the Fastest Gun Alive: Parren Fall

Excuse me, Miss, Sheriff John Behan said, tipping his hat to the pretty young woman at the bar. Are you a whore?

No. Are you? the girl smirked.

I’m the new Sheriff, Behan said. John Behan.

Whore, Sheriff, same difference, the girl sighed, and went back to her whiskey. She took out a small cigar and looked at Behan. You got a light for a lady, tough guy?

Behan struck a match and held it out. Here you go, he smiled. Although I’m not too sure you’re a lady. The girl grabbed his wrist and held it as she lit her cigar, which he found strange.

"I bet you are, though, the girl grinned. You sure as hell don’t look like a man to me. What happened to your hair?"

The balding Behan looked away, his face reddening. He looked down at the girl’s waist. She was wearing a beautiful hand tooled rig with a brand new nickel plated Colt Thunderer .41 caliber double action revolver.

You can’t wear that gun in town. We have an ordinance. He started to reach for the pistol.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you, the girl said, ignoring Behan and returning to her whiskey. Behan’s hand stopped inches from the beautiful piece, which cost more than he made in a month.

Did you hear me? Behan said. You can’t wear that gun  in town.

Then take it away from me, the girl said as she smoked her little cigar. Do you have a cemetery in town?

Yes, we do. What does that have to do with anything?

Just checking, she shrugged. That’s where you’ll be going if you don’t leave me the hell alone. I’m not bothering anybody.

You’re breaking the law.

What else is new, the girl muttered as she signaled for a refill. Want a drink? she smiled. You might as well die happy.

Yes, thank you, I’ll have a drink. But I have no intentions of dying today.

Nobody ever does, the girl said. It isn’t up to you when you die.

Is it up to you? Behan smiled as the bartender tried to catch his eye.

Could be, the girl said. That part is up to you. Everybody has the option of deciding if they want to die, and they can go out and do something really stupid to make it happen.

Like what?

Like bothering me, the girl smiled.

I’m not bothering you. I am doing my job. I enforce the law.

I heard about you, the girl nodded. You stuck it in Wyatt Earp’s ass, and you screwed whores to the point where your wife divorced you. Now there’s a real man, that Wyatt Earp. You couldn’t shine his boots.

I am the Sheriff here, not Earp. I was duly appointed by Governor Fremont. I am in charge of this town.

You aren’t in charge of me, the girl said. Nobody is. You don’t like it, you can kiss my ass. Have another drink. I’m buying.

Do you have a name? Behan said as the bartender filled his glass and took the girl’s gold piece.

Yes, I do.

Well, what is it? Behan laughed.

Business, the girl said. My first name is None of Your.

Oh, okay, a funny girl. You know what happens to people who break the law in my town?

Let me guess, the girl grinned. You take them out into the street and draw down with them.

I arrest them, Behan said. And take them before a judge.

You can’t arrest me, the girl laughed. You aren’t man enough. If you don’t believe me, try it and see what happens. You ever kill anybody?

No.

I didn’t think so.

Did you?

You’re a really nosy son of a bitch, you know that?

Are you wanted? Behan smiled as he sipped his drink.

Yeah, the girl grinned. By most of the men who see me. Too bad you aren’t one of them. A man, that is.

I was referring to the law. Are you wanted by the law?

Bald, cowardly, and lazy, the girl sighed. Good combination. Just what every gal is looking for. You expect me to buy you whiskey and do your job for you, too? You got a wanted poster with my name on it?

How would I know? Behan smiled. You won’t tell me your name.

That’s right, and there isn’t shit you can do about it. Go look through your posters, maybe you’ll get lucky. My face is rather unforgettable, don’t you think?

You are a beautiful girl, Behan said. If you are wanted, I’m sure we could work something out.

You’re going to be working my foot out of your ass if you don’t leave me alone, the girl said. Finish your drink and get lost.

Okay, if that’s the way you want it, Behan said. He finished his drink and left.

The girl checked her Colt, then ordered another whiskey. The bartender gave her a funny look.

What? she said.

Well, Behan ain’t the bravest guy in town. He’s got some deputies that came from prison, and they do his dirty work. They’re real nasty characters.

So am I, the girl said.

Just be ready, the bartender nodded.

Thanks. Have one on me, the girl said, pushing the expensive whisky towards him.

Who are you? the bartender said. If you don’t mind me asking.

I mind. People find out who I am the hard way, like that creep Behan will.

Back at his office, Behan took out a stack of wanted posters the territory had sent him. Nasty little bitch, he muttered. Lou! Get in here.

Deputy Sheriff Lou Reynolds came in. At nearly six foot five and three hundred pounds, Reynolds was Behan’s chief enforcer. Recently paroled on a murder charge at Behan’s request, he was now wearing a badge instead of running away from other men who wore them.

You want me, boss? the monster said.

Yeah. Here, go through these posters. There’s a girl in the bar wearing a gun. I want to see if she’s wanted. Find her.

You got her name?

What the fuck do you care what her name is? Behan laughed. You can’t read. She’s pretty and young. There can’t be that many girls the law is looking for.

Five minutes later, Reynolds handed Behan a poster. Here you go, boss. Pretty and young.

Behan took the poster, and stared in disbelief.

No, he whispered. Not her. All right, he said quickly. She’s in Coleman’s. Go arrest her for carrying a gun inside the town limits.

The girl was sipping her whiskey when Reynolds came in. He walked right up to her and grabbed her left arm.

Let’s go, Cutie, he grinned as he pulled her off the stool. You’re under arrest.

Really? the girl said. She shoved Reynolds hard in the chest and kicked him in the balls as hard as she could. He gasped in agony as his mouth flew open. The girl shoved the barrel of her Colt against the roof of his mouth and cocked the hammer. She pushed him backwards and out the door into the street, where he collapsed. The bartender grabbed his shotgun and followed them.

Get back inside, the girl said. I got this stupid asshole.

He don’t work alone, the bartender said as the girl holstered her Colt.

I do. Go back inside. She turned back to Reynolds. Get up and fight! she yelled as Reynolds rolled around, clutching his manly parts. I said get up! she screamed again, and kicked Reynolds in the face. A shadow moved behind her; Reynolds reached for his pistol with a shaking hand.

The girl drew the Colt with lightning speed and shot Reynolds in the face. She whirled around, dropped to one knee, and put two rounds into Reynolds’ helper’s stomach, who had tried to sneak up behind her. He lay writhing in agony as the girl walked up and stood over him.

Does it hurt? she smiled as she leveled the Colt at his head. I hear gut shots are very painful.

Kill me, the man cried as the pain ripped through his body.

You got it, the girl shrugged, and blew his head off with the big pistol. She went back inside and ordered another drink.

You better get out of here, the bartender said as he poured. Behan will be back with all his men.

No he won’t, the girl sighed. He’ll come alone. He’ll be too embarrassed and afraid to bring more men. I’ve done this before.

Where? the bartender laughed.

Hell, the girl sighed. It’s a nice place, she smiled. A bit hot in the summer, though.

Behan got word of the demise of Reynolds and his helper, and headed for Coleman’s. He came right up to the girl.

Surrender your weapon, he snapped. You are under arrest.

For what? the girl laughed.

Killing two of my deputies.

You got any witnesses that say I did that? I think it was Jesse James, or somebody from out of town.

Behan looked around. Who saw what happened? he yelled. Nobody answered. Bastards, he hissed. You did it; I know you did it. Show me your weapon. I want to smell it to see if it was fired recently.

Sure, the girl smiled. She turned around and stuck out her backside. Here’s my weapon. Smell it and see if it was fired recently, she giggled as the bar laughed.

No, the bartender gasped, clutching his chest. Don’t do that. It’s too funny; you’ll kill me.

Behan gave her a dirty look and muttered something about locking her up.

How many more deputies do you have, Behan? she smiled.

Four, somebody yelled.

Four? Good. Let’s see how many you have tomorrow morning. Now get out of here, and don’t come back. You can come look for me yourself, she said as she kicked the retreating Behan in the ass while the bar howled. Not that you’d have the balls to do it, because you don’t. Remember, Behind, she yelled as Behan ran to his office. You asked for this.

The next morning, Behan’s four deputies were waiting for him in front of his office. They were laid out on the sidewalk in a neat little row; two had their throats cut, the other two had been shot in the back of the head and were missing half their faces. Behan turned away in horror when he saw the carnage, and ran for the judge’s office.

What’s wrong with you? Judge Cal Barnes said when Behan burst through the door.

We have a problem, Cal, Behan said. A bad one. I need some help.

What happened? I was out of town.

A girl killed all six of my deputies.

A girl? Barnes laughed. Are you drunk?

No. It’s her, Behan said, and held up the wanted poster.

Good Christ, what’s she doing here?

I don’t know. I tried to arrest her for carrying a gun, and this is the result. She killed Reynolds and Dickman last night. The other four were on the sidewalk in front of my office when I came in a few minutes ago.

Well, get some more deputies and arrest her. If she won’t come peacefully, shoot the bastard.

I’m not shooting it out with her, Behan laughed. Are you kidding?

Then get somebody who will. Or shoot her in the back when she isn’t looking.

I can’t do that. She has to get a trial, then I can have her hanged and collect the reward for the town.

Then go do something, Behan. This is your problem, not mine.

I need help. I can’t go up against her by myself.

Go see Mayor Clum. That’s his department. Now if that’s all you want, I’m busy.

Thanks for nothing, Behan snapped. Maybe I’ll have her come over here and talk to you.

I’m sure we’d have a nice conversation. What did you do, Behan? All you should have done was take her gun and write her a ten dollar  citation. You antagonize this girl with your big mouth?

No, I did not. I was very polite with her. We even had a drink together. She apparently resents any kind of authority, and becomes violent when you try to make her obey the law.

Where is she staying?

I don’t know. She wouldn’t even tell me her name. Lou and I had to dig through a stack of posters to find out who she is.

Well, now you know who she is. Are you happy? Go earn your pay, Behan.

Home of Jonah and Rebecca Fall

Wichita, Kansas

May, 1873

What in God’s name is she doing out there? Rebecca said when she heard the noise. 

Firing her pistol, Jonah said. She likes to shoot.

She’s ten years old, Rebecca said. She should be playing with her dolls, not a gun. And where did she get a pistol?

I gave it to her, Jonah said. Don’t worry, it just my old .32. She won’t hurt herself. She’s quite good, you know. A real natural. She’s fast on the draw, and she hits her target every time.

My daughter the gunslinger, Rebecca laughed.

Look, I know girls don’t usually shoot pistols, but it’s a good skill to have. This is a dangerous country, and she should be able to defend herself if she has to.

Fine, Rebecca said as three shots rang out in less than a second. As long as she doesn’t kill anybody practicing, or accidentally shoot the cow.

Mr. Nakamura is supervising her. There’s a big pile of dirt behind the shooting area. There is nothing there to hurt.