It started with a crash and a bang – somebody firing shotguns. “Oh, no! It’s the Clinton Brothers – everybody hide.”
9gals! were staying in a converted barn at the end of a dirt road up a valley in the middle of nowhere in particular. The Clinton Brothers were much-feared out-laws. What to do?
There they were, the murderous Clinton Brothers, but Trace knew what to do. “Stay hidden everybody! I’ll sort it.”
Trace strode out to the middle of the yard. “What do you idiots want?”
This riled the three brothers, who each emptied both barrels into Trace.
“I asked you what you want. Did you hear me?”
One of the brothers started. “We just want money. Nobody wants to give us money. It’s not fair. We shoot ‘em, but they still don’t give us money, they just lie there.”
Second brother. “It’s not fair, we want the money. We’ve shot you, but you’re still not giving us the money.”
Trace. “’Spose I wrap you guys together with duct tape and take you downtown to the police...”
Third brother. “No, no, we just want the money.”
Trace ignored that and wrapped them together with duct tape and took them downtown to the police station on the back of a flat-bed truck.
The police station was empty. Trace kicked the Clinton Brother bundle off the truck and rolled it into the police station and taped it to a big table.
The police were eating coffee and drinking doughnuts in a café on the other side of town and didn’t believe Trace that the Clinton Brothers were tied up in the police station.
Everybody was happy (nearly everybody) – the Clinton Brothers were gone.
The local police were not happy (they got fired).
The Clinton Brothers were not happy (they had been lynched).