Sam Turley had only been asleep for a short time in a foul-smelling hotel room. Sounds of gunfire brought him out of bed. Not fully awake yet, but his instinct had already kicked-in, he grabbed the Colt from his holster.
Slowly edging toward the hotel window, he looked down into the dusty street. Rubbing his eyes to see better, he saw two men sharing a bottle of whiskey. The taller of the two was firing his pistol in the air.
Suddenly, the sheriff and his two deputies, with shotguns, approached the men. Ordering them to drop their weapons. The taller of the men wasn't moving fast enough for one deputy. He banged him hard across the head with his shot-gun, knocking him to the ground.
Slowly edging toward the hotel window, he looked down into the dusty street. Rubbing his eyes to see better, he saw two men sharing a bottle of whiskey. The taller of the two was firing his pistol in the air.
Suddenly, the sheriff and his two deputies, with shotguns, approached the men. Ordering them to drop their weapons. The taller of the men wasn't moving fast enough for one deputy. He banged him hard across the head with his shot-gun, knocking him to the ground.
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