The Bank Robbers Of Mesquite: Western
The sun was already high in the sky, spreading its shimmering light over the small town of Mesquite. The dry desert wind kicked up dust that lay like a fine veil over the main street. It was an ordinary Monday morning, and the general hustle and bustle of the town was running its usual course. Merchants were selling their wares, housewives were running errands and children were running through the streets.
Sheriff Roy Smith sat in his office, his boots up and his hat pulled low on his forehead. His deputy, Mike Jones, leaned casually against the doorway, his eyes scanning the street vigilantly. Nothing much was going on-at least until the moment five strange riders rode straight down the street, headed for the bank at breathtaking speed and stopped in front of the building.
Roy immediately pulled his feet off the table and sat up straight. "Have you seen the boys before?" he asked as he peered through the window. Mike shook his head.
"No, never seen them. But I don't like the way they move."
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Sheriff Roy Smith sat in his office, his boots up and his hat pulled low on his forehead. His deputy, Mike Jones, leaned casually against the doorway, his eyes scanning the street vigilantly. Nothing much was going on-at least until the moment five strange riders rode straight down the street, headed for the bank at breathtaking speed and stopped in front of the building.
Roy immediately pulled his feet off the table and sat up straight. "Have you seen the boys before?" he asked as he peered through the window. Mike shook his head.
"No, never seen them. But I don't like the way they move."
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