Last Stand at the Odeon

The drifter rode into town like a cloud dragging its shadow across the desert. His hat brim hung low, shading eyes that had seen too much.

Dust clung to his boots, and his horse moved at a weary plod, the animal’s ribs visible beneath a coat of trail grit. At his hip, a Colt revolver swung like a promise in waiting.

As he passed the Odeon Saloon, a man leaning against a hitching post called, “Levi Grayson? That you?” His voice cracked with disbelief, and he squinted against the setting sun.

The drifter didn’t turn his head, didn’t slow his horse. He rode on, stopping when he reached the rail outside the saloon.

Sliding from the saddle, he hitched his horse and took the creaking steps to the boardwalk. When he pushed through the Odeon’s doors, the hinges groaned like they knew trouble had arrived.

Inside, behind the bar, Henry “Hank” Maddox gave the newcomer a quick once-over, his eyes flicking to the gun at Levi’s side. A young, pretty girl with sharp, untamed beauty moved between tables, collecting empty mugs.

Levi’s gaze lingered too long on her, and the corner of his mouth quirked in a half-smile that promised nothing good.

The man who’d called his name entered and approached, grinning wide. “By God, it is you!” he said, clapping a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, not after all these years.”

Levi glanced at him, recognition flickering. “Bill Langley,” he said, voice low and flat. “Been a long time.”

“Too long,” Bill said, his enthusiasm unchecked. “You remember when we used to run this town? Seemed like nothing could stop us back then. What brings you back, anyhow?”

Levi’s eyes hardened. “I go where the road takes me.”

From across the room, Sheriff Roy Tanner watched the exchange. A man who’d worn the badge longer than most folks in Dayton could remember, Roy didn’t miss much.

He noted the gun, the casual way Levi moved, and the edge of trouble that clung to him like a second shadow. Years ago, Dayton had voted to clear Main Street of sidearms.

It had been Roy’s job to enforce it ever since, and he wasn’t about to start making exceptions. The sheriff crossed the room, boots heavy on the floorboards.

“Evening, stranger,” he said, stopping near Levi. “Reckon you don’t know, but this here’s a no-gun town. Main Street’s off-limits.”

Levi turned slowly, one hand resting on the bar. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Didn’t reckon this was a town where a man gets told what he can and can’t carry.”

“The law’s the law,” Roy said evenly.

Levi’s smile widened, but his eyes were cold as the grave. “Ain’t never been too fond of laws or lawmen.”

The sheriff held his gaze for a long moment before speaking. “Let’s leave it at that,” he said, turning to leave, his wisdom keeping him alive.

As the night deepened, Levi drank too much. His words became mean, cutting into Bill’s awkward attempts at conversation. When Ellie Harper, the saloon girl, brushed past, he grabbed her wrist.

“C’mon now,” he slurred. “Ain’t no need to play hard to get.”

Ellie yanked her hand free. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, her voice firm. “Go find some other girl to bother.”

Levi chuckled darkly. “Don’t think you understand who you’re talking to.”

Before Ellie could respond, Hank stepped in, his voice calm but resolute. “That’s enough, friend. Leave the girl be.”

Levi turned on him, swaying slightly. “You gonna make me?” he sneered, his hand drifting toward his revolver.

“No one’s making you do anything,” Hank said, keeping his tone even. “But maybe it’s time you called it a night.”

Levi snorted, then fired into the ceiling. The boom silenced the room, and all eyes turned to him. “I’ll call it a night when I’m damn good and ready,” he growled. “How ‘bout I shoot up this whole place? See who’s man enough to stop me!”

The saloon doors swung open, and Sheriff Tanner stepped through.

“That’s enough, Grayson,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Put the gun down.”

Levi turned, his grin feral. “Roy Tanner,” he said, his words dripping with mockery. “Still playing the hero, huh?”

Before Roy could respond, Levi raised his gun and fired. The sheriff fell where he stood, a single shot to the chest silencing him forever.

Levi laughed, his head thrown back, drunk on the power of it. “Anybody else feel like playing sheriff tonight?” he taunted. “Go on, step through those doors. I’ll make a game of it!”

Behind the bar, Hank moved. He reached beneath the counter and came up with a double-barrel shotgun, leveling it at Levi’s head. The room was silent save for the sound of both hammers getting cocked.

“Nobody’s that fast,” Hank said, his voice steady.

Levi sneered, his hand twitching toward his revolver. “You wanna bet?”

The roar of both barrels filled the saloon.