It’s dusk and the wind howls its threnody as if the outcome of the night has already been decided. Somebody will make use of the empty casket outside, and that somebody surely won’t be Betty. Today she is too determined, too tired, and too unwilling to forgive anyone standing in her way. Her eyes are fixed on his and she already knows that he will never get a chance to draw his gun. This fool will die the same way his partner did because some fights you give a wide berth to and he seemed to have forgotten that.
Betty glances at the rest of the bar. The air inside seemed to have taken on a heavy quality and the rest of the patrons seemed frozen as if taking a breath of the gunpowder-laden air will be their last. She allows herself a fleeting memory of Jack and her resolve strengthens behind her weary eyes. This will be the last time she will break up a fight in this town. She shoots her opponent in the leg and as his expletive filled scream fills the saloon she takes one last glance and walks out on the last few years of her life.
As she nears her house, she dismounts her horse and gives him a slap on the rump to shoo him away. She opens the door she never bothers to lock and walks over to her bed. From underneath she slides out a metal box, opens it up, and examines the content. She packs her rucksack with necessities, the box, and what she would need for the road. She also grabs a few sticks of dynamite. Outside she lays out a long fuse, lights it on fire and walks away.
As the explosion brightens the night behind her, she is determined not to look back. She knows there is nothing left for her in this town. She can feel the forlorn gaze of her horse at her back, her only companion besides her trusted Shotgun. A new day awaits her and the next train out of town has got a ticket with her name on it.