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Jun. 29th, 2011 09:03 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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aliassmithjonesOriginally posted by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sierra47 at Drabble Challenge
YELLOW BELLY
Kid Curry sat at the table by the restaurant window, thoughtfully chewing on his flapjacks and wondering what was keeping his partner Hannibal Heyes. He’d left while Heyes was still shaving; the aroma from coffee wafting up from the hotel’s dining room was too much for the hungry gunslinger. He’d already put away two scrambled eggs and a side order of bacon. He was almost….almost….full.
They’d arrived in Danville the previous afternoon hoping to find work to build up their cash reserves, which at the moment amounted to a pitiful five dollars. And that was before paying for breakfast. There didn’t seem to be much going on in the small town, and Kid was sure they’d have to pull up stakes and move on.
He looked up as his partner pulled a chair from the table and sat down with a wince.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Kid asked him in concern. He noticed a sheen of sweat on Heyes’ forehead, and his partner was squinting in the early morning sunshine.
“Woke up with a headache. And the strangest thing, Kid, I’ve got a yellow belly.”
“Huh?”
“A big yellow bruise all across my stomach. Like I fell on somethin. You’d think I’d remember that, wouldn’t you?”
The waitress came over and Heyes asked for coffee and a biscuit. When it came he chewed on it distractedly while rubbing the front of his shirt.
“It even hurt to buckle on my gun,” Heyes continued. “Hope we don’t run into any trouble today.”
Kid shook his head over his partner’s confusion. “How much beer did you drink last night, Joshua?”
“Huh?”
Kid chuckled. “You don’t remember that weasle-eyed skinny guy you were playin’ cards with?”
Heyes tried to think, but his head was pounding. “Nooooo.”
“You don’t remember he called you a no account cheater?”
“I never cheat at cards.”
“That’s what you told him. And that’s when he called you out, and you stood up to try usin’ your silver tongue to talk him down from his bad mood. And he slammed you against the bar.”
Heyes rubbed his stomach some more. “You’d think I’d remember that.”
Curry took a sip from his coffee. “You’d think. I’m gonna have to keep a closer eye on you, partner. You didn’t look to me like you’d drunk that much.”
“I didn’t!” Heyes protested. “No more’n two beers.” He took another bite from the biscuit. “Maybe someone spiked my drink.”
Curry pursed his lips. “Mebbe. But it looked like you were playin’ all right. How’d you end up doing? We’re down to our last coins.”
Heyes felt in his pocket, and pulled out an assortment of money. “Hah!” he crowed. “They can spike my drink and I still can win. Got maybe fifty dollars.”
“Fifty dollars that belongs to ME!” a loud voice interrupted, and the partners looked up to see the card player from the previous evening glaring at them from the doorway. He was unsteady on his feet, and looked like he hadn’t stopped drinking after the saloon shut down for the night.
“I won it fair and square,” Heyes said quietly, hoping to avoid a fight. The other diners were watching them in alarm; quiet breakfast rooms weren’t usually the scene for a brawl.
“You cheated! There’s no way you could have won after I put those powders in your drink.”
Heyes stood up with narrowed eyes. “So it was you?” he asked coldly. “Seems like you were doin’ all the cheating, mister, not me.”
Suddenly the man pulled a small derringer from his vest pocket, and aimed it unsteadily at Heyes. “Give me that money or I’ll shoot!”
Heyes saw Curry slowly get to his feet, but shook his head at him. Curry waited, his right hand hovering near his sidearm.
“I don’t aim to get into a shooting match this early in the morning,” Heyes said evenly. “Put that popgun away and get yourself some coffee.”
The man sneered. “You’re nothing but a yellow-bellied…” The gun went off, and the bullet struck the ceiling above Heyes’ head.
Heyes smiled. “That’s right. I’m yellow bellied.” The gambler’s mouth fell open in astonishment that Heyes accepted his insult. “And I for sure ain’t gonna pull my gun before I’ve drunk my morning coffee.”
The door suddenly opened behind the angry gunman, and the town’s sheriff burst into the room. He quickly took in the situation; the weaving gambler, Curry poised by the window, the anxious diners, and Heyes standing facing the gunman with a slight smile on his face.
The sheriff quickly brought his six-gun down on the back of the gambler’s head, and the man fell to the floor with a thud. “I heard the shot,” the sheriff said, looking at Heyes for an explanation.
Heyes put on his most friendly smile. “He was unhappy over the cards he was dealt last night. You showed up at just the right time, Sheriff. I surely wasn’t looking for a fight.”
“That’s right,” a man from a nearby table chipped in. “The gunman tried to get this man to shoot by calling him a yellow belly. And he refused to take the bait.”
The sheriff considered the situation a moment, and finally nodded. “All right then, “ he said. “Good for you, mister for not letting this no-account get to you. Better to eat words than eat a bullet.” The sheriff holstered his gun and pulled the unconscious gunman out onto the street.
Heyes and Curry sat back down at the table, and the dining room soon began to hum with animated conversation.
Curry finally chuckled.
“What?” Heyes challenged him. “I am yellow bellied! So why get into a fight over it?” He took a sip of his now cold coffee, and grimaced.
Curry motioned to the waitress, and finally Heyes met his grin. “That’s for sure, Heyes,” he teased. “You don’t cheat and you don’t like. You really are a yellow-bellied….”
Heyes cut him off. “Enough. My stomach’s sore, and I want breakfast.”
They ate their meal in contented silence.
sierra47 at Drabble ChallengeYELLOW BELLY
Kid Curry sat at the table by the restaurant window, thoughtfully chewing on his flapjacks and wondering what was keeping his partner Hannibal Heyes. He’d left while Heyes was still shaving; the aroma from coffee wafting up from the hotel’s dining room was too much for the hungry gunslinger. He’d already put away two scrambled eggs and a side order of bacon. He was almost….almost….full.
They’d arrived in Danville the previous afternoon hoping to find work to build up their cash reserves, which at the moment amounted to a pitiful five dollars. And that was before paying for breakfast. There didn’t seem to be much going on in the small town, and Kid was sure they’d have to pull up stakes and move on.
He looked up as his partner pulled a chair from the table and sat down with a wince.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Kid asked him in concern. He noticed a sheen of sweat on Heyes’ forehead, and his partner was squinting in the early morning sunshine.
“Woke up with a headache. And the strangest thing, Kid, I’ve got a yellow belly.”
“Huh?”
“A big yellow bruise all across my stomach. Like I fell on somethin. You’d think I’d remember that, wouldn’t you?”
The waitress came over and Heyes asked for coffee and a biscuit. When it came he chewed on it distractedly while rubbing the front of his shirt.
“It even hurt to buckle on my gun,” Heyes continued. “Hope we don’t run into any trouble today.”
Kid shook his head over his partner’s confusion. “How much beer did you drink last night, Joshua?”
“Huh?”
Kid chuckled. “You don’t remember that weasle-eyed skinny guy you were playin’ cards with?”
Heyes tried to think, but his head was pounding. “Nooooo.”
“You don’t remember he called you a no account cheater?”
“I never cheat at cards.”
“That’s what you told him. And that’s when he called you out, and you stood up to try usin’ your silver tongue to talk him down from his bad mood. And he slammed you against the bar.”
Heyes rubbed his stomach some more. “You’d think I’d remember that.”
Curry took a sip from his coffee. “You’d think. I’m gonna have to keep a closer eye on you, partner. You didn’t look to me like you’d drunk that much.”
“I didn’t!” Heyes protested. “No more’n two beers.” He took another bite from the biscuit. “Maybe someone spiked my drink.”
Curry pursed his lips. “Mebbe. But it looked like you were playin’ all right. How’d you end up doing? We’re down to our last coins.”
Heyes felt in his pocket, and pulled out an assortment of money. “Hah!” he crowed. “They can spike my drink and I still can win. Got maybe fifty dollars.”
“Fifty dollars that belongs to ME!” a loud voice interrupted, and the partners looked up to see the card player from the previous evening glaring at them from the doorway. He was unsteady on his feet, and looked like he hadn’t stopped drinking after the saloon shut down for the night.
“I won it fair and square,” Heyes said quietly, hoping to avoid a fight. The other diners were watching them in alarm; quiet breakfast rooms weren’t usually the scene for a brawl.
“You cheated! There’s no way you could have won after I put those powders in your drink.”
Heyes stood up with narrowed eyes. “So it was you?” he asked coldly. “Seems like you were doin’ all the cheating, mister, not me.”
Suddenly the man pulled a small derringer from his vest pocket, and aimed it unsteadily at Heyes. “Give me that money or I’ll shoot!”
Heyes saw Curry slowly get to his feet, but shook his head at him. Curry waited, his right hand hovering near his sidearm.
“I don’t aim to get into a shooting match this early in the morning,” Heyes said evenly. “Put that popgun away and get yourself some coffee.”
The man sneered. “You’re nothing but a yellow-bellied…” The gun went off, and the bullet struck the ceiling above Heyes’ head.
Heyes smiled. “That’s right. I’m yellow bellied.” The gambler’s mouth fell open in astonishment that Heyes accepted his insult. “And I for sure ain’t gonna pull my gun before I’ve drunk my morning coffee.”
The door suddenly opened behind the angry gunman, and the town’s sheriff burst into the room. He quickly took in the situation; the weaving gambler, Curry poised by the window, the anxious diners, and Heyes standing facing the gunman with a slight smile on his face.
The sheriff quickly brought his six-gun down on the back of the gambler’s head, and the man fell to the floor with a thud. “I heard the shot,” the sheriff said, looking at Heyes for an explanation.
Heyes put on his most friendly smile. “He was unhappy over the cards he was dealt last night. You showed up at just the right time, Sheriff. I surely wasn’t looking for a fight.”
“That’s right,” a man from a nearby table chipped in. “The gunman tried to get this man to shoot by calling him a yellow belly. And he refused to take the bait.”
The sheriff considered the situation a moment, and finally nodded. “All right then, “ he said. “Good for you, mister for not letting this no-account get to you. Better to eat words than eat a bullet.” The sheriff holstered his gun and pulled the unconscious gunman out onto the street.
Heyes and Curry sat back down at the table, and the dining room soon began to hum with animated conversation.
Curry finally chuckled.
“What?” Heyes challenged him. “I am yellow bellied! So why get into a fight over it?” He took a sip of his now cold coffee, and grimaced.
Curry motioned to the waitress, and finally Heyes met his grin. “That’s for sure, Heyes,” he teased. “You don’t cheat and you don’t like. You really are a yellow-bellied….”
Heyes cut him off. “Enough. My stomach’s sore, and I want breakfast.”
They ate their meal in contented silence.
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Date: 2011-06-29 03:54 pm (UTC)That line fits Heyes personality perfectly. I could envision him saying it.
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Date: 2011-06-29 06:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-29 07:26 pm (UTC)The yellow bellied idea is good. *winces*. Heyes certinly earned that fifty.
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Date: 2011-06-29 10:02 pm (UTC)Good one.
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Date: 2011-06-30 03:13 am (UTC)