Written on a day two of three days without sleep. I am sure I can do better.

Jamie Kittery walked to a saloon and stepped to the left, the place was not as dark as others and he could see well in the room despite the smoke. It was a nice place, a large mirror sat behind the bar with a large quantity of hard drinks in a variety he rarely sees with a bar made of oak and a brass foot rail. The tables had tablecloths with a pair of pretty girls, one white, one Mexican walking around while the piano played a simple tune. Both were older than he was. The player had a fair Irish tenor and was rumored to be a onetime opera singer. The owner was more than well off.
Jamie was a young man to some a boy to others, in plain but dusty clothing with an old gun on one hip and a knife on the other. He ordered a beer, hearing a grunt about his age and then looked into the rather large mirror. To his left was a pharaoh game, to his right was a few poker games and three sleepy drunks were scattered about the room. He made a mental fix on each one. The drunks seemed a little odd to him. The name Jamie Kittery was a known one, he had killed a pistoleer six months before who was both fast and known, last year he killed another man who was wanted. Both men were sober and the fugitive wounded him. His pa told him to use caution and make damned sure you spot what does not belong in the picture because it may save your life.
He turned and looked at the group of men in the far poker game. Hezekiah and Richard Lassiter played with one of their relations with his back turned and Kittery’s cousin David Wolfe. The Lassiter brothers were both large men, six feet tall and broad shouldered and deep chested with brown hair and gray-blue eyes. The two were over a year a part in age but they looked at twins. Richard wore a linen shirt with a buckskin jacket and blue hat, the elder of the two he wore gray hat where Hezekiah wore a brown hat and vest. Both favored the Remington 1875 revolver and carried bowies knives. David Wolfe was an even larger redheaded man who was known as a half breed out of the Nations and carried a Colt .45 on and an Arkansas toothpick. His clothing was simple, a shirt with rolled up sleeves and moccasins with an old Confederate kepi.
The stranger wore a black frock coat with gray trousers and black hat belonging on a cowhand. He seemed too familiar to be a stranger but he lacked the long hair and beard of his pa, the man who first came to his mind. But then again the two Lassiters were the only two of the family his pa spoke to on a friendly basis. James Kittery, his pa, nearly came to shooting a cousin of theirs two years ago and Pa Lassiter found out that James Kittery could hit hard the year before in a nasty fight. Ma Kittery and Miss Cindy both beat his pa for an hour strait for that. His pa took it all and like it was nothing.
“Don’t just stare boy, come here,” David said with a wide grin. He said something in German that the whole table chuckled at.
“Pa finds out…”
“Don’t play then just watch we want to talk to you, Jamie,” Hezekiah grunted. “Your pa ain’t gonna mind today. There’s something you should know about your pa’s trip. He didn‘t just sell some horses.”
That got Jamie’s attention. His pa was always honest with him on all the ranch business, at times it was to the point of tedium if not beyond. This trip he was taking some horses to the Secretary of War in Washington D.C. for a nice tidy some. The Kittery’s Rocking-K ranch was known for their fine horse flesh and it was rumored that the Rocking-K would provide the U.S. Army with horses for the Calvary.
“What do you mean, Dave,” Jamie asked suspiciously.
“He picked a few things we’ll need for our ride,” Hezekiah said smiling. “He didn’t want you to come Jamie but after that killin’ this morning you should spend a little time away from Pa. Let him cool down and get the idea of treating you like you are a killer for a while out of his head.”
“Good idea. How’d my pa take the news that I killed a man this morning?”
“He’s not happy Jamie,” Dave said with a grim tone. He then gave a sly grin. “I think he wanted to kill the cock sucker himself.”
“I doubt pa would want to kill him,” Jamie said with a slight hint of disgust. “He ain’t much for kill men and I never seen him do much more than wear a six gun.” The whole table laughed with the exception of the stranger. “What? You mean he can use a gun for somethin’ other than huntin’?”
“The truth of it is Jamie,” Richard spoke, something rare for him, “he’s the reason you have your reputation. He was called Jamie when he was a youngster too. He actually first made a name for himself in the War riding for Stuart. In fact, since the end of the War, he’s killed more men than you have fingers. He doesn’t look for it and a few where in posses with Pa but he’s born to kill. I am afraid you have his talent.”
That shocked Jamie. He looked at the floor. There was two revelations that were just made about his father he never knew. He never even thought about the war, he always just thought his Pa was a union man like the two Lassiters before him. But then he also never asked. But was nothing compared to his being a killer. The man always bluffed… Thomas Lassiter was the one he nearly got into a gunfight with. What did Thom say? I am not afraid of your ilk! Was that what he meant?
David said something in German again and the stranger silently went to the bar. He then leaned close to Jamie and whispered, “James never wanted you to know about that part of his life, kid. He ain’t proud of it and it ain’t somethin’ you talk to children about. That’s why we never told you, because we all had done things we are not proud of ourselves.”
“James Kittery,” a voice said from his left. It was a dude with something like a British accent. He wore a derby hat, glasses and was holding his left wrist in an odd fashion that made Kittery willing to bet his saddle on it being a hideout gun in a gambler’s rig. “I am John Donald. Can we have a minute alone?”
“Sir I believe you are talkin’ to the wrong man,” the unnamed Lassiter stated. “You have my son, I am James Kittery. What can I do for you Mr. Donald?” Jamie dropped his glass. With the exception for a few wrinkled, his pa looked just like himself when shaven. “And don’t move that left arm please. I’m not big on derringers.” James Kittery drew back the left side of his coat to reveal a Colt pistol in a cross draw holster. Jamie saw that he wore two gun belts. He had two guns.