Cherokee warrants

It was pleasant riding by farms and homesteads that looked like normal  places.  Soon I came to a regular town with proper houses and stores,so I asked where the sherrif's office was at and got directed.  I pulled up there and got down and went in and introduced myself to the man who was there.  He was a full blooded Cherokee wearing the badge of office and asked me what I wanted.. I introduced myself and laid my warrants on his desk.  He perused them for a moment and said, "
well, you have got a row to hoe."  "Where do I start?", I asked. He replied, "in the saloon across the street, but be careful."  I nodded and left.

I left Piano and Honeybun tied at the sherifs ofice and headed out across the street saying,"come on Boot."

Stepping up on the boardwalk I noticed a couple of hardcases whom I ignored , and I went on in.  The bartender said."Hey, no dogs alowed,"  Which I ignored.  Looking around I saw a man playing solitaire at a table. I approached him and made myself known to him.  Very calmly he made it plain that he had no worrries about me.  At which point I commanded him to accompany me to the bank.

At that point one of his hoodlums pulled a  gun and Boot took him down .  I said"I repeat come on along."  We walked over to the bank.

At the bank I spoke to the manager, demanding his records of my companions business.  He objected until he saw my warrants and produced them.  As I had expected they showed that the properties of many native Cherokees had been taken illegally.  I put these under government seal.

My  companion raised a cry,"You can't do this,  I have friends in high places."   I said, "call your friends," and walked out.
\
Out on the street I saw some of the hardcases moving about.  I walked over to Piano and retieved my Schofield from its saddle holster and shoved it in my belt.

As I moved out I heard  the tinhorn cry, "Take him!", at which point things got busy.  The gunny nearest the saloon door pulled his belt gun and I shot him.  Suddenly whoosh-boom my hat flew off, and I knelt and fired at that shooter.  He slammed up against a wall and dropped. I looked carefully up and down the street, and seeing no more threats picked up my hat and dusted it off.  I put it on, holes and all.  Continuing on, I crossed over and entered the bar.  With Boot.  The bartender was backed up against his bottle display with both his hands in sight.  I looked around and saw nobody.

Out on the street I saw no one, so I went over to the sheriff's office He was still sitting there.  "I see you're still alive," he commented laconically. "Is there a good hatter in town?", I responded.  He looked at my hat and chuckled, "Either your're very lucky or very good.  Maybe both.  Yeah, there's a tailor who can patch your hat.  What have you got for me?"

I gave him the documents from the bank , and he said he'd see to it that the rightful owners were reimbursed.  "What about that tinhorn who called for my shooting?", I asked.  " I heard he saddled up and rode like the wind down the west road," the sheriff replied.  "You know he'll pop up again somewhere, and you'll have to do this all again don't you?"  I eyeballed him for a minute and said'"sufficient to the day."  He laughed and said, "It's been a pleasure meeting you.  Oh, by the way my people are already clearing up the mess out there.  Go get your hat fixed and ride on.  Godspeed.

s








a