I wrote this piece for the Laguna Beach chapter of Dime Stories. Once a month we get together in a cozy wine filled room and share our work. One at a time we stand in front of the group and read our story out loud, the only catch is, the story has to be under three minutes long.
The Late Bank Robber
By
Jonathan Yanez
She hated it. He didn’t know what it was or
why but as long as he had known her, she had a phobia of grass. It wasn’t a fear
“thing”, more of an inconvenience “thing”,
something she would avoid if she
could. And if he recalled correctly, there was a huge, meadow right outside of
town and directly in her path.
She was going to
be late again, he should have known... The summer sun beat
down on his hat. Eyes squinted
through perspiration as he glared at the thirty feet that
separated him from his enemies.
Both hands grasped the horse satchels he carried. He
was powerless to make a move. Every
muscle in his body screamed at him to drop his
precious payload and grab the twin
Colt revolvers that rested on his hips, but he had to be
smart about this. She was always
late.
The entire town had
deserted the streets, leaving the Sheriff and his deputies to
deal with the bank robber. Now
multiple eyes cautiously peered through windows,
cracked doors and around corners to
catch the drama taking place outside of the city
Bank and Trust. Five lawmen stood
staggered in the town’s single dirt road. The
Sheriff and his four deputies
trained their guns on the lawbreaker, begging him for a reason to fire.
It was as though time stood
still for Jonny “The Kid” Kent. Wearing a dark brown cowboy hat, gloves, boots and
dirty blue pants, his mind raced for an answer. Minus the twin barrels at his
hips, the few days of stubble that had grown on his face and his intense brown
eyes, he looked every bit the part of a normal hard working ranch hand. He
couldn’t help but grin at the situation he was in. He should have known she’d
be late.
“Drop the bags slowly and
raise your hands in the air!” the gray-haired sheriff yelled.
A smile crept over the bank
robber’s face as a very faint, very familiar sound
met his ears; the sound of horse’s
hooves.
“You’re out-numbered and
out-gunned! Give it up!” the Sheriff commanded.
The Kid, grin still intact,
answered back, “I think you’re going to need more men,
Sheriff.”
Soon everyone heard the
sound, a steady clip of hooves in the distance. The noise
made the lawmen adjust their
attention to the lone rider approaching the group.
This interruption was all The
Kid needed. In the blink of an eye, he threw both
satchels he carried over his
shoulders and grabbed the two death dealers that hung on his
hips.
The rider who had been
approaching could be seen now; a lone female. Katharine
“The Killer” Summers, on her trusty
brown steed, Steamer. Dressed in all black with a long brown coat, her left
hand was tight around Steamer’s reigns while her right hand commanded a
Winchester. Her long brown hair trailed behind her and her finger tightened
over the trigger.
The only phrase that could
explain what happened next would be “complete and
utter chaos”. Shots rang out,
shattering the still air; lead flew through the sky like rain in
a monsoon. The Kid ran to his left still
facing his adversaries, pumping bullet after
bullet in their direction. Lawmen
fell left and right.
The sheriff and
his men returned fire but were outmatched that day with The
Killer bearing down on their left
and The Kid directly in front. The two were a deadly combination and it would
have taken twice the lawmen’s number to have given them a fighting chance.
Katharine still firing her
gun, rode between the retreating law officials and up to
The Kid.
“What
took you so long?” The Kid asked gritting his teeth as she approached.
“Just
get on!” she responded back as she galloped up to him.
Without
either one of them breaking a stride the Kid jumped on the back of
Steamer and the two headed out of
town, shots still ringing behind them. Wrapping his
left arm around her waist he turned
in his seat aiming his right hand, that still held a revolver behind them, and
fired his last two bullets.
Turning
back he leaned into her, lips inches from her ear, “What took you so
long… tell me it wasn’t the grass?”
Her
reply was simple and matter of fact as she turned her head to kiss him on the
cheek, “It was in my way about a
mile out from the city. I had to go around it.”
