Dan grabs the hand and hauls himself up to his feet. His chest feels funny, almost like he's been punched hard, but when he touches the hole in the shirt there's no wet spot of blood spreading.
"I warned you," he mutters.
The canyon falls quiet, save for the low sounds of Butterfield in pain as he tries to push himself away from the two of them.
Dan brushes off his coat and walks the distance to the man on the ground, and then flips the rifle around, gripping it by the muzzle. The steel is hot (or would be, against a normal man's palm) but Dan doesn't flinch.
The butt of the stock gets dropped (slammed down) on that blown knee with a crunch of bone and the gravel beneath, and Butterfield screams.
"Now," a deep breath, as Dan releases the pressure. "You and I need to have a little talk." He kneels down and reaches back for the holster and the pistol, and the business end gets shoved against Butterfield's temple. "You told me that we had an agreement. A thousand dollars and the water rights. You remember that? 'Cept it seems that my boy's got the idea in his head that you ain't gonna pay it."
Dan growls.
"I don't like bein' lied to. Especially when it's upper class types like you who think they can get away with it." The muzzle of the gun gets nudged harder against his scalp. "Just cause they got a fancy suit and money to spare. So tell me, Mr. Butterfield," and he smirks, just a little. It looks feral and just a little crazy, if you get a glance at his eyes. "What the fuck gave you the idea I'd let you get away with it?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-07-08 09:31 am (UTC)"I warned you," he mutters.
The canyon falls quiet, save for the low sounds of Butterfield in pain as he tries to push himself away from the two of them.
Dan brushes off his coat and walks the distance to the man on the ground, and then flips the rifle around, gripping it by the muzzle. The steel is hot (or would be, against a normal man's palm) but Dan doesn't flinch.
The butt of the stock gets dropped (slammed down) on that blown knee with a crunch of bone and the gravel beneath, and Butterfield screams.
"Now," a deep breath, as Dan releases the pressure. "You and I need to have a little talk." He kneels down and reaches back for the holster and the pistol, and the business end gets shoved against Butterfield's temple. "You told me that we had an agreement. A thousand dollars and the water rights. You remember that? 'Cept it seems that my boy's got the idea in his head that you ain't gonna pay it."
Dan growls.
"I don't like bein' lied to. Especially when it's upper class types like you who think they can get away with it." The muzzle of the gun gets nudged harder against his scalp. "Just cause they got a fancy suit and money to spare. So tell me, Mr. Butterfield," and he smirks, just a little. It looks feral and just a little crazy, if you get a glance at his eyes. "What the fuck gave you the idea I'd let you get away with it?"
A beat.
"And just cause I'm dead ain't a good answer."