RUSTLER

Dawn, the strengthening sun tortures the morning mist into submission allowing the reeds to reflect the suns rays across the vast Fenland.

Two men, partially hidden by a chicken coop, smoke leisurely hand-rolled cigarettes. The smoke, rising slowly until caught by the early morning breeze, is whisked away in ever thinning strands of blue.

One of the men, Jake, turns to the other and points in the direction of the horizon.

Jake: “Say, Billybob, is that some fellah raisin’ dust over thar?”

Billybob: “Fellah sure is in a hurry! Jake.”

Jake: “Jumpin Jehosaphat Billybob! That thars Rustler Wharton and he 

                 looks like he’s loaded for bear!”

Billybob: “Shoot Jake! He’s n wearin sandals!”

Jake: “Sandals, ya say? Sheet, maybees we shud hightail it outa here!” 

They move towards their horses but Rustler is too quick for them. He reins in next to Billybob, takes note of his disheveled appearance and pock-marked face. He positions his horse to block their exit and cut them off from their nags.

Rustler: “Howdy Pilgrim. Is that a goose between you pardners legs or is he    

                 just pleased to see me?” 

BillyBob is looking up at Rustler and squinting because Rustler has made sure that the sun is in the poor man’s face.

Billybob: “We aint no rustlers, rustler, rustlers rustle cattle and that aint no 

                 cow!” 

Jake: “Sides, we aint got no beef with you Rustler!”

Rustler: “I’ll be the Judge o’ that Pilgrim.”

Jake: “You think you is  a big man in these parts, dontcha? Well it don't

                  hold no water with me!”

Rustler: “I’m a mind to put a few holes in that saggy belly o yourn, see 

                   how watertight that’ll make you Pilgrim!”

Billybob: “No need fer thait Rustler. Caint we cum to sum sort o 

                  arrangement?”

Rustler: “Make your arrangements with the Devil Pilgrim cos I’m

                  sendin yo both to Hell!”

Boom, boom!.

Two shots ring out and there is blood in the chicken cop!.