Adam raised around the edge of the large boulder behind which Whitechapel had gotten the drop on them. As he brought his horse to a trot Samuel came into view, only now he was standing, the Deringer pointed at somebody just out of view. The two gunslingers that had accompanied Whitechapel lay on the ground, no sign of a gun shot wound or any other obvious way that they had met they’re end.

As Adam slowed his horse from a trot to a slow amble, Whitechapel came into view, kneeled and turned away from Samuel and tears streaming down his face and Samuel’s Derringer pointed at the back of his head.

Adam couldn’t hear what they were saying, but as he stood there and watched he could see both Samuel’s and Whitechapel’s lips moving, Samuel clearly agitated over something, as he kept ramming the Derringer into the back of Whitechapel’s skull, causing him to rock forward.

It was then that Adam got to thinking about the Derringer, my ma’s, Samuel had said, but he had also said it was the same weapon that had killed his wife, Mary. Adam hadn’t noticed the discrepancies in his story before, probably because he was worried about how bluntly Samuel had told them that they were going to help kill Whitechapel.

How could it be the same gun? Adam thought. Could Whitechapel have somehow stolen it from Samuel? Maybe. No, Samuel was to careful with his guns. In the short time that Adam and known Samuel, he knew that whether awake or asleep, Samuel would never let his guns get more then an arms length away from him.

As Adam drew closer he could hear the two talking – Samuel was yelling at Whitechapel and Whitechapel was sobbing, begging for his life.

“I did you dirty work for all those years.” Samuel was yelling. “I was your right hand man.”

“Don’t kill me, we can work something out, can’t we?” Whitechapel was mumbling as he fell forward from on his knees to all fours.

“Those men in the desert, Whitechapel, huh? Did you forget about that? I took out a posse of ten men, including a deputy, that was looking for you.”  Samuel was now angrily poking the Derringer in the back of Whitechapel’s skull. “I had to leave Burntwood in the middle of the night and even then, barely got away alive.”

“I know, I know. I can make it up to you.” Adam heard Whitechapel say as he got closer, now off his horse and crawling on the sand around the end of the large boulder.

In front of Whitechapel, Adam could make out the handle of a pistol buried in the sand. Whitechapel was inching for it, slowly waiting to make his move to grab it.

“How Whitechapel, the only thing that I loved you took.” With a last fit of anger, Samuel shoved Whitechapel onto his stomach, where he was able to quickly grab the gun and hide it at his side. “You have nothing I want now, except for maybe one thing.”

Samuel thumbed the hammer back on his deringer, the slow clicks echoing off the surrounding rocks.

“If you have-” Samuel started to say before the sound of a discharging pistol errupted.

Adam peaked his head over the bushes he was hiding behind and saw that Whitechapel had taken a single shot with his hidden pistol which he must have had hidden between his mid-section and left arm, where he waited until Samuel was standing right over him to take his shot.

Samuel stumbled back, shocked, pawing at his side that had a large, bloody wedge missing. Adam thought he would never see that look on Samuel’s face, that look of total shock, of realization that he did not have complete control over the situation. As he raised his hand to his face and saw that it was covered in blood, is when the look of shock disappeared and was replaced, once again, with rage and hatred.

Samuel raised the Derringer and pointed it at Whitechapel, but before he could get off a shot, Whitechapel fired again, hitting him in the shoulder. As Samuel stumbling back, Adam could see that Samuel was still determined to do Whitechapel in, even if it meant he wouldn’t survive himself.

As he stumbled back, Samuel aimed carefully, knowing that he had only one shot with The Deringer. With another loud, echoing boom, Samuel fired getting Whitechapel – who was now turned to face Samuel – in the neck.

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