Hey Rizzles fans.
I wrote this, this afternoon. I have the Rizzles bug again. Anyone interested in reading more? Just let me know and I will continue as time permits.
I am going to finish my other story one day, I just have a massive love for western and can't deny this need to write about it. Jane will be pretty brutal at this stage, Maura, when she enters will be her usual caring self.
1870 Montana
"You got two more minutes you son of a bitch, make them worth my while!"
"Ye…yes…yes okay, just please don't hurt me," the frail man whispered as he hastened to do as the frightening outlaw asked. The outlaw who pressed the barrel of her colt harder against his temple.
"Hurry up," she growled, "and I won't."
"Just shoot the old bastard and we'll get the money ourselves," the other outlaw shouted, causing the elderly man to fumble and drop the sack he was holding onto the worn wooden floor.
"God damn it Tommy shut up! I run this show!"
"Pick up the sack old man," Tommy sneered, earning him a feral glare from his taller sister, "put our money in it. Now!"
"Tommy! I said shut up," the cutthroat woman roared, slamming her free fist on the counter, causing the teller to whimper.
"You!" she levelled once again at the terrified man "one minute! Hurry the fuck up!"
As quick as the decrepit man could bend, he did so, and retrieving the sack continued to pile thick stacks into it from the safe.
"Jane calm down," a voice of reason beckoned from the entrance, "he's doing the best he can."
"Who are you? His fucking hero come to save the day?" she bellowed at her other brother Frankie, ignoring his reply as she turned back to the teller.
"Thirty seconds," she spat vehemently.
"Times up Jane, we need to clear out; the Marshal and his deputy are riding in," Frankie managed to get in.
"You got any family old man?" Jane asked nonchalantly, suddenly appearing bored.
Grey eyes widened in complete fear and he began to shake, "yes…oh please…please don't hurt my grandchildren."
"Oh...so you do? Good," she rasped coldly before pulling the trigger, brain matter splattering the wall behind him, his lifeless body crumpling.
Tommy hooted maliciously as the few women who were in the bank screamed in terror from their positions on the floor.
"Shut up you uppity bitches," Jane snarled as she shoved her colt into its holster.
"Jane that wasn…"
"Let's get," she cut through Frankie's protests, shoving him viciously aside as the three made their way from the small town bank.
"Don't you women say a word now, or I'll have to kill you too," she yelled back towards the banks vicinity. Tommy laughed deeply. Frankie sighed.
Mounting their horses, the three of them fled, Janes curly hair billowing out behind her, as black and wild as the horse beneath her.
J&M
"Rizzoli gang, it has to be."
"Marshal?" the chocolate skinned deputy inquired, a question in his voice.
"Yeah Deputy Frost you know what to do," the marshal sighed wearily. He rubbed his greying temples and stood.
"Such a waste, such a shame," he muttered as he looked upon Williams corpse, flies already indulging in the delicacy of human flesh.
"Scour this town for witnesses, leave no stone unturned. Jesus Christ what am I going to tell his wife, his children, his grandchildren?"
"The truth," Deputy Frost murmured, "I can, if you want?"
"No. No it's my duty. God damn…!" he suddenly cursed "they get away every time! Every damn time!"
Deputy Frost remained silent, purposely avoiding looking upon the grizzly scene before him.
"I'll get to it then," he finally murmured before stepping outside and sucking in copious amounts of fresh air.
"Hey you black son of a bitch how is old William?" a curious bystander by the name of Jack mouthed off.
"It's Deputy Frost to you. And William is dead."
"Well son of a bitch," Jack spluttered.
Frost merely raised an eyebrow before stepping from the deck, his worn boots kicking up dust as he strode back towards the Marshals office.
"Stupid fucking black man," Jack muttered to know one in particular, spitting tobacco juice as he sauntered towards the saloon.
