Posted January 12, 2021 / Weedy

Recess was the best part of school, of course, every kid knew that, and although Weedy liked it best, he was willing to admit that Miss Addy was right, that he should get an education so he had a 'dern good future'. It helped that he and Wyatt had become good friends, so he had someone to suffer with him, and Wyatt was better at studies, so he helped Weedy along.

But it was recess now, and the boys were at the side of the schoolhouse, playing marbles, when a ruckus started in the middle of town, along with some shooting. Glancing at Wyatt, Weedy jumped up and called, "C'mon, let's go see!"

Without waiting to see if the other boy followed, he darted past the school, toward the alley that paralleled Main Street.

Posted January 12, 2021 / Ralph Flandry

As Ralph raced for his guns, there was Arabella - the girl had quite the knack of showing up whenever you definitely did not want her to at times.

“They’re robbin’ the bank and they shot Mr. Olsen and Miss Em went in there and I left Bridget in the street and she was going in there and I don’t know if she’s all right and oh, please Jesus please let her be all right!” she managed to blurt out before she dissolved into tears and mixed the sobs and the sniffles with murmurs of “oh please, Jesus, please. Please, please, please…”

"I know they are and I'm gonna go see what I can do about it," Ralph announced rather calm about the whole thing too. The shotgun was always loaded as was the revolver he shoved into his beltline. Never knew when one might need them in the saloon.

He headed back toward the front door.

"Oh, please don’t go out there, Ralph! Oh please, please, please, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you!”

"I'll be fine, child!" he snapped.

Suddenly the girl shakily got to her feet and tried to push past the hirsute barman.

“I left her out there! I gotta go out and find her! I gotta go. I’ll never forgive myself if anything’s happened to her!” she cried, absently trying to adjust her bonnet ribbons with palsied fingers.

Ralph really did not need this right now, dealing with Arabella when there was both a robbery and now a gunbattle going on. There were more shots. Glancing over the swinging doors, he saw a still body and also a second man down, dropped gun at his side. He had been apparently holding unhitched horses.

Arabella never made it past Ralph though as he lunged and grabbed her forcefully by one of her upper arms and pulled her straight to face him. The man was not one to show anger but when he did, the fury on that bearded visage was indeed intimidating.

"Dammit it all! You stay put! You'll just make things worse. Let people who know what they're doin' - DO IT !" he glared and his voice was as grim as his look.

With that he pushed her back deeper into the saloon and then moved on out. There was a watering trough for the horses only a few yards from the saloon boardwalk and he went and knelt down behind it to provide some cover and of course a harder target. Those bandits were going to have to get their horses. They might run out another back way but on foot they would have no chance against a pursuing posse. No, they needed their animals. So he felt he was in a good position to deny 'em that. It was just a matter of waiting for one or more of them to come rushing out. He readied the shotgun and took a breath, it all came back to him those years in the war. Remain calm, shoot low and squeeze don't pull the trigger.

Posted January 13, 2021 / Charles Wentworth Sr.

Charles had just left the Lick Skillet after a late breakfast and was heading to the bank. Earlier that morning he had met with Horace Simkin, who was looking at making some repairs to his barn and a possible expansion. Since he had recently acquired the bank, Horace was keen to show him around the barn and discuss his plans.

During the meeting they had also talked about the dance. Simkin was mostly pleased with how it had gone on Saturday night and thought it was a great success. Other than a couple of minor incidents, Simkin was glad that it had remained trouble-free.

The shout from the direction of the bank, alerted to him that there was trouble. The bank was being robbed and there was nothing he could do about it. He could already see the law and a couple of other people approaching the scene. Gunshots started to ring out and then a wagon turned over. Someone was shouting to the doc to go check the man under the wagon. Things were happening very quickly and all he could do was watch.

He glanced over to the bank and hoped the two tellers that were on duty hadn't done anything foolish. Luke Johnson would be there and from what he had seen so far, he was sensible. There was no chance of him taking a chance and pulling out the revolver that was in the drawer on the counter where he was stationed.

As he continued to watch the events unfold, his mind wander to what the robbers would be getting. Thankfully, he had just implemented a new security policy where only enough cash was kept in the cashier's drawers overnight to deal with any rush the morning might bring. The rest of the bank's funds was in the vault which couldn't be opened until he arrived. Luke knew where to find the combination if he was unable to make it in for some reason. Later on, he had planned to invest in a making the vault more secure but after today's events he would be doing it straight away.

Posted January 13, 2021 / Bridget Monahan / With: Jonah Danfort

Bridget felt it in the air even before it happened.

She had been walking to the bank with two cents that had been given to her. People did that now, since it got round about her unusual visits to the bank. Some people did it to make fun of her, others out of a misguided pity for, in truth, the young woman wanted for nothing in the material sense. Others yet gave her dribs and drabs of copper coinage because they figured it would make her happy, which it did. She had no self-pride, and took the meager proffering as readily as she had when she begged for a living.

She knew that her usual ‘teller’, the owner of the bank, the nice Mr Wentworth wasn’t there today, she felt that too. No matter. She was improving and now gave her pennies over freely to the others. Young Mr Johnston had taken her last measly deposit. But when Arabella had bumped into her with an excited “You goin’ to the bank, I’ll come with ya!” she had stayed her friend’s progress, raised her ginger tousled head and sort of sniffed the atmosphere, like she could already smell the acrid tang of cordite and burnt black powder.

Mr Olsen getting shot was a strangely beautiful sight to the girl: the whole thing was a sort of poem about life and death and the thin skein that separates the two. She had watched open mouthed and wide eyed, not in horror, but in awe, as the blood fountained magically out of his chest and the once vibrant human animal collapsed into a pile of meat, offal and bone. Arabella’s reaction was more prosaic and expected: she’d given an ear-splitting scream and run away as fast as her clumpy lace-up boots could carry her. Then again, she’d done exactly the same thing a few days ago when they had both seen an unusually large spider.

Then somebody shot someone else.

Then a wagon turned over.

All these exciting things on one day, it was like being back in Deadwood.

Then a man grabbed her and started to drag her away.

"Miss, we need to get out of the street..." He really did want to get out of the way...quickly!

He seemed to mean well, so she went with him and when they were somewhere the man deemed to consider safe, she whispered to him “It’s a bank robb’ry.” She gave the Doctor a big smile and craned her neck to try and see what would happen next.