The Saga of Miles Forrest

I could hear someone walking in the lobby of the bank, but my attention was drawn toward the window. I had rolled the chair over under the window earlier in the evening.  When the window was raised I could see the silhouette of a person entering.
    First, I heard the chair, then the crash, and finally a moan.  Not being able to see what happened I surmised that the person entering the window stepped on the chair which had rollers.  The door was kicked open.
    “Curt.  Curt.  You alright?” came the voice.
    “Think muh elbow’s broke.  Cayn’t move muh arm.”
    “Hold on, I’ll light the lamp.”
    I was still hidden deep in the shadow in the corner of the room.  “Not a good idea, put up your hands.”
    Now it was too dark to see if he was raising his hands, but I found out soon enough that he wasn’t when he fired a shot my direction.  I let loose one of the barrels of the Greener, heard the shot hit the man and him hitting the back wall.  I wasn’t worried about him, so I turned my attention to the one called Curt.
    “Curt,” I said, still sitting in my corner.  “If’n I were you I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
    I had learned a long time ago to be patient so I just sat there waiting.  Then I heard a set of horses gallop by and a rider fired several shots through the window.  There were two men I wounded back in Pueblo, but now I knew there was a third one.
    I waited a few more minutes then stood.  Striking a match I lit the lamp and just as I did there was sounds of someone running into the bank.  
    “You better stop right where you’re at and declare yourself as there’s a barrel of buckshot waitin’ for you,” I yelled.
    “Miles, it’s me, Charlie.”
    He came in the room and I lowered the Greener.  “Grab that chair, Charlie and help me set this hombre in it.  You’ll have to pick it up over his friend layin’ there.”
    We bent down to grab an arm, when Curt screamed.  “It’s broke, ohh, I think yuh done tore it off!”
    Ignoring him Charlie and I grabbed him and sat him down not paying attention to his screaming and groaning.
    “Don’t worry, your arm is still attached, but you’re sure enough right; it’s broke.”  It looked like his arm was broke just below his elbow.  I reached and took hold of his wrist and while he screamed again I lifted it up and put it against his chest.  “Keep it there, don’t move it!” I ordered.  Then I reached to relieve him of his pistol.
    By that time some others had arrived.  They must have come up from the saloon area.  I recognized a man, and hollered, “Fenster, go and fetch Doc Jones,” then I paused looking at the man on the floor.  “After that you might as well get Mr. Parker.”
    “Curt, you have a last name?” asked Charlie.
    “You want to answer the man, or should I tap that arm of yours,” I snapped lifting the Greener toward his arm.
    “Richardson.  Ohh, please, I need a doctor.”
    “One’s on the way.  Now, would you like to tell us why you were breaking into the bank?”
    “Jist tryin’ to be a good cit’zen.  Saw the window open an’ thought I should peek in to see if anyone had broke in.”
    “Now, Curt,” I said with disappointment, and then touched his arm with the Greener.  I didn’t push, but he let out a roar that I was feared might wake up his pardner laying there.
    “Don’t touch me, please…I’ll tell yuh.  There’s a secret hidin’ place someone in this room with gold.  Lon and I were sent to fetch it.”
    “And the person holdin’ the horses, what is his name?”
    “Huh?” and then he saw me move the shotgun.  “Don’t know fer sure.  Jist met the guy; I think someone called him Merker.”