Lucas and Mark McCain rode into Northfork on a brisk autumn
morning. They hadn't been in town to get supplies for a couple of weeks. The
ranch was self-sufficient but they still needed to get the things that they
could not grow or construct out of wood and sod. Jeans. Work shirts. Ten penny
nails. Cartridges to shoot stray Mexicans, Indians or former child actors who
would try to sneak onto their property.
Mark loved to come to town. He could meet up with his
buddies and they could wander around town to see the sights. Not that there
were many sights. Other than Miz Millie’s teats. Of course they would be hard
to see since Lucas would be squeezing and caressing them when he went into the
Mercantile.
Lucas swung the buckboard down the street. They normally
parked in front of the Mercantile but there seemed to be a big crowd milling
around the store. Most likely Miz Millie had popped one of her stays again.
That always drew a crowd.
Lucas stopped in front of the jail and jumped down to the
street. Sheriff Micah came out of the
jail. He was all rumpled and tousled like he just got out of bed. He must be
back on the drink. The only reason he could stay on as Sheriff is because
everyone knew that the Rifleman would back his play.
“Seem like there is a big commotion Lucas boy.” “Did you go
take a look see Micah?” “No I have been poorly. Thought I would wait for you.”
“Well let’s just go and see.”
