from his mouth.

“Hey guys!” said Dale. “Did something happen?”

“Dale, you’ve been here the entire time?” I say.

“Of course,” he replied nonchalantly. “How else would Vic have found this place?“

“Did you not hear the gunshots?”

“Oh, is that what that was?”

TO BE CONTINUED…