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back in the direction from which they had come.

He rolled across the road, avoiding the first rifle shots from the hidden men. He knew exactly where they were from the white puffs from the black powder cartridges. Pope would send the same signal when he fired. He decided to not give away his position yet. Unless on their persons, the robbers did not have extra ammunition. They also forgot the money, hung across the saddle of one horse. They had not taken canteens either. While not a major issue on this cold day, it represented an oversight.

Pope was set up behind a large stump. It had been sawn recently, so was green oak and would stop far more powerful guns than they had.

Pope could just wait for Bill Isakson and the posse. He would give them maybe a half hour. If not here or if the robbers moved, Pope would take offensive action. It was just his way.

One of the robbers fired and the bullet came too close for comfort. Half a second later, Pope fired and saw the bushes rustle where he had shot. So, he fired again. The bushes stopped rustling. He reckoned it signaled a solid hit.

Nothing happened for another twenty minutes. Then, Pope heard hooves pounding the hard packed dirt road behind him.

It was the chief deputy with another deputy and four posse-men.

Pope waved and, using arm movements, had them fan out before getting into carbine range. He had already determined the robbers were shooting smaller caliber carbines like his.

Once spread out, he motioned for them to move in.

Pope opened up on the tree positions and fired all fifteen rounds from his 1873 carbine, then five from his Colt. The covering fire allowed the lawmen and their posse to move in closely.

They released a volley into the woods.

A man cried, “We give up! Stop shooting!”

Pope yelled, “Cease fire!”

Once the shooting had stopped, he yelled again.

“This is Sheriff John Pope. Drop your weapons! Now, stand and throw your hands up! Come out where we can see you!”

They complied and Pope led the posse to them, reloaded Colt in hand.

Once they were disarmed and in custody, he and Isakson walked across the road to the other robber. He had a bullet in his shoulder and one in his forehead. He had died instantly from the second shot.

The deputy with Isakson had been delivering a prisoner to the lockup for charges. He immediately joined the posse. His name was Walter Wood.

“Walter, there are three horses wandering around. Grab a posse-man or two and locate them. One has a bag of money from the bank on the saddle. Find it and take custody of it, please.”

The young deputy nodded and, taking two posse-men with him, walked down the road.

They put the dead man over the saddle of his own horse and tied his feet together with a portion of lariat under the horse and a portion around his middle tied to the saddle horn.

Pope led the procession into San Rafael. Townsfolk began to cheer and clap and did so all the way down the main drag to the jail. Isakson sent Walter off to get the undertaker to pick up the body. They searched the man. Identification would have to come from his friend. If he did not have a family to bury him, the sale of his horse and gun would.

Isakson went to the bank. The cashier told him the president was expected back soon. The chief deputy had assisted him to the doctor’s with a bullet crease in his right bicep just after the robbery. He gave Isakson the count on the money stolen.

Later, Pope and Isakson returned the bag of money. They counted it in front of witnesses and got a receipt for the amount less a ten-dollar bill they held out for evidence in court.

The two robbers were charged with bank robbery and attempted murder of a peace officer. The district attorney noted there was currently no such law at the time in California, so changed the charge to plain attempted murder.

John Pope, Bill Isakson and Walter Wood did something every police officer holds to be his key objective. They went home to their families at the end of their shift.

The article hit the front page of the San Francisco papers.

Michael Kane had begun to subscribe to several of them after his visit. He read the articles.

I might have to call on John for some assistance real soon, he thought as he folded the paper and sat it down by his chair in Topping Castle.

Real damn soon.

If You Like This, You May Enjoy: Arizona GunmenBy G. Wayne Tilman

A WESTERN STORY OF GOOD OVER EVIL, LAW OVER CRIMINALITY.

County Sheriff James Duncan is fast and honorable. An Arizona lawman who rides rough country, often going up against dangerous men and gangs alone. Dealing with bank robbers, kidnappers and rustlers with his fast gun. Much of his tracking ability comes from his Scottish father, who served as an Indian scout. Valuable experience as a Rough Rider with Teddy Roosevelt, then as an Arizona Ranger.

Outlaws and corrupt government tend to stand in Duncan’s way, but he manages to overcome all obstacles with integrity and really fast guns.

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Thank you for taking the time to read Shooting For Justice. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author's best friend and much appreciated. Thank you.

G. Wayne Tilman

About the Author

G. Wayne Tilman is a full-time author. He retired from the Federal Bureau of Investigation several years ago. Prior to the FBI, he was a Marine, bank security director, deputy sheriff, investigator, and security contractor.

He wrote his first novel over thirty years ago and has now written thirteen novels. Genres include espionage thrillers, mysteries, and

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