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This is an excerpt from my novel, "Immaculate White Smoke."
Current mood:  creative
Category: Writing and Poetry
Be careful. This story will take some twists later on and end up anywhere but where you thought it would go.
(Robbery of the Tradesman County Bank)
It was a windy day in the old west about a hundred years ago as Tom Drake went about the duties of closing up the small western town's only bank. The Tradesman County Bank, where everyone within twenty-five miles did their banking, closed at four in the afternoon. Hours of watching and waiting had brought one cagey outlaw to the point he was on this day. Arty had spent many days casing the joint for the best way and best time to rob the bank. Robbery and stealing was what Arty did best. The fact is that was about all Arty done, besides wine, women and song. Actually he drank stronger stuff than wine and couldn't sing in tune at all. In truth the reason Arty had knocked off so many banks was to finance his naughty habits.
He hadn't robbed a bank for maybe six months. The money he had taken from the earlier robbery was pretty well used up. That's why he was outside this bank on this particular day.
Arty couldn't control his spending habits. He would flaunt his money when he had it but refused to work so robbing banks was his source of financing the many bad habits he was cursed with and keeping his girl happy.
There wasn't another soul at the bank at the moment except Drake and as he went to close the door the wiry, dark haired character with a bandanna over his face burst in waving a forty-five in one hand and carrying two saddle bags in the other.
"O.K. man," he said,"fill'em up. Don't try anything funny and I just might let ya live." Drake didn't see much of the man's face but he swore he knew those brown eyes which stared daggers at him now. Drake didn't try to be a hero. The banker simply took the bags and filled them with about twenty thousand dollars in twenty's, fifty's and hundred-dollar bills as instructed. Twenty Thousand dollars at that time was a pretty fair amount of money. A couple of people could live well off it for a long time. Arty and his girl would live to well off it for a much shorter period of time.
"Now lay down on your belly and put your hands behind your back," the robber demanded.
When he left with the money Drake was lying on the floor with his hands tied behind him and a gag in his mouth. He knew it would only be a matter of a half-hour or so before the sheriff dropped by. If Drake didn't check in with the sheriff at his office after closing the bank the sheriff always came looking. This was a piece of information that Arty had not taken into account. Drake lay there trying to remember where he had seen those brown eyes.
At that same moment, the wind blew strong from the southwest as a figure huddled behind an old shed at the edge of town where there was a perfect view of the beautiful red glow of the sunset. She wasn't looking at the sun, though. She looked up from the book she was reading to see if anyone was coming but saw nobody. ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Andorra had been Artys' main squeeze for about twenty years. Twenty years ago at the age of fifteen, she had found it was an exciting life full of romance and intrigue but now at the age of thirty-five, it was becoming wearisome to her.
She treasured the fact that she had spent many a night in his arms. Right now, though, she found herself waiting for him again and worrying. At last she saw him coming across the road. He ran behind the saloon and livery stable. As he came up behind her she spoke without even taking her eyes from the book she was reading.
"Did you get it?" she asked as he crept around the corner to join her. She knew full well that he had. Arty thought he heard a bit of sarcasm or maybe it was boredom in her voice. He thought the book she was reading was the source of that boredom.
"Yeah, I got it. Now let's get outta here." Artys' eyes were riveted to the sheriff's office as he spoke.
"You never did tell me how you plan to make your big escape." Andorra prompted. Arty raised his hand as if he would hit her but she didn't even flinch. He had never hit her. He never would. He loved her and she knew that. That was about the only thing about him that she did know for sure. Everything else about the unwashed character remained to be a slight mystery to her. That may be the reason why she stayed with him all those years. She was just beginning to wonder why she could be so captured by the tender touch of his hands. She really should have been repulsed. They were almost always unwashed and callused but when he caressed her it made her shiver with delight.
"Well? What's your plan? Come on Arty, I know you. You don't rob a bank unless you know how you can get away," she complained.
Andorra had already watched Arty work fifty or sixty banks. Afterwards they would move on to a place where nobody knew them and settle down for a while.
This started as a way to get money to build a ranch of their own but it soon became evident to Andorra that Arty couldn't stop drinking and gambling. They would soon be broke again and have to knock off another bank.
She wondered what they would do when they finally ran out of new territories to move to but it never occurred to her that Arty would ever get caught, leaving her sad and alone while he was locked up in a jail somewhere.
That's probably why the hazard never seemed to bother her. She and Arty had traveled the west and as it stretched further so did they. She was sure there were girls who would have given their right foot to see as much of the country as she did. She always had everything she wanted or needed and she admired the way Arty could handle himself in a fight. Moreover, nobody ever bothered her because Arty would saw his toes off. Right now, though she stared into his brown eyes, trying to patiently await an answer. Her self-control was wearing thin.
She was getting more than a little nervous. He decided to tease her and at this moment she didn't appreciate it. His eyes dropped to the book she was reading.
"Ya still readin' that book about ghosts?" he taunted. Arty couldn't read but he saw the picture on the front of the book and Andorra had told him about it earlier.
"One of these days one of them is gonna jump right out of the book and scare ya," he added.
"Come on, Arty. Times a wastin'." she prompted in exasperation. Arty had that wild look about him. Those dark brown eyes matched his hair and straggly beard which was beginning to show hints of gray. Just enough to make him look all the more untamed. He had dirt under his finger nails but somehow Andorra never minded it or the fact that Arty rarely took a bath. He still could make her shiver with delight and that always moved her heart to love him more.
Right now, though she was running out of patience. She wanted an answer but he wanted to play.
"Boo," he said to her softly. "Ya can run but ya can't hide from me. I'm gonna spook ya right out of your skin."
"Come on Arty, How do we get away?" She asked staring with perplexity. But his answer was only to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. Nobody would have believed her if she had told them how tender and gentle his kiss could be and she wasn't one to tell.
"Oh God," she thought, "They're going to find us here with two saddle bags full of bank money laying on the ground while we're kissing one another." She wanted to say no. But he wanted what he wanted and he knew how to make her say yes. His hands knew the right places to touch and at times like this he was so gentle that Andorra found her body wanting what he wanted. She would simply have to tell her mind to relax and let her animal desires rule.
"Well, if they catch us here like this that will really wow them." She said in between kisses. Her hand caressed the back of his neck, running down his back, pulling him even closer to her.
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