Chapter 1

It was about 10:00 AM when I drove past the Wyoming capital building. I was headed for the Cowboy Shootout Exhibition, but I wondered if we would have much of a crowd, what with all of the clouds and rain we were getting. The lightning show was spectacular all that morning, and I wondered where the next strike would hit. Well, I found out the hard way!

I had just driven past the capital building when a bolt of lightning struck that must have set records. As nearly as I can figure, the bolt hit the capital dome and reflected in my direction. It must have struck me, or my pickup, that is, because I was suddenly no longer in downtown Cheyenne in June of 2111. The truck practically exploded under me, and parts went flying everywhere. Except for bits and pieces of sheet metal and plastic, it was impossible to tell that it had been a standard 2110 Ram.

I don’t understand it, but I was totally unhurt by the episode. The only other thing to survive the demolition of my truck was my safe of guns and ammunition. I was already wearing my costume of old-time cowboy duds, and that included my pistol, a Starr DA converted to .38 caliber metallic cartridges. Yeah, that was a light caliber, but I used hollow-point ammunition, so I had pretty much the stopping power of the .44 ammunition that used black powder. It never made a difference before, and I’d had no reason to regret the choice up until now.

In my safe were my sawed-off shotgun that I had custom made for me. It was in 10-gauge and was semi-automatic. I had it configured with a 10-round box magazine that greatly simplified my reloading when I was doing my exhibition shooting.

The safe also contained almost a thousand shells of #00 buckshot and 500 rounds of pistol ammunition. I had just stocked up for the season and had not had an opportunity to use any of it. The four shotgun magazines were loaded with the home-made “buck and ball” style of shells that I preferred for my exhibitions, but more on that later.

The really crazy thing about my “accident” was that I was lying in the middle of a dung-filled dirt street, and there were live bullets flying over my head. For a moment, I had thought that I had interrupted a movie filming, but thoughts of that quickly faded when I saw one man have most of his head removed by a shotgun blast. Either that was the most realistic shotgun hit ever filmed, or it really was a man being killed by real bullets.

I looked around and saw that my only cover was going to be my gun safe. It had already been struck by several bullets, and too damned many were coming close to me. With no obvious choice in the matter, I squirmed over to get behind my gun safe and reached for the key to open it. Only a moment later, I was armed with my favorite weapon, the sawed-off shotgun, and I quickly attached a magazine and racked in a shell. I didn’t know for sure what was going on, but the next bastard to throw a bullet my way was going to get a response in kind.

My wait was short because a galoot popped up from behind a watering trough and fired a shot in my direction. He was too slow dropping back behind his protection, and I let him have it with one of my special buck and ball rounds. He had managed to duck back a little, but he was so close to me that three of my #00 buckshot took off the top of his head and the load of buckshot in the “ball” ripped away most of the watering trough wall in front of his face. I guess it is needless to say that he was out of the fight. Damned if I didn’t get a cheer from some of the people who saw me shoot.

That was certainly all of the encouragement I needed because I saw the flash of light off a marshal’s badge from one of the men cheering. I figured that I was on the correct side of whatever was going on, so I looked around for another target.

There had been a man holding four horses at the edge of the street, and this was when he decided that he had an urgent appointment elsewhere. He dropped the reins of three of the horses and mounted the fourth with a single bound. He could have had a job in Hollywood for that if he had been in a better time and place. He was now towering above me and aimed his pistol in my direction. This was no time to fool around, so I fired a blast into his chest.

When that “ball” of buckshot hit him, it split into seven segments and blew a gaping hole in his chest. He was not firmly seated in the saddle at this time, and the close-in shot lifted him over the horse’s tail onto the dirt. I should note that my shells were using smokeless powder, so I did not have to worry about a plume of smoke blocking my vision. On the other hand, everyone else was bothered by that problem. Nevertheless, bullets were flying in every direction as if nobody wanted to be left out of the game, even if he had no clear target.

Indications were that there were two men left in what I had finally figured out was a bank robbery. At this point, there were some shots coming from what had to be the bank, but the intensity of the shooting was way down from what it had been only minutes earlier. Desultory shooting continued like this for about 10 more minutes, but I held my fire because I had no clear target, and I did not want to hit an innocent bystander by accident.

I was waiting for inspiration when I was joined by the town marshal. “Howdy, Mister. That was some fine shooting with that there cannon that you are carrying. My name is Jed Brady, and I want to welcome you to our fair community of Cheyenne, Wyoming.”

“Thank you, Marshal Brady. I am Bart McSwain, and I am pleased to be of help. Please tell me what is going on.”

“Four galoots came into town about half an hour ago, and two wandered into the bank. I was a little suspicious at the time, but I did not do anything. Before I could come to a decision on what to do, there were some shots from the bank, and those two you killed started firing at anything that moved. A minute or two later, bullets started to come from the bank, and you know pretty well what happened then.”

“Okay, I understand, now. What are your plans for capturing the last two of the bandits?”

“Dammit, I do not know. I was hoping that you might have some suggestions.”

Uh-oh, now I was hooked. I had been in the latest dust up in Yemen with the Army, so I did have some training in urban warfare, which this certainly was.

“It looks like it is up to me to take care of the last two bandits. The bank must have a back entrance, so I can go in that way. What I really need is a layout of the bank.”

“The bank ain’t much inside. There is an office in the back for the owner/manager. That’s where the safe is kept. A counter runs down the center of the rest of the room with the bank employees on the right side and the customers on the left. There ain’t much else in there.”

“Okay, I will try to get in from the rear. Warn all of your people that I will be inside and not to shoot at what they see moving. I will let you know when I am ready to come out. Your people should only shoot at anybody who tries to leave before I give my signal. Is that agreeable?”

“Hell, that sounds fine to me. You just be careful, yourself. We do not want the hero of the day getting himself shot.”

I laughed at that comment and pulled the other three magazines from the safe. I reloaded the magazine that I was using and was ready to go. I also filled my cartridge pouch with pistol ammunition, but I did not expect to use any of it. I had to wait another five or so minutes for the marshal to talk to the other men who were shooting at the bank, but finally, it was time to go.

I backed away from my gun safe, making sure that it stayed between me and the shooters in the bank. Once I was back far enough, I ducked down an alley and ran to the back of the bank building. It was easy to spot because it was the only brick building for blocks.