Flame Series #17: Friends Along the Way
That Was Then…
Chapter 1
The Robbery
Front Street
Amid the shouts of surrender and screams of those caught in the crossfire, a barrage of bullets tore through the smoke and dust. With four men barricaded inside the bank and only Matt and Newly outside, the good guys were outnumbered.
Matt peered around the edge of the horse trough, pulling back only a split second before the hot lead disintegrated the wooden rim. The marshal uttered a half grunt, half curse, when tiny shards of burning splinters flew at his cheek. While another dozen bullets whistled over his head, he saw that his own gun was empty.
With a quick glance to his left, he could see Newly crouched behind the barrels of seed outside Fielders Feed and Grain. He motioned his need to reload, letting his deputy know to draw fire. Blood trickled out of the marshal's sleeve onto his fingers as he shoved in the shells.
Bodkin's Bank
"Gaith! Gaith… Lem is hurt bad." Being the oldest didn't make Ned Wripp the leader of the group. While Gaith Culbert wasn't much older than his little brother, Lem—or his cousin, Finn—he was still the one they all looked up to. Ned struggled in vain to stop the bleeding. "Gaith, he needs a doctor."
The Missouri-born farm boy fired another shot, before turning to Ned, his childhood friend. 'In and out' was the plan, he thought, as his tired eyes rested on the lifeless young body of Finn. A fit of coughing, spawned from a painful moan, drew his attention back to the wounded boy. The spreading red stain was the first bit of color that faded old shirt had seen since his ma made it, years ago.
LongBranchLongBranchLongBranch
Kitty held her breath as she peered over the top of the batwing door. She could see the blood soaking through Matt's sleeve and watched him dive for cover. How could her world be in complete harmony one moment, then explode into this chaos the next?
Only minutes ago, Matt had sat across the table, sipping coffee and watching her balance the monthly ledgers for the Long Branch. Calleigh had taken Cooper, so it was just the two of them for breakfast. Sam had just poured a second cup of coffee for the marshal when gunfire erupted.
Matt was instantly on his feet, but his eyes remained on his wife. "Kitty…stay inside! Away from the door!" As he rushed toward the exit, he glanced at the craggy-faced bartender. "Sam." The man behind the bar acknowledged his name with a nod. He understood and yes—he would protect his boss, with his life, if necessary.
Kitty pressed her hands to her ears, to shut out the endless screaming of bullets. She felt the sudden movement below her heart and laid her hand over the restless child. "Don't you worry," she whispered. "Your daddy will be alright. He has to be." As usual, this promise was supported by a prayer.
Front Street Front Street Front Street
Matt settled back against the wooden barrier. Before he had finished reloading, the firing stopped. It was hard to decipher which was heavier—the unexpected silence, or the smell of sulfur. His ears were still ringing from the barrage of rapid gunfire. The brief respite gave him not only time to catch his breath, but to mull over the inept shooting of the failed bank robbers.
From the number of shots fired, both he and Newly should have been hit numerous times. Granted, he had been hit in the arm, but years of experience told him it was probably a minor flesh wound. The pain radiating through his body stemmed from twisting his knee, not being shot. A quick glance told him that Newly had suffered minor injuries as well. Either they were really blessed, or those robbers were the worst shots he had ever seen.
The minimal damage had not escaped the young deputy either. Newly took his eyes from the bank long enough to check on the marshal. There was a definite wound to the left arm. Blood was spreading down the blue cotton sleeve. There was also a definite limp, right before he dived behind the trough. It was hard to tell with the stoic giant how seriously he was hurt, but the younger man suspected that neither of the injuries were life-threatening. Glancing down at his own bloody pant leg, Newly silently cursed himself for not jumping behind that barrel a little quicker. His was only a flesh wound for sure, but it still hurt like the devil.
Bodkin's Bank Bodkin's Bank Bodkin's Bank
"I'll be…okay. Just… get me… on… my horse." Lem fought to speak, against the pain and elusive breath. He struggled in Ned's arms to sit up. Every cough brought up more blood and more cries.
Gaith looked at the two people in the back of the bank. He supposed the law would call them hostages, although he had no intention of hurting them. It was just their bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The teller, a man about his own age, huddled back in the corner. While the robber wasn't sure, he suspected the terrified banker had peed his pants. Going to the other extreme, was the old woman. Sitting quietly with not a trace of fear on her face, the elderly lady seemed to be scrutinizing the unsuccessful foursome.
His suspicions were correct. She had indeed been listening, as well as watching, the fledgling thieves. Their ability lay in working the soil, not robbing banks. The only experience they had with banks was the one that had repossessed their family farm.
"That young man is going to die," she announced calmly.
"SHUT UP!" Ned screamed, more out of fear than anger, as he held the dying boy tighter in his arms. Finn was already dead; he wouldn't let himself even think about losing another friend.
Ignoring the outburst, the tiny woman dressed in black spoke again. "You've already lost one." Her gaze wandered back to the dead man stretched out in front of the door. "We have two very fine physicians in this town that might be able to save that one."
Gaith's laugh was born of defeat and a lifetime of losing. "I doubt that they'll make house calls. What do you care anyway?"
"Life is precious—I don't care whose it is." She shifted her weight, as if it was hurting to sit in that position. "You haven't killed anybody. A little time in prison won't kill you."
From the street came a husky voice. One filled with authority. "You in there! Throw down your guns and come out. It's not too late."
The old lady shrugged, as if to say, I told you so. "That's Marshal Dillon. He's a fair man, son." Old, faded eyes darted suddenly to the boy when he cried out again. Her tone was more urgent now. "You'd better do something quickly, young man. He's running out of time."
Gaith pinched his lips, his nostril flared with a deep, deciding breath. "Ned?"
"She's right, Gaith. He'll die and…well, we're caught now, anyway."
The oldest child of Ray and Rose Culbert, rose to his feet and stepped toward the door.
"Wait!" Gaith spun around at the sharp command of the old lady. She, too, had pulled her rickety bones up from the floor. "Why don't you let me go out first? Just so they don't get the wrong idea and shoot you."
"Just my luck to get a bossy woman on my first bank robbery. What were you doing in here, anyway?"
She pointed first to the solo pie on the counter and then to a black soupy mess on the floor. "I was delivering those blackberry pies, but you startled me so, that I dropped one."
TBC
