Don't Tamper with Horses

Continuing...

Deveney chuckled as the youngest member of his gang ran to the saloon door and lost his breakfast onto the street. His chuckles turned to frowns as two other outlaws bolted for the swinging doors, holding their bellies.

Jim and June ducked out into the kitchen, then out the back door. They hurried up the street to the Sheriff's office. Inside the office Moss waited with most of the citizens of Far Nuff. "Ipecac's starting to work," Jim said. "Deveney didn't drink any, and he got suspicious when the third fellow tossed his lunch."

Moss nodded. "We're up, folks. Remember, don't fight unless you're sure you can beat him. Don't worry about giving them a fair chance, 'cause you'll lose." He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of the Far Nuff residents. Some were fearful, some were determined, but the ones that concerned him were angry. Anger could cause them to move too quickly and wreck the plan. "Remember to take them down quietly. The more we can get before they wise up, the better. Most important, stay alive. Let's go."

They left the Sheriff's office in pairs and threes, vanishing into alleys as they spread out to surround the saloon and the outlaws inside.

Two more of Deveney's men stumbled out. One, his face tinged with green, made for his horse only to slouch over the hitching rail and empty his stomach. The second dropped to his knees on the boardwalk, vomited, then crawled away on his hands and knees. He reached the corner of the saloon before he was grabbed on either side by Far Nuff men. The outlaw was too concerned over his stomach to notice who had his arms.

"The whiskey's gone bad," he mumbled as they pushed and pulled him into the Sheriff's office. "Lord, I swear I'll never touch rot-gut again!" He glanced up as the cell door shut behind him, but grabbed his stomach and flopped onto a hard bunk. "Jolly jokers," he grumbled.

Moss grinned as he watched several more outlaws being gently herded into cells. So far, so good he thought.

...To be continued