The Holdup by Lana Dunnaway

Second Runner-Up in the 2025 Saddlebag Dispatches Mustang Award for Western Flash Fiction

Maggie Crandle sat at her desk in the office of the Four Corners Courier. Mr. Herbert Bensly, head cashier at the Peoples Bank, located two buildings down the street, stood in front of her. He was a portly man at least twice her age.

He rocked back on his heels. “I had hoped to have an invitation to dinner at your house by now, Missus Crandle.”

Behind Mr. Bensly, Maggie could see her boss, Glo Mabry, rolling her eyes. Maggie sighed and forced her lower lip to quiver a bit. “It’s only been six months since I lost my dear George.”

“Well, yes, of course. You don’t want to wait too long though, my dear. You’re not getting any younger.” He turned toward the door.

Will Denton entered and held the door open for Mr. Bensly.

“Denton, coming in to make your payment today?”

“Yes, sir, the bank’s my next stop.”

Mr. Bensly gave a curt nod and exited.

Glo picked up some papers from her desk and waved them in the air. “I’ve got work in the back.”

“I was wondering, Maggie, er, Missus Crandle, if you’ll be attending the social Saturday evening.” Will’s face reddened. “I know you’re still in mourning, and I wouldn’t dream of asking you to attend with me.” He cleared his throat. “But I was hoping I might see you there.”

“I expect you’ll see me. And, Will, we’ve known each other since third grade. For heaven’s sake, call me Maggie.” She had hoped he would ask if he could escort her. Like everyone else, he assumed she was still mourning the loss of her husband. The truth was she had never mourned for George. She had felt nothing but relief when the first shovelful of dirt landed on his casket. Her father had passed when she was barely sixteen, leaving her and her mother scraping by on a farm where the only thing they managed to raise was dust. Then her mother fell ill. In desperation, Maggie had celebrated her eighteenth birthday getting joined in holy matrimony. Domineering and abusive, George never let her forget that he had pulled her and her mother out of the clutches of poverty and given them a roof over their heads. A month after her mother passed, he tumbled over Murray’s Bluff in a runaway wagon, and Maggie was blessed with the gift of widowhood.

“Well?” Glo emerged from the back of the office. She was the only person who knew Maggie’s feelings about George, Mr. Bensly, and Will.

“He didn’t ask if he could escort me.”

“Life is short, honey. Sometimes you have to step up and answer questions you haven’t been asked.” Maggie looked out the window as a buggy, with two saddled horses led behind, pulled up in front of the office. She had seen the two men several times in the past week. Her curiosity had been aroused because they didn’t appear to have any business in town. They just seemed to be observing everyone’s comings and goings. As they got down from the buggy and hitched the horses, two other men rode up and dismounted. One of them gathered the reins of the saddled horses as the other three reached into the buggy and withdrew rifles. They looked around, pulled their kerchiefs over their faces, and headed toward the bank.

Maggie gasped. Four Corners, Arkansas, was only eight miles from Indian Territory, a haven for outlaws. “Glo! Glo!” She pointed. “Robbers! Headed toward the bank!”

Glo jumped to her feet. “I’m going out the back to warn the sheriff.”

The man holding the horses’ reins looked up and saw Maggie. She waved with a fluttering of her fingers and stretched her lips into a smile. He touched the brim of his hat and nodded.

She backed out of the gunman’s sight but stayed where she could see the unfolding action. When she saw Will walking her way, she didn’t immediately realize he was walking at gunpoint. He carried a bank bag in each hand.

A shot rang out.

The man behind him kept one gun at Will’s back and turned, firing his other gun in the direction of the bank.

Gunfire ricocheted back and forth.

In front of the Courier door, Will dropped the money from his right hand and grabbed his left arm. A patch of blood, bright red, spread beneath his splayed fingers.

Maggie threw the door open, grabbed him by the arm, and jerked him inside. When the lookout turned his gun toward them, she snatched the bag of coins from Will’s left hand and dropped it on the boardwalk. She shut the door and shoved Will down behind her desk. Kneeling, she tore his shirt sleeve exposing his bloody arm.

Will winced. “I think they just grazed me.”

She nodded. Pulling up her skirt, she grasped her petticoat and ripped off a length of the ruffle. When she had wrapped it snugly around his arm, she leaned beside him against the desk. The gunfire was moving on down the street.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yes. I will.”

He turned to her. “Pardon?”

“I will attend the social with you. What time will you be calling for me?”

“Five-thirty?”

She nodded. “We can walk from my house. Afterward, I expect you’ll be wanting to come in for a cup of coffee before heading home.”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am, Maggie. I expect I will.”

“Go ahead,” she said, answering the question he hadn’t asked. She closed her eyes.

He leaned over and kissed her.

Lana Dunnaway, grew up frequenting the public library, dreaming up her own stories, and hearing her mother say, “Lana Sue, get your nose out of that book!” A retired registered nurse and junior high school history and English teacher, she has written one novel, Landing Among the Stars, set in WWII Hawaii. When she is not reading or writing, she enjoys traveling, puttering in her yard, and dabbling in art. Proudly claiming two children, two grandchildren, and one cat, she makes her home in Gravette, Arkansas.