WENDY, THE DESK AND THE WILD WEST.

An underpaid Town Hall receptionist, thirty eight years old, plain looking, spinster Wendy Hampson, spends much of her working day sitting behind a tall desk in the main foyer. Often with little to occupy herself, she doodles and daydreams; currently her interest is cowboys and the old Wild West.

Her duties, to answer questions from the public, often to direct people to varying local government departments, keep a list of visitors with appointments, show them to the waiting room and contact by phone officials that they have come to see. One day large colourful signs and a system of overhead television monitors take over much of her job. Yet on the point of been made redundant some letters appear in the local paper high lighting the need for the Town Hall to continue to have the personal touch to welcome visitors and rate payers.

The foyer desk, designed to seat at least three people, is a product of a bygone age. That has only been left undisturbed for many years because of its size and that no one in the authority can think of an alternative purpose for it, although the council bonfire has been suggested. The material is light English oak, featuring fancy panels and intricate beading, with entrance gained from the side by the way of two steps and a lockable low gate. The desk provides ample writing space and good quality concealed lighting. Once inside when hunched over writing Wendy�s head is barely visible. Since the introduction of the television monitor system providing comprehensive information for the public, Wendy has even less to do than before, so she passes the long day often behind the desk, where passers-by think that she is very busy, but in reality she is keeping her mind fully occupied on subjects other than Council business.

Such a contrast with her home life mostly at the beck and call of her ailing mother, shopping, preparing and cooking meals, cleaning and the seemingly never ending washing and ironing. On Sundays attending the Parish church, perhaps some church activity during the week after work. Each night having seen her mother off to bed Wendy would go through to the spare room, that doubles as her study and there commit to paper, via her typewriter, finished pages taken from her notes written during working hours at the Town Hall.

Her work had hardly over the past eight years since beginning employment with the Local Authority. There had been changes in ruling political parties always bringing new petty rules to establish authority! Through her pay as a lowly, local government employee is not attractive by any stretch of the imagination but alas there are compensations. Often a lonely job working mostly on her own she does like her own company, enjoys her job and gets on with people, well most people. Though there are some that she despises implicitly for example Councillor Maurice Boardman (Labour), a pompous ass with a plum in his ass. �Wendy, do you think you could do this for me?�

Councillor Stephen Knight (Liberal Democrat) who was the Town Hall �nosy parker� minding other peoples business instead of his own, usually sticking his �oar in� when it is not needed. The Mayor Councillor Charles Irvine would have been fine but is very pushy wife Enid who enjoyed the position as a leading citizen, liked her superior creature comforts and dressing well, yet never tired of telling her husband, often in public, what he should be doing and took an instant dislike to Wendy on their first meeting. As for the Town Clerk, Brian Greenwood, who rarely acknowledged any employee below Administrative Officer as though he so high up he was nodding terms with God.

Wendy did not hate or dislike Councillor Mrs Constance Adlington (Conservative) a fearsome large lady, who with her commanding voice could and did, strike dread in to the heart of her toughest opponents, of whatever political persuasion; she just felt uncomfortable in her presence, yet admired her zeal and courage. Generally she liked most of her fellow workers, especially Elizabeth, the tea lady who called twice a day, usually with a juicy piece of gossip. Anne Wilkinson (Housing Department) who took great delight in dressing-up for special occasions. For her friendship and support her best mate and fellow church goer, practical Joyce Morrel (Social Services) who always saw the lighter side of life.

There were only two men she quite fancied, with their dishy good looks, John Trickett (Treasury) and her favourite Alan Kirkland (Planning), who unfortunately was married. As for the church members would have to include the Vicar the Reverend James Thompson with his thought provoking sermons, a great pity only around forty regulars came to hear him. The faithful Verger Mr Stephen Potter, who did just that, constantly seen pottering around. Wendy would not include the Organist Arthur Black who invariably said that he always had better things to do. Nor Scout Master Stanley Underwood or Guide Leader Jean Rigby both blind to any other interest not involved with the young peoples Movements, especially when it came to fund raising. But most of all Wendy liked the long periods of receptionist inactivity with plenty of time to fill, where alone sitting behind her tall desk to her hearts content she could daydream and write with little interruption.

An avid reader magazine stories and novels, Wendy tries to emulate these by committing to paper her daydreams and fantasies in exercise books bought from her local newsagent. However, not happy with her soppy romances of the Bronte sisters, Catherine Cookson, Barbara Cartland or Mills and Boon�s. Wendy once read a book about two lesbians lovers and for weeks battled with herself whether her lover should be her fellow church goer Joyce Morel (Social Services) or the tea lady Elizabeth. Eventually she gave up on the ideas they find her strange! Besides she didn�t think that mother would approve! Mills Boon�s latest offerings are Wendy�s current interest that of Western stories. North American wide-open prairies of open treeless grassland. Herds of long horned cattle being rounded up by the dust covered cowboys who have been weeks in the saddle and long for a good night out with plenty of liquor and of course the company of women. The railhead with smoking locomotives and long wagons to ship livestock on the long journey to the abattoirs of Chicago, in turn filling the plates of a hungry new nation.

Lawless frontier shantytowns with few stores and shops maybe a blacksmith but always a saloon, all ruled by whoever is fastest on the draw with the Colt forty-five. Her hero would be someone who in her imagination would resemble Clint Eastwood, with a sidekick like Lee van Cleef. Streetwise young lass would be the heroine with a name like Faye whom Wendy placed herself as. Obviously the character would be a crack shot and always looking for the opportunists to make money from, the passing cowboys being her targets.

Wendy yearned for her own authentic tale, as such needing real people to fill the roles. Characters alive and kicking who could breath fresh air and a passion into her story. Until one day, during periods of little interruption at the foyer desk she amalgamated a plot of a ruthless cattle baron driving a huge herd, with many hired guns. Over homesteader�s land, trampling crops, shooting their livestock and frightening the people. For a climax the setting would have to be the main street near saloon in Abilene, Kansas. Where the people�s champion confront and redress all the past wrongdoing, bring peace and stability. It would be a classic case to goodies verse baddies, of course the latter would get their just deserts! The main characters would not be any famous cowboys but those that she knew from church or work; Bringing enthusiasm to her plot through their own personalities. Wendy would supply the story and dialogue of course she would also play Faye the heroine.

In the �Big Country� with vast blue skies and endless miles of open range the scene was set. The cattle baron would be simply known as JT, (Mayor Councillor Charles Irvine) was been told for the umpteenth time by this long suffering wife Enid (Mayoress Irvine) that all the way from Chicago to Texas kept the cattle on the Upstein Trail. Enid complained endlessly of how uncomfortable she felt, in the saddle. The constant choking dust made by the cattle and how fed up she was of sleeping out in the open every night and of the monotonous menu of bacon, beans and black coffee. When they hit a town she wanted to soak in perfumed bath water, a real meal that included almost anything except bacon and beans and the largest feather bed ever!

The Irvine�s had nearly a hundred cowhands driving the vast herd under the command of two desperadoes Big Mo (Councillor Morris Boardman), with his pompous attitude and Slim otherwise known as Slimy (Councillor Stephen Knight) who did everybody�s job but his own! The twenty thousand head of prime shorthand cattle should raise at least nine to fifteen dollars per head at Abilene. Providing there was adequate grasslands and good fresh water to keep the cattle sustained while awaiting shipment to Chicago. The railroad company could put on two trains per week, perhaps three, a month�s work to transport all the cattle from Abilene to Chicago. Many homesteaders had their farms around the town�s outskirts and they all knew when the cowhands came that there was going to be big trouble in and out of town!

The un-elected town leader Brad McCoy (Brian Greenwood, Town Clerk) was a man who would never acknowledge any person unless they had an exalted position, wealth or thrust a six-gun in his ribs. Each Sunday the local church was filled to overflowing, by the gentle persuasion of unshaven, small Jim �dick-deadeye� (Vicar James Thompson) and his able assistant Steve �the plunger� (Verger Stephen Potter) who would sound the church bell for at least an hour; woe betide anyone not sat in their pew when the service began. The largest saloon in town, �Crazy Jack�s� managed by plump Elaine �the brain� (Elizabeth the tea lady) who would spread the gossip faster and farther a field than any local rag. The towns stabilizing influence was brought about by Annie Oakley (Councillor Mrs Constance Adlington) who without the use of firearm just her commanding presence, could and did, cut down to size any just by her voice alone. As for the sheriff this would be firm jaw look alike of Clint Eastwood, no nonsense Al (Alan Kirkland, Planning).

Leader of the homesteaders good looking, handsome �Walt the Wealth� (John Tricket, Treasury) who had three spreads. Others who gained a living from the land including friendly Doris Day look-alike (Anne Wilkinson, Housing Dept.) who liked to dress for the occasion by wearing buckskins when she rode the �Deadwood Stage� and Jolly Jay (Joyce Morel, Social Services) who with her bubbly laughter nearly always had an optimistic view, except when aroused. Art Whitelaw (Arthur Black, Organist) was not really bothered if he was a �goodie or a baddie� he just had better things to do, such as getting-in some fishing in the creek. As for Panhandle Sam (Stanley Underwood, Scout Master) and Jan �fund raising� (Jean Rigby, Guide Mistress) they had intended going off to do some gold prospecting that would aid the Movement funds, last seen the pair were seen heading off to the hills.

Elaine �the brain� of �Crazy Jacks� saloon was the first to hear that a large cattle drive was only hours away. Within a short time she made sure that the whole community knew and could make preparations. Hers was to have extra beer barrels brought up from the cellar to satisfy the thirst of the cowhands who had been weeks on the dusty trail. Shop and store owners made ready for a large rise in sales.

With the jail swept out to await the arrival for the first customer. Sheriff Al checked his ammunition supply and issued notices around town to recruit special deputies. Out on Boothill the undertaker had several graves dug and got his horse drawn hearse as well as putting orders with carpenters to make a stock of coffins. Brad McCoy, the town�s unselected leader, rubbed his hands with glee. The meat buyers had come down from the North to haggle over beef prices. A cattle drive would increase the town�s prosperity, help put it on the map. Maybe for services rendered by way of making introductions helping with negotiations, money would come his way too. The only fly in the ointment was Annie Oakley (Councillor Mrs Adlington). He intended avoiding her at all costs. Out on the dusty town streets a sort of calm before the storm prevailed.

Just before sunset an advanced guard came, Big Mo and two gun tooting cowhands were the first to arrive, met on the Great Plains by Brad McCoy who would introduce them to some keen beef buyers. A few of the main herd would by first light. The whole twenty thousand would take a full two days to reach town.

The small make shift stock yards had only limited capacity so the bulk of the herd had to feed and water out on the plains, waiting for their shipment. As for the homesteaders at one of their farms they held meetings to discuss tactics. This time they must remain united at the first whiff of trouble. �Walt the Wealth�, with his three spreads had the most to loose. They had clubbed together to buy every reel of barred wire and posts that they could get their hands on and fenced off most of their spreads. Outnumbered by about three to one they had an impossible task to guard all the boundaries at the same time. Sure enough within a day of the great herd�s arrival bared wire had been cut in places, consequently cattle strayed on to homesteaders land eating the crops and trampling other cultivated vegetation. At first they simply drove the beasts back on to the open plains.

There was a minor confrontation or two but nothing serious until Big Mo moved in, backed by many of his well armed hired hands, flashing wads of cash, offering to buy out one or two spreads to provide feed and water for his large head of stock. When the homesteaders stuck firm refusing to be bought out, sparks began to fly. �Walt the Wealth� woke up the following day to have �the herd� on two his spreads eating crops. When cleared all the beef from one of his fields a stray riffle bullet hit the dirt beneath his horse�s hoofs, followed by a succession by a fusillade of many more. From then on things got a little out of hand. A few of the homesteaders received bullet wounds, one horse was killed. The Sheriff came along with some hastily recruited deputies and secured a truce of sorts that lasted a day or two.

Next morning Brad McCoy was awoken by a loud banging at his door. On the threshold stood, no-nonsense, Annie Oakley (Councillor Mrs Adlington) demanding to know what he was personally doing about the confrontation between the cattle men and the homesteaders. His almost futile response of what could he do in the face of economic forces made her blood boil. Quite clearly if this size of cattle drive were successful others would inevitably follow. Homesteaders resented been pushed aside by big business through intimidation and huge numbers of hired guns. Therefore both sides should make concessions otherwise there would be a full scale war!

She proposed that a long term measure of a two mile wide corridor be established between town and the canyon leading out of Texas that could be used by the cattle men and their herds. All the other land would be the homesteaders. In the meantime it was up to him to get the two sides around a table to discuss the issue, this very morning, before another drop of blood was spilt.

Tension existed all day. By late afternoon the situation came to a head. En masse lead no less by an aggravated person than, not so jolly (Joyce Morrel). Well armed with guns and pitch forks the homesteaders marched towards the stock yards! Once again Sheriff Al with his deputies tried to make pace. Close to �Crazy Joe�s� saloon from opposite ends of the main street came the marching antagonists. From the left a mass of armed to the teeth cattle men lead by CB, Big Mo and Slimey. Homesteaders came from the right with Jay and �Walt the Wealth� way in front.

When the groups, shouting and letting off gunfire, where barely one hundred meters apart a diminutive female figure, dressed in a long skirt and a poke bonnet stepped out and stood between them. Faye, the good looking young woman with her Dorothy-bag containing a small concealed loaded Derringer pistol, held up both hands to stop the advance, joined by Annie Oakley. Eventually when a silence was established Annie outlined her proposal that could resolve the dispute. However, Big Mo (Councillor Maurice Boardman) was in no mood to be won over by these women, thinking someone from the opposition was about to shoot him, he reached for both six guns. In the twinkle of an eye Faye had sized up the situation, opened the drawstrings of her bag, withdrew her Derringer from close range, before Big Mo�s colt 45�s had cleared their holsters, shot him in both hands; releasing the revolvers from his grasp that landed in the dust. (Wendy�s supply of writing paper then ran out!).

Meanwhile back at the Town Hall. Wage snatch thieves had timed their break-in to perfection. Lunchtime a quiet period of the day in local government activities, especially a Friday lunchtime just before cashiers prepared wage packets for distribution to all seven hundred and thirty non clerical employees. The amount involved well over a quarter of a million pounds. Wendy should have gone on early lunch break, but been so involved in her writing had forgotten. When the shooting started, she assume the noise came from the builders doing remedial work with their pneumatic drills and hammers. Pushing aside falling dust landing on her note book, Wendy took it as a very minor inconvenience.

Strangely the building seemed almost deserted and much quieter than usual as she made her way along the corridor towards the Treasury department to collect fresh supplies of writing paper. As she approached the open Treasury door, something told her that all was not well, but being of a curious nature she went forward, continuing on tiptoe. Just then she could plainly hear a menacing mans voice giving commands. That if any of them moved he would shoot! Wendy could hardly turn back and run for they, whoever they were would hear her footsteps running away. So with more courage that she knew she, she reached the doorway and peeped inside.

There were three men armed with sub-machine guns, possibly Kalashnikov�s, AK47�s standing guard over several staff members sitting on the floor with their hands on their heads. What would Faye do in such circumstances? The picture became clear for whatever reason something had prevented these robbers getting away with the manual workers wages. Instead they held the hostages as a guarantee of their safe escape. One had a mobile phone to his ear in touch with the Police negotiating the next move. Faye then took over. Undetected, standing close behind the nearest robber she brought out something blunt, pressing it against his back of his head, saying quietly but with intent.

�Don�t make a move, or I�ll blow your head off! Tell your friends to put their guns down. Slowly, very slowly, I�ve an itchy trigger finger.�

To the started robber the object pressing against his head was small, almost like the tip of a ball point pen. Yet the close female voice spoke with authority in such a commanding and sinister tone, the cold metal could just be a small pistol.

In a louder more commanding voice she gave instructions for Alan Kirkland and John Trickett to collect these firearms and cover the robbers.

The mobile phone man announced that someone, he had not seen hidden behind his accomplice, had come on the scene and controlled the situation. Armed Police carrying automatic weapons came running down the corridor and took over the incident, much to the relief of the hostages. With the situation defused the police Inspector spoke with Wendy, could he see her small firearm.

�Never seen one of these before.�

He broke open the piece, then declared in surprise.

�But the thing�s empty!�

�You don�t expect me to go around with a loaded gun, do you?"

She was glad that he never asked to see a firearms licence!

Walking back to her desk, uncontrolled shakes took over. She collected her handbag and a small briefcase and made for the nosey main entrance which was guarded by the Police. Outside television crews and journalists clamoured to get a story.

�Can you give us a statement Miss?�

Even through the mass of flashes from the cameras flashguns, Wendy shielding her eyes against the sudden glare. Surprisingly the shaking subsided and her confidence returned.

�Of course, I�ll give you a statement. I gather everything is under control the sheriff got his man!�

Newsmen clamoured for her to elaborate, but bravely she waved aside any further questioning. The crowd stood aside as Wendy made her way through. Cameramen took more pictures, as she left with her briefcase containing her notes, of a Western story. The Kalashnikov assault riffles gave her some ideas. Perhaps her next story would be about a Doctor Zhivargo theme, an all action romance set against the Russian Revolution.

The Police Inspector back at the Town Hall had missed a vital clue. At a litter bin Wendy stopped, loked around to see if anybody was watching, took out a Derringer pistol, broke the weapon and released two empty brass bullet cases into the bin. Looking back over the afternoon, the Western screen idols would have been proud of her. Popping the gun back into her handbag, she walked off towards the bus stop, with an air of innocence and mystery, whistling to herself the opening line to the song. �Don�t forsake me oh my darlin.� Frankie Laine strummed guitar.