One bullet represents an important decision when you are in a life or death struggle. One bullet properly sunk into the head or heart can stop the threat in it's tracks if it's one on one. One bullet can provide enough meat to a hunter to maybe last long enough to find more bullets when he's starving. One bullet can save us from any more suffering if we decide to give up.
Right now, I could use one more bullet. With one more bullet I would have at least two options. Three if I get the urge to be a cannibal.
It would serve these hombres that had me pinned down in this canyon right if I decided to go all cannibal on them. That would mean that I had survived this ambush they must've sprung on countless weary travelers before me.
This canyon had a spring bubbling up right in the middle of it, pretty as you please. The craggy cliffs and single entrance were inviting and seemed like a rare safe haven in the middle of the Badlands. I'd been on a long ride from El Paso that had precious few havens, so, like a wide eyed cowhand, I welcomed the sight of the canyon.
They had enough practice at ambushes that they might had killed me before I even knew it. They'd let me sleep for an hour or two, then, this big toothed boy that couldn't have been older than eighteen crawled out of the mouth of the cave that the little spring bubbled out of. He would have slit my throat, but for a few drops of cold spring water that dripped off him and into my face.