Draw!

He saw the deputy’s hard stare as he drove by him in the opposite direction. The quick draw performer knew that the man behind the badge would be turning his unit around and pulling him over.

It had happened before and it cost Dave nearly $600 the last time. He checked his rear view mirror and saw the blinking of the red and blue lights as they drew closer.

Dave pulled off the main road and down the long dirt drive towards his home. In short order, the cop car sped onto the unpaved road and pulled up at an angle behind the now-stopped pickup truck.

“Keep your hands where I can see’um,” came the deputy’s demand over the vehicle’s loudspeaker.

Once the deputy was out of his car and with his hands still on the steering wheel, Dave asked, “What’s this all about?”

“You were driving distracted,” came the answer, “gonna have to write you up for it. Now get out of the truck and do it slowly, keeping your hands in sight.”

“I need to reach for the door handle to open it, okay?”

“Do it – but do it very carefully – no fast movements Mr. Quick Draw McGaw.”

Dave complied. He also realized that pulling off the main drag on on the road leading to his home, had placed him in danger since he still had his Colt 44 strapped to his hip.

“So you’re heeled, I see.” the deputy said.

“Jus’ heading home from a small performance I gave for the children in the hospital this morning.”

“Duster Dave Barnham, Mr. Do-Gooder, too, huh?”

Dave did not reply as the officer slowly approached. The deputy looked Dave up and down as he pulled out his night-stick and smashed the left tail light of the truck.

“Tail light’s outta order too,” he grinned, “Now back up.”

Dave stepped backwards, beyond the hood of his truck. He grimaced as the deputy broke the drivers side mirror off the vehicles.

Having had enough of the officer’s actions, Dave asked, “Do you feel better and can I go now?”

“No,” he answered as he pulled his ticket book out from behind his backside, having tucked it in his belt as he left the car. He began to write.

“So how fast are you with that gun, Dave – or should I call ya ‘Duster Dave?”

“Dave’s fine. Fast enough to entertain the kids, I guess.”

“Faster than me?”

“Nope. Not faster than you.”

“Really? I don’t believe you believe that for a minute.”

Dave said nothing.

“I think we oughta find out for ourselves,” the deputy stated.

A sick feeling overcame Dave as he watched the deputy square off, right hand slightly open and hovering jus’ above the butt of his pistol. Dave raised his hands, palms open towards the deputy, in a gesture of surrender.

“Afraid?”

“Yes – very afraid.”

“Ha! Duster Dave fastest man alive with a gun this side of Dodge City. You’re nothing but an effin’ coward. Wish I had that on my dash cam.”

“Wanna reenacted it so you can brag all about it and quit riding my ass every time you see me?”

The deputy smiled, “Yeah, I want that on video – show it to my grand-kids – show’um how big a chicken-shit their hero is.”

“I thought you were their hero?” Dave asked be before thinking.

The deputy drew his service weapon and held it on Dave as he made his way back to his cruiser, reached in and switched on his vehicle’s camera. He also pushed the button to the camera he wore on his bullet resistant vest.

After ordering Dave to pick up his shooter, and once the deputy was certain he had the man in the right spot for his camera, he holstered his own weapon and began taunting the showman again. This time though, Dave was prepared and knowing the deputy was not as on-guard as he had been, Dave drew his Colt.

The surprised deputy didn’t even have time enough to touch the butt of his gun. Instead, he found himself facing the polished business end of Duster Dave’s blue steel and ivory handled revolver.

“Now, remove that thing from your holster using jus’ your pointer finger and thumb, and toss it over here in front of me,” Dave calmly demanded.

The deputy, though slow to comply, did as instructed. Dave could see tears glistening around the lower rims of his eyes.

“Don’t kill me,” the deputy said, his voice shaking.

“Turn around and using your handcuffs, cuff your writs together – and make them tight.”

The deputy did as instructed. Dave double checked the cuff, clamping them even tighter.

Next, he returned to his truck and retrieved his cellphone and dialing 9-1-1, “I need the state troopers, pronto. No, not the county, the state.”

Fifteen minutes later, three units came speeding up the roadway, kicking up dust and gravel. The troopers exited their vehicles and immediately placed Dave in cuffs and ushered him to the back of one of the patrol cars.

“So he dared you to draw on him, huh?” the older of the four troops asked, adding, with a slight tone of hostility in his voice, “That’s very hard to believe.”

“All you gotta do is check his dash-cam,” Dave offered, “And the one on his person.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

It took only a few minutes for the troopers to review the dash-cam footage, before Dave heard, “Sorry, Mr. Barnham, this should have never happened.”

After he was uncuffed, Dave quietly watched as the deputy was placed in the back of the same patrol car that he had jus’ been in. He also watched as other deputies came to the scene to witness one of their own being driven off.

“You’re free to go,” the sheriff offered, before asking, “If he’d of threw down on you after you had him dead-to-rights, would you have shot him?”

Dave toed the dust, “Nope, he’d of killed me for sure, ‘cause my gun’s loaded with blanks. It was all show-biz and bluff on my part.”

“Damn!” the sheriff exclaimed, “Remind me to never play poker with you.”

“Truth is, I don’t know how to play poker, never learned” Dave smiled as he climbed into the cab of his truck, “Anyway, have a good and safe rest of the day, Sheriff.”

It was only as he reached for key in the ignition did Dave see how badly his hand was trembling.