Gunsmoke Rides the Stagecoach Trail

As Coats trail, in these early days of the West, common way to travel is by stage coat. It's generally a long, hot trip with no excitement unless a hold-up man decides to stop the stage and lighten things up by robin the storm box in the passengers.

Well in our story today, driver Corrigan, the ridge city-bound stage, has just looked down the barrel of a sick-skinned as the stage was relieved of the mind-payroll. When the gunman departed, Corrigan whipped up his horses and raced the remaining two miles into Red City.

Go here, critters! Well, get the sheriff quick to say he's been held up. That and my back took the whole darn payroll. How many of them? Just one of them. Give me, he took the mines in.

If we read, send him it to vomit. What? Corrigan, what's that? Held up. I got held up. I'm free with a hank as you've over its face and the black hat horse didn't see none.

Only thing I noticed was that gun barrel. Look like a still pipe to me. Good night, how are you? Look. He's got your side, Bert. Black hat, and I noticed when he turned sideways, had red hair hanging out from under his hat.

Red hair, eh? Yeah, that fella. Look at that. Yes, you're pretty. Ah, near the bar, Barney. I'm thinking the same thing. Well, let's go get him, huh? Yeah, I'm worried that I'm moving with the payroll.

Yeah, he's got a lot of explaining to do. Yeah, how about you, Sherry? We don't need to, Sherry. It's our money, innit? Well, that's right. Seems like a lower sentence, been in on the nester.