The Rifleman

Lucas McCain and his son Mark rode into Norfolk on a bright sunny morning. Lucas liked to get up early as he was a farmer and a rancher so he had to get up early to get all his chores done. Plus if he finished early he could ride into town and maybe get to shot an Indian or a Mexican. Not that he had anything against them it is just that they usually needed shooting.

They tied up  their horse in front of the sheriffs office. Micah was a good friend. He had to be since Lucas was always coming into town to shoot someone Micah couldn't handle. Micah was past it. He kept forgetting things. He gets very confused. He will probably lose the next election. Everyone is mad because his son got a job from Wells Fargo just because he was the Sheriff's son. I guess they thought he would look the other way when they did bad stuff. Now the son had got one of the dance hall girls pregnant. It's a big mess. Micah had gotten really sad.


Micah came out holding his ever present shot gun and his ever present drool on the side of his mouth.
"Hey Lucas Boy why are you in town. There haven't been any Mexicans in lately so there really isn't anybody to shoot."

"I know Micah. I just came in to do some business in the bank. I have to pay my mortgage on the Ranch and such. Plus I might go an squeeze Miss Millie's teats. It's been a while and it gets lonely out on the prairie."

"Well if you are going to shoot anybody maybe you can shoot Chief Stalking Horse." "Why would I do that?" "I don't know just on general principals. He gave up the firewater you know. Got hisself a job sorting packages at the Post Office but he quit that. Now he drives people around in a beat up old buck board. Don't see how that's a job but he seems happy." "Good for him. But if he is not drinking then who is the down wastrel? Every town needs a town drunk." "True enough. We had a fussy little dude who liked to cook and twist papers into birds but he quit. Now we only have lesser candidates.The big fat drummer who sells ladies unmentionables. That nasty old codger who is always polishing his wood. The grandma who is always spitting in the spittoon and telling everybody what they really mean. That dude who is always whistling a tune and asking us to guess what it is. There just ain't anybody to stand up to the task of being the town drunken fool. Or fall down to the task." "I wouldn't worry Micah. It will sort itself out. The real drunken fool will reveal himself. Now I have to go over to the Mercantile and have Miss Millie reveal something to me. Mark?" "Yes Pa." "Why don't you go and find your friends and have some fun for the next couple of hours. I reckon I might be occupied." "Sure enough Pa. I will see you later."