Return to the Old West: Gunfight at Burro Creek : A Time-Travel Story

From the corner of his eye, Ray’s hand moved ever so slowly. He was easing it toward his gun. In that moment, Mark knew they were going to die. There was no doubt about it. His unflappable companion, undaunted by the rhetoric, was going to attempt a fast-draw against this outlaw. In turn, the two outlaws would kill them both. That was simply the fact of the matter.
He could already see the two ugly vultures standing over their bodies, grinning. They would go through his pockets where they would find most of the money he had won at the poker game. He had only spent four dollars so far; just enough to get himself killed.
For some reason, amongst all the thoughts flooding his mind, the thought arose as to whether he could actually die here. Could he actually die before he was born? That alone was enough to make one dizzy just thinking on it. Likely, he could die here and then he would never be born. He would know after he was struck by the outlaw’s bullets. Well, actually, he would never know. He would be dead.
Looking at what appeared to be a do or die situation, Mark decided he would go for broke. If Ray’s temerity didn’t bring about their demise, the miscreants would shoot them anyway. He had shot a pistol before and had been a fair shot. Unlike Ray, he had never owned a gun belt, nor had he tried to see how fast he could draw a weapon. There was only a split second between the fastest and the slowest. Then, it depended on hitting the target. When Ray went for his gun, he was going to do the same.
For an indeterminate span, they watched little Willie laughing at them. His fat belly jerked each time he laughed. The Weasel sat beside him, just to his rear. He hadn’t drawn his gun, but simply sat, grinning with amusement. It seemed he was satisfied to let his larger partner in crime do the talking. He was extremely fast or he was waiting for the fat slob to tell him when. Likely the latter.
In a transitory period, which seemed forever, they stared across the ever darkening span. Willie slowly raised his gun. Ray never gave him time to complete the motion. From the corner of his eye, Mark saw Ray’s hand streak for his pistol. He reached for his in the same moment. By the time he had his gun level, Ray had shot Willie at least once, spinning him halfway around before the outlaw toppled from his saddle. It appeared he hit him again as he fell.

What if a man living today could suddenly find himself in an old western town of the late 1870s? It could happen—provided he accidentally step through a time-portal.
That is exactly what happened to Mark Burger. Forgetting to fill his tank in Kingman, Arizona before heading home to Phoenix, the salesman is stranded in the desert after running out of gas.
Failing to get a passing motorist to stop and render aid, he sees a cluster of building in the distance. Hoping to find a phone there, he strikes out across the span of desert.
Under closer assessment, this appears to be a replica of an old western town, possibly a movie set or a museum. Making contact with people there, it appears they are pretending it is 1879. Or are they pretending?
While there, he encounters several unusual characters, none of which seems willing to direct him to a phone. Finding no cooperation from these people whom he perceives unwilling to deviate from the make-believe roles they are playing, he returns to his car.
On his return trip, he realizes the town disappears once he nears the road. It is then he comes to the reality he has crossed through a time-portal.
He tells no one, not even his wife, what he has discovered. By sheer coincidence, he meets someone who may have a vested interest in what he has seen.
Enlisting the help of this individual, he returns. Once there, they not only encounter characters Mark has previously met, but other, more dangerous denizens of this other time.