He knew in that moment that he had a choice to make. Walk away or stay. He stared into her dark brown eyes and knew that walking away was not going to...happen. She slowly extended her hand, ‘Thank you for coming, Mr. Davis. I’m Katherine Hardy.’ She shook his hand then turned to her desk, ‘Once I find my pen…’ Clint took his time checking her out. She was a little over five feet with curves that belonged in a centerfold. He also noticed that the pen in question was keeping her espresso colored. The gunbelt was old as well and shiny with age, the golden eagles inset into the belt and holsters had long ago been worn smooth from handling. The frontier Colts the old man wore had seen uncounted numbers of men fall over the decades.The old man took the guns out and lovingly wiped the dust off and checked the loads. A few seconds later the guns seemed to appear in and out of the old man's hands as if by magic.For decades the grin that now stretched across the old man's face would've caused. More

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