The Robbery of Reidsville Bank- Part Uno

The Robbery of Reidsville Bank
By sjd_write

Jon walked on the dirt road nonchalantly, his thumbs tucked in his pockets. His adjusted his wide-brimmed cowboy hat so it would deflect the sun from his already-hot face. He took his fake ID from his pocket, along with the counterfeit checkbook. White then checked his watch, made sure he had his gun and knife in his looked up and stepped inside the bank.
Jon White had been a criminal since his teenage years. He often stole from traveling carriages, taking whatever he needed, whether it be food, money, or clothing. You name it, White would be willing to steal it if he needed it. He cared about no one, and quite frankly, no one cared about him.
Except for the Texas state sheriff. Oh, he cared about White a whole lot. So much, in fact, that he wanted to have White in his own custody. Preferably behind bars, but on the ground, his hands behind his back would be just as good.
This was Jon’s first big robbery. He was nervous, yes, but couldn't let nerves get the best of him. If this robbery was successful, he would have more than enough money to escape the sheriff and move to Mexico. His life depended on this.
Jon walked up to the teller. The teller, who had a giant brown handlebar mustache and thick-rimmed glasses, smiled and said, “Hi, welcome to Reidsville Bank. How may I help you?”
Jon smiled back and said, “Hi, I’d like to take a deposit out of my account.” He took the checkbook out of his pocket and slid it across the desk.
The teller took the checkbook and asked, “Do you have any ID, sir?”
Jon took his fake ID out. It stated that he was Mr. Daniel Smith, of Austin, Texas. ‘Turns out that drunken bar fight was a good thing after all,’ he thought to himself as he handed the ID over.
“Right this way, sir,” the teller said. As the teller stood up, Jon noticed that his name tag read “Wilbur”.
Once the two men entered the vault and the teller closed the door, Jon drew his knife and held it against the teller’s throat. Fear went into the teller’s eyes as he realized what was going.
“Listen to me, Wilbur,” Jon sneered. His heart was pounding, but he didn’t let it show. “You are going to give me all the money in here.” Wilbur gulped and nodded. “Then you are going to let me go without any trouble. If I here the police behind me, I will come back and kill everyone in this bank, including you. Especially you. Do you understand me?” Wilbur nodded, his mustache bouncing up and down.
Jon stopped Wilbur’s head with his knife. Wilbur’s head immediately froze. “I’m going to need a verbal confirmation, Wilbur. Nodding is just wasting my time. And I don’t like it when somebody wastes my time.” Jon dug the knife just deep enough in Wilbur’s neck to draw blood. Wilbur whimpered. “Now,” Jon said. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Wilbur croaked.
“Good,” Jon said, smiling a hideous grin. He pushed Wilbur off him, disgusted. “Now get away from me.”
Within minutes, Jon had loaded all the money into one of the bank carriages. He climbed into the carriage, grabbed the reins of the horses, and yelled “Yah!” and with a shake of the reins, he was off.
As he exited town, Jon heard the wailing of sirens behind him. “Drat!” he yelled. He urged his horses to go faster. Jon looked back and saw that the police were closing in. “Damn it!” he shouted as he drew his gun. It looked like he was going to fight himself out of this one.


To be continued...