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Chapter 9: Showdown At Mexican HatA Wild West stand off
I was hopping mad by now. I wanted a breach of the peace. This was the Wild West, we were in a bar with a big mirror, tables, chairs, bottles and a poker, all the props in place - it was shaping up just like the saloon brawl in Dodge City (give or take sixty extras). We remained tense. I noticed that the rest of our party had beaten a strategic retreat. Meanwhile the poker-toting chef looked committed to grievous bodily harm. No more verbals, then.
At this point Richard, who had kept his cool throughout, tossed the money onto the bar, minus the tip.
'Get off our fucking property!' screamed Mrs Fatty, 'And don't ever come back!'
We moved outside onto the sidewalk, where the others waited anxiously.
'Are you going for the rifle?' asked Barbara, but whether fearfully or hopefully I never found out.
I shook my head.
'Sons of bitches!' I said.
Then Leroy gunned the truck engine and we all jumped in for the short drive to the hotel. So ended the showdown at Mexican Hat.
Soon we all said goodnight and walked to our rooms. The ugly episode stayed with me. Was it all over or would they seek revenge, this very night perhaps? Always a firm believer in the soft word that turneth away wrath, I sneaked out to the shed and collected the Winchester and some shells. Just in case.
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