Cedar Point Bank, ain’t that right fellas?”
The men that managed to pry their attention away from the ladies gave a hearty cheer. The ones who couldn’t, followed along with a dull roar of enthusiasm.
“The problem with that, though,” said Ulric, “And you’re not pouring any drinks yet…” The barkeep reached for an empty glass and slid it under a tap. He began pouring a single drink, and Ulric continued talking.
“The problem with the money is that we had to stash it all as soon as we pinched it, so none of that money is here, per se.”
“I don’t serve folks who can’t pay,” the bartender said. As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. The women and the pianist held their breath, as did the bartender.
“Is that so?” said Ulric, a mix of puzzled disappointment on his face. “I understand, you’re only enforcing proper procedure. It makes a lot of sense.”
Everyone not affiliated with Ulric’s gang breathed a sigh of relief.
“But that does pose a problem for us,” Ulric went on, “as we’ve been riding for so long with so little whiskey to drink, and now just as we are lucky enough to happen upon your lovely establishment, we no longer possess the necessary form of payment to acquire the goods you sell!”
Ulric flashed a confident smile towards his gang. The boys all grinned back, not looking the least-bit troubled by the bartender’s insistence on payment.
“Well, I guess if we can’t pay for your goods and services, we might as well leave.”
The pianist turned slightly again to see what would happen next.
Ulric hopped down off the bar. He walked back toward the entrance, where he was surrounded by his men again, all still grinning and looking not the least-bit phased by this turn of events.
“I guess we’ll just be moving along then,” the leader said. He turned to go, but acted as if something caught his eye. Ulric stopped next to the door, where a large board was nailed to the wall. Pinned on the board were numerous scraps of paper: newspaper clippings about recent local events, a letter from the sheriff of Granger declaring the town “protected” from outlaws, as well as several wanted posters.
Ulric’s eyes landed on one specific wanted poster, featuring a somewhat accurate (though Ulric felt the artist took some liberties with his hair) portrayal of himself. The easiest words to read on the poster, because they were written the largest, were “WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.”
“Well now looky here, ” Ulric called to his gang, feigning surprise. “Looks like they have heard of us! Ain’t you ever seen a more handsome devil, huh folks?”
Ulric reached out and tugged the wanted poster off the board on the wall. He held it up beside his face and turned to his gang.
“And they came so close to capturing my devilish nature!” he said. The boys all laughed. The bartender started to sweat. The women were more confused than usual. Even the pianist wasn’t sure what to do, his hands had already stopped playing. Every time he fingered a new key to start up again, he’d catch a dangerous glance from one of the gang members.
Ulric stared long and hard at that wanted poster of himself. When tensions were at their highest, he turned to face the barkeep again. “It’s a damn fine collector’s item, that’s for sure. I’d ask if I could keep it, if I didn’t already have a copy stashed away somewhere. And they’re handing over $2000 to whoever brings me in! Shoot, for cash like that, I’m tempted to turn myself in!”
Again, his boys laughed. The pianist was starting to think the gang would laugh at anything their leader said or did.
“Well, I suppose if you won’t be serving us for free, we’ll just have to move on,” said Ulric. “I respect your level of commitment, even in the face of a known armed outlaw. You do know we just robbed the Cedar Point Bank, right? I think I mentioned it earlier.”
The bartender nodded, a blank expression on
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