Virginia Drei Kanone-Weiblich Gyro, a German émigré and wife of Winston Gyro, passed away several hours after the birth of their son, Winston Jr. Motherless, Winston was raised by a number of different women and families, depending on Winston senior's location and occupation at the time. When he finally settled in the town of Dog Flats as the sheriff, Winston Jr. was fourteen and had taken his mother's maiden name, 3Gun, dropping his father's name altogether.

There was little love lost between them. Senior did not want the burden of a family or the responsibility. As far as he was concerned, 3Gun was just another wild, orphaned kid. As for 3Gun, he couldn't have cared less about having a father. His friends were the various people who raised him and taught him bits and pieces of what he knew. The Kettles, Irene and Porter, were the local gunsmiths and they imbued 3Gun with a knowledge and skill in the use of weapons.

He became so proficient that by the age of nineteen even Winston senior was cautious in his occasional dealing with his son. The other lessons he learned were taught with teasing and humour by the town's tarnished ladies with whom he had been left many times when Winston was busy elsewhere. One lesson he learned on his own was the discovery of emotions he had never experienced before. When 3Gun saw the grown up version of Lee Tyler, previously a skinny, knobby-kneed schoolgirl with awkward behaviour, something slapped him inside his head and he found himself actually plotting ways to meet her.

Unfortunately for 3Gun, his reputation prevented all but the occasional meeting and talk. Lee's father was dead against anything that included 3Gun. They could be nothing more than friends at a distance and so 3Gun resigned himself to those moments they could talk and walk together. It was a day like that when their lives changed forever.

***************

Lee Tyler lived into her middle thirties before succumbing to the deleterious effects of the injury received nearly nineteen years earlier. The last of those years she spent aware but unable to communicate except with tears. Against her father's wishes, 3Gun stayed by her side as often as possible, arguing and threatening him if he got in the way.

Somehow, Winston senior was blamed for the shooting of Lee, the killing of two cowboys and wounding of another. The fact that he was defending himself was ignored and a vindictive town even posted a wanted poster for his arrest. In less than eight months 3Gun was shunned and reviled as his father's son. He gathered all the things that had been left behind in the jail and along with his own meagre belongings, mostly stored in the lock he got from Teddy Wink, and set out to track his father.

It didn't take long to find his father's trail. Town after town had stories of the ex sheriff hunting down the man he had wounded in Dog Flats. Also, a new trail of challengers to his prowess littered the local boot hills, men who thought they would profit from his capture. Winston was wanted by everyone.

Bluffer's Creek was the site that finally ended his search. On a dusty, dead grass slope at the end of the main street, 3Gun found the crude wooded cross with the name of his father and when he died, only a week earlier. He found the local sheriff's office and learned his father had been ambushed by several men, most of whom had joined him on the hill. He had apparently found a man he'd been searching for and killed him outright. Friends of the victim waited for a chance and there was a deadly gunfight with two survivors.

3Gun found the local sheriff and explained who he was, asking how it happened and if he left anything. Sheriff gave him a canvass wrap holding Winston's gun and belt, an old locket on a chain, a few papers and a star with a crease across the face. He told him the horse and tack went to pay for the burial. He opened the wrapping and took out the familiar gun and holster. It felt oddly comfortable in his hand and he watched the sheriff's face as he replaced his own gun belt with his father's.

3Gun poked through the rest of the things and found the locket. Prying it open he saw the beige tinted picture of the woman he guessed was his mother, and on the other half a small clipping of light coloured hair . . . his. The sheriff leaned forward and clasped his fingers together as 3Gun stuffed the locket in his shirt and slung his own gun belt over his shoulder. He warned him that there were men still here that hated his father with a vengeance and that they would be just as happy to take that out on his son if they knew he was there.

He advised 3Gun to just leave town and not look back.

******************

The Bluffer's Creek hotel offered a bath and clean towel for a dollar and 3Gun decided to enjoy that luxury; who knew when he might get a chance at another. He paid his dollar, picked up the clean towel and went to the room with the tub. An old cook stove stood in one corner with a small bank of glowing coals.

He found the large bucket and filled it from the pump then stoked up the fire, added a couple of small logs and set the bucket over the flame. He hung his gun belts over the hook on the door, undressed and waited for the water to get hot. Down on the street he could see his horse and the attention it was getting from a couple of nasty looking cowboys.

It took a while but eventually he had enough water to bathe in and he settled down with a long sigh, letting the hot water tackle the trail dust and dirt. A small bottle caught his eye and he opened it, smelling the fresh scent of lilac, and with a grin he poured the contents into the water.

***********

The hotel had an entrance into the saloon and after returning the key and the towel to the desk; he wandered in, stood at the bar and asked for a drink. The bartender tried passing off a cheap brand and a short pour but soon learned this was not a fellow to try and cheat. They were interrupted by a loud, angry voice asking who owned the horse outside. 3Gun knew he was asking him but just stayed quiet. The question came again, belligerent.

The voice came closer and 3Gun could smell the sweat of the man. He turned slowly and straightened up; facing one of the cowboys he had seen from the window. A quick glance found the other one just inside the saloon street door. He admitted owning a horse but he didn't know if that was the one they meant. The man described 3Guns horse and tack and then asked about the initials scratched in the stirrup.

3Gun knew where this was all going and despite his intention of just having a drink and leaving, he also knew that wouldn't happen. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Lee Tyler and about going back to be with her but the reality was in front of him and going back was not an option. He told the man it was his pa's. The only sound was the scraping of some chairs on the saloon floor and the noisy breathing through the nose of 3Gun's antagonist.

The man accused him of being the whelp of the cowardly, back-shooting Quick Draw Gyro before grabbing for his gun, pulling the trigger and shooting a hole in saloon floor. He stared in surprise at the red blossom growing on his shirt front and was only partly aware of the second shot and the yelp from the doorway.

**********

The sheriff sadly shook his head and reminded 3Gun of his warning. 3Gun told him he just wanted a bath and drink and he was on his way and that he was not the one who started it. The sheriff stopped him and told him he had already heard from a dozen people how nobody even saw him draw and the two men didn't even get their guns out. 3Gun asked if he could go and the sheriff backed away, wanting nothing to do with the young gunman.

He climbed into his saddle, tipped his hat and started off, hearing the sheriff warn him again about his reputation following him.

**********

The sheriff's prophesy came true. Everywhere he went 3Gun was confronted with men eager to use him to make their reputations or others who remembered his father and tried to take their hate out on him. With each attempt, 3Gun's own fame grew, compounding his difficulties until one fateful evening several men attacked him in his campsite, and at the end of a vicious battle all were dead or dying, 3Gun included.

A small band of KitKat Indians found him and, recognizing him from his belongings, took him to their camp and there he was treated and cared for under Chief Damaged Goods' direction. He grew well again and spent a long time living with the tribe then restless again, he took his leave, not without difficulty either.

The chief's daughter wanted him to take her with him and he refused; he already felt guilty about one woman in his life and didn't want the burden of another.

When he came upon the struggling mining community where the short-lived supply of gold dashed the hopes and dreams of a lot of folks, his guns became his solution once more. Thieves, gamblers and claim jumpers all felt their wrath. With all the miners and settlers pulling out, the criminal elements close behind, 3Gun was left with a ghost town, aptly named, Busted Gulch, and chose to hang up his guns for a while and just let life happen. He put all his personal things into his lock box and shoved it under his bed, forgetting all about it.

One day he would return to Lee Tyler to try and wash away his long lingering guilt. He would try and do whatever she needed . . . he owed her that much.