GUNSMOKE

"Doc Goode"

The bank teller looked up from the cash drawer and found himself staring down the barrel of a large-gauge shotgun.

"Put all the money in them drawers in a bag. Then I want all the cash outta the safe and put into the bag," the man said, his voice slightly muffled from the bandana covering most of his face. The teller stood frozen in horror and the bandit waved the barrel in front of him. "Git movin', now!"

"Y-yes sir..." The teller stammered as his shaking hands began to clear the cash from the drawers behind the bank windows, shoving it as quickly as he could into a cash bag.

The robber glanced over to his left at the smaller man standing there, a six-gun covering the other teller and the manager. "Joey, make sure they don't got nothin' nowhere else."

The smaller man with a bandana covering his face nodded. "Sure thing, Mike." He turned to the rotund, balding manager. "You, fat man...you got any more cash in this joint?" The man shook his head emphatically. "You wouldn't be lyin' none, wouldja?" He shook his beaded head again. "Just to make sure you git that we mean business..." Joey turned his gun on the teller standing there, and pulled the trigger, ripping a hole in the man's chest. The teller sank to the ground and a female customer screamed. "You, funny-hat lady, shut-up or you'll git the same." He looked back at the pale manager. "Now fat man...where's the rest of the cash?"

The manager nodded his head toward a map hanging on the wall. "Hidden safe behind the map. There's more in there."

"Fine, fat man, open it." Joey turned toward his brother. "Mike...there's more over here."

Mike nodded. "Move it along, Joey." He glared at the teller he was watching. "Hurry up."

A third man was standing with the four unfortunate customers who happened to be in the bank when the robbers walked in waving their guns, demanding all valuables, money and cooperation or else. The woman in the "funny" hat cleared her throat and the bandana-wearing man standing near, growled at her.

"You shet-up."

"I haven't said anything yet."

"And if'n you know whut's good fer ya, you won't." He looked at the odd hat with its plumes and quills sticking out of the top of its brown base. "Joey's right, that is a funny-lookin' hat; but it ain't as funny-lookin' as yer gonna be if'n I blow some holes in ya."

"Well, I never--"

He pointed his shotgun in her face. "--And yer never gonna if'n you don't shet-up."

"Lady," Mike warned, "if I was you, I'd be takin' his advice. And Larry," he said to the man covering the customers, "make sure you got ever'thing off of 'em. Check fer weddin' rings and the like too."

Larry carefully checked the four people standing with him again, pulling off a small ring from a gambler's pinky.

"Hey," the man in the black hat started to complain.

Larry shoved his shotgun against the man's stomach. "You got somethin' to say gamblin' man?" After holding Larry's eyes for a long moment, the man in the black hat finally shook his head. "Good," Larry smiled, "you're a lot smarter'n you look."

The man standing watch on the door to the bank called out, "Mike! Mike...looks like the law's a comin' and he's a big 'un!"

Mike snatched the bag from the teller and turned to his brother. "Joey, git the bag and let's go!"

"Just a second, Mike!"

"No, now!"

"Mike," the man at the door yelled, "Mike...we gotta go!"

"Come on, kid, now!" Mike started toward the door, Larry in tow when the man on watch fired his gun at the approaching lawman, dropping him like a stone. The man's hands began to shake as he stared at the still body lying in the dirt on the main street of town. Mike grabbed the man by the shirt. "Whadd're you doin' Stan? You done kilt the law! Now they's gonna be after us like flies on sh--"

"--I...I didn't mean to... I--"

"--Mike!"

He turned at the sound of his younger brother's alarmed voice, in time to see the door at the side of the bank burst open, and the man he had seen hanging around the lawman was standing there, shotgun blazing. Mike wasted no time dropping the man to the ground, but not before the deputy had hit Joey in the belly.

"Mike...Mike! I'm hit!"

"Damn kid," Mike swore under his breath as he ran for his wounded brother. He yelled at the two other men. "Larry, Stan, get the horses in the alley, let's get outta here before the whole damned town comes down on us!"

Pulling his brother up, Mike grabbed the money bags and hoisted Joey over his shoulder, firing his shotgun with one hand to keep the people in the bank at bay. Throwing Joey onto his horse, he grabbed the reins and climbed on his own bay, kicking the horse with his spurs. The four men rode out as fast as their animals could go, firing at will at passersby to be sure no one followed the cloud of dust rising at the edge of town.