Post by Oswalt on Oct 2, 2014 22:14:54 GMT -5
Oswalt crept along the southern wall of the fort he and the other four Marshals assembled were planning to topple. They'd been called by a telegram sent to nineteen Marshals in the states surrounding Nebraska. Thirteen had responded, and they were the only ones who'd shown up. A sixth had tried to come, but had been killed by bandits on his way. Oswalt was going to have to look into that after his current job was over. He held his double barreled shotgun, but had already pinned his coat's right side up to give him unimpaired movement in grabbing his revolver. He moved into position beside an indention in the wall, and waited for the signal.
The older Marshall breathed in a deep sigh. He was the only Marshall here who'd lived a life like the men in the fort. They weren't the most specific definition of outlaws. Most of them were just gunslingers whose battles had been more morally ambiguous. The Marshals didn't stand much of a chance, they were almost office clerks to the letter, having taken the job to have a better platform when they ran for governor in a few years. Oswalt doubted he could save all of them.
The older Marshall breathed in a deep sigh. He was the only Marshall here who'd lived a life like the men in the fort. They weren't the most specific definition of outlaws. Most of them were just gunslingers whose battles had been more morally ambiguous. The Marshals didn't stand much of a chance, they were almost office clerks to the letter, having taken the job to have a better platform when they ran for governor in a few years. Oswalt doubted he could save all of them.