by Mark Stewart
THE EMBERS from the camp fire that danced into the night sky had vanished by morning. A warm breeze started drifting across the grassland. Few clouds dotted the sky. Dan finished placing the saddle on his horse. He walked over to Masters, kicking him on the side of his boot. Before he opened an eye his hand had reached for his gun, pulling it from his holster.
Barry sat bolt upright grinning at the man.
“It’s time to head back to the town,” snorted Dan.
“Don’t you think you’re a smidgeon early?” jeered Masters, looking slightly perplexed. He stood, housing his gun back into the holster.
“Don’t worry I want front row seats,” said Dan. “Besides, from the moment we ride into town I want anyone who sees us will think nothing of our presence. I want to blend into the scenery. I don’t want anyone questioning why we’re in town.”
“What if we run into the hotel barman?” asked Barry.
“We’ll bid him a very good morning before going on our way.”
“In my opinion arriving in the town too early isn’t the right thing to do,” grumbled Masters.
Dan continued to ready himself for the short trip back into town.
“You can stay here if you want to; I don’t care.”
Barry stood, copying his brother’s movements. Under sufferance, Masters placed his leather saddle on the back of his horse.
“If you don’t panic we’ll be rich before lunch,” reassured Dan.
The three bushrangers slowly rode their horses towards the town, ambling along at a snail’s pace. They stopped at the first building, craning their necks, looking for human traffic.
Seeing no one the three men dismounted outside the general store and tethered their horses to a verandah pole next to the water trough. Dan checked the entire length of the tiny town. Satisfied they didn’t arouse any suspicion he set out for the train station office. If the shoe box sized solid brick building sat any closer to the tracks, the train might smash it to pieces. The dirt under Dan’s feet felt rock hard from an unknown number of commuters who regularly boarded the train. He stepped up to the small ticket window to watch a rake-thin man counting money. The large clock hanging from the wall still read the same time as the previous day.
Dan tapped on the glass window using his knuckles. Waiting for the man to look up, he started drumming his fingers on the wooden wall.
Eventually, Dan growled at the man for ignoring him. “What time is the train due to arrive?”
The man counting the money froze in mid-count. He lifted his head, nodding at the clock. “Thirty-five minutes.”
Dan retraced his steps back to the lane. Standing next to Masters, he whispered. “The train’s half an hour out.”
“Forget the train, we’re here to rob the bank,” grumbled Masters.
“Have you forgotten what I told you last night? The train brings the money for the miners.”
“I thought you wanted to be inside the bank when the train arrives?”
“Correct.”
“Let’s start walking,” hinted Barry.
“Not yet,” said Dan. “If we’re seen loitering about the bank someone will grow suspicious. A few months ago I visited this ugly fly-blown town. I studied the antics of the payroll clerk at the bank. Every Tuesday he met the train, signed for the bags of money and escorted the one lonely lawman to the bank. A few minutes later they’d carry the gold to the train. The clerk puts the gold in the first carriage, locks the door, signs a form and returns to the bank. The whole operation takes no longer than fifteen minutes.”
Masters’ pupils sparkled at his plans. ‘If the Dayton brothers wanted to keep incidental secrets of the plan hidden from him, he’d resist the temptation to tell them of his plans which could ultimately lead them to their eventual demise.’ A sly smirk creased his face. “When’s the best time to strike?”
“The moment the clerk leaves the bank, we’ll enter and wait for his return. We’ll pretend to be customers. This time of the day there won’t be anyone around to do banking business. The first person never arrives before eleven. When the clerk comes back carrying the money he’ll lock the bank’s front door and place a sign in the window; ‘Closed for twenty minutes.’ I’ve seen the whole process at least a dozen times in about the same number of banks all over the state.”
The three men walked their horses up the slight incline towards the bank, turned into a side street and tied the reins to a post opposite the stock feed store. A young lad no older than twelve dipped his hat at the strangers before running off towards the river carrying empty buckets.
“Where’s the exit route to get out of this two-bit town?” queried Masters.
“We’ll leave this town via the large tree,” said Dan, pointing. “Five feet into the scrub there’s a trail leading to the river. We’ll head upstream by walking in the water. If anyone sees us leave the town, they’ll have to decide whether to go upstream or down. If they assemble a posse to follow us, they’ll have to split. They’ll search for an exit point on the river bank. When they don’t find one, they’ll soon give up. We’ll walk in the water for an hour before riding out. We’ll go inland by travelling west. In a couple of days, the heat will be off, and we’ll be home free.”
“If everything goes according to your plan,” stated Masters.
“I can’t see a problem,” corrected Barry.
“Me neither,” added Dan. “I’ve gone over the entire plan at least twenty times in my mind. It’s flawless.”
“I’ll go for a walk,” hinted Barry.
He casually entered the main street. A few feet from the lane he leaned against the wall of the general store watching how the street still faired. To help look inconspicuous, he lit a cigar.
Three young women dressed to impress in their long white dresses and a knitted shawl draped across each of their shoulders didn’t give the man watching their every move eye contact as they went about their business of the day. A wagon being pulled by a single horse stopped outside the blacksmith’s stable directly across the street from the bank. Barry studied the lad sitting in the driver’s seat. The eleven-year-old sent the man watching him a friendly nod. He even waved at the stranger. The bushranger sent the kid a nod before blowing smoke into the air from his lit cigar. His right hand unintentionally slipped down and touched the butt of his gun. The lad vanished inside the shop to start a conversation with the Ferrier. Every few seconds he pointed at the horse. The lad left after they shook hands.
Barry decided to walk towards the train line to appear to be waiting for the train to arrive. He pulled a round silver watch from his pocket, opened the lid and pretended to study the position of the hands.
‘9:59am.’
Two ladies scurried past him as the train whistled its arrival. Steam could be seen billowing through the scrub as the train slowed its approach to the station. Peeling himself from off the wooden wall Barry quickly walked back to the narrow lane where Masters and his brother were waiting.
“How’s it all lookin’?” asked Dan.
“All is quiet on the main street,” he reported.
Dan whispered confidently. “Watch what is about to happen. If I’m correct, the bank clerk will open the door. He’ll study the street before stepping outside into the sun. He will light a smoke before walking to the train station.”
The bank clerk did exactly what Dan described.
The three bushrangers waited for the train to arrive before walking to the bank. Inside the building, a grey-haired old woman and her balding husband were finishing their banking affairs.
“I thought you said nobody would be in here this early,” whispered Barry in his brother’s ear.
Dan walked up behind the frail old man, grabbing him by the collar. Before he could react, Barry threw him through the air. The old man’s body slammed against the wall and crumpled to the floor. The old woman opened her mouth to scream. Dan aimed his gun at her head and pulled the trigger. She died where she stood. Her husband quickly
followed her to the pearly gates.
The young lad behind the teller window slowly raised his hands into the air.
“Please, take what you see and leave.”
Pointing his gun at the lad, Dan walked behind the counter, pushing him to the floor. He hovered menacingly over the young man, lifted his foot and pushed his boot into the man’s neck. He looked over his shoulder at Masters and his brother.
“Grab what you can. We’ll wait for the bank clerk to bring the money.” He again stared at the lad squirming under his boot. “Where’s the key to the safe?”
“The bank clerk wears it around his neck,” he croaked. The lad started to tremble uncontrollably. “Please, I don’t want to die. My wife is expected to give birth either today or tomorrow. I came to open the bank so I could ask Mr. Davies for the rest of the week off.”
“Who’s Mr. Davies?”
“He’s the bank clerk.”
“You’re full of useful information aren’t you? Is there anyone else in the bank?”
“Yes, there’s a young girl. She has permission from the local school to be here. She has to lead a debate on the positive side of banking. The main question she needs to find the answer to is how we guarantee your money is safe?”
Dan snorted. “I want you to bring the girl here to me.”
“Please, she’s only a child.”
Dan pulled the man to his feet and pushed him into the wall. He raised his colt .45, level to the man’s forehead.
“I hope you’re not stupid enough to challenge my orders?”
The lad’s Adam’s apple bobbed sharply when he swallowed. He started shaking his head violently. Not for a second did he take his eyes off the barrel of the gun.
“I didn’t think so. Now go.”
The young man hurried off into another room. A minute ticked off before he located the child. He opened the cupboard door, tugging on her arm.
“I’m not going out there,” she whispered.
“It’s okay. The robbers want the payroll from the train. When they have the money bags, they’ll go.”
“I don’t care. If they see me, I will be shot dead.”
The young man rolled his eyes, grabbed hold of the girl’s wrist and dragged her scratching and kicking to where Dan stood impatiently waiting.
Dan studied her. A lustful grin swept his face.
“How old are you?”
“I’ll be thirteen next year.”
Dan grabbed the girl by the arm and pushed her towards Barry.
“Get rid of the rubbish. I don’t want any evidence. I certainly don’t want any witnesses.”
“She might be a good hostage if things go wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong. Do what I told you.”
“I’m not too thrilled about killing a kid.”
Dan scooted across the floor. Grabbing the girl by her shirt, he flung her against the wall. Standing next to the dead old man she trembled from head to feet. The lad was pushed into the wall next to the girl.
“If either of you makes even the slightest noise you’ll be talkin’ to the old man on the other side,” growled Dan through a locked jaw. “Understand?”
The girl gave him a slow, silent nod before slipping down the wall. She sat on the floor in a crumpled mess staring up at the three bushrangers. Fear drove every word out of her mind. The lad squatted next to her.
Masters, loitering at the front window gave a sharp whistle. “The clerk is on his way back. Dan, you’re right about the number of police officers. The lawman has no idea what sort of surprise I’ll be giving him.”
Dan nudged him in the ribs. “Before the visitors arrive why don’t you go find a room where the hostages will be permanent residents?”
A hostile expression creased Masters’ brow. He grabbed both the girl and the lad by their shirt sleeves and hurriedly forced them into the back room. In the rough treatment, the lad’s crisp white shirt sleeve ripped. Masters slammed then locked the door.
The lad quietly walked across the room. Reaching out he tried to turn the doorknob. Disappointed, he stood facing the girl.
“They’ve locked the door. The only thing we can do is sit tight.”
The girl sat staring at the floor too afraid to speak.
The lad walked back across the room. Hovering over the girl, he whispered.
“Did you hear me? Those men have locked us in.”
The girl’s stare slowly drifted upwards from the floor. Tears were streaming down her face. Her mouth opened. The lad managed to muffle her scream in time by using his hand.
“You have to stay quiet. If I take my hand away do you promise not to scream?”
She blinked rapidly while nodding.
“Please, it’s imperative you don’t scream. If we make a noise, those men ou there, will murder both of us.”
The young man eased his hand slightly away from the girl’s mouth. Satisfied she wasn’t going to scream he removed his hand completely.
“You do realize the moment one of those men opens the door we’re dead,” whispered the girl.
“We have to pray they’ll be too busy escaping and forget all about us.”
“They don’t appear to be the type to forget something so important. Besides, we’re in the same room as the safe.”
The lad’s eyes widened. “In the stress I forgot. The moment they obtain the key to the safe, they’ll be in this room. We have to get out of here.”
The girl quietly walked across the room to the door.
“What are you doing?” whispered the lad.
“Seeing how there’s no window the only way out of here is through the doorway. My sister and I used to lock ourselves in our parent’s room trying to get each other into trouble.”
“How will your childhood memories help us to unlock the door?”
“If the key is actually in the door lock we’re home and hosed. I’m Amelia by the way.”
“I’m Tom Stephens.”
“Pleased to officially meet you; now let’s see to our escape.”
The two pushed their ears against the door, listening for any noise.
“I heard nothing,” whispered Tom.
“Same here,” echoed Amelia. Squatting so she could look through the keyhole she continued. “Great news the key is in the lock. The only thing we have to do is push the key out and catch it on a large piece of paper when it hits the floor. It will be an easy task dragging the paper under the door. If all goes to plan, we’ll have the key in our hand in seconds.
“There will be too much noise when the key hits the floor. Great idea, though.”
“Take your shirt off and slip it under the door. The material will dull the noise.”
Tom placed his shirt on the floor, using his hands to iron the material flat. After pushing his tattered shirt under the door, he pulled a half pencil from his trouser back pocket.
“I have it for emergencies only. If the pencil I use to write in the ledger breaks I don’t want the customer to think I’m an amateur. I pull the pencil from my pocket and keep working.”
“Impressive,” said Amelia. “It’s a shame you’re married, or I’m not five years older.”
Tom’s face flushed red as he handed over the pencil. Amelia inserted the sharpened end into the keyhole and gently pushed the end of the key.
“The hardest part of the trick is to push the key all the way out while keeping the lead tip of the pencil intact. If it breaks, the pencil will be too large to fit in the keyhole. If it happens, we’ll have to sharpen the pencil.”
“The task will take too long,” whispered Tom. “Time is a luxury we don’t have.”
They heard a muffled thud on the floor. Tom and Amelia held their breath listening for heavy footsteps. Eventually, Tom exhaled. Amelia again looked through the keyhole. Her shoulders slumped.
“All clear,” she whispered on a sigh.
Tom dropped to all fours to look under the door to size up the key.
“My shirt and th
e key are too thick to fit under the door.”
Lying prone on the floor to assess the situation Amelia pushed her mouse-coloured hair behind her left ear to have an unrestricted view.
“What we need is a piece of paper.”
“There’s a pile on the shelf inside cupboard. Don’t move I’ll be right back.”
In seconds, Tom dropped to all fours and slid a small sheet of white paper under his shirt. Amelia slowly worked the material out of the way. The moment the key dropped silently onto the sheet of paper she pulled the paper under the door.
Holding the key up Amelia stood triumphantly.
Tom looked through the key hole at the bushrangers. They were too intent in staring out through the window waiting for their money to arrive than to be concerned over two hostages locked in a back room.
“All’s clear,” whispered Tom. Inserting the key into the lock, he slowly twisted the key. The moment he heard a click his face distorted. He looked sideways at Amelia. “I have to open the door fast. If I don’t, there is always a loud squeak.”
“It doesn’t matter if you open the door fast or slow there’s a real prospect the bushrangers will be alerted to our escape,” whispered Amelia.
Tom rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “I’ll open the door only wide enough for you to slip out.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t fret about me. I need you to slip outside using the side entrance and sprint to the new police station. The run shouldn’t take you any longer than a few seconds.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Please, you have to. It’s our only chance. You must convince the police officer to come.”
“What if I can’t?”
“You have to succeed. Amelia, my life depends on it.”
She nodded, kissed the side of his cheek and dropped to all fours. Placing his foot in exactly the right spot so he could use it for a stop, he winked at the girl.
“Ready?” asked Tom.
“I’m ready.”
“The moment the door hits my foot I want you to slither out. Make sure you’re quiet. You might only have seconds before the robbers know what’s going on.”
“I pray you will stay safe,” whispered Amelia.
Tom gripped the door knob. He counted to three before turning the knob and yanking. The door flew open. It came to a sudden stop against his foot. The squeak never happened.
In double quick time, Amelia slithered out of the doorway towards the side entrance on all fours. She flashed Tom a blank look before vanishing.
“From where I’m standing, I can see the bank clerk at the train talking to the lawman. They’re getting ready to come here,” reported Masters.
Barry joined his comrades behind the bank door. He looked out of the window at the main street. From their vantage point, the bank clerk and the police officer could be easily seen unloading the last of the bags from the train. In total, there were eight bags on the ground. The clerk gave the train driver a wave. Picking up the bags of money the clerk read the inked inscription on sides; ‘Property of the Victorian State Bank.’ He waited for the lawman to clutch four bags before collecting the remaining four and leading the way back to the bank.
“We’ll wait for the lawman to step into the bank,” snickered Dan. “He’ll be the only one carrying a gun. The bank clerk is small, wiry; he looks a little nervous. He won’t be a problem.”
The bushrangers scurried about the room looking for a hiding spot. One hugged the side wall waiting out the final few seconds. The second bushranger hid behind the counter while the third hid behind the door.
The four money bags the clerk carried was placed on the ground outside the bank door. He reached out, twisting the door handle. He used his foot to push the door open.
The clerk stepped across the threshold and into the bank.
Masters shot the lawman in the head the moment he stepped into the bank. Dan hurled the bank clerk across the room. He fell against the wall, floating to the floor in a bundle of rags. The four bags of money he held fell on top of him.
Masters slammed the door shut before swinging his attention to the clerk.
“Where’s the key to the safe?”
The clerk didn’t utter a word as he tossed the key at the bushranger.
“I told you he’d be no problem. Let’s get the loot. In seven minutes I want to be gone,” insisted Dan. He led the way to the safe. His brother came next. Masters brought up the rear.
A gunshot echoed throughout the room. Blood splattered the walls. Masters crumpled to the floor. He had received a single bullet hole to the back of his head. Dan turned around, instinctively pointing his gun at the clerk. A single shot saw the man exhale his last breath. Dan showed no remorse as he slipped the colt .45 back into his holster. He glanced at Barry, shrugged his shoulders and stepped up to the closed safe room door.
After giving Amelia enough time to escape Tom slithered out of the room undetected. Quietly he closed the door to the safe room. When the clerk fired his gun, killing, Masters, Tom didn’t have enough time to walk past the bushrangers so he could escape the same way Amelia did. He needed to decide quickly to either stand up to the bushrangers or find a place to hide. Whichever decision he settled on he needed to act. Both questions made his future looked grim. His murder seemed inevitable. He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing his wife again or know she’d be a widower before her time or have to bring up their baby on her own. Tears formed in his eyes.
Tom made his choice.
Whether he chose correctly or not, he needed to make his decision work.
Tom stepped back into the safe room. Frantically searching the room for a hiding place his gaze fell upon the tall cupboard next to the safe. The cupboard gave him a slim ray of hope. Swiping the bundles of blank paper from off the cupboard’s only shelf he placed them on the floor. He quickly created three separate piles, stacking the paper to look as though they were supposed to be on the floor. He wriggled onto the shelf and started to close the door. He only just managed to pull the cupboard door shut when the remaining two bushrangers walked in.
Dan and Barry filed into the room. Their gaze lovingly fell upon the six foot cubed hunk of solid green painted metal. Scratches around the keyhole showed them the key scraped the surface many times from someone who might have been either tired or nervous. Dan glanced back at the clerk’s corpse.
“The man will never be nervous again.”
He inserted the key into the lock. He heard a clunk when he turned the key. Twisting the door knob, he yanked the door open.
“Brother, it is pay day.”
“Let’s grab the loot and get out of here,” whispered Barry.
Together they swiped imore than fifty stacks of pound notes. Each stack measured three inches thick and arranged in numerical order from the one pound note to twenty pounds from left to the right on the safe shelves. The lower they got to the floor the larger the denomination of pound notes. The men emptied the safe, stuffing the money into the bags the police officer and the bank clerk carried to the bank. Dan groaned at the amount of effort he used to pick up four white calico bags from off the bottom shelf of the safe. He made a low whistle as he checked the contents.
“Barry there must be at least forty pounds of gold in these bags. We’ve struck it rich. This hoist will see us to the grave fifty years from now.”
“What about Masters?”
“What about him?”
“Shouldn’t we take his body?” questioned Barry.
“Leave him. We don’t have time. Already we’ve been in this bank for ten minutes. Three minutes too long.”
Dan and Barry made preparations to leave the bank. They grabbed all the bags and snuck out the side entrance to the bank. Barry tied two gold bags to his saddle then threw his saddle bag over the horse’s neck.
“How long do you reckon it’ll take before the train driver raises the alarm?”
“Not long,” replied Dan. He fini
shed tying his gold bags to the saddle and heaved his frame onto the back of his horse. As they rode off Dan asked. “Did you kill the female witness and the male teller Masters locked in the back room?”
Barry sent his brother an awkward stare. “No, did you?”
He shook his head. “We have to go back. If we don’t, they’ll give a detailed description of us.”
“We can’t go back. There’s no time,” whispered Barry.
“If we hurry we’ll have enough time to sneak back into the bank to kill the two witnesses. We’ll be on our way before the locals can alert the new cop.”
Barry tapped his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll walk to the end of the lane to steal a glance.”
Dan gave his brother a sharp nod. Waiting for his brother to return he took hold of both horse’s reins.
Barry walked quietly down the lane to the front of the bank. Squinting nervously in the sunshine he studied the main street. He couldn’t see a soul. He looked down the hill at the locomotive. It looked colder than snow.
Switching his attention to the bank’s door, he casually sidestepped to the window. Looking through the glass window, he saw the young girl talking to the lawman. She fidgeted while giving a full detailed description of the two bushrangers.
Barry quickly walked back to the lane. Out of sight of the main street, he sprinted for his horse. Glancing nervously at his brother he shook his head. They turned their horses at the same time and pushed their way into the scrub. They vanished in a cloud of dust.
CHAPTER NINE
