The lawman

The breeze gently blew through the quiet, dark streets of Pine Bluff. The main street I walked was dusty and unpaved, like the rest of the small town. The scent of the pine trees, those that the town was named after wafted into my nose. I took a deep breath of it as I leaned against one of the posts in front of the jail. It was about an hour after sundown, when the decent folk under my protection went back to their homes and families. I shifted the colt shotgun in the crook of my arm, studying the deserted street. All of the store fronts and shops were closed and dark, except for the local saloon and the jail, which I was standing in front of.

As I studied the mixture of wood and adobe buildings, a loud sound, like an explosion, came from the bank. Moving the sweeper into my hand, I ran in the direction of the bank. My three deputies had also heard the noise, and had come to see what the problem was.

As the four of us came in front of the bank, a great wall of fire erupted from the bank. A great many slugs struck poor Billy Joel, and he fell to the street. The other three of us went for cover as the lead flew through the air. I lifted my head, firing two barrels into the window.

A few minutes into the gun fight, my second deputy, Travis James, fell to the ground. He layed motionless, his pistol falling out of his hand.

Suddenly, the front door to the bank flew open. I stood up, firing both barrels into the mass of robbers that came out. Two fell, but the others rushed to their horses. Dave Martin, my last deputy, and I, fired our pistols at them. Dave took a bullet to the arm, and he dropped his gun with a cry, holding onto it. I fired all the rounds in my cylinder at them, but there were too many. They escaped.

I ran to dave, tying his arm with my kerchief. It was far too late for Billy and Travis, who layed on the ground, their blood staining the wood and soil.