A Western in 30 Working Days--Midday Six

Church work kept me pretty busy over the weekend, but I'm back in the groove now. Talked with artist daughter last night. We've decided to take new photos of me. Look forward, or cover your eyes, whichever suits you best.

Off for a hospital checkup in the afternoon, but let's see some of what's happening with Matt Stryker and those crazy Dents.

“Hmmm.” Stryker scowled. Dodge Miller’s account of what happened to Molly seemed to make her assailants the Dents, no mistake. “The station master at Miller’s Well said there were four Dents who burned down his station,” Stryker said. “Who do you think would be riding with Dent?”

“Him and his three boys. They’re about as nasty a bunch as you’ll ever run into.”

“Tell me.”

“The oldest is Phineas. Finn for short. Mean as a bobcat. Sneaky as a coyote.” Carpentered emptied his coffee cup and held it up until Marie noticed. “Second is Leroy. Cut from the same mold as Finn. Then there’s Wee Willy.”

“Wee Willy?”

“Yep. Big giant of a man, he is. Bigger even than Bob Paul. But he’s never growed in his head past about seven or eight years old. His pa beats on him a lot, too. Wee Willy. Always trying to do things right, but never quite making it, and always getting beat for his mistakes, real or imagined.

Marie came with the coffee pot and filled their cups.

“You seem to know the Dents right intimate.”

“I rode with Danby. We were right upset about Suthrun cecesh. But more ‘n more, raids got to be about money, not revenge. After we got shot to pieces by Sheriff Slaterlee’s posse from Wolf Creek, I left. Told Canby to keep my share. I left. Quit being a raider.”

“Good choice,” Stryker said. “But I’m gonna have to ride them Dents down.”


The Dents themselves are headed for Hell's Gate, and from there to Skeleton Canyon.

Word Count: 9004