By Enola Jones

The young bank robbers laughed as they rode out of Four Corners. "I thought this would be harder!" one of them laughed. "Real money! Who would have guessed?"

Suddenly a soft drawl came out of nowhere. "Seems t'me we've been here before."

"Completely agreed," came another, more honeyed drawl. "We have encountered this scenario at least fifty times before."

"Bunch'a idiots," came from an older voice, his voice roughened by his accent. "Why's everybody tryin' to challenge us?"

"Must be the newest thing!" It was a young voice with a definite Eastern twang, now. "Go up against the Seven! Earn a name for yourself!"

"If you survive." Another soft purr of a voice this one was dangerous enough to send chills down their spines.

"So tell you what," said yet another drawl, this one a little more Northern than the others. "Just this once, we'll make a deal with you."

"You see, brothers," a deep voice rumbled, "we've had a long last little while, and we really don't feel like a gunfight today."

"So here is the bargain we propose," the honeyed drawl purred. "Put down the money. Ride away. And only return if you have legal, legitimate business in Four Corners."

"We won't come after you," the soft drawl said. "We'll let you go if you leave the money right there."

The robbers looked at each other. As one, they reached a unanimous decision.

Moneybags hit the ground as the horses rode away at a full gallop. They didn't stop till they reached their cars.

The kids out for a cheap thrill pretending to rob a ghost town and the shocked delight of finding real money to take were shaken to their cores as they realised they'd just come face to face with Four Corners' famous Seven Spirits.

And had survived unscathed.


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