Harry the Mountain Man – Part Two
THE TIME I ROBBED A BANK
I must’ve been just about 25 at the time, WHOO that was a long time ago. Now, just about that time, I had fallen in with a group o’ fellows who fancied themselves real bandit types. Before ye go judgin’ me all harsh like, I didn’t know these fellows were so heartless as they truly were. A mountain man ‘s got about the biggest heart ye ever saw, anyone’ll tell ye so. Anyhow, I was just after a little adventure, and maybe a bit ‘o tail on the side, if ye want to know the truth, as I bet ye do. Well, we had been mostly hangin’ ‘round bars ‘n such, talkin’ big, but never gettin’ in any real trouble, mind ye. But this one day, ol’ Bullethead Jones, who thought himself the leader o’ ‘r little gang, proposed somethin’ along the lines o’ a holdup.
“Now now boys, settle down now, settle down. We been havin’ a real fancy time ‘ere, we have, but ‘r funds ‘r ‘bout depleted, ‘nd we’re in need o’ a job, if ye know what I mean. I have a little proposition to make, if y’all ‘ll hear me out now.”
“How’s it now, ol’ Bullethead Jones?”, I asked, all inquirin’ like.
“Yeah, what’s all this ‘bout now, ol’ Bullethead?”, asked Lickin’ Pete, who was about the ugliest fella I ever laid me eyes on, but who could lick just ‘bout any man in town in a fight, meself excluded.
“Well, I been plannin’ this holdup, ya see. Ya know that there bank down on Main Street? I reckon we could rob the place fer all it’s worth. I happen to know fer a fact that ol’ Willy the police officer done up and died last week, due to his old age, ya see. There ain’t no trouble ‘round these parts anyhow, we’d be unexpected, ya see.”
Boy, we thought that there was a fan-tast-ic idea indeed. So off we went, right then and there, to rob the bank. Well, the bank had already closed fer the night, ye see, so we all waited ‘round back in the bar instead, continuin’ plannin’ and such.
As dawn came ‘round, and places began to open shop and such, we set off ‘gain to rob the bank dry. We didn’t have no guns er nuthin’, but we were the baddest lookin’ men ye ever saw just about then, and a bit drunk too. I believe there were just ‘bout six o’ us in the gang right then, seeing to how we hadn’t been able to wake Lickin’ Pete up, he was so sound asleep at the bar. I’ll give him that- he could drink a barrel o’ whiskey a night, he could, but he’d be out cold fer a day o’ two after.
Anyhow, we walked right in to that there bank yonder down on Main Street, and ol’ Bullethead Jones demanded the all the cash there in the bank coff’rs. Now, before I go off tellin’ those next events, I feel I should give the story behind ol’ Bullethead Jones’ nickname, so ye can start to get ‘n idea ‘bout him ‘n his ways. When ol’ Bullethead was a kid, he got inta a bit o’ a pickle with the neighbor boy, I don’t got a clue about what, but anyhow they ended up havin’ a shoot-off o’ sorts through ther windows. Ol’ Bullethead shot that neighb’r boy right square in the face, but he himself landed a nicked skull, he did. From then on every boy referr’d to him as ol’ Bullethead, ‘cause suppos’dly he still got that bullet lodged in there real good. This reputashun was o’ the strongest variety, ‘n ol’ Bullethead was prac-tic-ally a criminal from then on, an ev’ryone ‘spected him fer it.
Anyhow, ol’ Bullethead Jones demanded that there money from the bank tell’r, but he wouldn’t give it up, not fer his life. ‘Bout then, all the oth’r tellers came on out, and we had ‘rselves a good ol’ match o’ fisticuffs, us versus the bank boys.
There were six o’ them and six o’ us, ‘n golly, it was about the most equal fight I could have imagined meself, even if I were given a day er two to think about it. They were a notch and above what ye would think the strength o’ a bank-tell would ‘a been, and made a good challenge fer the likes o’ us, tough as we were.
We each picked a man to get fer, and digged fer him good. Me, I jumped o’er the counter towards me mark, in a lunge fer him. He dodged me well, everhow, and we were both up and pullin’ punches within’ quick seconds. He made himself a quick grab fer me hand, and came fer me face with his other, in a fast jab. I ain’t ne’er one to comply to another man’s advances, so meself, I broke free o’ his hold and returned the toss. That bloodied his nose, did it ever! So shocked was he, he stood there a quick second stuck in his tracks. I put him on his back foot after that, with two er three more throws in his general direction, more spec-ific-ally towards his eyes. That left ‘em both black and blue, I’ll tell ye that much. I grabbed hold o’ his fingers after that, I did, and bent ‘em back, straight off his hand I pulled ‘em! I got at least a couple then, and a couple more after that. Boy, he looked a bloody mess then, he did. He still looked a fierce one though, in his eyes, so I spit in ‘em, and slapped him silly a bit too.
Right then and there, I shouted, loud like, as to confuse the man and give me gang the momentum, as it were. I gave him the finish with a strong knee to his man-meat, and a hard elbow to his temple. He was out cold as the Green Mountains after that one, so I let him be right then and there. I looked back to me boys, and saw ‘em all up and the tellers all down crumpled to the floorboards. We made fast with the loot after that, and boy, how we ran, sacks o’ cash in ‘r hands!
My taste fer fun was set after that bout, but the boys had other plans, I tell ye. Well, I split with them after that, I did indeed. I ain’t a bad man, and no one will tell ye otherwise, if I can help it. Anyhow, that was the story o’ how I robbed a bank. Not too many men can say they done that, they can’t.
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more by STAN MACEL
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