“It ain’t no use, Lilly,” Sheriff Pete drawled. “I gotta face the Hunter Gang before they tear this town apart!”

“Oh Sheriff,” Lilly said, tapping a handkerchief on her tear-stained cheek. “It ain’t fair that we can’t be together because of that vampire gang!”

Pete gently nudged the pretty showgirl off his knee, and stood up, as he could see a number of horses arrive out front.

The town Undertaker, nursing his third whiskey, mentally measured the Sheriff’s height. His eyes were a little bleary but an estimate would work.

Everyone in the saloon was staring at the swinging doors as the Hunter gang filed in, facing the Sheriff, teeth bared.

The Sheriff hoped he’d packed enough silver bullets.

“Ok, boys,” Pete said, drawing his weapon. “This is the last evening you’ll spend alive.”

“That so?” Hissed the eldest Hunter, Clyde.

The saloon cleared as patrons ran for the exits or ducked under tables.

Bullets flew. There were screams.

“No Pete, I cannot live without you!” Lilly cried.

She had taken the bullet for her lover. They looked into each others’ eyes, saying a silent good bye. Blood burbled from Lilly’s lips.

“I can fix her,” Clyde said. “But I’d have to do it now.”

“Become a filthy vampire like you?” Pete yelled. “Hell no!”

Bullets thudded into torsos and bodies dropped.

The Undertaker would have a busy night.

“Make Lilly a nice box,” Pete said, tearfully. “I’ll pay extra.”

“Sure, Sheriff,” the Undertaker said. A busy night and a profitable one.