Welcome back, Charmy’s Army fans! In today’s hilarious frontier confrontation, Gooser Dadburn is finally face-to-face with the long-awaited Sheriff. The clerk points out the lawman as he steps into the office, and Gooser immediately gets down to business, confronting him head-on: “I heard you allow criminals to bribe their way out of serious charges.” Without an ounce of shame, the Sheriff casually confirms the accusation, asking Gooser, “Yup. What are you in trouble for? Did you double park your horse?” When an exasperated Gooser insists that the situation is very serious, the Sheriff leans in with a look of genuine curiosity and asks, “OH… which bank did you rob?”

Gooser’s jaw dropped so low it nearly knocked his coffee-stained bandana loose. He stood there in the middle of the dusty floorboards, his four arms twitching in a synchronized fit of utter disbelief, while his single exposed eye darted back and forth between the Sheriff and the clerk.

“I didn’t rob a bank!” Gooser sputtered, his voice cracking like a dry wagon axle. “Why does everybody in this town assume I’m the one who committed a crime?!”

The Sheriff scratched behind his antenna, casually tossing his hat onto the wooden rack near the door. “Well, stranger, folks don’t usually stomp into my office unannounced unless they’ve gone and broke something. Either the law or a piece of town property. And frankly, with an eyepatch like that, you look like a man who’s had a few disagreements with municipal regulations.”

“I had a disagreement with an adobe wall!” Gooser barked, crossing his upper arms defensively while gesturing wildly with his lower pair. “And that was a tactical escape, not a criminal offense!”

The clerk tapped his quill against the leather ledger on his desk. “Technically, Gooser, colliding with public infrastructure at high speed falls under section four of the Canyon City Civil Code: Destructive Velocity. That’ll be two silver quarters or a jar of pickled eggs.”

“I am NOT paying two silver quarters for a wall that jumped out in front of me!” Gooser roared, pointing an accusing finger at the clerk before whirling back around to face the Sheriff. “And I am NOT here as a defendant!”

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow, leaning his shoulder against the iron bars of Cell Number One. “So if you didn’t rob the bank, what’s your racket? Did you graze your horse on the Mayor’s petunias?”

“No!”

“Exceeding the speed limit in a designated saloon zone?”

“No!”

“Unlicensed whistling on a Sunday?” the Sheriff pressed, squinting at him. “Because we take sound ordinance violations real serious around here. That’s a three-dollar fine, though I’m willing to settle for a decent pair of leather gloves if they’re lightly worn.”

Gooser squeezed his single eye shut, taking a slow, deep breath to keep his head from exploding like a cheap firecracker. “Sheriff, listen to the words coming out of my mouth. I didn’t break the law. I didn’t double-park my horse, I didn’t whistle on Sunday, and I certainly didn’t rob any banks.”

“Then why in tarnation are you in my office?” the Sheriff asked, looking genuinely disappointed. “You’re taking up valuable bribery time. The blacksmith is supposed to come by at two o’clock to settle a horse-theft charge with a pair of brass spurs.”

Gooser drew himself up to his full height, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat and puffing out his chest. “I am here because I am a frontier tracker! I am on the trail of a cold-blooded killer who murdered a man near Dead Man’s Gulch. I tracked him all the way to this town, and I intend to catch him, bring him through that front door, and hand him over to you so he can stand a FAIR TRIAL!”

The room went completely, suffocatingly quiet.

The clerk stopped writing mid-sentence. A drop of black ink dripped off the tip of his quill and splattered onto the ledger. The Sheriff stared at Gooser for five full seconds, his eyes wide, as if Gooser had just started speaking fluent ancient Greek.

Finally, the Sheriff slowly turned his head toward the clerk. “Did he say… ‘fair trial’?”

“I believe he did, Sheriff,” the clerk whispered, adjusting his spectacles. “Shall I look up the definition in the territorial archive?”

“Don’t bother,” the Sheriff sighed, turning back to Gooser with a look of deep, pitying concern. “Son… do you have any idea how much work a ‘fair trial’ is? You gotta select twelve local folks who aren’t currently taking a nap. You gotta find a judge who isn’t down at the fishing hole. You gotta order fancy wooden gavels from the catalog. It’s an administrative nightmare!”

“It’s called JUSTICE!” Gooser shouted, throwing all four hands into the air. “It’s the foundation of civilized society! A man steals a life, he goes before a court of his peers! He doesn’t just hand you a shiny pocket watch and stroll out the door to go get a sandwich!”

“Well now, hold on,” the Sheriff said defensively, crossing his arms. “If he hands me a pocket watch, it better be solid gold with a working spring. I have standards. I’m not letting a murderer walk for silver-plate.”

Gooser slammed both upper fists onto the Sheriff’s desk, rattling the melting candle. “He’s NOT walking for solid gold either! When I catch this scoundrel and bring him in here, you are putting him in that cell behind you, throwing away the key, and waiting for the circuit judge!”

The Sheriff scratched his jaw, eyeing Gooser up and down. He tapped his boot against the floorboards, clearly doing some high-level mental arithmetic.

“Alright, let me get this straight,” the Sheriff said slowly. “You want me to lock up a dangerous killer, feed him three meals a day, keep him in a cell, and wait two weeks for a judge to show up… all without receiving a single bribe?”

“YES!” Gooser declared proudly. “That is literally your job description!”

The Sheriff chuckled, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of the request. “Son, that sounds like a whole lot of overhead with zero return on investment. If you want me to go through all the trouble of hosting a ‘fair trial’ without taking a bribe from the killer…”

The Sheriff leaned in close, tapping Gooser on the chest.

“…you’re gonna have to bribe me to do it.”

Gooser froze. His single eye blinked once. Twice. “…What?”

“It’s simple economics,” the clerk chimed in cheerfully from behind the desk. “If the criminal isn’t paying for his crime, the prosecutor has to pay the trial processing fee. Standard municipal policy.”

Gooser stared at the two of them, his blood pressure soaring to dangerous new heights. “You want ME… the guy BRINGING IN THE KILLER… to BRIBE YOU… to do YOUR JOB?!”

“We accept cash, trade, or baked goods,” the Sheriff smiled warmly, slapping Gooser on the shoulder. “Though if you’ve got another one of those fancy ‘pistol whips’ I heard you were waving around at the saloon, I might just give you a discount on the court docket!”

Gooser slumped his shoulders, completely defeated by the most upside-down justice system in the entire West. He turned around, dragged his boots toward the door, and muttered, “I’m going to go find that killer… and when I do, I’m charging him a fee just to meet you people.”

Support Charmy’s Army on Patreon!

Creating the epic 12-part saga of Charmy’s Army takes countless hours of writing, hand-inking comic panels, character designing, and way too many cups of dark roast coffee! Whether Gooser Dadburn is battling corrupt lawmen, inventing hazardous weapons, or running face-first into adobe walls, this independent comic strip thrives because of amazing readers like you.

If you love these weekly strips and our expanded 12-part story blogs, please consider supporting us on Patreon!

When you join our Patreon family, you help keep independent comic art alive while unlocking awesome exclusive perks:

• Early Comic Access: Read new strips before they go live anywhere else!
• 12-Part Story Continuity: Read every expanded blog chapter of Gooser’s Old West adventure.
• Behind-the-Scenes Content: Pencil sketches, character concept art, and high-res art files.
• Printable Rewards: Access downloadable coloring pages, wallpapers, and bonus illustrations!

Head over to our Patreon page today, choose the tier that fits you best, and join the Army! Thank you so much for reading and supporting independent comics!