“I’m s-sorry,” the old man said, wiping tears from his eyes with his palms. “It’s just the idea of somebody robbin’ this bank…there ain’t nothin’ for them ta get.”
“Whataya mean?”
“There ain’t been no money in this bank in years, mister,” he said. “Oh, there was a time when we had plenty of money in the safe and the safe was always closed. We had a full staff here and a real bank manager. Those were the days.”
“What days?”
“The days when most of the big ranches around here kept their money in this bank,” the old man said. “Their operatin’ expenses, their payrolls, they all came out of here.”
“But not no more?”
“Not no more for a long time.”
“But…you still got a telegraph line.”
“We got that line because of the bank,” the old man said, “but when the money got taken out of the bank, nobody came along ta take down the line. So we still got one, but ain’t nobody got any more use for that than they do for this bank.”
The old man cackled again and Tanner started to think that the man only had about half a brain left.
“Is this true?” Tanner asked, turning to the old woman at the desk.
“It’s true,” she said. “That old man tells the story to anyone who’ll listen.”
Tanner looked over at Samms, who just shrugged.
“Is he really the manager?”
“We ain’t got much need for a manager anymore, mister,” she said. “That there old fool is my husband and, truth be told, the only reason we come in here every day is ’cause we don’t got nowhere else ta go and we don’t wanna stay home together.”
Tanner looked over at the old man, who was smiling broadly, a yellow gap-toothed smile.
“Ain’t no harm in lettin’ him call hisself the manager, now, is there?” she asked.
“Lou,” Samms said, “let’s get outta here.”
Samms turned and opened the door, but Lou Tanner had one more question.
“If the ranchers used to keep all their money here, where are they keepin’ it now?”
“They’re keepin’ it in the bank that put us outta business,” she said. “The bank that nearly killed this town.”
“And where’s that?”
“Why,” she said, “that’s in Pearl River Junction.”
The sheriff took up a position across the street from the old bank. He knew Gladys Michaels and her crazy husband Henry were in there. They went in there every day. That meant that they were telling these men everything there was to know about the old bank.
After a while the door opened and the two men stepped outside. They never once glanced across the street, but headed straight back to the saloon, deep in thought the whole way.
He stepped from the doorway and turned to go to the telegraph office, but at the last minute crossed over to the bank.
“Gladys,” he said, sticking his head in. “What’d you tell them fellers that was just in here?”
“Henry told them his story, Sheriff,” she said, “after he told them he was the bank manager.”
“And what else did you tell them?”
“Why, I told them where all the money went to,” she said. “They seemed like nice enough fellas, no sense in lettin’ them think they could open an account here. We told them to go to the Bank of Pearl River Junction, where the ranchers from miles around keep their money.”
Sheriff Coffey closed the door and started walking quickly to the telegraph office.
43
Sheriff Cotton was in his office when the telegraph clerk found him.
“Thad, where’s Dan Shaye?” he asked after the clerk left.
“I don’t know, Sheriff.”
“What are you doing now?”
“I gotta relieve Thomas on the roof of City Hall.”
Cotton folded up the telegram and looked up at Thad.
“Go and get Thomas off the roof and both of you come down. One of you find Dan and the other James. I need all of you here as soon as possible.”
“But we need somebody on watch—”
“Not today we don’t,” Cotton said. “Just do it.”
“Sure, Sheriff.”
As Thad left the office, Cotton unfolded the telegram and read it again.
“The Collier gang is in a town called Highbinder, Texas.”
“How far is that from here?” Shaye asked.
“About two days’ ride. I got a telegram from the sheriff there. They arrived today and checked out the bank.”
“What’s Highbinder’s bank like?” Shaye asked.
“That’s just it,” Cotton said. “They don’t have a bank there anymore. They used to, but all that’s left is the building. See, before the Bank of Pearl River Junction opened, all the ranchers for miles around kept their money there. Now it’s here.”
“And the gang knows that now,” Thomas said.
“Right. Sheriff Coffey says they took rooms and are going to stay overnight. If they leave town in the morning and head this way, he’ll send us another telegram.”
“So we’ve got a breather for a couple of days,” James said. “No more roof watches.”
“For now, no,” Cotton said, “but now that they know how much money our bank keeps on deposit…”
“Makes sense that they’d hit it,” Shaye said, “but probably not until after Jeb Collier meets with Belinda and sees the boy.”
“Wait,” Cotton said, “we can’t let him see them.”
“Why not?” Shaye said. “It’s the reason he’s coming here. Maybe if he sees her and she tells him to go away, he will.”
“He’s got seven men riding with him, according to this telegram,” Cotton said. “You think they’re going to come all this way and not try for the bank?”
“Probably not,” Shaye said. “You got any names?”
“Four,” Cotton said, consulting the telegram, “Leslie, Tanner, Jeb Collier, and Delay.”
“Wait,” Shaye said. “Vic Delay?”
“No first name,” Cotton said. “Why? Who’s Vic Delay?”
“A fast gun for hire,” Shaye said. “A killer.”
“Why would a killer be riding with Collier?” Cotton asked. “Isn’t he a bank robber?”
“Bank robbers don’t kill?” James asked.
“Well, yeah, they do,” Shaye said, “but Vic Delay has never been known for robbing banks, just for killing.”
“So then why’s he riding with the Collier gang?” Thomas asked.
“Maybe Jeb Collier thought he’d have need for a fast gun when he came here.”
“To find out if he has a son?” James asked.
“Collier’s got something else on his mind besides that—obviously,” Thomas said.
“Our bank,” Cotton said, “now that he knows about it.”
“How well is your bank protected?” Shaye asked.
“Two guards at all times,” Cotton said. “The bank employs their own men.”
“Well, we’ll have to warn them,” Shaye said.
“I’ll have a talk with the manager,” Cotton said, “and I guess I better talk to the mayor and the town council. We might be having some excitement in this town pretty soon.”
“I’ll go with you,” Shaye said.
“And what do we do?” James asked.
“You can stop taking shifts on the roof,” Cotton said. “In fact, you can take some time off, get some rest. We’ll tell you when you should come back.”
“We should probably keep one of them on duty, Riley,” Shaye said, “just to make normal rounds.”
“Okay,” Cotton said, “decide among yourselves who’ll make rounds tonight.”
“I’ll do it,” Thad said immediately. “I’m used to it.”
Sheriff Cotton got up, grabbed his gun belt from the peg behind him, and put it on.
“Let’s go, Dan,” he said, “we can still catch the bank during business hours. After that we’ll come back to City
Hall and talk to the others.”
“You boys stay out of trouble during your time off,” Shaye warned his sons.
“Hey, we’re deputies now,” James said. “Nobody’s gonna want to start trouble with us.”
“If you believe that…” Thomas said, shaking his head.
On the way to the bank Cotton let Shaye read the telegram for himself.
“How fast is Vic Delay?” Cotton asked.
“Fast, accurate, deadly.”
“Have you ever seen him?”
“Once,” Shaye said, “years ago, in Abilene.” He handed the telegram back to Cotton.
“Maybe it’s a different Delay,” the sheriff said.
“Wishful thinking,” Shaye said. “Let’s just assume that Jeb Collier is on his way here with Vic Delay and six other men and go from there.”
“Why would he need to bring a killer—unless he means to kill Belinda?”
“He probably just figures he doesn’t know what to expect when he gets here,” Shaye said.
“Eight men,” Cotton said, shaking his head.
“Can you get any more deputies?” Shaye asked.
“Not with any experience.”
“When this is all over,” Shaye said, “you might consider getting the town council to let you bring in some experienced men—especially if your bank carries as much money as you say.”
“The town was trying to keep a low profile about that,” Cotton said. “They didn’t want to overstaff my office and figured the bank had its own men inside.”
“They gave you that big two-story office,” Shaye said. “You might as well put it to good use.”
“Well, if I come out of this alive, I’ll take it up with the town council,” Riley Cotton said.
“You’ll come out of it alive, Riley,” Shaye said. “We all will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Shaye shrugged and said, “Thinking about the alternative really doesn’t appeal to me.”
44
The bank manager’s name was Edmund Brown and Shaye could see right from the first moment he met him that the man did not have much faith in the local law.
“We have enough men to handle any robbery attempt, gentlemen,” he said to Shaye and Cotton. “Our men are especially trained.”
“I realize that, Mr. Brown,” Cotton said. “We just wanted to warn you and let you know we’re on top of the situation.”
“Well, we appreciate that, Sheriff,” Brown said, “but rest assured, we can handle the situation ourselves. I’ll just put two more men on duty and that should take care of it.”
“How are they armed?” Shaye asked.
Brown looked at Shaye as if he was surprised that the deputy had spoken, instead of the sheriff.
“Our men have the newest Winchesters and the training to use them,” the bank manager said.
“Have they ever killed a man?”
“W-what?”
“Have they ever killed a man before?” Shaye asked again.
“Sheriff,” Brown said, “do you usually let your subordinates—”
“Mr. Shaye is no subordinate, Mr. Brown,” Cotton informed the man. “He has volunteered to help the town on this. He’s a well-known lawman in his own right.”
“Well, that may be,” Brown said, “but whether or not our men have killed before is not germane to the discussion.”
“I’m not sure what ‘germane’ means, Mr. Brown,” Shaye said, “but it sure is important whether or not your men have killed before, because they’ll probably have to kill now. There can’t be any hesitation on their part—”
“Not to worry, uh, Deputy Shaye,” Brown said, “there will be no hesitation on the part of my men.”
“I hope not, sir,” Shaye said, “for all your sakes.”
“What an ass!” Shaye said outside.
“That’s true,” Cotton said.
“He’s going to end up getting a lot of people killed someday,” Shaye said. “Maybe even some citizens.”
“We’ll talk to the mayor and the town council now,” Cotton said, “but I got to warn you that Brown sits on the council.”
“He’s just one man,” Shaye said. “Let’s see if we can’t convince the others to take some special precautions.”
The mayor was an officious man named Walter Mann. He consented to see Cotton and Shaye without an appointment, but told the sheriff he had “five minutes.”
“It’s going to take longer than that, Mayor,” Shaye said.
The mayor sported a mane of white hair that made him seem older than he was, which Shaye figured was about his own age.
“I don’t know you,” Mann said. “You’re new.”
“Mayor, this is Daniel Shaye. He and his two sons have volunteered to be deputies during this time.”
“And what time is that, Sheriff?”
“We believe that a gang of outlaws is on its way here,” Cotton said and went on to explain about the telegram from Sheriff Coffey on Highbinder. He did not, however, say anything about Belinda and her son.
“What makes you think these men are coming here, Sheriff?”
“They were told about our bank,” Cotton said.
“Our bank is well protected.”
“There’s another man riding with the gang,” Shaye said. “His name is Vic Delay.”
Mann shook his head. “Should I know that name?”
“He has a reputation as a killer.”
“And why would he be coming here?”
“We don’t know that, Mayor,” Cotton said. “We just want to alert you and the council to what we do know.”
“Well,” Mann said, “it doesn’t sound to me like you know a lot, Riley, but I’ll convene a meeting of the council tomorrow morning, nine A.M.”
“Fine,” Cotton said. “I’ll be there.”
He and Shaye turned to leave, but then he turned back.
“I forgot to tell you. We’ve already talked with Ed Brown at the bank. He’s not taking our warning too seriously.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Riley.”
Cotton nodded and followed Shaye out the door.
“Two jackasses,” Shaye said. “Why is it men like that hire men like us and then don’t listen?”
“We do our jobs anyway, don’t we?”
“This is the part of wearing the badge I always hated,” Shaye said, “dealing with men like that.”
“What can we do?” Cotton asked. “It’s men like that who build towns and run things.”
“Yeah,” Shaye said.
“I could use some coffee,” Cotton said. “How about you?”
“Sure.”
“I know a place that serves a great cup.”
“Not your house, I hope…no offense.”
“None taken,” Cotton said. “No, we can have coffee without having to see Belinda or Little Matt.”
“Then lead the way…”
45
Jeb Collier was still seated in the saloon with Vic Delay when Lou Tanner returned. The other men had left in search of a meal or to check out their hotel rooms. Since they were sharing two or three to a room, they’d want to get first choice of a bed.
Lou Tanner got himself a beer from the bartender and sat down across from Jeb and Vic Delay.
“What’d you find out?” Jeb asked.
“What did you send him to find out?” Delay asked.
“Why this one-horse town has a telegraph key.”
“What the hell—”
“Just listen,” Jeb said. He looked at Tanner. “Go.”
Tanner explained everything he and Samms had learned at the Highbinder bank—or what was left of it.
“That bank in Pearl River Junction has got to be busting with money, boss,” he finished.
“Sure sounds like it,” Jeb said.
“So what do we do?” Tanner asked.
“Go get yourself somethin’ to eat, Lou,” Jeb said. “Delay and I will be along in a while.
“Ok
ay, Jeb.”
“Ben’s out there somewhere,” Jeb reminded him. “Make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”
When Tanner left, Jeb looked across the table at Delay.
“I knew there had to be a reason for this town to have a telegraph key.”
“Whatever you say, Jeb,” Delay replied. “You plan on hittin’ that bank in Pearl River Junction now that you know it carries so much money?”
“It’s too good to pass up,” Jeb said. “You and your boys want to be in on it?”
“Why not?” Delay replied. “We’ll be there, won’t we?”
“But we can’t do it until after I finish my other business.”
“When do you want to leave?”
“Tomorrow,” Jeb said, “and we’ll still ride in the way I figured. We’ll leave this town in four sets of twos, so we don’t ride into Pearl River Junction too close together.”
“Suits me,” Delay said. “Whataya say we get somethin’ to eat now? I’m starvin’.”
As they pushed their chairs back and got up, Jeb asked, “Don’t you want to talk about the split?”
“I figure you’ll see I get a fair share from the bank, Jeb,” Delay said, “’cause you know I’d kill you, otherwise, and that brother of yours.”
“I reckon I know that, Vic,” Jeb said.
“All right, then,” Delay said. “Let’s go and find somethin’ to eat.”
Sheriff Coffey watched the last two men leave the hotel and walk over to the café. Some of the other men were inside already. When they were joined by the last two, Coffey crossed the street and peered in the window of the café. He counted and saw that seven of the men were inside, seated at two tables. They were all eating except for the two who had just entered, who were ordering from a scared-looking waitress.
He was trying to decide what to do next when he felt something hard poke him in the center of the back.
“Just stand fast, Sheriff,” a voice said. “I’m gonna take your gun.”
A hand plucked his gun from his holster.
“Okay,” the voice said, “let’s go inside.”
Jeb Collier looked up as a man came stumbling into the café. The waitress gave a startled little scream.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” he said to her. “Just go and get us our steaks.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Pearl River Junction Page 13
