Reckless Guns (A Searcher Western Book 8) by Len Levinson

Author:Len Levinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cowboys, gunfighters, outlaws, gunslingers, cattle drives, frontier life, john stone, western pulp fiction, len levinson, josh edwards
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Seven

It was late afternoon in Sundust. Mayor McGillicuddy stood on the veranda of the Drovers Cottage. “We’ve had enough!” he shouted, waving his fist in the air. “It’s time to take action!”

A roar went up from the crowd of merchants, ranchers, cowboys, and farmers assembled in the street.

“They can’t do this to us!” the mayor hollered. “We’re sovereign citizens and demand the same rights as other citizens! As George Washington, the father of this great nation, once said—”

“Arrest ’em!” somebody shouted.

“That’s right!” another man yelled. “Throw ’em in the hoosegow!”

Mayor McGillicuddy held up his hand. “You can’t arrest somebody without a writ of habeas corpus!”

“Shove it up yer ass!”

Men in the crowd grumbled and brandished guns as they moved down the street toward the bank. The mayor ran in front of them. They pushed him out of the way. He nearly fell to the ground, his hat fell off. “We’re law-abiding citizens!” he sputtered into his mustache. “We can’t take the law into our own hands!”

They came to the bank. Two cowboys went inside while the crowd seethed in the street.

“String the son of a bitch up!”

The assembly grew. Somebody fired a shot. The door to the bank opened, and its president, Marcus Strickland, appeared.

Everybody booed as he hooked his thumbs into his red suspenders and puffed out his chest. He was portly, in his sixties, with a gold chain hanging over his purple brocade vest.

“What seems to be the problem here!”

“We want our money!”

“Don’t have any at the present time!” Strickland replied. “Another shipment arrives tomorrow on the train, please let’s be patient!”

Somebody fired a shot, and the bank window cracked like a spider’s web. Strickland ran into the bank and slammed the door. The crowd surged forward, but Mayor McGillicuddy stood in front of them.

“Citizens—you don’t know what you’re doing!”

They rushed the door, aimed their guns at the lock.

“Hold it right there!” yelled Sheriff Wheatlock. “Next man touches that building, he’s a dead son of a bitch!”

A double-barreled shotgun was pointed at them. The crowd pulled back. Sheriff Wheatlock stood beside Mayor McGillicuddy. “We live by the law in this town!” the sheriff bellowed. “Any man wants to rob this bank has to git by me!”

No one moved. A double-barreled shotgun was too powerful an argument to ignore.

“Crowd’s too big!” the sheriff said. “Break it up!”

“What ’bout our money?”

“Don’t know nothin’ ’bout money. We got an ordinance against crowds in Sundust, so git yer damned asses movin’ on out of here!”

Men grumbled angrily while Sheriff Wheatlock stood firmly at the door. You can bust up a saloon or shoot a man in the street, but don’t ever mess with the bank.

~*~

Reverend Blasingame sat at his desk, still working on his Sunday sermon. The finale was the most important part, because immediately thereafter the ushers passed die collection baskets around.

The best kind of sermon made them feel guilty, and at the end you offered salvation. They could buy their way into heaven, and he’d build a great temple on the plains, draw pilgrims from all over the world.

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