The brothers stood in the dusty street, facing each other. They were alone; the rest of the town had sought shelter against the imminent gunfight.
“Annabelle’s mine, brother.” One said.
“Over my dead body.”
The two continued to stare, hands hovering over their six shooters, vibrating with anticipation.
They knew each other very well, each narrowing of the eyes or twitch of the lips was noted, but still they waited for the perfect moment.
They were drawing the fatal breath when someone appeared at the saloon door.
“Annabelle!” they both called, “what are you doing?”
“Jimmy I’ll be yours forever.”
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