Lucky Wounds

Old George sat on an upturned half-barrel cleaning his gun. It only ever shot blanks these days, but that didn't matter much. A fellow outlaw'd once told him the state of your gun's soul and liked sound religion as much any other he'd come across. Least it had clarity; was sure.Around corner from phony saloon he up front came sounds horses yelling. The director telling someone to fall bigger—bigger!—and for else find fiddle player next scene. They tended shoot a feature day this lot, which best honest money made, even counting time Pinkerton.His gun cleaned, leaned back barrel wall let hat push over eyes. How long then slept who can say, woke name. “George! George, init?”George opened one eye. Under brim could make out famous pair chartreuse cowboy boots. Happy Doug Green. Biggest picture star by gross 1921, 1922, now looking like 1923.George nodded. “That's right. What's mind?”“The boys tell me you're real deal. Killed yourself Indian or two in day.”“I reckon that's so.”“How many you killed, then?”“Indians? Oh, ’bout couple say.”Happy smiled. “Well, well. You suggesting killed few white men well? Why ain't hanged then?”“Well, sir, no answer luck.”“Luck? What kind good luck let's murderer run free?”“Ain't such thing bad. Luck's just way things turn up.”“Like when I you? That fell?”“No, sir. That's they looks pictures.”“Yeah. Yeah, yeah.”Happy paced forth bit. “I'll level with you, George. I'm not sure about pictures making. Kill dozen so picture, focus my smiling teeth everybody Tecumseh Washington claps hoots start making another one. smile after killing man?”George paused considered “No, don't figure did.”“How killed?”“Can't say sure. Maybe said.”“How man know that?”“Well . ” thought spell, looked down dusty “old West” avenue, saw painted ladies practicing their dance. “I think seen both them ladies.”Happy squinted, shrugged. “Could be. Can't quite here.”“When first woman?”“Oh, I's sixteen, seventeen maybe.”“You remember.”“Sure do.” He laughed. “Day afore eighteenth. Same decided California, pictures.”“And leave different woman, every evening at wrap.” pressed thumb finger into “Same killing. First time, day, color sky, dress woman what rushed body. But while—“You get used anything.”Happy edge wooden walkway knees. “So why hanged?”“Well. We call lucky bullets. Pass right through never hit nothing. Nothing important, is. got scars belly couldn't ride away from. three fresh holes me, passed blood. hospital outside Mesa lawman offering chance deputize live. took chance. Likely more deputy than before. how Indians met maker. feel different, shooting—good man, bad red white. Nobody that. Times I'd be happier hung me. Mighta been thing.”“And here are beard movies.”“And villain again.”“Money decent?”“Seventy-five day.”“I'll have'm hundred.”“That's not—”“Friend, have idea paying me? see do. It'll hundred.”Happy stood stretched, practice leap revolver, tipped walked away. watched go, movieman spurs a-jangling. From rumble headed way, sounded George'd take bullet eat some dirt minutes. Just small role stealing man's bride stole her first. Falling dead scene? fine. hitting eighty summer times old grizzly before quitting, better.And would quit soon enough as, fell, made certain hurt himself something good.And bruises heal quick called Old.A ago, still boy, father's women sins were unforgivable. She'd referring disrespecting her, recalled—that bit fuzzy—but own dear mother said while might true bird Aunt Betty, God holy self hold hand till earth taken whipping ready home.That West George's childhood far gone existed fake towns pictures. perhaps luck, new too holding hand.