quite an epic... based upon a dream...

quite an epic... based upon a dream...

Derringer One
That oh so beautiful Derringer pistol was not just a gun. She was art. Silver chrome that shone in the lamp light. Engraved on the chrome were names of Wild West legends: Butch Cassidy and Sundance. They were here only a decade ago. Mother of pearl handle, white as desert bone. Her twin barrels, one above the other, were black as death. The .45 slugs in there had my name on them. My heart was breaking. They had done it! Why oh why oh why? Consigned me to the scrap heap. I was due to start a job making steam trains on Monday. They cancelled the contract and gave it to Germany. Their engineers were better. Damn this commercial economics! Damn them to hell! I picked up the beautiful Derringer pistol. Clicked back the hammer to full cock. And placed it in my mouth. The trigger pull was sensitive. Like me...

Two
I heard the wood fire crackling when I came to. I must have passed out. I didn't know where I was. Then I saw the pretty Derringer pistol and it came rushing back to me. I had used that same pistol to commit suicide. The Germans had stolen our steam train work. And I was broke, with no cash. This was a day after my fiancé, Amy, ran off with a cowboy. He was a real man. Six shooters, horse, leather saddle, tough as hell. Last of his kind. I had nothing except my job. So I used the gun. But why am I still here? Am I a ghost or wounded? I felt no pain nor saw any blood. I was unharmed. I should be dead. I reached down to pick it up...

Three
The door opened. It was Hannah. She was beautiful. More so than her small lady's pistol. Not moving, she stood there looking at me. And knew what I had tried to do. Like a mother scolding her child, Hannah rushed over to me. Her hands took my face and she looked at me. And kissed me. Our tears met, became one. Why? she whispered, looking down at the gun. With a finely booted foot, Hannah kicked the gun into the corner. It went off! Bang! The slug hit the brass wood storage box and whined into the wall. My whole body shook and I wept for all that was almost lost. Why hadn't the gun worked when I pulled the trigger? Both barrels were loaded. The shells were new. The safety was off. Why am I alive? She held me close. As close as love or death.

Four
Hannah saved me that day. I never drank whiskey. I was clear headed. I was confused why the gun misfired. I told her what I had planned after two lots of bad news: Amy leaving me and the Germans winning the train work. For two hours Hannah sat holding me, listening. Her kisses soothed me. Her hands kept me close. I was wet with sweat. My blue denim shirt sodden. I tried to commit suicide. Hannah saved me from myself. She wasn't bothered that her clients were waiting. That other girls were making money. I didn't care what Hannah did as a job. Will you marry me Hannah? I asked. She nodded. A defining moment. No more worrying about Amy or making trains. I'd stay in her saloon. Together.