No Horse is too Dead to Ride

Three cowboys in hell swap cards and tales of a lost Earther caught in a mix-up.

The saloon was half-lit, all smoke and whiskey haze. Three cowboys sat around a splintered table, cards in their hands and chips stacked in ragged piles. Boots creaked against the floorboards while the old piano player dozed, one hand still resting on the keys.

Jed, the lanky one, was dealing, his eyes half-hidden under the brim of his hat. He flicked cards with practiced ease and asked, “Either of you got a good story to tell while we play? Something worth more than the chips you’re losin’?”

That’s when Cal leaned back in his chair, toothpick rolling between his lips. “You boys heard the one about that Earther?”

The third man, Briggs, raised a brow. “Earther? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Cal grinned, slow and sly. “Yeah, the one stuck down here, tryin’ to get back to the top.”

Briggs snorted. “Wait, there’s an Earther down here in hell? Where?”

“No idea,” Cal said, shuffling his cards like it didn’t matter. “But I heard there was a mix-up. Couple of the demon boys were makin’ an Earth run, and they mistakenly grabbed a lifer. Poor fool was caught in some shootout between the angel varmints and the hell patrol. One stray bullet later, and —bam— he’s down here with us.”

Jed leaned forward, the lamp’s glow catching his grin. “So what’s his story?”

Cal spat into an empty glass before answering. “Name’s Eric Chambers. Back up top he was just some computer tech, worked at a place called PC Repair World. He was drivin’ out to fix a machine when he stumbles on a fight. Demons and angels, both dressed like frontier boys, goin’ at it in the middle of a street. Next thing he knows, he’s caught in the crossfire, and the demons drag him down here by mistake. Can you believe it? Man thought hell would be more fire and brimstone, never figured it’d look like the damn old west.”

Briggs chuckled, tossing a chip into the pot. “Well, no horse is too dead to ride, I reckon. If he’s smart, he’ll figure his way through.”

Jed shook his head, dealing the next round. “If he don’t, hell’ll chew him up same as the rest.”

The saloon doors creaked then, a gust of hot wind pushing through. For a moment, all three men glanced over, wondering if maybe —just maybe— the Earther might stumble through next, looking lost and out of place.

But the doors shut again, leaving them to their cards, their whiskey, and the quiet hum of hell’s eternal poker game.

Written for:"The Adam West Conspiracy" 
Prompt: No Horse is too Dead to Ride
Word count: 426