DAN G. EROUS

Second only to a guy named Pat, nothing’s more Irish than a guy named Dan. Here’s piece of flash fiction to celebrate ST. PATRICK’S DAY.

DAN G. EROUS

The saloon doors flew open and out bounced the slender frame of Dan G. Erous, Undangerous Dan, as he was known at the poker tables around Tinville. He landed in a puddle of mud and horse droppings, mixed with broken glass and a splash of oh-be-joyful from The Tin Queen.

“I said I’d pay it all back,” Dan hollered, trying to regain his dignity. “No need to kick up a row.” He stood and shook out his sack coat, sending pieces of night soil onto a meticulously dressed, ace-high Reverend Jacob Winds.

“Dang you, Erous,” the Rev muttered.

He pulled a Colt Peacemaker from under his black duster. A shot rang out, leaving Tinville with its reputation in tact—the most dangerous town in the Rockies.