They think they’re so tough…..The seven of them…think they’re invincible.  Well, we almost took them down today.  Yes siree almost made that stinkin’ dog Larabee fall like a common lawdog. 

 

Luck I tell you.  Just plain luck that things turned out differently.  We had’em.  They weres good as dead.  Fact, I think we killed a couple of’em…but…. 

 

Some Yahoos say the Seven have Destiny on their side, some say they have God watchin’ over’em.  Well I know…know for a fact that ain’t it… No way.  God don’t like no one, specially me…but he don’t favor them Seven roosters.

 

That’s what they are ya know…ain’t no better than preening roosters protectin’ their dumb flock.  Jist gonna take a coyote or a fox to take’em down.  Yup…jist need something with a little grit and teeth. 

 

I coulda done it…easy…real easy…jist everyone else screwed up.  Weren’t my fault.  I’s the leader they jist didn’t follow my plan.  The dang fools in my group weren’t suppose to git ‘emselves killed. 

 

Dang it all.  I picked Four Corners fer a good reason.  Real good reason. 

 

Others say, “If ya can rob the bank in Four Corners…than there ain’t a bank in the territory you couldn’t take…”  Well we almost got it…Almost got away with it.  That’s gotta account for something…right? 

 

I mean we took down the dang sharpshooter.  Yessirree, he flopped over the clap board front of the Merchantile like a gutted fish.   Hell, I laughed out loud when he toppled off the roof down the awning and onto mainstreet.  Ya should’ve seen him bounce.  All that straggly hair of his covering his face.  They say he’s part Injun…part wild….well he ain’t got no wild bird in ‘im…not even a little.  Fell like a lead sinker, he did…fell and hit the ground with a bounce.   Laughed my damn head off….

 

Pete did too.  Laughed so hard that the dang fool never saw that Blacky of a healer skewer him with those knives of his.  What kind of town lets a slave carry knives like that?  Just plain wrong I tell you.  Just ain’t right that something like that is allowed to happen.  Ain’t no way them people should carry weapons…that’s jist plain wrong….ain’t natural….Rumor has it they treat ‘im like a white man….wrong…jist all wrong….

 

Well Pete crossed the Jordan right quick.  Didn’t stand much of a chance with a knife buried to the hilt in his neck and the other in his chest.   Well, just goes to show ya, if ya gonna laugh at something ya jist best beware of yer surroundin’s.  Pete never was to bright.  Come to think of it…he were jist plain dumb.  Couldn’t find his hat cuz half the time he were wearin’ it.  Yup, Pete’s head made a good hat rack but not much else.   Still ain’t no reason for that Darky to go killin’ im like that…ain’t right.  Not at all. 

 

That’s ok though, cuz Dave took a bead on the slave….and woulda had ‘im too ‘cept that damn peacock of a gambler pushed the healer out of the way and took the bullet. 

Who would have imagined that?  No, what type of fool steps in front of a bullet?  Makes no sense to me.  Hell, when the leads starts flyin’ its every man for ‘imself.    Ain’t nuthin’ glorified in eatin’ a bullet for a friend.  Ain’t nuthin’ but a foolish dumb ass move.  Hell, what goods it gonna do ya iffen ya git killed?  Makes no sense at all.

 

Lawmen must be dumb.  Dumber than ole Pete…never thought that possible but maybe so.  Ain’t never witnessed anything so stupid in my life….well except maybe that time Pete tried to light his butt’s bean breath on fire and lit his curly short hairs on fire instead.  Yeah, that was pretty dumb.  Burned his butt real bad, couldn’t ride for three days.  Sat in a river with no clothes on for a full day…now that was pretty dumb.  Hell of a laugh mind ya…

 

Still lightin’ yer bum on fire ain’t nearly as fool hearty as takin’ a bullet for a Darky.   Least with a burnt bum…yer gonna live.

 

That gambler I thought fer sure was dead. 

 

That woulda been damn funny too.  But that big ole preacher got pissed.  Yes siree, he took that gambler getting’ shot a might personal.  Now Preacher’s are suppose to turn the other cheek, ain’t they?  They’re suppose to be forgiven and understandin’ or so they say.  Ain’t ever met a preacher ‘fore….Well that’s what they’re suppose to be…forgivin’ and bible like…….but ain’t no one told that demon of a Preacher man.  Seemed no one ever told him to be merciful and forgivin’.  Uh uh.  Nope, it weren’t nuthing but cruel, what he did to Davey.  Picked him right up and squeezed the life out of him.  Well, maybe not exactly, but sure would have happened if Tom didn’t shoot Davey by mistake when gun’n for the preacher.

 

Not that it mattered though.  Tom took a bead on the Church man.  Just tryin’ to save Dave n’all but something went wrong…Maybe ole Tom lost his spectacles.  He’s always losin’ those dang things.  Can’t see a thing without them. But let me tell you…when he has them on, hell, he could out shoot everyone and everything.  Tom had a gift when he had them spects on.  But I’m figgerin’ he lost them….or maybe they fogged up but when he squeezed the trigger to save Davy well he just plumb killed the poor guy.

 

Preacher had the gall to tip his hat in thanks. 

 

The big mustached guy, well he dragged that gambler back out of the way.  Just grabbed him by the collar of his coat and hauled his still ass behind a water trough.

 

What’s the point in savin’ a corpse?  Scavengers gutta eat ya know….ain’t no sense wastin’ breath on the dead.  No sense buryin’ the fools neither.  Iffen they’re dumb enough ta git themselves killed then let’em rot.  ‘Sides it’s too hot to be diggin’ in the dirt anyhow.  

 

Tried to teach that big cowboy a lesson.  Teach’im to leave the dead.  Ain’t no use savin’ a dead man.

 

I would’ve gotten his slow lumbering ass but that damn kid of a sheriff, well, him ‘n them twin colts jist kept spraying the area with lead.  Kid didn’t hit much.  I coulda taken ‘im right easy if I could jist raise my head up over the trough.  

 

And through the whole thing them dang Seven were shoutin’ and talkin’ to one another.  Always yellin’ and checkin’ in….backin’ each other up…..What kind of law dawg cares about shit like that? 

 

Heck, I dang near ate my hat when that mustached cowboy yelled that the fool of a gambler were ok…a flesh wound….

 

What the hell?  I’s sure Davy hit him square on…looked that way to me.  But oh no…somehow the dang fool lived.

 

When I looked back at their dead sharpshooter he were gone too. 

 

Larabee.  He’s a devil I tell you.  He ain’t a man. No way.  Ain’t nuthin’ human about that Sumbitch.  He just strode right down the middle of town pickin’ out targets and shootin’ them.

 

That black duster of his jist flapped behind him like wings.  Bat wings…yeah that’s what it’s like.  Dang demon jist walks down main street picks his targets and kills’em.  He don’t give no quarter.  He don’t give no chance to surrender. 

 

I guess if ya shoot at him…he’s gonna shoot back and kill ya.  Well, how’s that work?  Dang fool suppose to up hold the law…not kill people.  So what we tried to kill ‘im and his dang friends…its our job…Iffen it weren’t fer us…well then they wouldn’t be needed.

 

Hell, come to think of it…they should be thankin’ us…yeah that’s right.  Should be askin’ us if there’s anythin’ we need…instead of lockin’ us up like common animals. 

 

But not Larabee, the Devil, ‘im and his band of demons.   They don’t give no quarter.  Even their wounded git up and disappear.

 

Fact being, jist at the end, that dang tracker, was balancing his rifle on a wagon and still shootin’ scalps off the others.  Lost Big Joe and Russ that way.  Who the hell ever heard of fallin’ off a roof and gittin’ up jist to keep doin’ yer job? 

 

Mostl likely witch craft.  Yeah that’s what it is…Dang fools dabble in the Black Arts.

 

How else could Larabee parade down main street and kill my gang?  Or the gambler who should be dead to rights, saw him leaning against the saloon wall and be tended too by that sweet lookin’ Mexican Chiquita? 

 

Even that dang pup, got hair that blocks his sight but could shoot the hat of a man when needed. 

 

It ain’t natural….not even a little. 

 

My whole gang is dead.  Davy, Tom, Big Joe, Russ, Emmit, Sam and Jake.  We came in to this stinkin’ town jist to rob the bank.  Ain’t a big deal came in to take a little, well, maybe a whole lot of cash and be on our way.  Ain’t our fault the dang bank Manager made me kill’im.  Ain’t our fault that we had to shoot at a few citizens….Hell no.

 

Jist doin’ our job. 

 

Ain’t right they kill most of my men…ain’t right them lawdawgs survived.  Ain’t fair at all.

 

They say the Judge’ll be in tomorrow…maybe he’ll see my side of things…yup…the circuit Judge will understand jist what a Devil Larabee is…and the Demons that run with him. 

 

Makes my heart beat a little easier knowin’ tomorrow the Judge will see my side of things and let me go home.

 

Ain’t my fault…none if my doin’…dang people made me pull my gun and shoot’em.

 

The Seven ain’t so tough…maybe after the Judge sets me free I’ll git a new gang together and we’ll come back. 

 

Cuz if ya can rob the bank in Four Corners…You can rob jist about any bank in the territory.

 

Yeahh…Tomorrow…..Tomorrow I’ll make a name fer myself.  I’ll be the one to clean out the Four Corners Bank….yes siree. 

 

 

The end.