Shootout At Bitter Root

By John J. Law

A daring bank robbery leaves one robber wounded and the bank manager dead. Sticking to their original plan the two robbers leave town separately to allay suspicions, planning to rendezvous in the nearby forest and split the loot. But even the best of plans can go arie.

A young farmer out hunting mistakes the wounded robber for a wild animal and accidentally kills him. While searching through the dead man's belongings he comes across the money from the robbery and decides to keep it for himself. But when the second robber spots his partner's horse at the farmers homestead he confronts the farmer, determined to get his money back.

Despite ripping his life to shreds the farmer proves to be more resilient than expected and fights back. His courage and resolve forces the bank robber to escalate his efforts and finally risk it all in a face to face shootout!

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223163220

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The two men arrived in the town of Bitter Root from opposite directions. They approached the Great Northern Savings and Trust from opposite ends of the street, as well. As far as anyone knew, they were unknown to each other, as well as to strangers in town. When they hitched their horses to the same hitching post, no one paid any attention. When they slipped their bandanas over their faces, no one saw a thing. In fact, the first person who noticed them was the bank guard as they entered the bank lobby with their bandanas pulled up and their guns in their hands.

Get down on the floor, old man! barked the robber closest to the bank guard, whose gun was pointed at the guard’s face. The guard slowly lifted his hands and crouched down, then laid down, face down on the floor. The robber reached down, took the gun from his holster and whispered, Move and you’re a dead man."

The second robber stepped forward into the main portion of the bank and yelled, This is a holdup! Everyone down on the floor! 

Immediately, there was confusion. Everyone started talking—customers and bank employees alike. Some of the people did as they were told, no questions asked. Others continued talking, as if they thought they could ignore the robber’s instructions. 

Not seeing the results he wanted, the robber yelled, Shut up, no talking! Then to emphasize the point, he pistol-whipped the nearest person, a middle-aged woman, who seemed to be ignoring his instructions. She collapsed to the floor, and immediately everyone dropped to the floor. They even stopped talking.

Follow my orders and you won’t be hurt. Don’t follow my orders, and you’ll get the same or worse as that old bag, he stated as he pointed at the woman at his feet on the floor, knocked out cold. Then he heard a chair being shoved across a hardwood floor and swung around to find an older man sitting behind a big desk in the far corner at the back of the bank. The man was dressed in a suit and apparently was important because he wasn’t going to move any faster than he chose to.

At first the robber thought about just shooting the old crow, but decided against doing so because the noise might bring the sheriff. Instead, he decided to just keep the pressure on him as he waddled his way into the main lobby area.

This applies to you too, jackass! he barked at the older man who was slowly shuffling between the desks and chairs. Are you deaf, or do you have a death wish, old man? Get over here and get on the floor with everyone else! the robber shouted. The old man continued to shuffle forward slowly. He was walking sort of funny the robber thought. His whole body was twisted so that his right side and arm were turned away from him.

Meantime, the other robber had grabbed a teller and was moving down the line of teller cages, having instructed the woman to pull the cash from the cash drawers, then stuffing it into a pair of saddlebags as they went. The two men would move on to the safe once everyone was on the floor.

I’m at the last of the teller cages. Get that old fool over here to open the safe, the man loading up the cash from the teller cages called out.

You heard him, old man. Move it! We haven’t got all day! the other robber yelled at the old man. Unbeknownst to the robbers, the old man was the bank’s founder and owner, Charles Grady. His family had been one of the first to settle in the territory. They owned and operated the first trading post and stage line. By any standard, he was a pillar of the community and one of the richest men in the territory. He had also seen more than his share of gun battles and would-be robbers. This was just another day at the office for him.

The old man continued to shuffle his way forward, purposely dragging his feet, trying to force the robbers to take more time in the hopes someone might walk in and see what was happening. He envisioned the sheriff arriving any moment now and taking these two pieces of cow dung into custody. Anyway it happened, he wasn’t letting these two cowardly thieves get away with the money that the good folk of Bitter Root had entrusted to him.  

The robber standing among the hostages shouted Move it, old man! and then looked to see where his partner in crime was. By the time he turned back to the old man, he found himself confronted by the barrel of a gun. The old man had been hiding a gun behind his back as he moved forward. The robber dropped to the floor, firing his gun as he did so. The old man fired as well, except he hadn’t planned on the robber dropping to the floor, and his shot went high and wide. The robber’s shot went straight and true, striking the old man. The old man’s shot struck the woman teller who was standing in front of the second robber. The slug caught her in the right shoulder, then continued through her slender body changing direction after hitting the knuckle of the shoulder joint, striking the second robber in the chin.

The bullet no longer had the force it had when first striking the woman, but still managed to carve a long, bloody gouge along the robber’s right side of his jawbone and into his neck. Luckily for him, the bullet hadn’t penetrated the jawbone but merely scraped along it, before ricocheting off into a stack of papers on the counter behind him.

The old man collapsed to the floor, dead. The woman bank teller fainted from the pain and fell to the floor, unconscious. The wounded robber dropped the saddlebags and his gun to grab his face. Then he proceeded to howl in pain.

His partner in crime, seeing his buddy had been wounded, ran across the bank to him. As he ran, he looked under the teller counter for anything he could use to stop the bleeding and found several white rags, obviously used to keep the dust off the counters. That wasn’t a concern. He only cared about stopping the bleeding. He ran back, immediately plastering two of the rags to his partner’s face, then grabbed the saddlebags off the floor.

Are you okay? the first robber asked as he quickly scanned the room for anyone trying to act like a hero by trying to stop them. Keep pressure on the wound and it should stop the bleeding. Nobody move! he shouted to the people on the floor before asking his partner, Are you hit anywhere else? 

No, this is bad enough, isn’t it? his partner snarled through clenched teeth.

It’s not my fault. He pulled a gun from behind his back. He shot you when he was trying to shoot me. 

While he was focused on his partner, several people jumped up and ran out the front door yelling, The bank’s being robbed! The bank is being robbed! He fired two more shots in the direction of the fleeing customers but failed to hit anyone.

Come on my friend, let’s get out of here before the sheriff shows up. The first robber handed his partner another rag to press on his wound as they went. They were surprise when they burst through the front into the street. There wasn’t anyone there to stop them. They quickly mounted their horses, and following the plan they had devised before they rode into town, they each rode off in