Two titans fell on the day I earned my name.

Blooded sand pooled beneath our feet as we crept around their cooling bodies.

The Painted Kid & Billy struck each other down. No symphony of victory played— as our town was left without a winner.
A gnawing started in the pit of my stomach— I reached for the plated chrome before my hand was slapped away.

Fear lived in my mother’s eyes. She had seen what lived in mine— and knew there would be a tale about me one day. Bigger than either of these corpses could ever dreamed of.

***

“Ain’t called crumbs because of a half eaten muffin spilled in the dirt.”

“Then why?”

“Because bread trails are made of crumbs. And I’m gonna follow mine towards my destiny.”

***

“You should slow up on the sarsaparilla. You don’t want rotgut or the shakes.”

“Better rotgut than two punched holes and a swift exit. And the shakes? Look at this hand. Steadiest shooting hand west of St. Louis.”