El Paso

The rattle snake was so gorged he almost couldn’t move.

The meal had been a prairie dog as large as a small cat.

And now he coiled in the sun, on a rock.

His vision was poor.

His sense of smell and sensitivity to vibration was acute.

Clip, clop….Clip clop.

A speck on the horizon.
Too far away to worry about.

The speck was William Soundds.

67 years old, blind in one eye, 110 pounds.

One of the deadliest men in the west.

He was on his horse, named Tap.

He carried a .45 colt on his hip in a holster.

A Winchester was in a scabbard, on Tap the horse, just behind his saddle.

A small .32 in his boot, and a 14 inch knife in the other one.

A sometimes lawman, bank or train robber, he just floated along.

Tap knew the way, El Paso, sundown most likely.

The snake lifted his head and William blew it off with one shot.

A small fire, snake on the spit. Smelled like pork.

A hare, one more shot, a banquet.

Purple sky, then black then stars.

Coffee, a smoke.

Tired now, and rolls up in his blanket to sleep.

The Mexicans had been on the trail for 2 days, no food no water. They smelled the fire and snake and hare.

They had killed a Federal in Juarez. And were on the run with nothing to loose.

Three of them, armed, dangerous, uncaring, mean, hungry.

They started toward the smoke.