New shot: rear view of two figures facing the femme with the rifle.

Shift to their POV: fresh-faced blond girl, equally pretty white-Stetsoned young man.

He said, “Don’t do this, Hattie.”

The brunette sneered, “Breathe your last, Rowdy.”

The brunette shouldered the rifle.

The blonde screamed.

White Hat quick-drew a six-shooter and fired.

A blossom sprang from the brunette’s left breast. A cardiac surgeon couldn’t have placed it more accurately.

She looked down at the spreading splotch. Flashed a crooked, oddly engaging smile. Relaxed her fingers.

Dropped the rifle.

Fell to the dirt.

Close-up on beautiful dying face. Murmurs.

“What’s that, Hattie?”

“Rowdy … I always … loved you.”

The blonde said, “Reckon she’s gone now.”

White Hat said, “But you’re here.”

Long, searching look. Longer kiss.

Fade to black.

Leona Suss said, “And the Oscar goes to …”

I said, “It does have a certain charm.”

“It’s swill, I told you that the first time. Now get the hell out.”

I clicked the mouse.

Another title page.

Passion on the Pecos.

Same dark-haired girl, different weapon.

Long-barreled revolver. Her turn to quick-draw.

Bam.

A man dropped from a tree.

Bam.

A man dropped from the roof of a saloon.

Bam.

A man darted from behind a wheelbarrow, managed to fire. Ricochet whistle.

The girl shot him off his feet.

Click.

Saloon interior. A white-bearded geezer put down his whiskey glass. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that, Miss Polly?”

Across the saloon table, the brunette spun the barrel of her gun, blew at the tip of the weapon. Licked her lips. “Aw, Chappie, it was nothing.”

“Sure looked like somethin’ to me. Who learned ya?”

Soft, feminine giggle. “A girl does what a girl needs to do.”

Shift to swinging saloon doors. White-Stetsoned man with oversized badge on his tailored vest.

The girl sneered, “You!”

“Now, just put that down and go peacefully—”

Bam.

Fade to black.

Leona Suss said, “I’ll give you an autograph and we’ll call it a day.”

Click.

“Enough!” she shouted.

I froze the frame.

The cat trotted in.

“Manfred,” she said, “this fool is boring me, go scratch his eyes out.”

Manfred sat there.

I said, “Guess he took the no-cruelty pledge at the pound.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“How about ‘Shut up, punk’? One of your best lines, in my opinion. In fact, here it is.”

Click.

“You’re boring me!”

“This one’s different,” I said.

And it was.

Chapter 37

o moving images. Text.

I recited.

Death Is My Shadow (1963)
Starring Olna Fremont as Mona Gerome
Stuart Bretton as Hal Casey
Plus an assortment of eminently forgettable
mugs, molls, mopes and miscreants

This is one of those obscure treasures, hard to find but well worth the effort even if it means having to use a VCR (try the reissue lists of sites like blackdeath.net, mollheaven.com, entrywound.net).