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Two Gun Pete and a Bucket of Blood By: Sara Saint John

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Two Gun Pete and a Bucket of Blood

By: Sara Saint John


(For Dr. McDonnold - who likes westerns.)


Seeing how well fed the varmints were, knowing the source of their satisfaction came from his fellow townsfolk, caused a powerful shame to rise in Pete’s gullet. He should’ve done something more than look out for his own hide.

He should’ve done something to help Susie.

A whimper came from above his head to punctuate the thought. Susie! Lord help her, she was alive. Pete drew his gun. Might be useless against a crowd of blood suckers, but he felt better with the weight of it in his hand. He headed for the stairs.

His spurs didn’t jingle, but on the third step from the top, the wood let out a gut-sickening creak. Pete paused, holdin’ his breath till he thought his cheeks might explode. He dared take another step. No creak. He let out his breath in a slow hiss. Crept to the top of the stairs. Peeked around the corner to Susie’s room.

The door was ajar. Another whimper crawled from inside the confines of the room. Pete shivered like a dad-blasted crow moseyed across his grave. He filled his other hand. Now two guns cocked and ready, he used one of the barrels to push open the door. Hinges squealed like a stuck pig. No reason for quiet now. Pete burst across the threshold.

A piteous sight met his eyes. Poor Susie, she was hogtied and hanging from a rafter, upside down and the like, her throat bitten like a thing of prey. Her pretty blue eyes were already startin’ to glaze over. But that weren’t the worst part. No sir. It was that confound bucket the varmint had put under her to catch the blood. Like he didn’t want to waste a drop.

Pete stared at that bucket: half full of Susie’s deep red life. He thought of his horse. How it tried to stand. Thought of how some of the townsfolk hadn’t been completely kilt, how if a fellow didn’t slice off their heads they came back as vampires.

He picked up the bucket of blood. Maybe he could get to his horse. Maybe she’d still let him ride, if he fed her enough.

“Sorry to leave you alone, darlin’,” he whispered as he turned his back on the best whore he’d ever known. “Man’s got to try.”

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