A Reinvented Lady (Sons Of A Gun Book 2)

by Brenda Sinclair

  Unless?

  One man was older, the other several years his junior? Daniel recalled Eric Lake’s description of the two men when he noticed the young fellow had hobbled up the stairs with a pronounced limp.

  Dang it!

  Could it be?

  Daniel reached for his pistol, then thought better of it. No reason to frighten folks until he was certain. He hot-footed it along the sidewalk to the bank, hurried up the steps, and paused outside the door.

  “This is a robbery!” a mature male voice shouted from within. “Hand over the cash. All of it!”

  Daniel’s heart raced. His suspicions had been correct after all. He just hoped Harold and Sawyer were ready. He eased open the door, thankful the well-oiled hinges hadn’t given him away. He silently locked the door to prevent any innocent citizens from wandering unawares into the dangerous situation. He silently stepped across the threshold, hoping to avoid detection if possible.

  His gaze scanned the scene before him. A younger man stood none too steady on his feet, coughing and looking a bit peevish. His arms hung at his sides and Daniel noticed the fellow wasn’t even wearing a holster, let alone carrying a gun. Who robbed a bank unarmed? Was he participating in the robbery under duress?

  “Hurry this up, Uncle Fred,” the man complained, wavering on his feet and not looking well at all. The saddlebag he’d been carrying slipped off his shoulder and fell onto the floor with a thud.

  “Shut your mouth, Shorty.” The older man he’d called Fred gripped Mrs. Landers’s arm in what appeared a painful hold, forcibly pressing her against his body forming a shield. “Are you getting my money?” he demanded of Harold Watson, pointing his pistol at the bank manager.

  “Unhand me, you scoundrel!” Mrs. Landers exclaimed, eyes blazing as she wiggled without success at loosening the man’s grip.

  Daniel’s breath caught. Uncle Fred. Shorty. These men were the two suspects Eric Lake had warned them about.

  “Now why in tarnation would I do that?” Fred sneered. “Picked you special in case someone started shootin’. Ain’t no man gonna shoot a woman.”

  Mrs. Landers gasped, realization dawning on her. “Not only are you a scoundrel, you’re a coward, too,” she huffed.

  Harold’s gaze darted from Fred to Mrs. Landers and back to Fred again as the two of them continued to argue. “Nobody is shooting anyone,” the bank manager remarked in an even, unrushed voice.

  “Mr. Watson, I demand this… this fellow unhand me,” Mrs. Landers blurted, haughtily.

  “Banker man here don’t have no say in it,” Fred stated. “Now shut your yapper.”

  Mrs. Landers swatted his arm with her free hand. “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m a widow and a prominent citizen in this town.”

  “Ya gonna be a dead citizen if’n ya don’t shut your yap! I’m rethinking the idea no man would shoot a woman. I might shoot ya myself.”

  Mrs. Landers struggled to free herself again while glaring at Harold. “Are you going to allow this derelict to talk to me that way?”

  “My apologies, ma’am.” Harold shrugged. “Seeing as the derelict is the one holding the gun, he’s right… I don’t have much say in the matter.”

  “Apologies, my foot,” Mrs. Landers blurted, stamping said foot for emphasis. “I’m reporting this abomination to your superiors.”

  Fred cackled. “Banker man, looks like the old bat is mad at both of us now.”

  Mrs. Landers gasped again.

  “It would appear so,” Harold muttered.

  Daniel appreciated the new bank manager’s unparalleled calm under pressure. He hoped Harold kept them arguing while he determined how best to handle the situation.

  He glanced around the bank and noticed no other customers in sight. Milton Brown had ducked for cover under his desk again. No surprise there. The robbers taking Mrs. Landers as hostage seemed the worst of luck and the main concern at present. Under the circumstances, she’d shown surprising courage arguing with the robber. Daniel would have expected her in a tearful puddle on the floor, or in a dead faint by now. Should he warn the woman against riling up the robbers? Of course, that would divulge his presence. Best to wait and see how things played out.

  “I cannot believe this,” Mrs. Landers huffed out her breath. “You have no business robbing this bank. Stealing from our citizens.”

  “Actually, this is the second time he robbed it, ma’am,” Shorty called from the back of the bank.

  “You! You killed poor Sid! You should be ashamed of yourself!” Mrs. Landers shrieked.

  Fred rolled his eyes and looked heavenward. “Lord, help me. Of all the people I coulda taken hostage.”

  “The good Lord wouldn’t help a murderer like you,” Mrs. Landers stated. “You… you sinner!”

  “Is everythin’ an argument with you, lady?” Fred tightened his grip on Mrs. Landers’s arm and gave her a good shake. “All this yammerin’… yer husband likely died to get some peace and quiet.”

  Daniel noticed Mrs. Landers’s eyes had filled with tears. Perhaps the town gossip with the poisonous tongue possessed a heart after all. She must have loved her late husband. Fred’s words had definitely hurt her.

  “Gentlemen, there’s a bit of cash in the teller drawer, but the majority of the money is in the vault.” Harold waved them toward the vault to the far right. “If you will bring your bags this way, we can fill them. No need to hurt anyone.”

  Fred dragged Mrs. Landers with him, moving farther into the bank, shuffling closer to the vault. It appeared to Daniel she purposely was dragging her feet. “Hurry it up, woman, I ain’t got all day.”

  Mrs. Landers clasped her reticule in her hand as if her life depended on it. “I will do no such thing. And you cannot boss me around.”

  Fred cursed a blue streak and kicked a nearby ladderback chair. As he limped forward, another streak of cursing followed in his wake.

  Daniel reckoned he regretted that moment of temper. Probably his foot throbbed with pain, much like poor Mrs. Landers’s arm at this point. Daniel kept his eyes on all of them, hoping to find the opportunity to make a move soon. Mrs. Landers’s gaze darted between the robber and Harold. Daniel couldn’t imagine what she could be thinking. No doubt the poor woman must be frightened three ways from Sunday. Daniel didn’t condone the town gossip’s normally uncharitable behavior, but he sympathized with her today.

  Shorty hadn’t taken a single step forward. Daniel removed his pistol from the holster, clasping the weapon by the barrel as he moved closer to the robber. He quickly raised his arm and whacked the man over the head with the butt. Shorty silently crumpled in a heap on the floor. He’d earned himself a goose egg, but hopefully, Daniel hadn’t killed him.

  One down. One to go.

  Fortunately, Fred continued arguing with Mrs. Landers, keeping him from hearing Daniel’s decommission of his partner. Daniel moved forward slowly as a dozen scenarios for a possible next move raced through his mind.

  Mrs. Landers glanced back at him and met his eyes. She nodded and tilted her head toward Fred. Daniel felt his mouth drop open. What the heck? Was she attempting to communicate something to him?

  She straightened her back and faced Fred.

  Daniel couldn’t imagine what message she’d intended to convey.

  Chapter 24

  Harold continued to converse with Fred, attempting to convince the robber to accompany him into the vault to load up the money in the saddlebag slung over the man’s right shoulder. Daniel noticed the old fellow had loosened his grip on Mrs. Landers’s arm while he continued quarreling with Harold.

  Just when Daniel was moments from announcing his presence in hopes of surprising the robber, Mrs. Landers yanked her arm free of Fred’s grasp, reached into her reticule, and extracted a small pistol. Hands shaking but without a moment’s hesitation, she pointed her little gun at Fred and fired.

  Daniel couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

  Milton screamed like a little girl from his hi
ding place under his desk, covering his ears with his hands. Sawyer charged out of the vault, pistol drawn, a shocked expression on his face. Harold rushed forward and moved Mrs. Landers out of the way, probably not realizing the other robber had been taken out of the equation already.

  Fred’s expression conveyed his surprise. A streak of cussing followed as he grabbed the side of his head, wavering on his feet before landing on his behind on the plank floor.

  “What in tarnation did ya do, woman?” Fred shouted, removing his hand from his head. Blood streamed down his cheek and pooled on the floor.

  Daniel rushed forward and slapped a pair of handcuffs on Fred who’d been stunned by the bullet from the small derringer. He removed Fred’s pistol from his clawed fingers, breathing easy for the first time all day.

  “She… she shot me!” Fred yelled. “The old bitch shot me!”

  “Near as I can tell, you might be missing a good portion of one ear, sir,” Mrs. Landers informed him, craning her neck for a better view of the damage. “I do apologize. I believed I was aiming for your chest.”

  “My ear? She shot off my dang ear!” Fred paled. “Are you plumb loco? What in tarnation will I do with only one ear?”

  “Hear only half as much of my yammering I’d wager,” Mrs. Landers offered, nose in the air.

  “Should we send for Doc Bennett?” Milton Brown muttered from beneath his desk.

  Sawyer bent down. “At that close range, she hit the target. Best get Doc over here or he’ll likely as not bleed to death.”

  “I’ll go. I’ll go.” Milton scrambled out from under his desk.

  Harold produced a small towel from somewhere and placed it against Fred’s bleeding ear. “Here. Hold this,” he instructed.

  Fred used his cuffed hands to hold the towel in place the best he could.

  Just then Jim Snow stormed inside through the back door and charged into the room, pistol drawn. “I was passing by and heard a shot.”

  “We need Doc here, Jim,” Sawyer informed the deputy. “Can you go fetch him?”

  “Got my horse out front.” Jim bolted for the back door.

  Milton stood, wringing his hands. “Goodness sakes,” he blurted, gazing at the injured man in the middle of the floor. “That doesn’t look at all good.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Landers whispered, wavering on her feet. “I… I didn’t mean to kill the fellow. Just stop him from robbing the bank.”

  “I don’t believe he’s dying.” Harold touched her arm. “You were very brave.”

  “Don’t worry. We witnessed the shooting. If he dies, you won’t be charged with his death,” Daniel said, as reassurance. The widow’s face had paled considerably and she might faint yet.

  “He’s right.” Sawyer stood and spotted the other man in a heap on the floor in back. He glanced at Daniel. “That fellow back there. Would that be your doing?”

  Daniel nodded. “Evened the odds.”

  Sawyer glanced at Mrs. Landers. “I’ll have a few questions for you later. Leave your gun here, but you’re free to head home for now.”

  Mrs. Landers handed Sawyer her small but obviously effective weapon.

  Harold nodded. “I’ll take her home and then I’ll be back.”

  “No. No, Harold. I’ll take her home.” Milton straightened his glasses and pulled his vest into place. “You stay here. Answer their questions. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  Mrs. Landers accompanied him to the back of the bank. She patted his hand. “Bravery isn’t your strong suit, is it, young man?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m afraid it isn’t,” he replied as he unlocked the door. “But you were splendid.”

  “Thank you, Milton.” Mrs. Landers met his eyes. “When we reach my home, you’ll join me for a bit of my rheumatism medicine. I believe I could do with a small glass.”

  “Yes, ma’am, perhaps that would help our nerves.”

  Daniel wondered if Milton planned to return after the glass of medication, as promised. Could go either way.

  Carl charged into the bank the moment Milton unlocked the front door. “No one is leaving here,” he stated.

  Forced to obey the sheriff’s orders and remain in the bank, Milton and Mrs. Landers reluctantly preceded him to the front of the building. Daniel observed the pair, both shaking slightly. He couldn’t guess which of them was more annoyed their plans to leave the scene had been foiled by the sheriff. The rheumatism medicine would have to wait.

  “Is everyone all right?” Carl inquired.

  “There was an attempted robbery, but it’s over,” Sawyer explained, standing beside the wounded man.

  “I figured as much. Suzette from the millinery across the street rode that mare of hers down main street screaming at full volume about a shot fired in the bank.” Carl shook his head. “Came soon as I heard.”

  Daniel elaborated on what had happened. Sawyer scribbled notes in his little notebook as Daniel related everything leading up to Sawyer’s exit from the vault. When he got to the shooting, Carl’s mouth dropped open.

  He stared at Mrs. Landers. “Do you always carry that gun in your reticule?”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied without hesitation, her chin rising defiantly while she wrung her hands. “Since Mr. Landers’s passing I couldn’t risk being accosted on the street. There are depraved men in this world, and I’m not risking my safety or my life.”

  “Well, ma’am, I believe I had the situation in hand. But you brought the robbery to an abrupt end. I’d deem your actions rather heroic.” Daniel smiled at the brave widow. He couldn’t recall encountering any depraved men in Milestone, even while doing his late-evening rounds. Far as he could figure, the town seemed decidedly lacking in depraved fellows. But whatever assuaged her mind seemed harmless enough. As long as she didn’t shoot another fellow’s ear off or worse with that little gun.

  Just then, Jim Snow and another deputy arrived. “Doc’s delivering a baby so we’re to haul the fellow over to his clinic. Then I’ll drop the other robber at the jailhouse,” Jim suggested.

  “Go ahead,” Daniel agreed. “He’s still out cold, though. Perhaps Doc should tend both of them.”

  “Give me that first.” Carl removed the saddlebag from Fred’s shoulder while he sat bleeding on the floor. Dang it, they’d just gotten the blood out of the wood after the last robbery. “It’s empty. I wonder what they did with the money they stole first time?”

  “What about the other fellow’s bag?” Sawyer inquired.

  Daniel strode across the floor, picked up Shorty’s saddlebag and shook it. “Empty, too.”

  “They must have horses outside,” Sawyer speculated.

  “Leave my horse alone,” Fred called, limping his way out the door, holding the towel to his ear and being aided by Jim. The other deputy had thrown a still unconscious Shorty over his shoulder and carried him out ahead of them.

  Daniel suppressed a grin. Throbbing foot and bleeding ear. Old Fred had himself quite the day. Leave my horse alone. Sounded like there might be something to find after all. Following a brief search, two mangy-looking, swaybacked geldings were located in the alleyway. Their saddlebags bulged with cash and a few personal possessions.

  “They must have planned to leave the area the moment they exited the bank,” Carl suggested. “We need to count this money and record its recovery.”

  Daniel grabbed one bag and Carl the other. “No safer place for the counting than inside the bank.”

  “I’ll help,” Harold offered. “The bank owners will demand a thorough accounting.”

  “Of course,” Carl agreed.

  “I’ll question Fred and Shorty while you fellows count this money,” Sawyer announced when they returned to the bank. “And I’ll have Billy come fetch these horses, too,” he called on the way out the door.

  Carl waved his acknowledgement.

  Harold locked the front door behind Sawyer and guided the other men to a large table in back. “Hopefully, we’ve recovered the entire twenty tho
usand.”

  “My thoughts, too,” Daniel muttered, dumping the contents of the first saddlebag onto the table.

  Two hours later, the three men stared at the carefully stacked piles of cash covering the entire top of the wooden table in front of them.

  “We need to count again,” Carl muttered, scratching his head.

  Daniel shrugged. “We’ve done it twice already.”

  Carl met his eyes. “Daniel, this can’t be right.”

  “Unless there’s a new way of counting I haven’t heard about, it’s right.” Daniel stood, hands on hips. He’d never seen so much money in his life. His pa kept substantial funds in the safe in the study on the Double M Ranch, but Daniel had never had access to it. Only his pa and Jackson knew the combination.

  Harold whistled long and low. “And I’d hoped the bank would recover the stolen twenty thousand,” he whispered in awe. “What are we going to do with all this money?”

  “Well, one thing is certain. It doesn’t belong to those fools who attempted to rob the bank again,” Daniel scoffed. “I doubt either of them has done an honest day’s work in his life.”

  Harold shook his head. “Then they’ve been busy boys, up to no good.”

  “Hopefully, that Shorty fellow can shed some light on this.” Carl grabbed his Stetson off a nearby chair and stuck it on his head. “Fred won’t admit to nothing.”

  “I’ll take the twenty thousand and record it as recovered.” Harold met Carl’s eyes.

  The sheriff nodded. “Send the owners in Butte a telegraph in the morning, informing them the funds have been returned to the bank. And the culprit arrested.”

  “What about the rest?” Daniel met his boss’s eyes.

  Carl shrugged. “I don’t know. What would you do with almost thirty thousand dollars?”