Blazing Rattles (A Harley and Davidson Mystery Book 10)

by Liliana Hart

  “I got it,” she said.

  Lordy, she was a handful. It didn’t seem to matter in which time he lived.

  The old county jail was a one-story structure made of solid timber. The interior had wood floors, and two cells faced with steel bars that were simple but effective. Sun streamed in a side window, and although there was a red curtain hung over it, the draft from the rafters kept it from blocking the light.

  Hank saw Shelly, Coil’s wife, as soon as they walked inside. She jumped up from behind the desk, her face tear-streaked and lined with worry.

  “Shelly,” he said, not really knowing what to say. “I’m so sorry.” He felt the crushing weight of those words. They seemed inadequate. He didn’t even think it had really sunk in yet. The reality was Coil was most likely dead. They all knew it, but no one wanted to say it.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “It’s McIrish and the Copper Cove Boys,” Springer said.

  If anything, Shelly went paler and she collapsed in the chair behind the desk.

  Hank glared at Springer. The boy never could keep his mouth shut.

  “Why don’t James and Springer take me around back so I can check out Coil’s horse,” Agatha said, trying to diffuse the tension and give Hank some privacy with Shelly.

  “Good idea,” Hank said. “I’ll meet y’all around back.” He waited until Agatha and the deputies had cleared the room before asking, “Have you heard anything else about the trip Coil was taking to Austin?”

  Shelly shook her head. “He told me before he left he couldn’t tell me where or why he was going. He said there were too many eyes and ears along the way, and it was safer for me not to know.”

  “Reggie was escorting a prisoner to a military camp,” he said and hesitated a bit. “It was Dillon McIrish, and from the looks of things, McIrish escaped his hold.”

  “You think he’s dead, don’t you?” she asked, eyes dry and devastated.

  “I think we’re going to find him, no matter what, and bring him home to you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, nodding. “That means a lot to me. And it’d mean a lot to Reggie too.”

  The front door swung open and Hank immediately put his hand on his weapon as a silhouette filled the doorway.

  “Whoa, Marshal,” a voice said. “It’s me, Karl Johnson.”

  “Karl?” Hank asked.

  “I heard there was trouble, so I left the ranch to offer my aid. I didn’t know you were going to shoot me over it.”

  “I appreciate the help,” he said. “Would you mind taking Shelly home and keeping an eye out around their place for the time being? If Coil is alive, then McIrish might try and make a play for his family as revenge.”

  “You can count on me, Marshal,” Karl said.

  Hank said his goodbyes and then went out back to join Agatha and his deputies. “How’s it looking?” he asked.

  “The blood is mostly on the left side of the saddle and horse, so I think that’s the direction Coil must have slid off.”

  “Slid?” Hank asked. “He didn’t fall?”

  “I think so,” she said. “The blood is swiped from the horn of the saddle and smeared going down. Also, it looks like Coil’s spurs dug into the horse’s right side and scraped across his hide.”

  “What does that mean?” Hank asked.

  “It means it’s possible he’s still alive somewhere,” Agatha said. “Coil is resourceful. He’d know how to hide. I have to believe he’s still alive. I can’t imagine the alternative.”

  Hank agreed. Coil was his best friend. They’d been through too much together for things to end like this.

  “Now what?” Springer asked.

  There was no time for answers because gunfire erupted. Everyone ducked for cover, and Hank pulled Agatha beneath him as he knelt into a shooting position. He felt her pushing against him

  “I can take care of myself, Hank Davidson,” she yelled.

  “Yeah, with what?”

  “My rifle,” she said, then must’ve realized she’d left it on the wagon. “Crud.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, rubbing it in.

  James motioned for them to come where he was behind the cover of the jail. “It looks like a bank robbery,” he said once they’d gotten closer.

  “How you figure?” Springer asked.

  “I saw two of the Copper Cove Boys riding in circles shooting in the air, but then I saw a whole bunch of them hang a right without shooting. It looks like they were trying to ride under the chaos caused by the other two.”

  “A diversion,” Agatha said with a gasp.

  “We gotta act now,” Hank said.

  “There was a bunch of them, boss,” James said, nervously. “There’s only the three of us.”

  “Four,” Agatha said, narrowing her eyes.

  “Three,” Springer said.

  “I got more experience shooting at those thugs than any of you,” she said, and spun off toward the wagon. Hank assumed she was going to retrieve her rifle. He knew there’d be no stopping her and to be quite honest, they needed the help.

  “How we gonna handle this, Marshal?” James asked.

  Hank’s pulse quickened. His mind raced. He knew the Copper Cove Boys like the back of his hand. And if they were the same in the Old West as they were in the future, then he knew exactly what they’d do.

  Agatha came back with her rifle and he nodded. “I know how they’re going to pull this off. I’ve seen it before.”

  “Back east?” James asked.

  “That’s right,” Hank said, not going into detail. “It’s all about smoke and mirrors.”

  “Huh?” James asked.

  “Distractions,” Hank said quickly. “They’ll all go into the bank, and all but one will come back out, making a ruckus and drawing attention to themselves. But there will be one of them slipping out the back. He’s the one carrying the loot. Then they’ll meet up at a specific location and divvy it up.” Then he explained the plan.

  “We better get moving,” Agatha said.

  He’d noticed the horses in a little paddock to the side of the jail, but he hadn’t realized they were his horses. Or at least police horses. But everyone mounted up while he stood there looking at the black beast that pawed at the ground restlessly when he got close.

  “What’s my horse’s name?” Hank asked.

  “Beemer,” Springer said. “Your head still smarting you, Marshal?”

  “I guess so,” Hank said and swung up into the saddle.

  The team moved down a back street and through an alley to get in the proper positions, and Hank gave instructions along the way. He’d decided to go with the ultimate fake out to make the Copper Cover Boys think they had been fooled. He and Springer would confront the big group of gangsters as they exited the front door. Agatha and James would go around back to intercept the real crook and recover the bank’s cash. It was a gamble, but he had equal confidence in both of their abilities.

  Hank and Springer took position behind the hardware store right across the street from the bank’s front entrance. There was a line of eight horses stretched across the center hitching post.

  Everyone had cleared the street at the first sign of trouble, and doors and windows had been bolted. But he could feel the eyes of everyone watching.

  If Hank were wrong about the decoy, he and James would be fatally outnumbered and outgunned. He also began to reconsider the wisdom of placing only two at the back. The gang’s ruse in the future was to sneak one man out, but that didn’t mean they’d used the same ploy in 1874. What if James and Agatha were equally matched? Or worse?

  Hank held onto Beemer’s reins as the horse began to grow restless. There were shouts from inside, but thankfully, no gunfire. It seemed an eternity passed before the double wooden doors of the bank swung open, and the Copper Cove Boys swarmed through the doors like ants. The eight men all wore dark overcoats and black hats, and they had bandanas stretched over their faces. They hooted and hollered,
and then they raised their guns and shot off rounds into the sky. Hank guessed they didn’t know or didn’t care that what went up must eventually come down.

  “That’s not a good sign,” Hank whispered.

  “What’s that?” Springer asked, worry in his eyes.

  It was now or never. Hank trusted his experience and instinct, but this scene was more like a bad spaghetti western than a real life crime in progress.

  “I said, that’s our sign,” Hank lied. “Go in under control and take charge immediately. Unless we act as if we think they’d just robbed the place, they’ll know it’s a trap.”

  “But they did just rob the bank. They might not be holding the loot, but they robbed it all the same.”

  “Good point. Let’s go,” Hank said.

  The outnumbered pair charged toward Camellia Street before cutting a hard right back into the hive of violent marauders.

  “This is the law,” Hank yelled. “Everybody freeze!”

  Laughter, curses and taunts greeted them. Hank had one eye on the bandits and the other on his deputy. He needed Springer to have his head in the game and remain cool.

  Hank flinched as two blasts fired close to him, and he thought they were both goners. But it was Springer’s six-shooter that had been fired.

  “Put your hands in the air, or we’ll start filling ya up with led!” Springer ordered.

  The bandits laughed. “This is our town now. We’re the law.”

  “Wanna bet?” Springer holstered his revolver and slipped the wooden-stocked rifle from the smooth leather pouch attached to the right side of his English riding saddle.

  Hank tried not to let his surprise show on his face. When had Springer turned into Dirty Harry?

  “You’ll be the first one I drop,” Springer said with a snarl.

  The man narrowed evil eyes at Springer, but he slowly eased his hands up.

  “You feeling lucky, punk?” Hank asked, pointing his own rifle at a swarthy looking man who was trying to sneak around the side of the bank.

  “Y’all are under arrest for bank robbery,” Springer declared.

  Hank’s glare narrowed beneath a furrowed brow. His focus was intense as they laughed again.

  “We didn’t rob no bank,” Evil Eyes called out. “How about y’all walk away nice and quiet before someone gets hurt?”

  “If you didn’t rob the bank then you shouldn’t mind proving it to us,” Hank said. “If you’re innocent then everyone can just go on about their business. Y’all drop your weapons and turn out your coat pockets and satchels.”

  “There’s only two of you,” Evil Eyes said, his teeth gleaming black as he smiled.

  Then Hank heard the cock of another rifle, and he glanced up at the hotel across the street to see a rifle pointed out one of the windows. And then another cock of a gun from somewhere else, and he realized the citizens were helping out.

  “I don’t think so,” Hank said.

  The Copper Cove Boys shared a look and then dropped their weapons, opening their trench coats and emptying their pockets. They were clear. And that’s when he saw Agatha from the corner of his eye giving him the signal.

  “See, boys,” Hank called out. “That wasn’t hard. Why don’t y’all head on out of town?”

  Hank waited until they mounted up and left before he nudged Beemer in the opposite direction and back toward the jail. They wouldn’t have too long to wait before the gang realized their partner with the loot wasn’t going to show up, and they’d eventually retrace their steps back to town.

  “Did they get him?” Springer asked.

  “We’re about to find out.”

  Chapter Five

  Agatha was out of breath with exhilaration. They’d actually pulled it off. Not only did they recover the bank’s money, but they managed to capture one of McIrish’s top henchmen.

  “We did it!” she said as soon as Hank and Springer walked inside the jail. She knew she sounded like a child, but she couldn’t contain her excitement, and that was saying something coming from a woman who liked to live her life on the edge.

  Hank grinned. “I knew you could do it.”

  “It was all you, Boss,” James replied. “That was a brilliant plan. How’d you know?”

  “Experience.”

  “You should’ve seen James,” Agatha said. “He gave that robber one chance to surrender. That creep went for his pistol, and then wham! He knocked him out cold.”

  Agatha imitated the way James had uppercut the crook, her leather hat flipping off her head.

  “Which one did we get?” Springer asked.

  “Cornbread Dodger,” James said. “I recognized him from the feature Agatha did in the paper.”

  “Cornbread?” Springer asked. “Why they call him Cornbread?”

  “Because his first name is Roger,” Hank said. “Would you want to be called Roger Dodger?”

  “Good point,” Springer said.

  “How do you know so much about him?” Agatha asked. “I didn’t know his first name.”

  “Experience,” Hank said again. “I’ve been dealing with these outlaws for a long time. There’s not much I don’t know about them.”

  “Well, maybe Roger Dodger will know you too,” Agatha said. “We need him to spill the beans about Coil.”

  “I ain’t saying nothing,” Cornbread groaned from the cell, holding his aching jaw.

  “I’d suggest you wait to speak until you’re spoken to,” Agatha said, and then she added insult to injury and said, “Roger Dodger. That’s a ridiculous name.”

  The short, stocky bull of a man leapt to his feet and rattled the cage. “Let me out of here! You’re all dead! You know that? They’ll come for you now!” He reached for a weapon, but his holsters were empty.

  “Looks like you’re unarmed and all alone, Roger,” Agatha said, taunting him.

  “Oh, yeah?” Cornbread said, brandishing a knife from the inside of his tattered duster. “Come and get it.”

  The distinctive cock of a gun echoed in the small room, and Agatha aimed her sidearm directly at Cornbread’s head.

  “You think we’re playing games with you?” Agatha asked. “Do you really?”

  Cornbread dropped the knife onto the floor, and James kicked it across the room.

  “Got anything else you want to show off?” she asked, then nodded in satisfaction as he took a step back away from the bars.

  “How about we advise him of his Miranda Rights before we start questioning him,” Hank suggested.

  “What?” James asked.

  Agatha looked suspiciously at Hank. What had he said about that scumbag in the cell having rights? And who was Miranda? His head injury was obviously still affecting him.

  Hank’s expression tightened and he rubbed at the knot on his head. “Nevermind.”

  “Okay, Cornbread,” James said. “Let’s get down to business. We don’t want you. We want to know what happened to Ranger Coil.”

  Cornbread flashed a row of brown teeth, and Agatha flinched as he let loose a maniacal laugh that made her flesh crawl.

  “You ain’t getting nothing out of me,” Cornbread said. “My boys will be here in no time.”

  “Your boys?” Agatha asked.

  “The Copper Cove Boys,” he announced. “They’re going to overrun this dump like a swarm of ants on a picnic.”

  “You think that your criminal band of brothers will raid a town jail to break you free after having robbed a bank?” she asked, chuckling. “You really are an idiot.”

  His hands strangled the metal bars, and if looks could kill…

  “Let’s play this out, and see if you can catch on,” she said. “You go in with eight other bandits to rob a bank. They all get confronted by the law, but they don’t have the money, so they go free.”

  “Sounds about right,” he said, scratching his wooly beard.

  “But the one guy the gang let slip out back with all of the stolen cash has mysteriously vanished. They don’t know where you a
re,” she said. “For all you know, they think you’ve high-tailed it out of town with their money.”

  “They saw you take me in,” he said, but he’d gone a little pale.

  “Who saw?” she asked. “We took you around back, and then you got your lights knocked out.”

  “He sucker punched me,” Cornbread said.

  “No, he hit you fair and square. You just gotta nice, soft jaw. Too bad your skull is so thick,” she said. “If you were a thinking kind of man, you’d have figured out by now that your gang is out hunting for you. I’d even go so far as to bet that when you show up empty-handed they’ll put a bullet or two into you before you can start explaining. They don’t seem like the trusting kind.”

  “They’ll believe me,” he said, but he didn’t seem convinced.

  “Really?” she asked, leaning back against Hank’s wooden desk. “You’ve got no proof that you were here. Heck, we sure ain’t going to confirm it. And there you go running back to your boys without their share of the cash. Do you really think they’re going to buy that story about you being arrested and then miraculously set free?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Then why aren’t you in jail?” she asked.

  “I am in jail,” he said, confusion marring his ugly face. “See?”

  Agatha pushed herself off the desk, and sauntered over to the far wall. There was a hook with a single key on a large ring. She slipped one finger in the loop and lifted the key before walking to the cell and unlocking it.

  “Not anymore,” she said. “You look like a free man to me.” The iron bars creaked as she opened them wide.

  Cornbread backed away from the open door as if it were a bear trap. “If I walk out that door y’all will fill me full of lead for trying to escape.”

  “We won’t shoot you,” Agatha said. “But Dillon McIrish will.”

  “He trusts me,” Cornbread said again.

  “Okay,” she said. “Bye-bye then.”

  Cornbread took three steps and stood square in the open threshold. “I’m gonna leave, and they’re gonna trust me,” he said, not sounding as convinced as he had before.