Long Arm
The bar fell quiet as the figure stood in the door. A large black hat hid the face. A poncho made of swirling yellow hid the figure. Packed through the bar was, no one spoke. All held their breath.
The figure took one step into the bar and they could see a strawberry blond beard and a red scar on the left cheek. The air grew tense.
Another step. There was no ignoring it. People whispered. “Long Arm. Long Arm.”
One patron, sat between two large gentlemen with a patchwork of scars, didn’t know what the buzz was all about. He asked one of his neighbors. “Who is that?”
The man smirked. “You must not be much of a man. That there is Luke Long Arm, Strong Arm of the Law.”
“What?” The little man was unimpressed. “That’s a terrible name.”
“No,” said the other scared bandito. “That there is the best name in the west. Luke Long Arm, Strong Arm of the Law is the most dangerous hand I know. He brings in everyone he hunts, dead.”
“Yeah,” said the first. “Ain’t no point in facing off against him. He draws faster than a blink.”
The three men watched as Luke Long Arm, Strong Arm of the Law, walked up to the bar. The lawman looked up and down the bar. He locked eyes with the little man, who grew pale when he saw those dark eyes looking his way.
Lorg Arm turned and walked to that table, all three men shivering in their boots. No one but the lawman moved. Long Arm stopped when he reached their table. He looked each man in the eye before settling on the little man in the middle.
“Shem Arbuckle?” he asked.
“Yes,” Shem squeaked.
“You have one unpaid parking ticket. Your horse wasn’t tied up. You owe a dollar.” The lawman spoke through a thin mouth, as though trying to hold onto every word he spoke.
“Oh, sure,” Shem dabbed the sweat gathering on his forehead off with a handkerchief. “I can go and pay it right now. I have a dollar on me. I have two even.” He smiled hopefully.
“Draw,” Long Arm said.
“What? Why? It’s a dollar parking fee.”
“Draw.”
Shem reached for his wallet where the money waited. Luke Long Arm drew his gun and fired. Shem’s head exploded. Blood and brains showered the patrons. A dollar, clutched in Shem’s hand grew wet with blood. The bar watched, stunned.
Luke Long Arm spun his gun, then blew the smoke out of his barrel. “Stay in school,” he said, before turning and leaving.
When the lawman stepped out of the bar, the patrons cheered. They had lived, and the legend of Luke Long Arm, Strong Arm of the Law grew.
