Meanwhile—At the Gentlemen’s Club… “You might as well take-on McIntyre now.”
“Now?” Chris was surprised by Simpson’s comment—one doesn’t do these things in public. She slowly became aware of the clip-clop approach of horses and looked towards the sound; there they were, McIntyre and the Coopers riding slowly, deliberately towards the Gentlemen’s Club—she could almost hear the theme for Gary Cooper’s “High Noon” as they drew ever closer—grim looks upon their faces.
Next to her, Susie stiffened as she too noticed.
They exchanged glances; both wondering how they managed to get themselves in such a fix.
Season 8—Chapter 9—Outlook—Episode 7:
Continuing our story—at the Victoria Station RR Yard… “I am Eyota-Gaaji and I have chosen you, Yatkov, the name means in your tongue ‘Great Raven,’ you may call me Raven.”
“And what of my horse?”
“She is with Cujo (Kuckunniwi-Ogimaa), in a place where she may achieve sentience.”
“I am Hanska-Enapay (Tall-Brave) and I welcome you Raven, on behalf of the Eagle Point Clan of Queen Sakima (Josie),” Pal whinnied.
“You are lead by a mare?”
“Thank you, Raven,” Yatkov decided this lesson in sentient-horse-lore had to end, “We have a mission to complete; I fear our friends may have been sent to Outlook as a ruse to draw them away from here. We four are all we have available to respond.”
And with that, they departed, leaving Daisy, Pal and Boomer behind, “I think this Raven has much yet to learn about being sentient.”
“I think you’re correct, Pal,” Boomer grimaced, “And we three? We are about to experience complete boredom in this place.”
Boomer was wrong…
We now rejoin the standoff—outside the Gentlemen’s Club…where the face-off continued—neither side wanting the inevitable showdown. Five fast (and accurate) gun-handlers—who also happened to be friends facing one-another and Ma Simpson.
Simpson spoke, “You have your assignment; kill that marshal!”
“In case you’re not paying attention, Mrs. Simpson, that marshal is carrying an 8-guage sawed-off shotgun in a quick-release holster. When he draws and fires—he won’t miss and you too will die.”
They all turned to the sound of a rapidly approaching horse and rider. The rider reigned-in directly in front of the club, “I am Rene LaFarge of the North-West Mounted Police. There will be no gunfight here today.”
To be Continued…