“s*******r everyone if Dicky doesn’t release me in five seconds,” announced Quinlan.
The brigands at the dais who had the sawed-off shotguns pointed their weapons at the congregation while the men at the doors trained four ten-shot double-action revolvers upon the wedding guests.
Dicky knew that this was not a bluff, but still, he desperately yelled, “I’ll kill him!”
“Five,” said Quinlan.
The gambler slammed the butt of his gun against Irishman’s scar-covered scalp.
“Four.”
The brigands in the aisles aimed their weapons at the heads of the hostages and thumbed their hammers; people in the pews ducked and crowded away from the barrels, but there was no place for them to go.
“Three.”
“You selfish bastard!” Oswell yelled as he slammed into Dicky and knocked him off of Quinlan.
The da
