#130b
Wyatt went to the barn to saddle his horse. He needed to check in at his office/house and find out what had been happening around the rest of his county. Leading Joe up to the porch, Wyatt stretched to knock on the porch support, bringing Mark to the door.
"I have to check in, I'll be back Friday and we can head North to the meeting." and he swung into the saddle. "Thanks for the hospitality, I appreciate the chance to have downtime and rest."
"Come back anytime," Mark responded, "you know where to find us."
"I do, give Ms. Clora my thanks for the good meals," and Wyatt touched his hat and rode out toward the road.
Abby didn't see who the guests were in the dining room, Carole had brought the orders back, and took the pitcher of water to fill the diners glasses. Working as rapidly as possible, so the guests didn't have to wait long, Abby was about to plate the first of the meals, when the shots rang out.
Ducking behind the kitchen door, Abby drew her pistol and crouched in silence, trying to hear what was going on with all screaming and commotion.
Finally a male voice over rode the chaos, shouting for everyone to get on the floor. Carole, gripped the nearest table and attempted to bend down to get on the floor. Completely forgetting that he was under the muzzle of a gun, Al rushed to her side in an attempt to help his wife of many years; and they both were shot, ending their lives.
The two bodies hit the floor, creating fresh screaming from the rest of the customers. The male voice was screaming orders, and the hysteria that was happening had his attention fixed on the people at the window table.
Abby moved as silently as possible, scooting across the closed doorway to the opposite side, and eased the door open to study the tumultuous scene in the dining room.
During a bout of fresh screaming, Abby clicked the safety off and waited to get a clear shot at the small ferret faced man waving a huge Glock that he barely had under control.
All the time she was waiting, Abby heard Marks instructions in her mind. Slowing her breathing, and keeping her peripheral vision moving in a deliberate sweep for additional shooters, she listened to the man demand money and someone to open the cash register.
"You shot the owners," one of the men yelled and got shot at for all his trouble. When the shooter had his attention on the trembling man, Abby let her breath out halfway and took a head shot.
The shooter dropped in a splatter of blood and tissue. His finger on the trigger, spasmed and was strong enough to pull the trigger. The shot went wild, breaking the window and narrowly missing Wyatt that was hurrying up the road to investigate the shooting.
Abby remained in the kitchen, pocketing her pistol and staying quiet, Through the kitchen door crack, she saw Wyatt bursting in the front door with his weapon drawn.
"This is the Sheriff, put your guns on the floor," he hollered and the diners all dropped back on the floor. "Who's the robber? the dead guy on the floor?" he questioned in haste.
"Abby, Abby, are you alright?"
"I'm Ok," Abby yelled, "but I'm not sure there is only one robber."
"Did you, um…. take the robber out?"
"Yes," Abby's voice floated out into the dining room. "I...…………..I'm gonna be sick." and there was the unpleasant sounds of retching.
Wyatt didn't make it home; the investigation took all afternoon and the traumatized customers were all given free food and rooms at the Inn for the night.
It felt like it was late at night, as Abby and Wyatt sat at a table with hot drinks. Abby rotated her head, feeling her bones pop and crackle. "This has been a terrible day, I can't imagine any worse. I'm so thankful you were happening by. Did you spend the darkness with the Linderman's?"
It wasn't much of a stretch for Wyatt to figure out that Abby was obliquely asking about the elusive Jerry, and he hated to disappoint her with the truth.