The Ballad of Blackjack: Chapter Eight

By: Travis Naughton

As Blackjack groggily pulled on his boots, he wondered if his horse Jane had gotten a better night’s sleep than he had. For there to be any chance of catching up to the Heartbreak Bandit before her trail grew cold, he would need his horse to be well rested. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Blackjack muttered to himself as he opened the door to his rented room and headed downstairs.

“Good morning, Mr. Blackjack,” the proprietor of the Twin Oaks Inn said as the road-weary traveler stepped into the dining room. “Would you like a hot breakfast or a fresh cup of coffee?”
“Yes, and yes,” Blackjack answered. “And a shot of—”
“Sir?” the proprietor asked, slightly confused.
“Oh, never mind.” For a moment, Blackjack had forgotten that he’d sworn to remain sober long enough to retrieve the stolen photo of his family and to avenge their murders. Waking up without a hangover for the first time in ages was no consolation for his inability to get more than an hour or two of shuteye without the help of his usual alcoholic sleep aid.

Read more of this continuing series in this week’s Journal…