| Seven Cities |
In the year 1540, Francisco Vásquez de Coronado, a Spanish conquistador, had an expedition into what is now the South-Eastern United States. He was searching for the seven cities of gold, but he never found what he seeked, and his expedition was branded a failure.
Now, in the year 1874, the gold will be found at last...
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Samuel Septim was sitting at a barstool, a shot of whiskey in his hand. With the swift movement of his hand, the whiskey poured down his throat and he put the shot glass down on the table.
"Another," said Septim.
"No more," said the barkeep, "Not until you pay me for the seven whiskey shots you took, along with the beer before it!"
"Aw...way to ruin my day..." said Septim.
"There you are!" said a voice behind Septim, Septim didn't bother to turn his head, he simply looked into the mirror behind the bar and saw that the voice came from Jose Ramirez, a local bandit. In Ramirez's hand was a Navy Arms revolver that Ramirez probably didn't know how to use properly.
"Here I am!" responded Septim as he got up and turned around, stumbling a bit as he did so.
"You stole my horse, tell me where it is!" said Ramirez.
"I would...budi donno where it is!" said Septim, slurring his words.
"Alright you drunken bastard!" yelled Ramirez as he aimed the revolver at Septim, "Here it comes!"
Ramirez pulled the trigger, and nothing happened, then, with lightning speed, Septim drew his Colt Peacemaker and shot off one round from the hip. A hole appeared in Ramirez's neck, and Ramirez fell to the floor.
"That...that...that was fun..." said Septim as he stumbled over to Ramirez's corpse and grabbed what money he had, along with the Navy Arms revolver. He then walked back to the counter and put Ramirez's revolver on the table, along with the money.
"This...this should buy me a few," said Septim.
***
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Blacktooth Bill Larson, wanted for murder, rape of a minor of the white race, rape of a minor of the black race, rape of a hispanic, rape of a member of the white race, rape of a member of the black race, lying under oath, horse theft, arson, fraud, forging Federal documents, the killing of several white children, the killing of several black children, public intoxication, mass slaughter of infants of several different races, mass torture, the murder of several lawmen, the killing of several hispanic children, the slaughter of several Indian villages, grand theft, theft, and larceny, was sitting behind a large rock formation with his Winchester rifle at the ready. He was one of the most wanted bandits in the West, with a price on his head of ten thousand dollars. Down below, a stagecoach went peacefully along. On it was a driver and a guard, in the guard's hand was a shotgun. With great skill, Bill aimed the rifle at the stagecoach, held his breath, and fired. A bang was heard, and the driver's brain matter went onto the guard. Bill then fired again, striking the guard, before jumping on his horse and riding down. He quickly put his rifle in its holster on the horse and took out his Smith & Wesson No. 3 pistol. From fifty yards away, he shot off six rounds, all six hit a horse, and the stagecoach stopped. After reloading his revolver, he got off his horse and walked to the back of the stagecoach and shot four rounds through the door before pulling the hammer back again and opening the door, inside was a second guard who was dying with three bullet wounds in him. Bill jumped into the stagecoach, grabbed the guard's rifle, and shot him through the head with it.
"Nothing worse than death by your own gun," said Bill as he examined the rifle, it was a Spencer, and it looked well taken care of, but Bill liked his better. Bill then turned and looked at the several sacks of money in the stagecoach and knelt down. After feeling one, he cursed.
"I hate paper money, but I guess it'll have to work..."
With that, he holstered his pistol and grabbed the several sacks of paper money. After getting out, he tied them together and put them over his horse. Then, he grabbed a whiskey bomb and tossed it into the stagecoach, it lit up almost instantly. He then got on his bay horse and rode off.
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Jack Brown, the famous half-apache, half white man bounty hunter, was standing outside a local saloon, leaning against the wall next to the door. Inside was his target, the infamous Robert "Six-Gun" Sarn, who was worth about five hundred dollars alive, two hundred fifty dead. He drew his revolver and turned to the door, he then stormed in and aimed his gun at a man at the bar.
"Don't move, Sarn," said Brown.
Sarn didn't move, he simply finished his shot of whiskey and turned around to face Brown. At over six feet, he was a bear of a man, and would be quite useful in a fistfight.
"You'd better leave..." said Sarn, "You don't want to fight me..."
Suddenly, Sarn tried to draw his Colt revolver, but was shot in the shoulder by Brown. Sarn dropped the revolver, but did not fall, and tried to run at Brown, but Brown quickly drew his tomahawk and nearly cleaved Sarn's leg off. Sarn fell to the ground and pain and Brown knocked him out. He then pulled some rope from his belt and tied it around Sarn's arms and legs before wrapping his leg up as best he could.
Didn't want to kill him, but if he dies...oh well...
With that, Brown dragged Sarn outside, ignoring the stares of the patrons as he put Sarn over his saddle, got on, and rode off.
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