Three chairs were placed in front of Swain’s desk. John was directed to the chair on the left. The Lucy was shoved into the middle seat. And lastly, Bullock––still unconscious––was propped up on the far right. As soon as they sat him down, his head began to slip toward the desk. The guards had to maneuver him a few times to get him in the right position. His head sagged over the back of the chair, his mouth agape.

The three guards in the room also removed everyone’s gun belts and tossed them on Swain’s desk. It was within reach if you could call being shot to death by three disgruntled brutes––within reach.

Lucy kept her eyes on her gun belt. Willing it to fly back on.

Swain had yet to sit down; instead, he was smoking a cigar by the window, watching as a group of cowpoke trotted their cattle right through town.

“This is against my liberties,” Lucy said being shoved back into her seat. “You will be hearing from the sheriff. He’s a close personal friend.” When that didn’t have the desired effect, she added, “He started it!” pointing to the drooling body of Bullock.

“Are you finished?” Swain asked.

“May I speak?” John said. “I’m not sure what you think is happening. All I know is I never saw those cards before. But I did see her slip her hand into my coat.”

She kicked his shin.

“Oww!”

Swain slammed his fist on the desk. The impact was enough to make Bullock stir.

“Quiet! I’m talking now,” Swain said.

“If that’s what you call it,” she muttered. She ran her hand through her sweaty hair, getting caught in the bramble bush of curls.  “Where’s my hat? I swear if you cocksuckers did anything––”

Swain snapped his fingers, all three guards aimed their rifles right at her head. “I don’t have the first inkling of what’s wrong with you. You can’t be going around punching people in my place of business. This is my property and disrespecting my customers disrespects me and it disrespects this great country.” His accusing finger waggled from Lucy to John.  “And that goes double when you try to cheat me.”     

Bullock coughed up some spittle. If he remained in that position for much longer, he was going to choke on his own saliva and blood.

“Shouldn’t you do something about him?” Lucy asked. She was more disgusted with the little droplets of blood that managed to land on her left wrist. As if her sleeve was too long, she kept adjusting it and re-adjusting it. Keeping the hand mostly concealed within.

The casino owner was bemused. He leaned against his desk, fighting a snicker. Nothing he had done was getting through to her. He was going to have to use a different tactic. He took up one of her revolvers.

She stood up. “That’s mine.” The guards cocked their rifles but Swain halted them.

“It’s a fine gun, madam,” he was checking the cylinder. Every slot was taken up by a bullet. He slid the cylinder back in and pulled back the hammer. “Where did someone who hasn’t seen a bath in two months come by it?”

“Why don’t you give it back and find out,” she answered.

Swain smirked. “I like you. That’s why I’m doing you a favor. I’m taking this away from you and keeping all your money. In exchange, you walk out of here without your heads gaining new holes.”

John stood. “Sounds good to me.” He walked around the guards, not making eye contact.

The same couldn’t be said for his fellow captive. She remained in place, looking Swain dead in the eyes. Tugging at her sleeve.

John stopped at the door waiting. “She’s not with me,” he said to Swain.

“That’s my money,” she said. “I worked hard for that money. And it’s all I’ve got left.”

He stuck her gun in her face. “Don’t let it come down to this. I don’t have any qualms about shooting you.”

“You are going to have to work harder to the scare the likes of me,” she replied. It was critical to know she was gesturing wildly, she does that. “Now give me back my guns!”

As she lifted her left hand––a Derringer she had concealed up her sleeve––fell right into her palm as she was squeezing her fingers.

It fired.

There wasn’t much of Swain’s face intact for even his own mother to recognize him. He fell into his chair. The dead man on his throne.

The woman examined the sliding rig up her sleeve. “Fuck! The salesman said that might happen.”

Not that anything happened instantaneously. The rest of the men were somewhat dumbstruck. None of them had breathed since she fired the gun. John’s complexion went through three shades, finally deciding on a ghostly white.

There were loud sounds of excitement coming from the casino. Hurried thumping came from the staircase as heavy boots rushed up it.

 “Holy shit!” John said.

The guards stirred. Lucy reached for her other revolver, still in the belt. The other laid somewhere on the floor, dropped by Swain.

John rushed for Bullock’s. But he wasn’t going to be fast enough now the guards remembered what they were there for.

Bang! Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Two for each guard. They collapsed, cursing in “guffs” and “awws.”

“See what you did,” Lucy was holding her smoking gun. “I hate being shot at.”

“Are you out of your Goddamn mind?” John asked.

Putting her gun belt back on, slinging her revolver back into its holster.

Those thunderous footsteps were getting closer.

“We are fucked,” John moved behind the desk, the only cover in the vicinity. He took up his revolved which gave them a combined total of three versus the countless armed men with shotguns and rifles about to arrive.

Lucy had gotten her gun belt on and could now move onto the next crisis at hand. She flung herself at the door. “Do I have to do everything?” She turned the locked.

“This was supposed to be a simple robbery,” John said from under the desk. “We should have the money and be half way to California by now.”

The guards slammed into the door. It buckled and moaned. However, it did not budge. Again, they flung themselves against the door and again the door fought back. The third ram cracked the frame. It was a losing battle. They were going to get in.

Lucy ran to Swain’s dresser a few feet from the door. “I could use some help.”

There was no answer from the desk.

 “Fine,” she said.

It took all the effort she had to tip the dresser. The door crashed open into to falling drawers, slamming the door shut. The guards were sent for a ride. The two in the back of group flew over the railing where the blackjack table broke their fall.

Bullock cocked his head up. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing to worry about,” she pushed the sweaty hair out of her face. “We are perfectly safe for the time being.”

Bullets blasted through the wall. Wood and plaster flew through the air. Lucy dove out of the firing range. Not to be outdone, Bullock immediately ran into the wall, knocking himself back out.

The shooting didn’t subside. If they couldn’t get in the conventional way, they were going to blast a door into existence. Damn the people inside.

“Any bright ideas?” John shouted over the hail of gunfire.

“Why do I have to think of everything?” she picked up her other revolver from the floor, wiping the blood on her jacket.

The far window shattered. Peculiar seeing it was on the left side of the building away from the bullets. The only thing over there was the alley.

The guards had managed to create many holes but without rhyme or reason to their ire, the damaged was too scattered. Reloading gave them time to reflect. They would be a focused force for the next round.

The danger died down for the moment. John took the opportunity to crawl over to the window. Cutting his hands and knees on the broken glass. In the panic, the shatters weren’t registering.

“Jump!” Matthew said tossing bags of flour into the back of the wagon.

“Salvation at last,” John said.

John was hit by a bundle of golden ropes. Completely involuntary, he caught the bundle. It was not true rope per se; they belonged to Swain’s crimson curtains. From each curtain, the golden rope had been torn down. The ends of the rope were tied into slapdash knots.

“Hold that,” she said.

She started running to the other side of the room. When she reached the center, the gunfire started up again. Bullets whizzed by her head, tear a tiny bit of thread from her jacket. She rolled into the wall. Swain’s safe a few feet from her.

“What are you doing?” John asked. “I don’t have time for this.”

As if hearing his words, a fist-sized hole broke into the wall. A crack ran across the plaster. They would be coming through soon.

“Bastard was going to rob me,” she said. “Might as well rob him. He won’t need it where he’s gone.”

“Hey!” Matthew yelled. “I ain’t waiting around for the law to show up. If you ain’t down here in the next thirty seconds, I’ll leave. No skin off my back.”

Gunfire was his only reply.

“Do you hear me?” Matthew asked.

A golden rope dropped out of the window and slapped him across the face.

John leaned out of the window. “Yer gonna want to tie that to the end to the wagon.”

“Why?” Matthew asked.

The shooting hole had increased to the size of a wagon wheel. The guards were kicking from the bottom to get an entrance. They could now aim at their enemies.

Wrapping the other end of the rope around the safe, Lucy flinched at the gunshots. The splinters from the erupting surroundings rendered her mostly blind. Through all of that, she got the rope tied tightly around the safe. It wasn’t the best quality of rope but it would do.

She got behind the safe for some cover and dug her fingernails into the rope, chipping her already dull nails.

“Do it!” she said as the bullets ricochet off the safe, nearly missing Bullock’s body.

“You sure?” John asked.

“Fuck no!”

John motioned to go. Matthew whipped the reigns. The four horses galloped in a steady yet slow pace. They were just reaching their stride when the rope went taut. The safe whip lashed a half a foot causing the woman to bang her head against the metal surface.

“I’m going to die,” she said rubbing her head, somehow still holding on.

The horses were pulled back a step from the safe’s resistance. They were not moving fast enough to pull out it. The safe’s legs were digging into the floor, tearing up molehills of hardwood.

The guards broke through. Their targets were wide open and unprotected. Smiling as they watched the safe bring the woman right to them. And with a well-placed shot, they could end this caper once and for all.

“I can’t do this,” John took a hold of the rope.“Yer on your own.” He wrapped his legs around the taut rope and began to shimmy down to the wagon.

If Lucy had stayed on the safe, this little tale would have ended there. It was, after all, the smart move. But that wouldn’t be Lucy Wyler.

She figured she had one thing on her adversaries. They wouldn’t expect her to be stupid enough to jump out of cover with guns blazing. Boy, were they wrong.

Shooting out from the safe, she pulled her revolver and—

CLICK.

CLICK.

CLICK.

Guns needed to be reloaded. It was a fatal flaw if the entire endeavor wasn’t a fool’s errand. No, this was just the icing on the cake of bad ideas.

Unfortunately, Darwin doesn’t always win out.

The safe had picked up so much of the floor, there was a mound of wood ever growing in its path. Her pushing off from the safe put just the right amount of force on the top. The mound tripped the big hunk of metal over. Free from its restraints and the weight of Lucy, the safe gained speed. Running through the guards like bowling pins.

The horses flew like a bat out of hell, almost sending Matthew from the wagon. John losing his footing, held on for dear life as the rope zip lined him down toward the unforgiving Earth.

They would be home free once the safe crashed through the window. Too bad the rope had other ideas. The safe pounded into the window frame, giving it a safe sized expansion. The violent and sudden pull snapped the rope at the middle.

At the time, John was at the halfway point. That was around ten feet in the air. It took less than two seconds for him to travel the rest of that distance. He hit with a thud, bruised and stunned but still alive.

Matthew was thrown from the wagon this time. Quickly, he got up and ran after it, shouting for the horses to stop.

Lucy wasn’t out of the woods yet. The guards were down but not out. Confused and injured, they were searching for their rifles. However, Lucy was focused on something else.

Tittering on the edge of the new second-floor balcony, the safe seemed to taunt her. She wasn’t going to go through all of this without her prize.

Lucy loosened herself up; it was of utmost importance she was limber.

“This is going to hurt,” she said mentally preparing herself.

One guard found his rifle, pointing it at Lucy. She simply winked and sprinted at the safe.

Putting her shoulders into it, she tackled the safe off the second floor. The guard stared dumbfounded as she disappeared over the edge.

With the little strength she had left, Lucy used the banged-up safe to prop herself up. Her mouth was full of blood and her ribs throbbed like they were being trampled on by a herd of elephants. But she was not dead or riddled with bullets. She would have patted herself on the back if she wasn’t going to pass out on the cold surface.

“I’ll be fucked by my shotgun,” John said limping to his feet. There it was, the prize they had come there for. Right there for the taking.

Matthew jumped back onto the wagon. “You still alive, John?”

“Alive and stinkin’ rich!” he replied.

“What?” Matthew asked.

“Just bring the goddamn wagon back!”

As the wagon’s severed rope rolled back, John reached over to the safe’s rope. It would not budge. The safe was too heavy for him. His fingers were tapping the wagon rope. “Not going to die this way.”

A rifle shot cause his hand to pull back. The guards were right on cue, standing in the safe sized hole. John was without cover. They weren’t going to miss every time.

 “I am in need of assistance,” he said.

Taking time to steady his shot, one of the guards had John dead to rights. He fingered the trigger.

BLAM!

A bullet ripped through a head but not John’s.

“Tie that rope already,” Matthew said reloading his rifle.

He didn’t need to be told a second time; John took those two ends and united them in a quick loop.

Matthew whipped the horses; there was no time to wait for John’s confirmation. The loop tighten, becoming a knot.

He did it!

The horses were pulling the safe. John ran with his bum leg after the wagon. He was going to have to move if he was planning to make it. Matthew met him in the back of the wagon, extending his rifle.

“Grab hold,” he said.

But the wagon was moving too fast for John, he was no longer gaining. He was at best holding steady.

He reached out.

More than a finger length away. He wasn’t going to make it.

Two guards joined their dead comrade at the window.

John put all his weight on his good leg and leapt—

BANG!

BANG!

The two guards fell from the second floor.

John’s hands clenched the butt of the rifle and Matthew pulled with all his might. He was on the wagon. They were going to be all right.

Lucy lowered her smoking revolver. “Told you I knew what I was doing. Nothing to worry about.”

She hooked her gun belt through the rope. This was going to be a bumpy ride. There was no way they were going to leave her behind without her getting her cut.

With her body securely hitchhiking on top of over a million dollars, Lucy let unconsciousness take hold.