Warning Shot

“What can I get for ya?” the scrawny bartender asked.

There were three card tables in the place and enough dust caked on them to choke a buffalo. When he spotted the unmarked door at the back of the room, Nate strode past the bar and said, “I can help myself just fine, thanks.”

Nate ignored the bartender’s protests. Before he got to the back door, however, he heard heavy footsteps approaching him from behind. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, Nate waited just long enough to read the harmful intent on the faces of the two men who’d been sitting with their drinks just a few moments ago. He snapped a straight punch to the closest one’s nose, sending a spray of blood and a stream of obscenities from that one’s face. The second reached for a pistol at his side, but wasn’t quick enough to clear leather before Nate brought his Remington to bear. Even though the man in front of him knew better than to make another move, Nate smirked and took his shot anyway.

All three men flinched reflexively when the gunshot exploded through the saloon. The man standing in Nate’s line of fire paled considerably. It wasn’t until he felt the patter of wood splinters and grit from the ceiling against his face that he realized Nate had shifted his aim to send his bullet into the rafters overhead.