Shootout at the Village

It wasn't high noon, but two gunfighters were set to do battle on a crisp autumn afternoon. Dog Boy was well known, and well respected, throughout the southwest and beyond, a cool head and a steady hand had seen him through many a shootout. Calico Jack was a relative unknown, one of dozens, perhaps hundreds of gunslingers trying to make a name for themselves in the southwest territory. As the two gunfighters stepped up, the crack of rifles and the boom of artillery sounded, the union soldiers were on maneuvers and the sound of their volleys provided a suitably apocalyptic backdrop for this duel of honor and skill.
"Load and make ready. " the arbiter of today's battle sonorously intoned. Neither gunfighter moved, both had already come prepared. They awaited the final signal.

At the sign, both gunfighters made their move. Calico Jack internalized the teaching of his mentor John West. Roll, don't pull. The heel of his hand pushed down as his fingers pulled up, his thumb rocking back the hammer before the Colt had even cleared the holster. Follow through, push, don't jerk. The sudden crack of his opponent's shot. His gun was finally free. The barrel slid through its final few degrees of rotation. All this happened in a fraction of a second, Calico's gun gave it's short sharp bark.

Fast is fine, accurate is final. Calico looked on at the results of this afternoons work. The faster gun had fallen, his shot went wide, and the relatively unknown gunfighter had defeated the faster shooter.

"Lane three with a seven two seven, lane four, no time. Round and elimination to Calico Jack."
I was shaking, I had just outshot a man who participated in national and world championships. I cleared my gun and holstered. Dog Boy turned to me, smiling.
"Great shooting."
"Thank you."
We shook hands. My heart hammered in my chest.

Today I had the single best outing I have ever shot. In four rounds of competition, I beat Firemagic, the wife of the man who taught me fast draw, Talon, a shooter slightly faster than me who usually is about as accurate as I am, Dry Gulcher who is normally both faster and more accurate than I am, and Dog Boy, who is one of the hundred best shooters in the CFDA (Cowboy Fast Draw Association), he has won a national championship and placed in world championships. Dog Boy could have beaten me if that had been his goal, he has a slower shot that hits almost every time but he was hauling for speed. He wanted to practice his fastest shot, I was just trying to shoot as well as I could.

I finished the day 7th out of 43 shooters, in the finals I only hit one out of four and Thirsty (another national champion) put me away. Even if I had shot perfectly and hit every shot he was faster and hit his shots. My fastest time is a six twenty seven, (0.627 seconds), Thirsty was pulling three eighty fives.

Thirsty, Dog Boy and all the rest of the members of my club are classy guys, despite my slow times they didn't treat me like I didn't belong in the top bracket. Our club has a cardinal rule. Safety first, fun second, competition third. All the guys lived this rule today. My mentor, John West? He finished eighth today, and he was one of the first to congratulate me on my shooting. So often 'friendly competition' is just a phrase, but the Arizona Gunslingers really do live up to that standard.

To all my fellow gunslingers, to Three Finger Jack, Rowdy Yates, The Stud, Noah Chance (especially him), Singin Joe, Francis the Draw, Old West, and to my competitors today, Firemagic, Talon, Dry Gulcher, Dog Boy and Thirsty, thank you. They make a sport that could be over competitive into a fun hobby.

Gunfighters, load and make ready.