So Much for Dinner

“Well, I’ve heard all I need to hear," Doc gets up and pulls his .44.

Thunderhorse reacts as well, jumping up from his seat and drawing one of the the vibroknives. The party is stunned.

"Gentlemen, you are barking up the wrong tree. One look at this man should tell you that he is much more interested in saving lives than taking them. Look at his hands."

They look. Dr. Ritenrong holds them for inspection. He's as much in shock as the rest.

Doc continues. "Soft as a baby’s bottom, not the hands of a cold-blooded killer. You are trying very hard to hang an innocent man and this is a grievous wrong, but I am not about to compound the sin of murder by killing good, honest Christians who are doing what they think is right."

"Now look here, son-" starts the Judge.

"Don’t get me wrong, if you move a whisker, I’ll blow your head clean off, and this pistol holds six shots, so don’t start thinking that I can only drop one of you. I am asking for some cooperation and you are damn sure going to provide it. While I don’t want to kill anyone, Don here is not hindered at all by Christian values. He is more than willing to beat you to a pulp to where your own mother wouldn’t recognize you, but maybe he is a little tired and would rather just gut you like a fatted calf. Perhaps you’ve heard about the poor militiamen who are now regretting they ever laid eyes on him."

"It's true. He beat them fellers good," the sheriff chimes in.

"When he gets ornery even I can’t stop him. Now if you all would kindly put your hands behind your backs and accept the minor inconvenience of the gags we have provided, we’ll get you into this nice comfy cell that the sheriff has provided."

The party complies. Doc strips the Marshal of his twin single-shot pistols first. He gets Thunderhorse to tie the cloth napkins his mouth. He goes to the sheriff next, and extracts his old gun and his keys. Thunderhorse ties a napkin into his mouth as well. The Judge is unarmed. Thunderhorse ties the gag extra tight.

"Lautes Arschloch," he says as he ties. The judge moans in pain.

"Deputy, if you would open that cell for us." Doc tosses the keys to the deputy, keeping his gun trained on the party guests. Deputy Johnson nods and does as he's told. He tosses the keys gently onto the table in front of Doc.

"Yer doin' the right thing, sir," the deputy comments.

"[Shut up, boy]," mumbles the sheriff through his gag.

Doc waves the party guests into the open jail cell. The deputy and the cook, Wendy Thompson, follow them in. Doc locks the door behind them.

Dr. Ritenron exits his cell at this point. Doc tosses him the key ring. He looks at the set, picks the correct key, and undoes his shackles in a matter of seconds.

Doc drops the money he made earlier on the table. "By the way, here is twenty dollars for the meal I’ve ruined. And if you are thinking of forming a posse, you had best set out looking for a Mr. James Ford. He sold us some horses that weren’t his to sell. Judge, here is six dollars against the horses. Mr. Ford has the rest of your change. As of 4 o’clock, he was a cloud of dust headed for Michigan, so he has a bit of a head start. Trying to follow us would be a fruitless effort as I have spent the better part of the afternoon lining the road with torpedoes and we wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt now would we. Thank you ma’am for the lovely meal, I’m sure it is delicious, and good night.”

The three time operatives exit the sheriff's office in a hurry. It's still light out. The 21st is back at the dock where the Chesapeake is put in, sitting on crates, smoking and bullshitting. The trio whip around to the stables without their notice.

"We need to get my stuff," Ritenrong says as they mount up. "The pipe, my watch, and my Q-TIP are all in the basement of Olden's church."

"Your Q-tip?!" Doc nearly screams. "We need to get out of here!"

"Quantum-Temporal Interference Projector. My time machine!"