I was riding to my next destination: the Wayfield bank. It serves the people of Cotton Mouth right! They shouldn’t be foolish enough to leave their prized money in a bank where it is easy pickin’s for a robber like me. I had two six-shooters, one on either side of my waist. As I neared the town I slowly loaded each one making sure every solitary bullet was in the best position for deadly accuracy. I walked into the bank with my guns tucked in my holster out of sight. I walked to the bank teller and said, “I left my money here many years ago when Wayfield was not known by many people. I put in $3,000 in the name of Robby Barge.” “ I have no record of you putting any money in, Mr. Barge.” The Teller stated. “Let’s go into the back room and sort things out.”

We headed to the back room where the vault to the money was. I knew only the Teller could open the vault, so I didn’t shoot him dead immediately. I drew both of my six-shooters on him and shoved them right in his face. “Either tell me the code or open the vault yourself.” I said this calmly so he wouldn’t scream. “Okay, the code is 3026599361! Just don’t shoot me!” I walked over to the vault, one of my guns trained on his chest in case he tried anything funny. I saw him slowly moving to the doorway. “Don’t move!” I yelled. I saw him move slightly again, so I shot him square in the chest. Blood oozed out of an open wound staining the floor. Shrieks of horror filled the bank. Everyone ran out of the bank as I opened the vault and took the money. I ran outside with 10 bullets still left in my gun. I untied my stolen horse from a post and rode away putting my guns in my holsters.

I rode for 3 hours with my bandana, my chaps, and my large hat. I reared my prized stallion at my secret hideout in the middle of nowhere. A place even I had trouble finding every once in awhile. I arrived proud as I had just made my first robbery. I placed all of my money in a pit I had dug out a couple feet from my wood lean-too. I crouched in my little make-shift home and fell asleep.

I awoke to a whistling sand storm. I knew I would have to re-dig my money hole to get it back and would probably lose some in the caramel sand. My shelter was holding together surprisingly well as the wind and sand tore at its sides. I realized nobody in the towns would be able to tell who I was, so I got up and rode my horse to a different town only 1 mile away. On the way there I heard a train whistle blow relatively close to me. I found the light of the engine on the horizon through all of the sand and dust. It was going to the same town as me! A plan was forged in my head to rob the train, I would start in the back car and move toward the engine as I took the money from the people in each car. I reach the town and saw a sign that read: PLEIGHT, pop. 2,675.

I reached the town and tied my horse to a post, and headed towards the train station. The storm had almost completely stopped by now. I figured I would just steal another horse in the next town the train went to. As I was walking to the station, I noticed the sheriff and his deputy on patrol through the town. The deputy looked at me, then quickly turned to the sheriff and talked to him in a quick fashion. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but when the sheriff pointed a finger at me I knew they were talking about me. I had each hand on a loaded six-shooter on both sides in case he took any aggressive actions. The sheriff walked over to me in a calm but hasty way, leaving the deputy behind. “We just received a telegram about a man meeting the description of you robbing a bank. Do you have any knowledge of anything like that happening?” he questioned. “ Nope, I have no recollection of ever seeing or doing something like that.” I lied. “ Then why does your description match the suspect description so perfectly?” he persisted. I had no answer, so with that I pulled out a gun and shot him in the middle of the shoulder and also in the knee cap.

He dropped to the ground with a large wound in the front if his body and in the knee. He squirmed around on the ground as I advanced past him toward the deputy. It was a showdown between me, the most accurate shooter ever and him, the law, not even a sheriff. We both had two guns out now aimed at each other. I had 10 bullets and he had 12. He ran to my left as he shot two bullets at me while I ducked behind a hay wagon. With my left hand I shot a bullet at him that rooted itself in his foot. He limped to the left some more and found a barrel to hide behind. He pulled himself up and shot four bullets to the right of me, but while he was up I shot him in the shoulder. He screamed in agony as he fell to the ground bleeding. The deputy laid down and shot all but one of his bullets at me. I converged on him knowing he only had one shot before he was out of ammo. Blood pooled below him as he waited for my approach. He reached his arm around the right side of the barrel and fired his last bullet. It went flying through the air and found a home in my left shin.

I pulled myself on one foot towards him with my other dragging lifelessly behind. He got up and started to limp away much faster than I could. I took both my guns and aimed them at him. I pulled the trigger and saw a hole erupt out of the back of his head as he fell to the ground in a helpless lump. I stared at my opponent lying on the ground dead. I heard a gunshot and felt an extreme pain in my right arm. I dropped one of my six-shooters immediately. I turned to see the sheriff with a gun pointed at my face…  “BANG”!