Away from the press, who looked at her and no longer saw stardust.
Away, most of all, from
the long, dark shadow of Big Bad Baldy Luxon.
He had made her life hell these past few months.
He said the stupidest goddamn things and yet the townsfolk applauded him whenever he walked through the main street of Dodge.
They were going to have to have a showdown.
Soon it would just be the two of them in the middle of the main street at high noon.
She had beaten Slow Hand English to the draw but that was hardly surprising, given that he had a slow hand.
She had beaten Whitey Collins to the draw but that was hardly surprising given that she was completely insane.
Big Bad Baldy Luxon would be her sternest test yet.
“I am strong,” she said, folding her Karen Walker organic cotton shirt adorned with a whimsy floral print featuring a neat mandarin collar with gathering around the neck that flows into the body and alongside the button-down placket, “I am invincible!”
The clock ticked loudly.
TUESDAY
Big Bad Baldy Luxon packed his suitcase for the summer break.
He felt in great shape and almost regretted having to take time off.
Not that he ever did all that much anyway.
There was that one time when he went into the kitchen of the saloon, rolled up his sleeves, and cooked a mess of beans for the benefit of the press, who looked at him like he was their long-lost daddy, finally come home after a long time away.
He hated every goddamned second of that kitchen stunt and vowed never to get his hands dirty again.
Work was for the poor.
“What fools they are,” he said, filling his suitcase with money, “what fools!”
The clock ticked loudly.
WEDNESDAY
Hopalong Seymour packed his suitcase for the summer break.
He didn’t have much to pack.
He had nothing new, just the same clothes he always wore.
“If you just stand in one place long enough,” he said, “somewhere along the way someone will give you a ride in their carriage on account of the fact they recognise you from standing in one place.”
The clock did just enough to tick.
THURSDAY
Crazy Horse Waititi packed his suitcase for the summer break, then told the press that New Zealand was a “puppet” of the United States in responding to the war in Ukraine.
The clock stopped ticking. It did that when someone said something that stupid.
FRIDAY
Dances With Peters unpacked his suitcase.
He had been away from Dodge too long and wasn’t about to waste summer by loafing about.
There was work to be done.
He had a posse to organise.
He had ropes to dangle from trees.
“I am strong,” he said, combing his hair in the mirror, “I am invincible!”
The alarm went off.
