Tuesday, 22 March 2011


After the sun had sweated off the morning dew and shadows began to draw back their claws, Sheriff Clay stopped to release the canteen from its hold on the saddle and took a spill of mountain water to ease the parch. He'd been chasing the fugitive bankers across state lines a score and single; now closing in on the thin end of a month. Since the trickle of defaults had turned to deluge, they found the money changers had been undercutting prime rates on ranch land, selling to any old hand, and then passing the deeds onto each other at premium. The house of cards on this particular poker game eventually collapsed and they were caught with their Johns down, well, not exact caught, in the intervening shock of exposure, they had made good their escape plans.

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