Short Story: The Greenhorn

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The Greenhorn
The year was 1869; a well dressed, lanky, and pale William J Lloyd rode atop his horse with no life about him whatsoever. He was tired, hungry, thirsty, and wondered that if he ever got off this disgusting brute that he was attempting to ride he would never be able to walk correctly again; by the way his behind was treating him. He glanced over at his paid trail companion who responded with a scowl. William’s companion, a short, pudgy little man who owned an unsuccessful butcher shop and was desperate for money had agreed to lead the very, very famous (and not in good way) Mr. Lloyd to the newly founded Bannack, Montana to start up a dentistry in town. By now he had realized he was not desperate enough. Actually, you could call this man perhaps the bravest and most courageous man on planet earth, for out of all Wyoming, no one would agree to take William Lloyd. Perhaps this was because William hadn’t seen much more than the inside of people’s mouths for most of his life. He didn’t know how to hunt, how to make a fire, or even how to fire a gun, so John Johnson, William’s trail mate, had to baby him the whole way there. However, the only thing Lloyd did know how to do was to shut John up. Every time John opened his chubby mouth, William was all over how dirty his teeth were. Consequently, there wasn’t much talk between the two “companions”. They were close to their destination, John knew this; just over this hill was Bannack, and just about an hour from now Johnson would have his money and he would be rid of Lloyd the loon. He chuckled to himself at the thought. As they crested the top of the hill, the sun rose behind them, illuminating town of Bannack and they both let out a sigh of relief. The two travelers started...

... middle of paper ...

...uickly flung his hand to his holster- BANG!

Wyoming 1870
“Johnson! Hey Johnson!” Yelled Pete, a middle aged man with a long mustache that reached from one ear to the other.
“Yah, what is it?” The Butcher replied, as he severed a pig’s head from it’s shoulders.
Pete ran to him with piece of paper in his hands and halted abruptly. “It’s that strange fellow, William! You know, the one you took to Montana. Turns out, he beat some town bully in Bannack in a gun fight! I says here in the paper that he whipped out his gun backwards, shot himself- now this is the darndest thing, the bullet hit one of his buttons and then ricocheted, flying straight into the bully’s gut! And the man dropped dead! Then the guy opens up a dentist office! Aint that somethin’!
John sat there, dumfounded. Finally a conclusive look came about his face, “I won’t believe it! I will not believe it!”

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