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Fiction
Hollister Bootstone and The Tale Of The Narrow Escape
Somewhere In The Old West • 9
Hollister knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth. The look of rage he encountered was unlike any he had seen before. He weighed his options. Trying to defuse the situation with more words seemed unlikely. Shooting his way out was not an option, either. That left escape as the only reasonable course of action.
Hollister’s trusty horse, Cinnabun, was nearby, but he would need a distraction to get to him unhurt. With no time to think, Hollister reacted instinctively. He dug his hands into the desert and tossed two handfuls of sand into the air while shouting, “Dust storm!”
The ruse worked for a moment, but that was all he needed. Hollister made a break for his horse. In a single leap, he was on Cinnabun and riding like the wind. Hollister thought he had made his escape when he felt a searing pain in his back. The impact and pain nearly knocked Hollister off Cinnabun’s back, but he managed to hold on and keep riding into the night.
Hollister holed up behind some boulders to wait for daybreak. The pain was intense, but he figured if he hadn’t died yet, he might survive until he could make it to town.
