by Paul Lederer
‘Got what I came for,’ Laredo said.
‘Is that the bank loot?’ Josh asked, nodding at the saddle-bags.
‘It is that,’ Laredo said, seating himself in the other wooden chair. He glanced at the battered Wage Carson, but did not comment.
‘How’d you get it?’ Josh asked with interest.
‘Off of Jay Champion’s dead body,’ Laredo told them. ‘I trapped him – or he trapped me – in a stable in Arroyo Verde. He popped up and shot first. I thought I was dead, but I managed to fire back. Killed him.’
‘Jay missed you?’
‘Not exactly,’ Laredo said. From his shirt pocket he removed a bright ornament. It was a deputy marshal’s badge with a .44 caliber-sized dimple in it. ‘Jay was a dead shot. I underestimated him. It was always Sly that I feared if it came to a showdown.
‘Nevertheless, boys, here I am. And only because you allowed me to wear that badge. My heart, you know, was hiding just behind it.’ Laredo paused, glanced at both men and then asked: ‘What did happen to Virgil Sly, does either of you know?’
‘Liza got him,’ Wage mumbled.
‘Well, then, there’s nothing left to worry about,’ Laredo said, stretching his arms. ‘Men,’ Laredo said expansively after having briefly turned away, ‘I feel that I owe you something for your help. I was thinking about this along the trail, now I would like to make you an offer. How would you like to work for the Territorial Bank examiner’s office?’
‘And do the job you do!’ Wage said. ‘I hardly think so, Laredo. Thanks all the same. Getting shot up once is enough for me.’
‘You misunderstand me,’ Laredo said. ‘There are now fourteen banks in the city of Tucson. There are jobs going begging as a bank guard. It is simple work, and the risk is not really that great. One bank out of fourteen suffers an attempted robbery every six months or so. The rest of a guard’s time is spent opening doors for old ladies or filling ink wells.’
‘I’m a little too old even for that,’ Josh said. ‘My legs are no good, my eyes even worse.’
‘I considered that, too, Josh,’ the tall man told him. ‘A bank, like any other business needs maintenance. A trustworthy man who can push a broom for a few hours a night is considered an asset – unless you think the job is beneath you.’
‘Son,’ Josh Banks said, ‘no job that pays is beneath me.’
‘We’ll discuss it on the road to Tucson,’ Laredo told them. ‘If you change your minds, that’s your business. I just wanted to make the offer.’
Wage wasn’t sure one way or the other. His future made no difference to him. He only wished that Laredo had returned with that offer before Liza had rolled out of town with the others. Maybe that would have been enough to change her mind – some sort of stability in her vagabond life.
The sun was riding high when the three men started for Tucson. Behind them Hangtown seemed to groan and resume its slow collapse.
‘Well, that was a grand experiment,’ Josh commented. ‘I guess we weren’t meant to own our own town.’
‘I guess not,’ Wage Carson answered. ‘I don’t know if I’ll like Tucson, but they must at least have some sort of food there that’s an improvement on venison and beans.’
‘I suppose so,’ Josh said, halting his mule for one last glance back at Hangtown. ‘It’s a shame and a pity, but I suppose nothing good can ever come out of Hangtown.’
But as Wage also looked back and surveyed the ghost town, he saw that Josh Banks was wrong.
The little girl with the huge dark eyes was standing at the head of the street, waving frantically after them.
About the Author
Paul Lederer spent much of his childhood and young adult life in Texas. He worked for years in Asia and the Middle East for a military intelligence arm. Under his own name, he is best known for Tecumseh and the Indian Heritage Series, which focuses on American Indian life. He believes that the finest Westerns reflect ordinary people caught in unusual and dangerous circumstances, trying their best to act with honor.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Logan Winters
Cover design by Michel Vrana
ISBN: 978-1-4804-8841-0
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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