Zeke robs a bank

On a cold March morning, Zeke stood before the bank he intended to rob. The bank, an average sized building in the center of the small town, matched all the other weatherworn buildings on the dusty street. Apprehension trickled sweat down Zeke's face. "I'll show them I'll amount to something," he grumbled. Zeke's mind flailed with the heartache that had driven him to this town. His mind echoed Bessie's words. Words that fueled his rage, tempered his nerve, and left his heart hollow. "He's right Zeke, you ain't got nothing, and there ain't nothing here to build on. You can't offer me anything. I like you right fine and all but Daddy's right." The words split his heart as an ax would split dry wood.
For days, the rejection tormented Zeke. He, in turn, wracked his brain trying to figure out a solution to Bessie's objections, a way to prove to his manhood to Bessie's father. Not even his wildest calculation ever landed an idea wholly on the side of lawfulness and righteousness. Every idea took money and a measure of evil. Now, in front of the bank, his Christian upbringing keeps him frozen in his place just watching the bank. He knew his mother prayed for him. Prayed for Zeke to walk down a path of righteousness. "Will God be with me?" he muttered as a cold wind blew across his face. "No, God won't be with me. If God were with me there would be a way. I'd be with Bessie now." Zeke turned his face away from the townsfolk passing by. The collar of his coat was up and Zeke tried to keep his face in the shadow of his hat.
"You alright boy?" A large man with a booming loud voice asked.
Zeke turned his direction keeping his head down. "Yes sir, just fine."
The man stepped forward almost toe to toe with Zeke. "Why you sweating so? You got fever? Ain't welcome here if'n you got fever."
"I ain't got no fever mister."
"Bull cocky, you got fever. Go on git," the man boomed. "Git your fever out of this town. Don't be killin' us with your fever. Git."
Zeke looked around as other townsfolk drew closer. His nerve, fragile with hesitation, broke. He mounted his horse quickly, as if the big man's words chased him, and headed east towards Lamar. Zeke forgot the failure just as quickly as he put the town behind him. Lamar had a bank too. "If I hurry I can still get there in time to rob that bank." He reached down and patted his horse. "I stayed too long in that town looking at the bank. Attracted attention. In this next town, I'm gonna hitch you up and walk straight into the bank and get the money I need and I'll worry about damnation later."
Zeke mused his last words, "Well, I don't rightly know how much I need." His mind wandered until he had a number. "All I need is Bessie, you my trusty horse and five hundred dollars. That ought to do me right fine. It'd be enough to start off with. A real good start too." He smiled brightly, "And if'n it ain't I'll rob me another bank."
The day passed with Zeke navigating many dry creeks and small gulches. Near mid-afternoon, he spotted Lamar in the distance. He stopped his horse and went over his belongings again. "Just like I said this morning horse, if I'm kilt today I don't want anyone knowing who I am. Don't need to be bringing shame on my kin. Don't need to prove Bessie's father right." After the quick check, Zeke appraised his revolver. Five shots loaded, and the safety chamber empty. Muttering a quick prayer, he remounted his horse and rode in. "I'll ride up to the bank, which should have a big sign that says 'bank'. I'll tie you up with a loose hitch cause I won't be long. As I get to the door, I'll pull my gun and rob it as soon as I get in the door." This satisfied Zeke, as the plan would either succeed and he'd have Bessie or it would fail and he would surely be dead.
The wind blew on his back and the sun still cast a crisp shadow in front of him. He paid no mind to anyone in the street. His heart started thumping. Dust sprang from the ground as the horse plodded along. The reins in his hand became wet with sweat. He spotted the bank. "Yeah, it figures, they put it in the middle of the town. Won't make no never mind." Zeke felt his stomach strongly rumble, queasiness took over. "Lord, please don't let me puke on the way in." He reflected for a moment, "Lord ain't got no reason to grant me anything considering the evil I'm about to do."
As he passed the sheriff's office the wanted posters took on a whole new meaning. "I'll be famous horse, have my picture everywhere. Complete with a price on my head."
Zeke stopped his horse at the hitching post with two other horses. "Dang, figures someone took the hitch closest to the bank." Zeke slid off his horse, placed his head upon the neck of the horse for a moment then turned for the steps. "God forgive me."
Each step creaked softly as he climbed the stairs but Zeke did not hear them. His heart thundered as his stomach roiled. He could see his fingers shaking as he reached for the doorknob. He grasped his gun and with one movement pulled his gun and opened the door. The little bell attached to the door announced his presence.
"Gun!" A voice yelled. Shots shattered the glass behind Zeke. Instinctively, he lowered himself, moved to the right while shooting two rounds wildly back. Zeke kept going until he was behind a large desk. He hadn't fully felt the desk on his back before someone came around the desk. As the gunman took aim Zeke lurched forward. Shots struck the wooden floor behind him sent splinters on his back. Returning fire Zeke's third round whizzed by the other gunman's hip, but his fourth hit the target dropping the gunman.
Blood oozed from the man lying face down in front of Zeke. "Lord Almighty, Lord Almighty," said Zeke.
"Jason! Jason! You killed my brother! I'm ah gonna kill you!
Zeke poked his head out from behind the desk. Bang, bang, bullets whizzed by his head. Zeke pulled himself upright. Sweat ran down his face.
"I'm coming to get you," he heard.
As Zeke heard footfalls coming he stuck his pistol out and shot his last round. Then his pistol went click, click, click. Zeke's heart skipped a few beats as he realized he was defenseless. Frantically he looked about. The other gunman had a pistol. Zeke lurched for the dead man and searched for the pistol. His corpse was lying on the pistol.
"I got you now! Another gunman whirled around the desk and pointed a pistol at Zeke. With no time to retrieve the dead man's pistol Zeke sprang for the window. Three shots whizzed by him as glass and frame shattered around his body. As Zeke hit the wooden walkway, he kept rolling for the dirt street. The two-foot drop struck him unexpectedly and knocked the wind out of him. As he gasped to refill his empty lungs, Zeke slid under the wooden walkway. A dull thud was heard as he banged his head on one of the joists.
Zeke could still hear the man screaming from the bank, "You killed Jason! You killed Jason! I'm gonna get you!"
Zeke heard the gunman's footfalls on the wooden walkway above him. A pair of feet suddenly jumped down to the street. Zeke was trapped; he was too big to move under the walkway. The gunman bent down and stuck his pistol into the darkness under the wooden walkway. Zeke immediately noticed it wasn't pointed directly at him. Daylight had blinded the gunman, who was unable to look into the blackness under the wooden walkway.
Zeke reached out and grabbed the gunman's arm. The gunman fired a reactionary shot into the wooden joist behind Zeke. Zeke pulled on the gunman's arm with all his might. The gunman's forehead smashed into the walkway and he fell down. Still holding the gunman's arm, Zeke twisted about and started kicking the gunman in the face until the gunman passed out.
Zeke gave himself a moment to catch his breath. Lying under the walkway he almost completely forgot about the bank above. "Enough of this, I better get."
Zeke scrambled out from under the walkway and started to grab for his horse. From behind him Zeke heard, "There he is! That's him!"
The intensity of the gunfight had sapped all his strength; Zeke's shoulders slumped as he turned to face his accusers.
"He shot the Richter brothers."
Zeke looked around. Townspeople, some with pistols drawn, surrounded him. Most notably, the sheriff held a shotgun; a gun Zeke knew could scatter his innards all over creation. Resigned to his fate, "I'll sit right here until you're ready for me sheriff." Zeke sat down on the walkway and thought of Bessie.
"How's the one inside?" Asked the sheriff.
"Dead. Took one straight through the heart," someone answered.
"What about this one?" The sheriff asked pointing to the gunman lying at Zeke's feet.
Zeke spoke up, "He should be fine. All I did was kick him some."
"Give me a hand taking this one to the jail," the sheriff told Zeke.
Zeke obliged and helped carry the gunman to the jail. After dumping the man in a filthy cell, the sheriff turned to Zeke. "You sit there."
Zeke sat staring into space. "Your first one?" The sheriff asked.
"Yes," Zeke replied. "I feel awful. I hope God forgives me."
"Here," the sheriff said as he pushed a paper with two faces into Zeke's hands. Zeke sat dumbfounded, unable to reconcile the paper with his killing. He gave the sheriff a confused look.
"On the paper, those two men are the Richter brothers. Zane is in the cell over there and Jason is dead at the bank," the sheriff said as he sat back in his chair.
Zeke looked back and forth between the sheriff, the unconscious Zane in the cell and the paper. "I don't understand," said Zeke.
"Our town is grateful to you. Those two have a reward upon their heads: One hundred dollars for Zane and two hundred fifty dollars for Jason. Here, I'll write you a script. You take it to the bank and they will give you the reward money. Damn fool of you trying to take them during a robbery in my opinion. Another two minutes and my men would have surrounded the bank."
Zeke felt a rush of pure joy lift his heart from the taint of killing. The sum bounced in Zeke's head, it could be enough of a grubstake to provide a start for him and Bessie. Enough to prove Bessie's father wrong. "I'll be mighty grateful for that script sheriff."
A short time later Zeke had his money. The sheriff held the horse's reins. As Zeke mounted, the sheriff asked, "Only one thing I want to know."
"What's that," replied Zeke.
"I watched you go in the bank. Why was it you pulled your pistol?"
Zeke smiled, "God was with me I guess. In His way, He provided all I need."
This answer left the sheriff even more confused.