Gunsmoke at Thunder River: A Classic Western

The first shot split the evening like a rifle crack against bone.

Dust burst off the road ahead of Ben Rourke's horse, close enough to make the animal scream and rear. Ben leaned forward, boots locked in the stirrups, and hauled the reins hard as the second shot came—low, angry, meant to cripple the horse if it missed the rider.

Ben did not slow.