The Shitty Six!: A Reckoning

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America whistled a tune as he counted the bullet holes splintering the walls of the sheriff’s office. The holes were old wounds that had surfaced long before America was brought, and this office wasn’t the only scarred, battered, and splintering building. Bow Creek was a rowdy little town, and America liked rowdy little towns.

“Shut up.”

America ceased and leaned into the bars to get a better look at the rude fellow in the next cell over. The moonlight pouring in through the window cast light on the kid’s dark hair, darker eyes, and nasty scowl that one might typically reserve for snakes and roaches but certainly not other human beings.

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The Shitty Six!

“Last words?” China asked.

America steeled his gaze and looked death in the face. “Yee-haw.”


Tumbleweeds blew across the orange dirt. The smoldering sun hung halfway above the horizon. Crows gathered atop the saloon to watch the spectacle with gleeful anticipation. America could still smell the gunpowder in the air, guessed the barrel of his rifle was still hot from the fight.

But he couldn’t know for sure because the gun was still on the ground of that battered saloon and there was a noose around his neck.

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