Prayer Warrior

A man dressed in black stood at the end of the long stretch of road that sliced the small western town in half. A well-worn vest draped across his shoulders rustled gently in the stifling hot wind, and his eyes squinted against the glare of the desert sun. He was tall, wide, and cast a great intimidating shadow behind him down the road, which was quiet now, and empty. All the doors were closed, except for one, a few buildings down, that hung on its last hinge and slammed suddenly every now and then when a gust of wind escaped out of the desert. It was hot. Stifling hot.

A drop of sweat ran to the tip of his nose and hung there, but he paid it no mind as his eyes lifted under the brim of his hat, and looked, as a chinking sound filled the air. Down the street walked a small man dressed in shabby clothes, with a gleam in his eye, a spring in his step, and a white hat with a wide brim that left his eyes in deep shadow. His spurs jingled as he strode to the center of the street, and from under the hat his words filled the shimmering air.

"You know I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

The black hat tilted back as its owner laughed.

"Go ahead, boy. Ask me to leave. But then what if I don't? What you gonna do if I don't leave? Maybe I like it here. Maybe I like it here just fine."

And there they stood in the silence,  fingers hovering just over their gun handles swung low to each side. They watched, and waited. Then black hat broke the silence.

"I know you. I heard about that time in Lorado when you left that family to die. I heard all about your faults, and boy you got a lot of 'em. And I know 'em all. You think you're so fancy now you got that badge on yer chest. But I know you... you're still the same. You ain't changed."

The man in the white hat puckered his lips out like he didn't like what he was hearing, made a sound in his throat, and then grunted something almost inaudible. Something in a soft tone that sounded like, "I've changed a bit."

And then the white hat bobbed slightly as he took a slow, deliberate step. He began to walk forward, straight for the man in the black hat, who seemed a little perplexed. Back hat's foot took a small impulsive step backward. He wasn't quite sure what to think.

They had always run before, or quivered in the dust begging. Or dying. But on he came, closer and closer. Soon it would be madness to draw iron. Both would die, couldn't he see? Fifteen feet away. No chance. No chance at all. Now ten. Ten feet of madness. Fear crept across his dark eyes, and his mind raced for an option. Either this man with the white hat was amazingly good with a six-shooter, or he was mad.

And now he was nose to nose with a mad man. They stood there, silently, in the middle of the street. A tumbleweed rolled past, and somewhere far off a coyote howled. The sun was so hot.

Like a flash of lightning, the man with the black hat, and the dark, well-worn vest, with two pearl-handled six-shooters hanging by his side to be called into action to kill and destroy, had a gun pressed into his belly. He stood there in awe, staring into the eyes of this man he thought he knew, this man who he had watched all his life for any sign of weakness, whose  mouth now formed the words,

"Allow me to introduce you to my friend, 'Mark 16:17-18'."

No. No, this can't be. His eyes roved in shock from the white hat down the man's chest and stopped at the bright, silver badge, gleaming almost white in the sunlight, and wavered there until his eyes focused and read the single word engraved on its surface: Faith.

And with another flash a second gun was pressed against his gut.

"And this here's my n'other friend. Name's 'James 5:15'. Be perlite and say howdy!"

The black hat tilted up as he looked into two gleaming bright eyes, encircled almost completely with deep wrinkles, adorned with gray and black bushy eyebrows.

Black hat stared in shock. "You... you can't be the same man." His eyes roved down to where white hat's buckskin leggings sagged oddly at the knees. "What's your name?"

White hat's eyes looked hard, uncompromising. "My name," he said, "is Prayer Warrior. That's Mister Prayer Warrior to you."

"Now move".