The Gunslinger Who Came to Bury His Past — Then the Town Gave Him a Reason to Draw Again
CHAPTER 2
By sunrise, everyone in Mercy Creek knew about Gabriel Shaw.
By breakfast, three different versions of the story were circulating.
In one, Gabriel had killed six men.
In another, he had shot a rattlesnake from fifty yards.
By noon, someone claimed he had once killed a man without drawing his gun.
Gabriel ignored all of it.
He was more interested in the land deed sitting on the counter of the general store.
The clerk pushed it toward him.
“You really want forty acres?”
“Yes.”
“You’re aware there’s been trouble?”
Gabriel nodded.
“That’s why it’s cheap.”
The clerk lowered his voice.
“Too cheap.”
Gabriel looked up.
“Why?”
The clerk glanced toward the window.
“People who own land outside Mercy Creek have been leaving.”
“Why?”
“Black Spurs.”
Gabriel had heard the name.
Every border town had an outlaw gang.
Usually they were less impressive than their reputation.
This one sounded different.
“They work for someone?”
The clerk swallowed.
“Nobody knows.”
Gabriel folded the deed.
“Then I’ll find out.”
Outside, a newspaper slammed against his chest.
He caught it.
A woman stood behind it.
Ada Monroe.
“You’re Gabriel Shaw.”
“Apparently.”
“You shot a man yesterday.”
“He was alive when I left.”
She lowered the newspaper.
“That’s not the same as innocent.”
Gabriel studied her.
“You always interview strangers this way?”
“Only the interesting ones.”
“I’m not interesting.”
She smiled.
“That’s what interesting people always say.”
Gabriel handed the newspaper back.
The headline caught his attention.
FOURTH FARMER DISAPPEARS OUTSIDE MERCY CREEK.
He looked at Ada.
“You wrote this?”
“Yes.”
“Police?”
“Marshal says the farmers left voluntarily.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
Gabriel looked down the street.
Neither did he.
That evening, a wagon arrived carrying a family from the eastern farms.
Before they reached the center of town, gunfire erupted.
Three Black Spurs riders appeared behind them.
The father grabbed his wife.
Their little boy screamed.
Gabriel stepped into the street.
Ada watched from the newspaper doorway.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
Gabriel heard her.
He kept walking.
The gang leader smiled.
“Shaw.”
Gabriel stopped.
“Boone wants you.”
“Tell him I’m busy.”
The outlaw raised his gun.
Gabriel drew.
Three shots.
Three guns hit the dirt.
Nobody died.
The leader stared at him.
Gabriel walked closer.
“Tell Boone something else.”
“What?”
Gabriel’s voice was quiet.
“I don’t work for anybody anymore.”
The outlaw’s face hardened.
Gabriel turned away.
But Ada noticed something.
His hand was shaking.
Only slightly.
The famous gunfighter was afraid.
Not of the outlaws.
Of himself.
And she began wondering what had happened to Gabriel Shaw before he came to Mercy Creek.
