Oath

By Nidheesh Samant

At first glance, the Wild Pony wasn’t anything special.

It looked like every other saloon I had visited. The same batwing doors adorned the entrance, creaking every time they swung open. Wooden tables were scattered around the room. The usual riff-raff crowd occupied the stools, smoking and betting money on their cards. A lone stag’s head adorned the wall over a bar stocked with the usual swill that passed as liquor.

Beyond that first glance, though, the Wild Pony was not ordinary. An aged bartender with a wild beard and a rough-edged face should have been behind the bar, but instead there stood a barmaid—the most gorgeous woman I had laid my eyes on in years. Her milky white skin and glowing blonde hair seemed out of place in these drab surroundings, even if her feisty tongue and roguish attitude fit right in.

I ignored the crowd, made my way straight to the bar, and asked for a shot of whiskey. She beamed at me as she poured. Her dazzling smile shot radiance through the gloom, and we got talking as she poured herself a glass of whiskey, too. Jeanie was clearly an intelligent woman, the kind I found myself most attracted to. In a short while, we were three glasses down and deep into our dialogue. She told me about her bar and her plans for expanding it, proving she was a visionary. I told her about my skill set, how my guns made me money, before. She understood my decision to distance myself from my past and the burden of murders it carried. She supported my idea of looking for endeavors that were more peaceful. Within an hour, we knew much about each other. We truly connected.

And then, a crash of gunshots outside broke us out of our daze. The sounds of chaos drew closer until a group of outlaws rushed inside the Wild Pony. Led by a grinning cadaver of a man, they kept their weapons trained on the patrons, making sure none of us could get up to any funny business. I had seen the infamous outlaw in action a couple of years ago, and I knew he was bad news. Toothless Tony walked up to the bar, gave me a smirk, and wrapped his arm around Jeanie’s waist. I watched with my arms raised as he led her out of the saloon, even though her eyes pled for help.

I had no guns to help her, but Jeanie had already told me that she kept a revolver hidden under the bar. Once all the outlaws had exited the saloon, I could have reached for it and dashed out to save Jeanie. However, my oath still stood. Besides, it was the sheriff’s job. I rationalized with myself for a couple of seconds until the sheriff’s body came crashing in from one of the saloon’s windows, riddled with bullet holes.

There was nobody left to save Jeanie. The outlaws would shanghai her away to their hideout and have their way with her. But… it was none of my concern. I had sworn never to wield a gun again. Good men never broke their oaths. But as I sat at the bar, listening to Jeanie’s cries for help, I realized something.

I was never a good man to begin with.

I drained off my glass of whiskey, reached behind the bar, and retrieved the hidden gun. Its grip felt natural in my hand, as if it had been there all along.

I had some outlaws to hunt.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nidheesh Samant is a marketing professional (corporate droid) from India. He moonlights as a writer of fiction, mostly dark tales, and the occasional haiku. He is obsessed with soup and dreams of a soupy world tour. Nidheesh has been published by Zombie Pirate Publishing, Siren’s Call Magazine and Aftermath Magazine. He blogs under the pseudonym of The Dark Netizen.

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