Page 6 of The Banker's Bride

“And what are you going to do about it?” Colton asked, amused.

“My brothers will—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sheriff Clark helped Colton throw him over the back of the horse with his brother. “We know. Your brothers are coming for us. They’re going to kill us all. Blah, blah, blah.”

The man looked at him, his eyebrows pulled together, confused. “Yes,” he agreed, and then recovered himself. “They’ll be here in three days’ time.”

“Shut up, Gentry,” Brock ordered groggily, coming to. “You always did have a big mouth.”

“Shut up before I kill you both!” Dallas mounted his horse. But this time, he waited for Sheriff Clark and Colton.

Colton chuckled, enjoying their discomfort a bit too much.

When they got back to the sheriff’s office, Colton helped Daxton throw Gentry and Brock into separate cells.

“Aren’t you going to take us to the doctor?”

The sheriff laughed. “You aren’t going anywhere. We’ll bring the doctor to you.” He stepped close to the bars, a smile lighting his lips. “When he’s finished disposing of your two brothers.”

Gentry grabbed the bars and the sheriff backed away. He looked over and his eyes fell on Dallas. “You there! You’re the one who killed my brothers!”

Dallas shrugged. “Well, that’s what happens when you rob a bank… my bank.”

Gentry’s face screwed up as it turned red, gripping the bars of the jail cell so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “When my brothers hear of this, they’ll come after you!”

Dallas lifted his chin. “Let them come.”

“I’m going to kill you, banker!” Gentry yelled, shaking the immovable cell bars. “You’re a dead man! Do you hear me, banker? They’ll come after you!”

Dallas ignored the outlaw, nodding his thanks to the sheriff as he walked out. Gentry’s voice became muted as the door swung tightly closed behind him.

The following Monday, the U.S. Marshall came from Laramie to take away the two men who robbed Dallas’s bank. Dallas wanted to be there when he came. He figured that the sheriff and Colton would need all the help they could get.

“My brothers will come for you!” Brock yelled, pointing his finger at Dallas, as the sheriff and Colton pulled the two men out of the jail, kicking and screaming the whole time.

“Yeah, yeah,” the U.S. Marshall mumbled, shoving the outlaws into the back of a tumbleweed wagon—a prison cell on wheels—flanked by several armed guards and a driver. “Tell it to the judge.” Once inside, he chained the prisoners to the floor to prevent escape.

“Yeah, mark his words… er… my words! Our cousins will come for you!” Gentry didn’t seem as bright as his brother, and that was saying something.

“You can’t do this to us!” Brock yelled, grabbing the bars of the tumbleweed wagon, pressing his face against them, snarling like a caged animal.

“The hell we can’t.” The U.S. Marshall walked over to Daxton and offered him his hand. “Sheriff Clark, thank you for the apprehension of these men. We’ve been looking for ‘em for a while.”

“You know them?” Sheriff Clark shook his hand as Colton and Dallas looked on.

The U.S. Marshall nodded. “They’re part of the Yates Gang.” He looked around at the surrounding country. “A friendly wordof warning: Watch your back. These men don’t work alone.” He let out a deep breath as he took off his hat.

“How many?” Daxton asked.

The marshal ran his fingers through his hair and then put his hat back on. “Not sure, but quite a few. There’ve been a lot of robberies in these parts attributed to them.” He mounted his horse, preparing to leave as the men who were with them did the same.

“You need any help?” Daxton adjusted his hat. “I can ride with you while Colton stays here to watch the town.”

The U.S. Marshal shook his head. “No, we’ll be fine.” A sly grin spread across his lips. “And I’m not alone. I have plenty of help.”

The four other men with him chuckled.

“Fair enough.” Daxton shook his hand. “Thanks for taking these two off my hands. They were so loud they were giving me a headache.”

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