Letters from the Lost Man, Part 3

"Go on, friend. Why don't you go on and git on outta here," the guy says to me as he wipes a grimy mug with an even grimier rag.

Hmm...this is looking like a rough scene. I'd better not argue. Just nodding, I step slowly toward the door. The second I step outside I hear the saloon piano start up and the sounds of the usual festivities happening inside. I hoist up my pants, which seem a little low on my hips. Glancing down I realize how disheveled I really look.

"Howdy there, partner."

Well hellooo. Just who is this fine lady? "Howdy, ma'am," is all I can manage. What's up with my accent? This is not how the voice in my head sounds.

"Man like you shouldn't walk around town without some respect," she says to me, smiling sweetly.

I'm merely confused. "Respect?" I drawl intelligently.

"Why, sure. I know just where you can get some too..."

I look her up and down again, raising an eyebrow. I wonder what she's talking about. Honestly, she looks like she could be a working girl. Whatever she means by "respect" can't be all bad.

"Well, I'd be mighty obliged, ma'am. I'm new around here, and a little...uh...respect might be just what I need. The thing is, well..."

With a flutter of her eyelashes she asks, "Well, what is it?"

"Well, see, I'm a bit short on cash. Ain't had time to find me some work yet."

"A man with respect doesn't need to find work," she tells me.

I'm not only intrigued, but a little perplexed. "Well, again, I'd be mighty obliged, ma'am. Say...just where am I?" I feel dumb for not having asked earlier.

She giggles. "Why, you’re in Wisconsin, cowboy."

"Wisconsin..." I repeat in disbelief. It's about 90 degrees out, dusty, bright, and dry. If this is Wisconsin, I'm Santa Claus.

"That's right," she confirms, "now, follow me."

As I trail behind this lady, I can't help but think this is nothing more than a dream. Not that I'm complaining. Whatever it is, it's a whole lot better than where I was just a few moments ago...in nothingness.
So, if this is a dream, and I'm aware of it, I should be able to do whatever I want, right? I always loved flying dreams. Maybe I should try that.

"Why, sugar, what are you doin'?" the pretty woman asks as she helps me up off the ground.

"Sorry. I'm not really sure what happened myself. Must'a tripped."

Well, that was embarrassing. I probably won't try that again. I haven't necessarily ruled out the dream possibility, though. This is just too strange to be reality. Well...what have we here? This is a cathouse if I ever saw one.

"Step inside cowboy," she says, opening the door with a grin.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Oh yeah...this has got to be a dream. All these fine ladies sitting here smiling and waving at me. And I get the feeling that whatever I get here, I'm not going to have to pay for it. Score...

"Right this way, cowboy," she directs.

I follow her up the stairs and down the hall into a rather nondescript bedroom. So far this is going just the way I had hoped. I watch her step over to the armoire and pull something out of it. She turns toward me, hiding whatever it is behind her back. She steps over to me and gets close...very close.

"You want some respect?" she asks softly.

All I can do is nod. With a sly half-smile, she produces the hidden item. Ok, this is just...odd.

"A gun..."

She nods. "Well, of course it's a gun. What did you think it would be?"

I shrug, lost for words. I take it from her with uncertainty. It's in a nice leather holster with a bullet-lined belt. At least my pants will stop creeping down on my hips. I put it on and draw the weapon. It's a Smith & Wesson SW40 Sigma series semi automatic. Not only is it horrendously out of place in this setting, but it seems totally strange to me that I recognize it.

"Feels good in your hand, doesn't it?" she asks, excitement in her voice.

I look up with a start, but then sort of smile. "Yeah, she's a beaut. Say, what's your name anyway?"

She leans in closer and puts her hand on my chest with that sexy little half grin. What a magnificent time for all hell to break loose...

The door busts in with a bang and the massive guy standing on the other side answers my question with, "Loretta!"

He pounds over to her and pushes her out of the way. Baring his teeth at me, he grabs me by my shirt and lifts me straight into the air. His breath smells like he uses manure for toothpaste and whiskey for mouthwash.

"What're you doin' with my girl, boy?" he asks, each word punctuated by a blast of fetid odor.

Despite the obvious seriousness of the situation, my first instinct is to be a comedian. "Well, nothin' yet, Tex...you interrupted me before I got the chance."

As expected, this is the wrong response. He heaves me backward and ho's me through the window. The world is a spinning blur as I hurtle away surrounded by exploded glass. More seconds than I will prefer to recall later, I hit the ground hard. Some of the glass is driven into my skin. At this moment, this is about the most painful dream I've ever experienced. I roll around for a few minutes then stumble to my feet. Yeah, I hurt, but I don't think anything's broken...yet. That'll probably change soon. Loretta's boyfriend is blundering out the cathouse door headed my way. This can only get worse. I draw out my gun.

"Now...now..." I manage to sputter out. "Now, you hold it right there, Tex."

"If you wanna live, boy, you'll quit callin' me Tex," he replies, eyeing my gun with interest.

Pulling back the slide on the weapon, I grin through the pain. "I think I'm in a position to call you whatever I like."

Tex throws his head back and laughs...man, is he a big guy. His neck looks like a tree trunk when he does that. I'm not really sure how much better I feel with the gun in my hand. It does fire a .40 caliber round, but I honestly think this guy might be able to take a couple if my aim isn't just right. He might live just long enough to get to me and break me in half.

"You wanna settle this like a man, boy?" he asks me.

I shrug.

He whistles back to one of his cronies who tosses him a revolver. "Twenty paces!" he yells out to the whole town, which by now is intent on the exchange.

So, we make our way to the center of Main Street and stand back to back. As I step forward, counting out my twenty paces, it occurs to me that this might be a bit dangerous. I have no idea what's really going on. After that fall out the window, I can't really be all that sure I'm not awake. While everything seems to be completely weird, I don't really remember everything to begin with, so I can't know if it really is weird or if its my amnesia. One thing's for sure. I had better be quick on the draw, and my aim better be true. I don't want to find out what happens if Tex wins this duel.

"Nineteen...Twenty!"

Oh, crap! I just realized I have no idea what I'm doing. Do I turn and fire, or do we turn and stare each other down while our fingers twitch? Only one thing to do...
Silence follows the boom of my pistol and the supersonic crack of my bullet as it tears down Main Street and embeds itself into Tex's face. He drops his half-drawn weapon and topples backward. Good thing for me.

Or maybe not...did somebody just shoot me in the side? Warm wetness spreads over my ribs and the pain really starts to register. Now who would do a thing like that?
I fall over onto my back and look up. Over on the roof on the building to my left is the silhouette of a hooded figure holding a rifle. It rises from the roof and hangs in midair for a moment before drifting down slowly to the ground to stand over me.

"Who are you?" I manage to moan at the figure. It says nothing to me. It just stands there in its black robe, its hood pulled too low for me to make out a face. Blackness is creeping into the edges of my vision. No, please, no more blackness. I don't want to die now...

Light... Light streams in from everywhere. I feel like I'm waking up. It takes several minutes for my eyes to adjust.

"Are you ok?" the girl in white asks tenderly.

"Loretta?"

She blinks back at me in surprise. "How do you know my name?"

I look around. Everything's white and sterile. I try to sit up, but a tearing pain in my side forces me back down.

"Please, Mr., uh...sir. Lay back. You need to take it easy," she urges.

"What happened?" I ask. "Was I in an accident?"

Loretta, who is obviously a nurse, bites her lip. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well..." I begin, rubbing my head. "I think I was shot in the side, but that might have been a dream."

She nods. "The images can be very real. You have to be careful. You could very well die from injuries you sustain while you're under."

"What? Under where? What the hell's going on here?"

"Please, Mr...um...please be calm," she pleads, looking over her shoulder. "If the doctors hear you, they'll come in and put you back under before I can help you. Then they'll erase your memory and start all over again. Please trust me.

All I can do is stare at her. What would you say? I must still be dreaming. I still feel a bit weird, and who knows if I'm really in pain. My memory of pain might only be a fabrication of the dream. Oh, just wake up already...please wake up.

"Now, tell me, how did you know my name?" Loretta asks.

I blink at her. "Oh, no...First of all, I think you owe me some answers long before I give any to you. Second of all, you can't-"

"Sshhh!" she interrupts. "Please. Okay, I'll tell you what I can, but please listen closely because I'll have to put you back under before the doctors get here. Trust me, if you don't argue with me, we can get through this much faster and you can leave this place."

I stare at her with uncertainty for a little while. Well, what choice do I have? "Ok...I'm listening."

...