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 Gonna Shoot Me a Sheriff by Maz McCoy

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Posts : 413
Join date : 2013-10-13

PostGonna Shoot Me a Sheriff by Maz McCoy

Starring Pete Duel and Ben Murphy

Dana Elcar as the Doctor

Andy Devine as the Sheriff

Randolph Mantooth as the Deputy Sheriff

The doctor watched as the dark-haired young man studied his cards. He had won a considerable amount of money from the other players at the table, money that was piled up in front of him. Two brown eyes focused on the cards in his dexterous hands.

“Well?” the dealer asked. The dark-haired man said nothing, his eyes still on his cards. “Mr. Smith?” The young man didn’t reply. “Are you all right, Mr. Smith?” the doctor placed a hand on Heyes' arm, startling him.

“What?” Heyes looked at the faces staring at him.

“We’re waiting for you,” Doctor Harrison explained.

“For me?”

“It’s your turn,” the dealer told him. “You playing? D’you want any cards?”

Heyes looked back at his cards, thought for a moment, then placed them face down on the table.

“Deal me out, fellas.” He pushed his chair back. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Are you all right?” Doctor Harrison watched with professional curiosity as Heyes pocketed his money.

“I’m fine.”

Heyes stood up, then swayed and grabbed an arm of the chair. The doctor was swiftly at his side.

“Let me help you,” he offered.

“I don’t feel so good, everything’s moving,” Heyes admitted as they headed towards the bat wing doors. He clutched one hand to his stomach, and bent over with an agonized expression on his face. “That bartender better have the biggest spittoon in the west,” he groaned.

“Something you ate perhaps? Or drank?”

“I’ve had no more than a couple of whiskeys, doc.”

The cold, fresh, night air hit Heyes and he took a deep breath as they stepped onto the boardwalk. He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. He couldn’t seem to focus.

“Where have you been the last few days?” the doctor asked as he steered Heyes towards a seat.

“I rode in from Spencer yesterday.”


Heyes looked up at the change of tone in the medic’s voice.

“Yeah, why?”

“I heard they’d had some sickness there.”

“Didn’t notice any.”

“Still we’d better get you checked out. Do you think you can walk? I’d like to get you to my office. It’s just over there.” He pointed across the street.

“I just need some rest. I’m sure I’ll be okay doc. I’ll sit here a while.”

“Better safe than sorry, Mr. Smith. Come on.” He held out a hand and helped Heyes stand. “It’s not that far.”

The doctor led Heyes across the street to his office. He leaned against the wall as Doctor Harrison unlocked the door. Heyes stumbled as he entered the building. Nothing would keep still, and he repeatedly closed his eyes. By the time the doctor had him lie down on a bed in a back room, he was hardly able to stand.

“Rest here, Mr. Smith. I’ll get my things.”

“My friend. I need to let my friend know…where I…where I am.” Heyes’ eyes closed, his breathing deep. “Can you…let him…know?” The doctor watched Heyes’ chest slowly rise and fall.


Kid Curry looked casually around the room as he walked towards the bar. There was no sign of Heyes at any of the poker tables, although the hotel receptionist had informed him that Mr. Smith would be there.

He ordered a whiskey from the bartender and then leaned back against the bar as he surveyed the room.

“I’m lookin’ for a friend of mine,” he told the bartender. “Name of Joshua Smith. My height, brown hair, black hat with silver on the band. The desk clerk at the hotel said he thought he was over here.”

“He was; winning good, too,” the man told him, as he picked up the whiskey bottle to pour the blond man another drink. “Left with Doc a couple of hours ago.”

“The doctor?”

“Yeah. I gotta say your friend wasn’t looking too good.” Curry looked concerned.

“Where’s the doctor’s?”

The bartender gave him directions and Curry was soon striding across the street towards the office of Doctor Albert Harrison. It was early evening and there was a light burning inside. The door was locked and seeing no one about, Curry rapped on the window. A moment later, he watched as a small, balding man hurried from a back room.

“I’m with a patient,” the doctor announced, when he opened the door.

“I’m lookin’ for my friend. The bartender at the saloon told me he left with the doctor.”

The doctor took another, longer, look at the blond man.

“You must be Thaddeus Jones.”

“Yes, are you the doc?”

“I’m Doctor Harrison.” The small man smiled. “I’m very glad to see you, Mr. Jones, very glad. You’d better come in.” Curry entered the room, looking around at the bottles and jars lined up on a shelf, as he politely removed his hat. “Your friend is through there.” Doctor Harrison pointed to the back room and Curry headed towards it.

“Is he all right? They didn’t say what was wrong.” Curry couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. He turned to look at the doctor. “Doc?”

“We’ll talk when you’ve seen him.”

Curry entered the room. A single lamp burned on a bedside table. Heyes lay on a bed; he appeared to be sleeping but then he began to mutter incomprehensibly. Curry stepped closer. Shadows danced across his partner’s face. Heyes opened his eyes, hearing someone approach. He looked up at Curry but was unable to focus on his friend.

“Hey partner, how you doin’?” Curry said, gently.

“Thadde…you? Ki..?” Heyes closed his eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” Curry asked, watching as Heyes fought to regain consciousness.

“Nothing that can’t be cured, Mr. Curry.” Curry froze at the sound of his name and there was an ominous click. Curry turned slowly, looking back over his shoulder, to find the doctor standing in the doorway, a Colt .45 pointed directly at him.

“What’s going on doc?”

“Unbuckle your gun belt and drop it on the floor, please.”

“I don’t know who you think I am but…”

“I know exactly who you are. You’re Kid Curry and he’s Hannibal Heyes.” He waved the gun in Heyes’ direction. “Your gun belt, please.”

“You’re makin’ a mistake doc. I’m Thaddeus…”

“Jones,” the doctor finished for him. “And he’s Joshua Smith and you’re both law abiding men, just passing through town. Please save me the lies. If you waste my time your friend will die,” the doctor said coldly. “Your gun belt.” Reaching down Curry untied the string from around his thigh, and then unbuckled the belt. All the time his eyes fixed on the doctor and the gun in his hand, watching for any opportunity to overpower him. When he had removed the gun belt, he held it in one hand.

“Drop it on the floor.”

Curry complied.

“Now kick it under the bed.”

Curry did as he was asked and the gun belt slid into the darkness.

“Why are you so sure we’re Curry and Heyes?”

“Because I was on a train you robbed and I got a very good look at your faces.”

“I never knew the railroad carried so many people,” Curry muttered.




Curry cast a quick glance at his friend.

“So what’s wrong with my partner?”

“Nothing at all.”

“He ain’t normally like that.”

“I know.”

Realisation hit Curry.

“What did you do to him?”

The doctor smiled.

“Ki…I don’t f…don’t fe…s’good.”

“What did you do?” Curry asked again.

“He’s drugged, that’s all.”

“With what?”

“Chloral hydrate, if that means anything to you?” He could see that it didn’t. “It’s a sedative; works on the central nervous system. I slipped some into the drink I bought him earlier.”

“What’ll it do to him?” Curry asked.

“What you see now. In the right dose, it’ll just knock him out for a while. He may seem vague, as you can see but, when he wakes up, he’ll have little more than a bad headache and nausea.”

Curry looked at his friend with concern. Heyes’ lips moved but there was no sound and his eyes were now closed, his breathing heavy.

“Of course if I was to administer the wrong dose…” Curry’s eyes shot back to the doctor. “Then he’d be dead before you could do anything about it.”

Curry looked up abruptly at the doctor’s cold, matter-of-fact attitude. This small balding man would not ordinarily merit a second glance from anyone who passed him on the street. He looked meek and mild mannered. Who would have thought the kindly town doctor was a calculating killer?

“I didn’t think doctors were supposed to kill their patients.”

“Not usually, but this is different.”

“So are you turning us in?”

“Oh no, Mr. Curry. When this is all over you will both be free to go.”

“When what is all over?”

“When you’ve done what I need you to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re going to kill the sheriff.”

Wind rattled the windows as Curry and Doctor Harrison faced each other.

“You must be crazy. Why should I kill a man I don’t even know?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill your friend.”

“How do I know you won’t do that anyway, or haven’t already done it with whatever it is you gave him?"

“You don’t, but at the same time, I’m not sure how safe it is to keep Mr. Heyes sedated for so long. So even as you keep me talking, you could be helping to kill him yourself.”

Curry’s eyes fixed angrily on the gun in the doctor’s hand.

“Please don’t try anything. I can assure you I know how to use this and I’m betting you don’t know how to revive your friend.” He had called Curry’s bluff and the blond man knew it. Doctor Harrison moved to a small cabinet, opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.”

He threw them at Curry, who caught them in one hand.

“Where’d you get these?”

“From my friend the sheriff. Put them on!”

Curry hesitated.

“Put them on!”

Curry placed one of the handcuffs around his left wrist.

“Close it.”

Again, Curry hesitated. The doctor pulled the hammer back on the gun.

“I know how to wound you, so that you’ll still be able to do what I want. Close it!”

There was a click as Curry did so.

“Now the other.”

Curry looked at the doctor.

“If you insist on wasting my time, I’ll increase the dose I give him!”

Curry put the other cuff around his right wrist and closed it.

“Good,” the doctor said with a smile. “Now we understand each other.”

“I’m not gonna be able to kill anyone with these on.”

“You don’t need to just yet. The sheriff is out of town; due back tomorrow.”

“You’re gonna keep him like that until then? I thought you said it’s not safe?” Curry asked, not bothering to hide his fear for his friend.

“I’m a doctor; I know what I’m doing.”

“Why don’t I find that reassuring?”

Doctor Harrison smiled.

“I hope I haven’t ruined your faith in my profession?” Curry didn’t reply. “I need to keep you out of sight until the time is right. Shall we?” He indicated the door.

“Where are you takin’ me?”

“Just keeping you out of harm’s way.”

With a final glance at Heyes, who was again trying to focus on the world around him, Curry walked out of the room. The doctor pointed in the direction he should go and Curry walked to a door in the far wall.

“Open it,” the doctor instructed. Curry did so, to reveal a flight of stairs leading down into the darkness of a cellar. A wave of the Colt told Curry he should start down the steps. The only light was from the room above. As he neared the bottom, he hit his head, hard, on a beam. Harrison heard the thud. “Oh, I should have warned you about that.” He didn’t sound too sincere.

Curry descended into the darkness with greater care, slowly, feeling the wall with his hand to guide himself. When he reached the bottom he found himself in a space no bigger than a packing case. It was just a deep cupboard or cold store.

“How long am I gonna be down here?” Curry looked back up the stairs at the doctor, silhouetted in the doorway.

“I told you the sheriff should be back tomorrow morning.”

“You gonna leave me here all night?”

“Don’t tell me Kid Curry’s afraid of the dark?”

Curry didn’t answer that.

“What have you got against the sheriff anyway?”

“He killed my wife.” Curry looked surprised. “I can see that you want to know more. There was a bank robbery here, two years ago. As they were getting away the sheriff and his deputies rode into town. There was a shoot out and the robbers fled back into the bank. My wife was in the bank at the time of the robbery. She and several other people were held hostage. The bank robbers made several demands but they promised to let the hostages go if their demands were met. The sheriff refused to do as they asked. I pleaded with him but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted on doing it his way.” He paused as he remembered. When Doctor Harrison had composed himself, he continued. “There was another shoot out and the robbers were killed, along with three hostages. My wife was one of them. If the sheriff had done as he was asked she would still be alive today.”

“I doubt that the sheriff…”

“YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM!” The venom in the doctor’s words took Curry aback. “Now you will do as I say or I swear I’ll let your partner die and then I’ll turn you in. If you call out, I’ll simply tell people I have captured Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes. Do you understand me, Mr. Curry?”

“Yeah, I understand you.”

“Good.” Without another word, the doctor closed the door and Curry listened to a key turning in the lock and then heard the doctor drag something across the floor. He stood in total darkness, letting his eyes adjust. Eventually he could see just a faint glimmer of light through the keyhole. Curry began to climb the stairs, but forgot about the low beam and once again cracked his head against it. For a minute the world spun. He sat down on the steps and waited for his head to stop hurting. When his headache was tolerable, he pulled himself to his feet, focused on the tiny pinpoint of light and started towards it.


“Woz zat…zat my fr...friend?” Heyes muttered as the doctor stood beside him. Brown eyes searched the room for Curry. “Thad...Thad…Ki…Ki woz here?”

“Yes, he was here. He’s very worried about you.” Doctor Harrison placed a finger on Heyes’ wrist taking his pulse. The young man’s eyes opened and closed. He tried desperately to look directly at the doctor but was having little success. “You need to rest, Mr. Smith, you’re very unwell. And drink some of this, it will help.” The doctor held out a small glass; he urged Heyes to drink some of the mixture it contained.


“It will help you rest. You need rest.” The doctor smiled, satisfied, as Heyes slowly drifted into a more restful sleep.


Kid Curry pressed his ear to the door and listened. He could hear someone moving about; the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor, as the doctor moved from one room to the next, and then the light went out. A door opened and closed. Curry listened. He heard nothing, except his own breathing. He waited, listening, but all remained still and quiet, so Curry began his escape attempt. He felt in the darkness for the door handle and turned it. Nothing happened. “So much for Plan A,” he muttered. In a well thought-out Plan B, he stood up and threw himself at the door.

“Ow! *$@#*!” he cried, and rubbed his shoulder. He collapsed onto the top step, missed that and landed with a painful thud on his behind on the third step down. “$@#*! D---n you, Plan B! And D---n you, you stupid door. And you, Heyes. I need you to think up a plan so I can get out and get you out of here before that doctor gets back and gives you anymore of that floral…stuff or whatever he called it.”

He got to his feet, returned to the door and pushed against it again. There was no movement, no give in the wood and presumably, there was something blocking the other side too. He shoved it with his shoulder, bracing himself this time for impact. When his shoulder proved unsuccessful, Curry raised his leg and swung at the door, landing the ball of his foot squarely next to the lock. Unfortunately his hands were cuffed firmly together and the laws of motion were not in his favor, they sent him backwards; he missed his footing and went tumbling down the stairs, hitting his head once more on the low beam and landing in a heap at the bottom.

There was a single groan and then nothing.


As dawn was breaking the next day, Doctor Harrison unlocked the door to his office. He gave a satisfied smile when he saw the cold store door closed and the heavy table still in front of it. He headed to the back room, unlocked the door and went inside.

Hannibal Heyes’ eyes opened as the doctor entered the room. He tried to focus on the man before him.

“Good morning, Mr. Smith. How do you feel?”

“I can’t…can’t seem to…fo…focus.”

“That’s one of the symptoms of the sickness, I’m sorry to say. Did you sleep well?”

“Woz goin’ on Doc? My fr…”

“Don’t over exert yourself, Mr. Smith. Everything is fine.”

“My friend…he”

“Yes, that was last night.”


“Clearly, you’re not as sedated as I hoped,” the doctor muttered to himself. He looked down at Heyes.

“I don’t know what you mean, young man. You’re very confused. Here take some more of your medicine.” He placed a glass to Heyes’ lips and watched as the dark-haired man drank. “Excellent.” He gave a satisfied smile as he placed the empty glass on the bedside table. The doctor headed for the door.

“Rest, Mr. Smith. It’ll all be over soon.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Heyes’ eyes opened. He turned, slowly, onto his side and spat a mouthful of liquid onto the floor.


The stagecoach pulled to a halt outside the hotel. Several people climbed out, tired from their long journey. The driver threw bags down from the roof. Friends greeted the travelers. Rapid conversations were held. Relatives were hugged. One weary soul headed for the hotel.

“Hey sheriff we’re here!” the driver called, when he realized one of his passengers had yet to alight. There was no reply. The driver thumped on the roof. “Sheriff!”


“We’re here.”

A brown-haired head appeared from a window.

“Oh, thanks, Carl.”

Sheriff Wilbur Langdon opened the door and climbed out of the stage. He looked up at the driver. The man threw a bag down and the sheriff caught it. The lawman waved goodbye and headed across the street to his office.

Unseen by the sheriff, a blind moved in the window of the doctor’s office. Doctor Harrison smiled.


Gun in hand, Doctor Harrison opened the door and peered into the darkness below. Kid Curry sat at the bottom of the stairs; his face was bruised. He hadn’t slept and dark circles beneath his eyes attested to the fact.

“Are you all right?” the doctor asked.

“What do you care?”

“Oh, you are vital to my plans, Mr. Curry. Your welfare is of the utmost concern to me.”

“Unlike my friend.”

“He is sleeping peacefully, like the proverbial baby. You need not worry about him.”

“I’ll make that decision for myself.”

“Suit yourself.” The balding man stood to one side. “Come out please.”

Steadying himself with his cuffed hands, Curry climbed to his feet and walked up the stairs, avoiding the low beam, this time. When he reached the final few he looked up at the doctor.

“I want to see my friend.”

“You’re in no position to make any demands.”

“Well if he ain’t alive, I got no reason to do anything for you.” Two intense blue eyes fixed on the medical man. The doctor returned his stare but he was not about to win a stand off with Kid Curry.

“Alright. You may see him, briefly.” He stood back as Curry climbed the final few steps. “The sheriff returned a few minutes ago. You will go over to the jail and kill him. I’ll be here with your friend. If I don’t hear a shot from the jail, I’ll inject Mr. Heyes with enough chemicals to kill him. Do you understand that, Mr. Curry?”

“I understand.”

“If you try anything foolish, I will destroy the antidote your friend needs.” Two ice-blue eyes stared at the doctor. “You know what you have to do?”


“Say it.”

Curry breathed out a heavy sigh.

“SAY IT!” the doctor glared at him.

“I’m gonna shoot me a sheriff.” Curry looked at Harrison. “Satisfied?”


“Now can I see my friend?”

“Of course.”


Heyes’ eyes were closed as Curry approached the bed.

“Heyes?” There was no point in using their aliases now. “Heyes?”

To Curry’s relief his friend opened his eyes. Curry smiled.


“How you doin’? You feelin’ better?” Curry gave no indication there was trouble.

“Don’t…do…it.” Heyes whispered. Startled, Curry looked at his friend’s eyes.

“You gettin’ enough rest?” Curry whispered, standing between Heyes and the doctor so the doctor couldn’t see Heyes’ face.


“I have to,” Curry mouthed.

“No!” Heyes shook his head.

“Time’s up, Mr. Curry. You have a sheriff to kill.” The doctor stepped further into the room, brandishing the gun for good measure.


Kid Curry didn’t look at his friend. He put his shoulders back, and walked with determination out of the room. Doctor Harrison smiled at Heyes.

“It’ll all be over soon, Mr. Heyes. Just don’t expect to see your friend again.”

He followed Curry to the door of his office. The blond man looked out of the window.

“I’m going to remove the handcuffs,” the doctor announced. “Remember, your friend needs that antidote, in the correct amount, or you could kill him. You need me.”

Without saying a word, Curry held his wrists out and the doctor unlocked the handcuffs. Curry removed them and threw them on the nearby desk. He rubbed his wrists.

“I need my gun,” he stated. “I can’t kill the sheriff without it.”

“I know.” The doctor opened the desk drawer and pulled out Curry’s gun belt. He held it out. Curry noticed the absence of bullets as he buckled it around his waist. “There is only one bullet in the gun. I hope you’re as good as they say you are.”

“And if there’s a deputy there?”

“You’ll just have to hope there isn’t.”

Curry didn’t reply. He tied the string around his thigh and placed his hand on his gun. The doctor tensed. Slowly, Curry withdrew his gun and opened the chamber to check the bullet was there. He returned the gun to the holster, then gave a final glance at the back room, before opening the main door.


Kid Curry stepped out onto the boardwalk, his expression grim. The wind blew a swirl of dust along the main street and a tangle of tumbleweed rolled by. He pulled his hat down to shield his eyes and then pulled on his gloves. Two blue eyes narrowed and focused on the sheriff’s office across the street. Curry inhaled. He paused and then stared directly at the sheriff’s office, his face grim but determined. His countenance displayed no fear. He took another deep breath, stepped down into the street and began to walk towards the jail.

Every step brought him closer to an act of murder. Curry looked at the name above the door, Sheriff Langdon.

“Never heard of you,” he muttered to himself. “So do I kill you or turn myself in?"

Curry was in the middle of the street now, almost half way there. Outwardly, he appeared perfectly calm and normal giving the impression that he was an ordinary cowboy walking on an ordinary day. No one detected anything unusual was going on in the mind of the handsome blond man.


Heyes pulled himself into a sitting position, then hauled himself to his feet using the bedpost for support. The room swayed; his stomach flipped and he retched but nothing came up. Heyes placed two hands on the bed and slowly eased himself towards the door.

At the end of the bed, he felt for the wall, reassured by its stability. The room was still moving as he made his way, hand-over-hand, along the wall to the door.


A pounding on the back door drew Doctor’s Harrison’s attention away from the window. He cast an angry glance at the door, willing the noise to stop but the pounding came again.

“Doc! Doc!” a young voice called.

“Damn it!” the doctor cursed. He cast another glance at Kid Curry and headed swiftly to the back door. Opening it, he found ten-year-old Jimmy Lundstrom standing there.

“Doc, you gotta come quick, my Pa’s been hurt!” the boy cried. Harrison was torn with what to do. “Doc, please!” Jimmy reached out and grabbed hold of the man’s sleeve, pulling him.

“Wait! What happened?” He paced back and forth, his gaze moving from Curry to the small boy. He hesitated indecisively.

“Pa was fixing the roof. He fell off! He fell on the axe. He’s bleedin’ bad. Come on, Doc!” Jimmy gave another tug on the doctor’s sleeve.

The doctor looked down at the boy, two blue eyes pleading with him to help.

“Let me get my bag.” Harrison ran back into the office. He took a moment to look out into the street and saw Curry still on his slow path to the sheriff’s. Turning, the doctor grabbed his bag and followed Jimmy back to his home.


As he reached for the door handle, Heyes heard footsteps nearing. He froze and listened. There was movement and then a door closed loudly. Silence followed.

Tentatively, Heyes opened the door and peered out. Nothing moved, including the room, which was a blessing. He staggered towards the front door, hitting his leg on a table and knocking over a few bottles in the process. He looked frantically around, but no one came running at the sound. When he reached the front door he opened it and squinted as the bright light hit his eyes. Through a blurry haze he could see Curry walking up the steps to the sheriff’s office.

“Kid!” he called but his voice was barely more than a whisper. “Kid!”


Kid Curry put his foot on the steps. One…two…three. He was on the boardwalk. He touched the butt of his gun, as if reassuring himself.

“Morning, Sheriff. I’m Kid Curry and Dr. Harrison wants me to kill you.” Curry let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe not.”


Hannibal Heyes stumbled out into the street.

“Kid!” he called again, but his voice was lost in the wind. He staggered along the boardwalk, grabbing hold of the railing and squinting as dust blew in his face. He stumbled down the steps, crashing to his knees. Grabbing hold of a hitching post he hauled himself up again and staggered on.

“Hey fella, you all right?” a man asked but Heyes could not reply. Nothing would stay still. The world was a blur of shapes, colors and sounds. The only thing Heyes could focus on was his partner’s back.


Curry placed his hand on the door handle. He took a deep breath.


“My friend,” Heyes muttered, raising a hand towards Curry.

The man looked to where he was pointing, just as Heyes collapsed.

“SOMEONE GET THE DOCTOR!” the man called. “Hey fella, this your friend? HEY, YOU AT THE JAIL!” Curry turned and saw a man leaning over someone lying on the ground. A woman ran from the general store to help.

“IS THIS YOUR FRIEND?” the man called again, stepping to one side as he did so. Curry looked at the man lying on his back and immediately recognized the clothes

“Heyes?” he whispered, and then set off at a run.

He pushed his way to the front of the small crowd that had begun to gather, then sank to his knees beside his friend.

“Someone’s gone for the doctor,” a woman told him.

“NO!” Curry yelled.

“He needs help,” she stated.

“Not from the doctor. Help me get him to the hotel.”

“I really don’t think…”

“WELL I DO!” The woman took at step back at the ferocity of Curry’s words. The young blond man bent down and looked at his friend. Two brown eyes opened. Curry smiled.

“Don’t…do it,” Heyes pleaded. “Gotta stop you.”

“It’s okay, partner. I didn’t do a thing.”

Hearing a commotion in the street, Sheriff Wilbur Langdon came out of his office, pushing his hat firmly on his head as he did so. He started across the street to where a man lay in the dirt.

At the same time, Doctor Harrison came rushing along the boardwalk from the direction of the Lundstrom house. The front of his shirt was covered with the blood of his most recent patient. He saw the sheriff in the street.

“NO!” he cried, causing the lawman to look in his direction. The doctor saw Kid Curry crouched beside someone. “I told you to kill him! I told you to kill him! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE KILLED HIM!”

Hearing the cries, faces in the crowd turned to see who it was. They were startled to see the town doctor heading towards them, blood on his shirt, his face red with anger.

“Doc, what the heck’s wrong?” the sheriff asked.

“YOU! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!” the doctor cried, pointing a finger at the sheriff. Curry got slowly to his feet and faced the doctor, watching to see what he would do. “You were supposed to kill him!” The man hissed, pointing a finger at Curry. The sheriff studied the young blond man with renewed interest.

Suddenly the doctor pulled a gun from his coat pocket. Curry’s hand went to his side. The doctor looked at Curry.

“Your friend is dead! And you’ve killed him!”

Curry met his gaze but showed no reaction.

“Doc, what are you doing?” the sheriff asked, gently. “Put that thing away.”

The doctor turned to face the sheriff.

“You should be dead.”

“What are you talking about?” Langdon asked.

“You killed my wife!”

“Doc…I?” but the sheriff suddenly realized what this was all about. Harrison raised the gun and aimed it at the sheriff, pulling back the hammer as he did so. “Now wait a minute, Doc.”

“You killed her. It was your fault!” The gun was wavering in his hand, making him appear even more dangerous.

“We need to talk about this.” The sheriff held out his hands, showing he held no weapon, doing his best not to appear threatening.

“If you’d done as they’d asked you could have saved her!” The doctor was almost whimpering now.

“They were bank robbers! Do you honestly think they’d have kept their word?”

A sudden movement behind the sheriff caught the doctor’s eye. Harrison turned the gun on the deputy. There was an explosion of gunfire. No one moved and then, slowly, the doctor dropped to the ground. Deputy Gilbert Tulloch ran across the street, his gun still in his hand.

“Is he dead?” he asked, remorsefully. “I didn’t mean to kill him, Sheriff, I swear! Oh no! Not the Doc! He shot at me first.”

“It’s all right, Gil. You’re right. He was aiming to kill me too. What a mess.” He looked down at the man who had borne a grudge against him for so long. He shook his head. “I had no idea. All these years. Maybe now he’ll find some peace.”

The sheriff turned his attention to Curry.

“Is that your friend?” He pointed to the man lying unconscious beside him.


“You’d best get him seen to. Matt Darrowby’s the dentist. He’ll do what he can for him. Then you and I need to talk.”

Curry nodded and turned to Heyes. Bending down he grabbed Heyes’ arms and hauled him to his feet. With another man’s help, he managed to lift Heyes onto his shoulder. Curry shifted his friend’s weight and headed for the hotel.


Matt Darrowby was a large bull of a man, well suited to holding down a patient with a particularly stubborn tooth. He talked to Thaddeus Jones and then examined the semi-conscious Mr. Smith. He decided the doctor had used choral hydrate.

“I thought it was floral something,” Curry had remarked. “So what happens to him now? What can you do? I have no idea where the antidote is.” He looked anxiously, at his friend, lying on the bed.


“But there must be something?” Curry pleaded.

“I mean I don’t have to do anything. The effects of the drug will wear off.”

“He’s gonna be all right? He doesn’t need an antidote?”

“Is that what Harrison told you?” Curry nodded. “He doesn’t. Let him sleep it off. He’ll probably be tired for a while and you may want to keep a sick bucket handy, but that’s all.”

“Thank you.” Curry leaned back against the wall, relief washing over him.


Heyes slept for the rest of the day. Curry sat in a chair, loading bullets into his gun belt and keeping an eye on his friend. Late in the afternoon there was a knock at the door. When Curry opened it, he found the sheriff standing in the hallway.

“We need that talk now,” the lawman told him. Curry stood to one side, allowing him to enter the room. Sheriff Langdon cast a glance at the young man asleep in the bed. “How is he?”

“The dentist reckons he’ll be okay. The drug the doctor gave him should wear off.”

“Well that’s good.” He looked at Curry. “I need to hear your side of the story; the doc sure can’t say anything.”

Curry waved a hand at the chair and the sheriff sat. Curry lowered himself onto his bed.

“When I arrived in town yesterday I discovered my friend had been taken ill and was at the doctor’s. When I got there the man pulled a gun on me and locked me in the cellar. He told me he’d drugged my friend and would kill him unless I shot you.”

He met the sheriff’s gaze.

“Did he tell you why?”

“He said his wife was killed in a bank robbery and he blamed you.”

“Well that’s true. I just didn’t realize he still felt that way.” Langdon studied the young man. “Any idea why he chose you two?”

“No. Maybe because we were strangers in town? We were just drifters as far as he was concerned. I don’t think he intended to let either of us live.”

“Would you have done it?”

The two men looked at each other.

Heyes groaned and Curry went quickly to his side.


Heyes’ eyes opened.

“Where? Did you…?”

“No. I didn’t shoot anyone.” He looked up at the sheriff, who headed towards the door.

“The doctor?”

“He’s dead.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Curry looked at the sheriff.

“Take care of your friend. Let me know when you’re leaving town.”

Curry nodded and the lawman left.


Later that night, Heyes found Curry sitting on the porch steps in front of the hotel, staring across at the sheriff’s office. Curry turned, surprised to see his partner approach.

“You all right?” he asked.


“Should you be out of bed?”

“The fresh air will do me good.” Heyes lowered himself onto the steps and leaned back against the porch post. Clearly he was still feeling groggy. They were silent for a while. Heyes watched his partner, saw his eyes return to the jail.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“D’you want to talk about it?”

Curry smiled.

“Nothin’ to say.”

“Would you have shot him?”

Curry gave a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know, Heyes.” He looked at his friend. “But it was you or him; what do you think?”

Hannibal Heyes didn’t reply.


Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, the two most successful outlaws in the history of the west. And in all the trains and banks they robbed, they never shot anyone.
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Gonna Shoot Me a Sheriff by Maz McCoy :: Comments

Re: Gonna Shoot Me a Sheriff by Maz McCoy
Post on Sat 01 Mar 2014, 6:06 pm by royannahuggins
Comments from the old site:

Oct 24 2009, 11:18 PM EDT
Great story Maz. Very exciting. Love the concern the boys have for each other and what they are prepared to do for each other

1. RE: Comments
Oct 25 2009, 3:20 AM EDT
Maz, I loved this! The casting was brilliant (especially Dana Elcar as the docr). Really liked the title, too. Poor Heyes! And I loved the ending where the Kid has to answer Heyes' question. I think I know what he'd do!

2. RE: Comments
Oct 25 2009, 8:12 AM EDT
Great mix of action and comfort. Especially love the ambiguous ending to the fast-paced story. Thanks, Maz!

3. RE: Comments
Oct 26 2009, 3:07 AM EDT
Wonderful as always. Maz. There's no doubt in my mind what the Kid would have done....

4. RE: Comments
Oct 26 2009, 4:08 AM EDT | Post edited: Oct 26 2009, 4:09 AM EDT
Like everybody else, I loved Dana Elcar as the doctor. Between the casting and the Title, one knew it from the very beginning this was a winner. Best line(s) “Morning, Sheriff. I’m Kid Curry and Dr. Harrison wants me to kill you.” Curry let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe not.” and Curry's response to Heyes question at the end. Thanks for a great Saturday VS.

5. RE: Comments
Oct 26 2009, 7:06 PM EDT
Loved your VS stories, Maz! You had a perfect blend of angst with a tad bit of hurt/comfort. Loved Dana Elcar as the doctor - can't imagine anyone else as the doc. Thanks for another wonderful story!

6. RE: Comments
Oct 28 2009, 5:52 AM EDT
Ooooh – the Doctor seems so nice and – snap! He’s a villain! Nice visual hook scene. Like Kid cuffing himself and being packed away – I sense a Maz fantasy channelling there!!
Oooh – now HH is spitting out the dope. Pom pom pom.
I feel High Noon ticking on this one Maz – very pacy.
So – did Kid Curry arrange for the young boy to get the Doc out of the way? Or am I over plotting?
There is no doubt in my mind either - he would NEVER have shot an innocent man in cold blood. Poor Kid.

7. RE: Comments
Oct 28 2009, 5:53 AM EDT
Ooooh – the Doctor seems so nice and – snap! He’s a villain! Nice visual hook scene. Like Kid cuffing himself and being packed away – I sense a Maz fantasy channelling there!!
Oooh – now HH is spitting out the dope. Pom pom pom.
I feel High Noon ticking on this one Maz – very pacy.
So – did Kid Curry arrange for the young boy to get the Doc out of the way? Or am I over plotting?
(He would NOT have shot the Sheriff in cold blood, huh? Not to save a thousand Heyes. He couldn't!)
8. RE: Comments
Nov 3 2009, 1:57 PM EST
That is a wonderful story. It captures the spirit of the show and the character of the Kid perfectly. Heyes too, if he wasn't so groggy. Loved it!

9. RE: Comments
Nov 8 2009, 9:07 AM EST

"Great story Maz. Very exciting. Love the concern the boys have for each other and what they are prepared to do for each other"

This comment was me. Just hadn't signed in at the time. Loved it.

10. RE: Comments
Nov 11 2009, 9:32 AM EST
Forgot to sign in but I'll comment anyway. A wonderful story, great fun and true to character... but then your stories always are. A really super episode - made my Sunday morning. Sorry I have been so late posting.

Dec 7 2009, 10:53 PM EST
Just like all your stories, Maz, brilliant.

Gonna Shoot Me A Sheriff
Dec 10 2009, 6:05 PM EST
this was good with lots of suspense.
I liked it

Gonna Shoot Me a Sheriff by Maz McCoy

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