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By Rob Vaux A tale of Deadlands Weird West

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Nate Hunter strode into the sheriff's office, the paper clutched in his hand.

"We've got 'em!" he called ecstatically, "we're finally going to nail those bastards."

Corky looked up from the desk where she sat, slapping Templeton's hand away from her thigh. "Warwick signed it?"

"Signed, sealed and delivered. All we have to do is enforce it." He strapped on his six-guns.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Nate?" Corky tried to sound calm.

"Yes, I am." His blue eyes gleamed. "For Sheriff Coleman and for everything else they've done to this town."

Templeton rose to his feet and grabbed his nearby scattergun. "Black Jack's at the Fat Chance with most of his gang. We take 'em, hoss, we gotta take 'em ugly."

"Then we take them ugly. Go get Hector and T.C. and tell them to bring their weapons."

"Hot damn!" Templeton grinned. "We're finally gonna land on those uppity punks."

They strode across the town square, their guns gleaming in the noonday sun. The seven of them spread out in a wide line as they stalked towards the Fat Chance Saloon; they didn't want any of the Black Jacks making a run for it. With a glare the eagles would envy, Nate noticed a lone form break from the saloon and move towards one of the accompanying buildings. That would be Eddie Bellows, Jackson's long range sniper. MacNeil said he could handle Bellows.

As if on cue, Black Jack strolled casually out the doors of the Fat Chance, his gang in tow. Most of them were a vicious looking lot, but Jack moved with a confidence - almost a nobility - that seemed out of place in Gomorra's dusty streets. He looked ready for Nate, and didn't even blink at the six gunmen backing the lawman up.

"Sheriff Hunter," he spoke smoothly. "How can we help you this fine afternoon?"

"You're under arrest, Jack, for the murder of J.P. Coleman."

Jackson sighed. "I suppose it won't make any difference to tell you I didn't do it."

"We have evidence Jackson, that places you at the murder site."

"Supplied by who?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

Black Jack stopped as steel replaced the calm in his voice. "You don't seriously think any evidence supplied by Sweetrock is valid."

"Why don’t you come with me and we'll let the judge decide?"

"And get knifed in my cell? You may play fair, Sheriff, but Howard Findley sure as hell doesn't."

The guns behind Hunter clicked as rounds were chambered. They were answered by another round of clicks from Black Jack's gang. Hunter held up his hand for silence.

"Come with me Jack. I'll make sure you're treated fairly."

Jack's unwavering gaze met his. "Let's cut the mincing, okay Hunter? I don't feel like being arrested today. My man Eddie is on the rooftop by now, and can take you down before you..."

A single pistol shot rang out in the air. A body fell from the nearby building. "It seems your man Eddie has run into a little problem, Jackson."

Jackson's lip curled in anger and his fingers tickled his guns. "You sonsa…"

"Easy or hard, Jackie, your choice."

The moment froze in a heartbeat as the two groups looked to their leaders. Even the dust seemed reluctant to move, afraid to break the tension.

With a flash, Black Jack reached for his guns...

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