Read Reaper (#1, Duster and a Gun) Page 16


  Chapter Eleven

  Duster and a Gun: Reaper

  Gregory Blackman

  Getting Soft

  There wasn’t a single window in this damned jail, I’d been asleep a few hours, maybe more, it could’ve been just about any time of day. My plans consisted of me breaking the deputy’s arm and making off under the cover of night. I’d spent too many days in a cell such as this one and my skin was beginning to crawl at the thought.

  “Hey there, boy,” I said on my bed, slouched up against the wall. “I’m talking to you, Foreskin.”

  “It’s Forsythe, dipshit,” the deputy said with his feet propped up on the only desk, “An’ who else would ya be talkin’ to? It ain’t like someone’s coming to save you.”

  “I’m not the one who needs saving, Foreskin.”

  “Shut ta fuck up,” he grumbled.

  “You don’t know a thing about me, Foreskin.”

  “I know yer type,” he said. “Walk around thinkin’ yer all high and mighty, better than the Sheriffs and Deputies that make these lands safe.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “I don’t care if yer a gunslinger,” the deputy continued. “Ya might even be a train robber for all I know… hightailin’ it as far away as ya can before the Marshals catch wind of ya bein’ here. Or maybe yer just one of those types crazy enough to chase the devil with horns on. I don’t really care which one ya are, dirt bag. All I need to know is yer on the other side of these bars and the Sheriff wants ya to stay there. Good enough for me on even the shittiest day.”

  “Tell me how you truly feel.”

  “Ya’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” he asked. “I bet ya get off on hearin’ about others. I reckon ya think yer some real slick shit. Not today, and not after I’m through with ya.”

  “You got me all figured out it seems,” I said, rising from the bed and walking over to the iron bars that separated us. “No point in hiding it anymore. I’m a bad, bad man, Deputy Foreskin, and you don’t want to mess with me.”

  “Keep talkin’,” the deputy replied. “You’ll be an ol’ man before ya see the other side o’ these bars.”

  “What time’s it, Foreskin?”

  “It’s fuck you o’clock!” Deputy Forsythe shouted as he brandished a pistol. “I told ya to stop callin’ me that! Say it one more goddamn time… go on... I fucking dare ya!”

  The deputy stood shaking, and shuffled over towards me. He might try to talk tough, but his nervousness told me more. Likely this wee little deputy had never been in a fight he couldn’t fix, probably never fired that gun of his, either.

  “You’re a true blue hero,” I said with my hands on the iron bars. “I bet you wanted to grow up just like the Duke, himself. Probably the reason you put on that badge… am I right?”

  “Yer damn right!” the deputy bellowed as he took a step closer. “Ya don’t have the privilege of mutterin’ his name. He respected the law, knew when to step up and be counted. He’d be sick to his goddamn stomach lookin’ at the likes o’ you.”

  “Boy, you don’t have the guts to pull that trigger. You’re no man, you’re nothing more than a rat, so crooked it could swallow nails and spit out corkscrews.”

  “I told ya,” he said with the pistol pressed to my head. “Keep it up an’ I’ll swear to the Sheriff ya took my keys an’ I was actin’ in self defense.”

  “But that’s exactly what I’m doing, Foreskin—.”

  “I told ya!” the deputy screamed as he pulled back the hammer. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”

  I grabbed the gun before he managed to pull the trigger and a bullet fired into the cell. I pulled his arm and used the iron bars to snap it in two. He cried out in agony, spewing vomit across the room.

  “M-my arm!” he cried. “Ya broke my fucking arm!”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you,” I said, rummaging through his pockets, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.”

  “Goodnight, Foreskin,” I said as I banged his head against the bars, “…Or maybe I should say good morning, someone didn’t have the courtesy to tell me.”

  It took a little longer than usual, but I was a free man once more. I unlocked the bars, grabbed the pistol and dragged the unconscious Deputy Forsythe into the cell. He wasn’t bleeding heavily but he could lose the use of his arm.

  I checked through the Sheriff’s records in order to get a better idea what I was dealing with. A man like him probably had a number of men on his payroll, those not in uniform and hidden behind dark shadows. It didn’t take me long before I gave up my search. Whatever this crooked copper was dealing in, he kept his contacts in a safer place.

  “I reckon I misjudged you, Sheriff,” I said under my breath. “Maybe you’re not a complete buffoon after all.”