Bookshelf Battle

A full week had passed since the capture of Smelly Jack and his villainous brood.  Rifle in hand, Slade led the processional. The town’s nosey citizens poured out of their shops and homes to watch the chained up criminals march toward the courthouse.

Knox took the left flank.  Gunther and Joe took the right.  The young Knoxes brought up the rear.

Jack was performing for the crowd.  “What a crying shame that an innocent man and his kin get railroaded just for passin’ through town!”

An old lady pelt him in the head with a rotten tomato.  He laughed it off.

“You people aint much on hospitality, I’ll tell you that!”

Swears, insults, obscene gestures and all kinds of abuse were heaped on the Buchanan Boys.  Jack reveled in it.  He even broke out into song.

“Nobody knows…the trouble I seen!  Nobody knows…my sorrow!”

Jack eyeballed Joe.  “Hey boy!  BOY!  That’s that song you people would sing whenever the mass gave you a good whuppin?”

Joe was too classy to respond.

“Swing low…sweet chariot…comin’ for to carry me home!  Oh the massa whupped my balls good and now I swing low….”

“That’s enough,” Gunther said.

“HEY MARSHAL!” Jack shouted.

Slade just kept on walking.

“Marshal! Aint it enough to run a man up the river on false accusations?!  You gotta have me watched by a dirty nig…”

Gunther stuck his foot in front of Jack’s, tripping the bigmouth up and launching him into the ground face first, taking a few of his brother-cousins with him.

“Damn Jack,” Gunther said with a wink to Joe.  “Better watch your step.”