I ride into town, and I’m disappointed. No one is in sight, which makes the place feel deserted. The buildings scream neglect, and the tailings behind me have more life than this. Hopefully, I can rest and have a drink. I hitch my horse by the nearby saloon and walk in, and I can see the dust covering every inch of the place. The scorch marks on the tables, the piano, which probably doesn’t work anymore. Then I notice a guy by the bar and the bartender. The only two living things I’ve seen in this town so far. I walk up to the counter, and the creaking of the floorboards follows me. I lean on the counter and can feel how cold it is.

I ask for a shot of whiskey, paying no attention to the person beside me, but he briefly keeps glancing at me. Then he speaks. “You look like a regular old stager,” he says. I’m confused. “What does that mean?” “Uh, never mind. Name’s Kurt Peacock.” “Okay Kurt, what?” “You look like a cowboy not a miner. So maybe you know, you could give me some advice.” I chuckle. “You don’t.” “Well, what do I look like?” he replies. “Truth be told, you look like a greenhorn,” I say. “What does that mean?” “Never mind, but well, look at you. Your shiny boots and your clean hat and your revolver. It says you have money. Miners usually aren’t that nice-looking or shiny.” “So?

I look splendid,” Kurt is looking at himself in the mirror like he’s stuck to it. But eventually faces me. “Anyway look, I wanted some advice because I’m going to be a legend. I’m going to become a legend; people will read about me in the books and admire me. The man who struck gold.” I sigh, “Kurt, that’s a weird dream.” “But it’s not weird. I'm confident and I’m very handy at finding gold.” “Handy?” But I can tell otherwise. His hands are smooth and clean. “And I can handle myself with the others; here look.” Kurt pulls out a very shiny revolver, looking good as new. Probably never even fired once, and I can tell.

“A Colt Single-Action Army, a beauty with its engravings, and I even got a longer barrel,” Kurt says with a grin. “What’s with the peacock carving on the handle?” I ask. “Oh, it's a beautiful bird, and I don’t know if it just looks nice. What about your gun?” “Same model but shorter barrel and less expensive.” We both chuckle. “I’m curious, there’s no one here.” I look around and notice that there’s no one here besides us. “Well, everyone is down at Arrow River panning and mining for that pot of gold.” I take another look around, noticing the dust replacing the people who used to be here. “Why so many people?” I ask.

“Well, some Maori named Jack Tewa, I think that’s his name, found some gold, so now everyone’s here to get their riches as well,” Kurt answers. “Look, you want some advice? Drop everything,” I claim. Kurt’s confused, “What, why?” “Look, you’re a good kid, but I warn you, greedy gold panners and miners mostly ain’t saints, and if you continue to keep going with this dress-up you have going on. You’re going to lose something valuable or worse. End up dead. Stay above snakes, kid.” Kurt tries to speak but I stop him first. “Look, just leave, go back to whatever country you come from, and enjoy your life there. I’m sorry, but you’re never going to be anything here in Arrowtown.

You're going to get yourself killed. When you’re out in a stranger’s land, they’ll take one good look at you. They won’t see a tough worker. They’ll see a kid with expensive clothes.” Kurt interrupts. “Why do I have to listen to you, you jealous old man. I mean, look at you. You’re just sad because you don't have that young, smart spark, and you’re old, dying, and pathetic. My gunslinging skills are great, and I’m faster than anyone here. I can find gold better than anyone here!” “Please, your gun is too clean, it doesn’t even look like it's ever left your holster, and I can smell the whale oil from here. It’s attacking my nose.” I say.

Kurt starts to play with his gun holster. “Look, I bet you couldn’t even find rocks even if you tried, so why do you think you can find the mother lode? Just please don’t,” I plead to Kurt. I hear the doors creak and sway back and forth. A man walks in. A huge, scary-looking man. He’s dirty and the dirt basically covers his hands but I can still see that his knuckles are cracked like the sidewalk. Sometimes you can just tell what a gold miner looks like. He definitely is one. He has a couple of gold teeth as well. I can somewhat see them when the gold catches the light. Then Kurt turns to me with a smile and whispers.

“I’m going to prove you wrong.” Then he turns to the man. “Hey, mister.” In a deep tone, he replies. “Go bother someone else.” “When did manners die, mister?” Kurt says loudly. “They didn’t, but you’ll be if you talk to me again, boy,” the man replies. “Now skedaddle.” But Kurt doesn’t. “You know what, mister, we’re going to settle this like men. I challenge you to a duel.” “You and me? When I win, I get your boots.” The man said, amused. “If,” Kurt replies in a quieter tone. “Look at you. You think you’re tough?” The man says. I notice Kurt being more fidgety with his hands. But the man’s rough hands are still.

“Well then little boy, don’t be all hat and no cattle. Don’t be so predictable,” The man taunts. Kurt has flushed cheeks and is breathing heavily like a train engine. “Okay then, let’s go.” Kurt angrily. That’s when they both walked outside. I wish I could do something, but. I turned to my shot of whiskey and gulped it down as quickly as I could. Turning to the bartender, I ask for another. I refuse to look outside, turn to my right. Not even a little peek. I just sit there waiting and trying not to listen. But I can’t help but count. 1, 2, 3, 4. And counting and counting.

It seemed like forever, and that is when I heard a bang, which startled me. A thud, then nothing. The silence lingers and scratches the inside of my ears. I look into the bar mirror at my own reflection, then I look away.