The sweat fell from his eyebrow and seeped into the corner of his mouth.  Even the wet salt from his body was welcome across his lips.  Dust swirled in the harsh desert air.  He tried desperately to see the eyes of John Savage, but the brim of his hat hid his disposition.  Did they twitch?  Was anger pushing him to wage this battle?  Why had he chased him five hundred miles?

    He knew his position was at a disadvantage.  The sun cast a glare across the steeple of the church.  His only relief was the shadow of the cross which lay upon his forehead. One step forward brought relief from the brilliance.  A church was protection for most of his life and now at the end, it was again his ally. 

    A distant memory flashed through his mind.  Five years had passed; however, it was happening again at this moment.  Lightening struck in the distance, illuminating the thin man’s features.  He watched as the gunman past by him unnoticed and walked into the saloon.  Shots were fired.  A woman screamed.  The sound of a body fell to the floor.  The thin man walked back to his horse.  Smell of gun smoke irritated his nostrils. He dared not to say anything.  Now he stood before him dusty and haggard, but today he had come for him.

    “You know why I am here.  You are going to die today.”  John Savage’s voice was adamant, and his growl reflected his temperament.

    “No, no….I don’t know.  All I know is that you are looking for me.”  His voice trembled.  The gun in his holster shook when he touched the handle.

    Savage’s shoulders raised at the thought of him drawing his weapon.  He hadn’t expected a real fight.  This coward had run for the last five years.  The church bell rang.  Birds flew away in fear.  Both men cast a glance to the tower but knew they must pull their weapons and fire. 

    He looked straight down the barrel.  The bullet soared toward him and in that moment. The man closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.  Never had he taken another man’s life, he wasn’t a gun fighter.   In his mind he asked for forgiveness for his regrets.

    The bullet struck his jaw shattering his back tooth, then ricocheted into the wooden trough. Blood ran down his neck.  In terror he grabbed his jaw and waited for the next bullet to strike.

    The gun slinger fired again, but this time straight into the air.  The frightened man looked toward his adversary again.  The dust scattered when the bullet hit John Savage’s chest and now his blood ran down into his boots.  The man could see his eyes now and they showed the terror of a person who feared for his soul.