Blood on the Badge

Chapter 1

The early morning sky was bright as the four of them rode into town from the south; they were here to rob the bank of, Sedona, Arizona.

Stan Rhodes, was on his way to the sheriff’s office to check for messages, for his father, who is the sheriff of Sedona. Stan watched from up the street as the four rode into town and tied their horses to the hitching-rail in front of the bank. He didn’t recognize any of them. They were tall, lean and wore dusty range clothes. They also all wore pistols in low-slung, tied-down holsters. Stan went into the sheriff’s office leaving the door open to let some fresh air into the musty office. Stan looked at the clock on the wall of the office as it was striking for the eighth time.

This is when the town opens for business for the day. Stan had always helped out around the sheriff’s office, but he was not a deputy, he was only twenty, he did look older for his age. Stan watched from the office window as three of the men went into the bank as one stayed with the horses.

He looked on up the street past the bank and saw very little movement, turned and went to the desk to check for messages.

The dull boom of a shotgun followed the flat crack of a six-gun. Stan jumped-up from the chair, looking out the window and saw the three men come running from the bank with mask over their faces, to their horses. Stan ran to the gun rack on the wall holding several Henry rifles. He snatched one of the rifles, grabbing some cartridges from a drawer under the rack, and loading the henry on the run for the door.

Stan ran for the bank as the four hold-up men, spurring their horses, rode north up the street. The Banker came running out yelling, “They robbed the bank, and shot me when, I tried to stop them!” What few pedestrians where on the street were now scattering, looking for cover.

The four were now galloping up the street away from the bank. They were at least seventy-five yards up the street leaning low in their saddles.

It was going to be some tough shooting. Stan, dropped to one knee, took a deep breath and settled the sights of the rifle on the back of the one with the saddle-bags, hesitated just a second, then slowly squeezed the trigger, as his father taught him. His target jerked and swayed but stayed in the saddle, but dropping the saddlebags to the ground.

As he shifted the sights over to one of the other hold-up men. The Banker let out a groan and fell into the street, raising a cloud of dust that obscured Stan’s vision, as the four dug in their spurs and headed out of town. Stan’s father came running up to him with a gun in hand, asking Stan if he was all right. “Sure, I’m fine, wounded one of them, he dropped his saddle-bags with the bank’s money.”

Stan, breathing deeply and wishing that his heart would quit beating so fast, he had never aimed at anything except targets and wild game. There was something very different about shooting at a man. Sheriff Dell Rhodes came back toward the bank with the saddlebags full of the bank’s money, and looking down at the banker lying in the street. “Doc, the Sheriff asked, is there any thing you can do for him?” Doc Stone, looked up at him and shook his head, “He’s dead Dell.”

Doc Stone stood up, snapping his bag shut, and ordered several of the bystanders to take the banker’s body over to the Undertakers. Bill Shaw was the towns’ only banker! Doc, looked at Dell, “I will go and see his wife!” The sheriff, turned and looked at Stan, “I want to talk to you over at the office.” Stan swallowed. He had a feeling his father was going to do most of the talking.

Dell shut the door of the sheriff’s office and went to his desk, sinking into his chair behind it. Stan replaced the henry back in the wall rack, then waited to see what his Pa had to say. “What in blue blazes did you think you were doing?”

“You could’ve gotten killed out there with those men!”

“They held up the bank and shot Bill,” Stan replied. “I figured it was my job to stop them, me being the closest one and all.” “Catching robbers is my job, not yours. You ain’t an official deputy, and you know it.” His father sounded angry, but his tone abruptly softened as he went on, “Darn it, boy, I don’t want to see you hurt. What would your Ma say if I let you get killed Fighting outlaws?”

Stan was silent. He held himself tightly, waiting for his father to finish. “Well heck,” Dell sighed. He let a grin seat over his face. “You’re old enough to know when you’re taking a chance. Once you took a hand, you did a darn good job. That must have been one fine shot.” Both of them knew what he was talking about.

In a voice that was little more than a whisper, Stan said, “When it was happening, all I was thinking about was stopping them and keeping them f