Of Is The New Oz

Jack tossed the match into the dirt with a little trail of smoke following it.

"Ten minutes, boy," He said.

He blew a thin ribbon of smoke from his nose and smiled, the cigar glowing amber and rose as he sucked in a new breath.

"You won't do it,"

Jack pointed over the boys shoulder to a tall, sallow-faced man in black. The man was eyeing the boy and measuring him from a distance.

"Seems the undertaker isn't so convinced. Eight minutes now,"

"I ain't leavin',"

A fat man with a long beard came out from the cool shade of Sallie's Rounderhouse and shielded his eyes against the bright heat of near-noon.

"Gentlemen we have laws here. If you've got a dispute you can take it to the county judge and I'm sure he'll be glad to handle this,"

"Won't be necessary, Mister Jones. This young man isn't going to stay. Four minutes now, son,"

The clock ticked, Mister Jones stepped back into the shade of Sallie's overhang and the boy took a quick step towards Jack. Jack pulled the pistol from his smooth leather belt, his thumb working on its own and his finger running smoothly across the trigger.

"Time," He said.