The Peterson Gang Strikes Again
It was hot, damn hot, and the stagecoach bounced incessantly. I took my handkerchief from my pocket to wipe the sweat from forehead when I heard a whistle, sharp and short. I heard the stagecoach driver command , "Woe, woe now", to the team, and the stage came to a stop. I took advantage of the easiness to check my belongings and particularly a package I was carrying for the Phoenix Bank and Trust. I heard some mumbling and bumping but nothing too interesting or entertaining. I retrieved my pocket watch from my vest pocket opened it and quickly closed it. "What the hell are they doing." I thought for a moment, and then grabbed for door handle. Carefully stepping down out of the carriage, adjusting to the brightness of mid day and squinting through my fingers, I turned to face the Peterson gang. Parched and dry I could only manage to say, "Oh, shit".