“You know,” Clint said, “even if I did have a lot of money—which I don’t—I probably wouldn’t after leaving this town.”
“I’ll talk to the undertaker,” Taylor said.
“I’m gonna have a drink somewhere and turn in,” Ransom said. He looked at Clint. “If you don’t mind, I’ll do it alone—just in case somebody else wants to take a shot at you. I had enough excitement for one night.”
“Once again, thanks for the help,” Clint said. “I might be dead if it wasn’t for you.”
“We all still might be dead,” Ransom said. “Some of us ain’t as confident as you are—but you’re welcome.”
THIRTY-THREE
The next morning Clint met with Ransom, Kale, and Delaney in front of the small saloon. Sheriff Taylor came minutes later with two boys in tow who looked to be fourteen or fifteen.
“What are these boys here for?” Kale asked.
“They’re going to be our lookouts,” Clint said. He looked at Taylor. “Do we have two good rooftops to put them on?”
“Two two-story buildings at the north end of town,” Taylor said.
“What about the south end?”
“They won’t be comin’ from the south,” the lawman said.
“Who says?” asked Clint.
“Well . . .”
“I don’t think we need two lookouts at the same end of town. Do you, Sheriff?”
“I guess not. Okay, so one at the north end and one at the south.” Taylor looked at the boys. “You fellas work out who goes where.”
“Do we get guns?” one of them asked.
“What’s your name?” Clint asked.
“I’m Roscoe,” the boy said.
“And I’m Marty.”
“What would you boys do with guns?” Clint asked.
“Kill us some outlaws,” Roscoe said eagerly.
“Have either of you ever fired a gun?”
“No,” Roscoe said.
“Well, no,” Marty admitted.
“Come here,” he said to Roscoe.
He took his gun out of his holster, turned the boy around, and put it in his hands.
“See the horse trough?”
“Yes, sir.”
The trough was only two feet away.
“Fire the gun into the water.”
“Right into the water?”
“Yes.”
“It won’t make a hole?”
“No.”
Clint walked the boy right up to the trough.
“Cock it,” he said, even though it didn’t need to be cocked.
It took the boy three tries and he had to use both thumbs.
“Now fire it.”
The boy pointed the gun at the water and pulled the trigger. The recoil knocked him on his ass and he dropped the gun, crying out.
“My wrists!”
Clint picked up the gun, reloaded it, and looked at Marty.
“You want a turn?”
Marty looked down at Roscoe, who was cradling his wrists.
“No, sir,” he said.
“Good.” He holstered the gun, then reached down and lifted Roscoe to his feet. “By the time you cocked the gun, the outlaws would be gone. Do you still want one?”
Holding back tears, Roscoe said, “No, sir.”
“Good, then you’ll both be lookouts. Just sing out when you see a group of riders—or any rider—approaching town. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Roscoe said.
“Yes,” Marty said.
“I’ll take them over,” Taylor said.
As the sheriff walked away with the boys, Ransom said, “They’ve never fired a gun? I fired my first gun by the time I was ten.”
“I was twelve,” Kale said.
“Eleven,” Delaney said.
“Kids today,” Ransom said.
They all looked at Clint.
“I lived in the East,” Clint said. “Didn’t fire my first until I was fifteen.”
“Really?” Ransom asked.
“Really. Joe, I need some suggestions for a good spot in town for an ambush.”
“We’re gonna ambush them?” he asked.
“No,” Clint said, “we’re just going to want them to think they’ve been ambushed.” He looked at the others. “You boys got rifles?”
“Yes, sir,” Kale said.
“Yes,” Delaney echoed.
“Go and get them.”
He looked at Ransom, who was holding his rifle.
“Gonna have to tell them everything,” Ransom said.
“That’s fine,” Clint said. “Where’s Winston?”
“I don’t know,” Ransom said. “He should’ve—”
At that moment, the big man came shambling into view, wearing his holster and carrying a rifle. His jaw had turned some interesting shades of purple and yellow.
“Winston,” Clint said, “you okay?”
The big man nodded.
“Can you talk?”
He shook his head.
“Can you shoot?”
A nod.
“Okay,” Clint said. “That’s what’s important.” He looked at Ransom. “Joe? Ambush?”
“This way.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Ned Pine tossed the remainder of his coffee cup into the fire, then upended the pot too.
“Hey!” his cousin Rafe said. “I wanted some more of that.”
“No more coffee,” Pine said. “We’re headin’ back.”
“To town?” Rafe asked.
“Yeah, to town, ya idiot,” Ned Pine said. “Where do you think?”
“Why’re we goin’ back there, Ned?” Rafe said. “Ain’t we got some banks ta hit?”
“Yeah, we got banks to hit,” Ned said, “and we’re gonna start with the Cedar City Bank.”
Sitting on the other side of the fire was another cousin, Charlie.
“We’re hittin’ our hometown bank?” he asked. “I thought we wasn’t gonna do that.”
“What the hell,” Ned said. “A bank’s a bank.”
“And what about that lawman?” a third cousin, Lew, asked.
“What about him?”
“Ain’tcha gonna kill ’im?” Festus asked. “Ya said you was gonna kill ’im.”
“Yeah, I said I was gonna kill ’im, and I am,” Ned said, “but we’re also gonna take the bank.”
“At the same time?” Rafe asked.
“The sheriff’ll be busy, won’t he?” Ned asked.
“Yeah,” Festus said, “busy gettin’ dead.”
“So,” Lew asked, “are we goin’ back ta kill the sheriff or rob the bank?”
“Both,” Ned said. “I’m gonna kill the sheriff, and you boys are gonna take the bank.”
“Ain’t Pa gonna be mad?” Rafe asked. His pa was the present mayor, Sam Bennett. His brother was Lew.
“Yeah,” Charlie said, “my pa won’t be too happy neither.” His pa was the former mayor, Charles Wentworth. His brother was Festus. Their uncle, Ned’s pa, Tom, had been dead ten years.
“I don’t care what either of my uncles think,” Ned Pine said. “If you fellas are worried about your pas bein’ mad, then I don’t need you in this gang.”
“I ain’t worried,” Charlie said.
“Me neither,” Lew said.
“Me neither,” Festus said, “but . . .”
“But what?” Ned asked.
“Well, what about our mas?”
All their mothers were still alive and living in town. Ned’s ma had died soon after his pa.
“If you’re worried about what your mommies think,” Ned said, “I have even less use for you. You fellas wanna rob banks or not?”
“That’s what we been waitin’ ta do,” Rafe said, “since you first told us about it.”
“Okay then,” Ned said. “Break camp and saddle your horses. We’re headin’ back to Cedar City. We’ll be there before dark.” He looked over at the second campfire, where the rest of the men—not part of the family—were hunkere
d down. “I’ll go and tell the rest of them.”
“We really need them?” Rafe asked. “We’re gonna have ta split the money with ’em.”
“We split the money,” Ned said. “We’re family. They’re hired help. They just get paid.”
Ned walked away from the fire.
“Finally,” Rafe said to his cousins and brother, “we can stop wastin’ time in these tiny towns around here and get somethin’ done.”
“Yeah,” Lew said to Rafe, “but Ma’s gonna be real mad.”
“Ned’s right,” Rafe said. “We can’t worry about what Pa and Ma are gonna say. We got to make our own way.”
“But . . . how are we gonna do this?” Charlie asked.
“Don’t worry,” Rafe said, looking over at Ned Pine, “Ned will tell us.” He shrugged. “Ned always tells us.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“When Ned Pine calls you out,” Clint said to Andy Taylor, “you pick the place.”
“The square in front of City Hall.”
“Right. Ransom will be on the City Hall roof. Kale and Delaney will be across the street. Winston’s going to be on the ground in front of City Hall.”
“Why on the ground?”
“He can make use of his strength there,” Clint said. “We don’t know how he shoots.”
“I heard he’s pretty good.”
“We’ll find out, I guess.”
“And where are you gonna be?”
“I’ll be on the ground too. Watching your back,” Clint said.
They were sitting in Taylor’s office, drinking coffee. It was midday, the boys were on watch, and Ransom and the others were in the saloon, waiting for the word. They’d been instructed not to get drunk. That didn’t affect Winston, since he didn’t seem to be able to open his mouth, but Ransom said he’d watch the other two.
“You know,” Taylor said, “if Pine finds out you’re here, he might come after you when he’s, uh, finished with me.”
“Andy,” Clint asked, “do you think you can take Pine in a gunfight?”
“There was a time. . . .” Taylor began, but then stopped. “I’m not sure, Clint.”
“But you’re willing to step into the street with him anyway?”
“It’s my job.”
“Maybe,” Clint said, “if Pine finds out I’m here, he’ll want to try me first.”
“You’d do that?” Taylor asked. “For me?”
Clint shrugged. “It would be up to Ned Pine, Sheriff.”
Clint and Taylor spent the afternoon in the office, playing two-handed poker for bullets.
Ransom, Kale, Delaney, and Winston were in the saloon playing poker for matchsticks.
Miriam Taylor remained at home, waiting for the sound of shots.
The boys, Marty and Roscoe, kept their eyes peeled, watching for dust clouds as they had been instructed, or simply watching for riders. At first sight, they were to run to the jail and tell Clint and Taylor.
Ned Pine had thirteen men riding behind him—his four cousins, who expected to be equal partners in what they took out of the bank, and nine other men who were working for pay. Ned had pretty much decided to kill the sheriff in town just to cover up the bank robbery. Originally, it was because his ego had been bruised when the man tossed him in jail, but Ned had decided his ego was not so important. Money was, and if it could be accompanied by a reputation for, say, killing a lawman, all well and good.
He also wanted to rob the bank to get back at both of his uncles—the former mayor and the present mayor. Both had taken him in at some time in his young life, and both had treated him badly because his father was the so-called “black sheep” of the family. Well, to Ned Pine, “black sheep” meant that his pa was the one with cojones and imagination.
He was going to make damn sure he took every red cent out of the bank, and that both men knew it was him doing it.
But first, Sheriff Andy Taylor had to be taken care of. Ned had said he was going to kill the lawman, and he had to make sure he had a reputation as a man who did what he said he was going to do.
“We’ll cover our faces with masks,” Rafe said to his three cousins.
They were riding four abreast behind Ned, while the rest of the men were strung out behind them.
“They’ll never know it’s us,” Lew said.
“You fellas are idiots,” Charlie said.
“Yeah,” Festus said. “As soon as people see Ned, they’re gonna know it’s us. There ain’t no way to keep your ma and pa or our ma and pa from knowing that it’s us robbing the bank.”
“At least we won’t be the ones killin’ the sheriff,” Charlie said. “That’s gonna be Ned.”
“Yeah, but we’re supposed to help him with that,” Rafe said.
“Maybe,” Charlie said. “Only if Ned runs into any trouble. Personally, I think ol’ Ned can take the sheriff all by hisself.”
“And what about deputies?” Rafe asked.
“Forget about them,” Festus said. “They done up and quit before we even left town. Ain’t nobody in town gonna stand with the sheriff against Ned. That man’s as good as dead.”
“Hey,” Rafe said, “what about his wife? That’s a fine-lookin’ woman who’s gonna be left all alone.”
“Maybe we can stop in and see her before we leave town,” Festus suggested.
“And do what?” Lew asked.
“Make her a happy woman,” Festus said. “Give her some lovin’.”
“You mean rape?” Charlie asked. “I ain’t gonna rape nobody.”
“It won’t be rape,” Festus said. “Not after I’m done with her. She’ll be beggin’ for it.”
“Says you,” Rafe told his cousin. “Wait until she sees what I got for her.”
“Okay,” Charlie said. “I’ll rob the bank and screw the sheriff’s wife, but I ain’t killin’ nobody.”
“Why not?” Rafe asked.
“My ma’d skin me good if I did that.”
THIRTY-SIX
One of the advantages of having the young boys on the rooftops as lookouts was getting to use their young eyes. Roscoe thought he saw something, squinted, and kept staring until he was sure. It was a dust cloud. Clint Adams had told him that a large dust cloud could be an indication that a large group of riders was approaching. Clint also told him that if he saw such a dust cloud, he should try to see beneath it. Sure enough, as he watched, he was able to see a group of riders just beneath the cloud. It was their horses that were kicking it all up.
This was it.
He turned to run from the roof, then remembered one last thing Clint had told him. He’d told him to try and get a count of how many riders there were. No one expected him to get an exact count, but Clint wanted to have some idea of how many riders to expect.
Roscoe squinted, tried to count, then when he felt fairly sure he could tell Clint there were at least a dozen riders coming, he turned and ran for the roof hatch.
The door to the office slammed open and Roscoe came running in.
“They’re comin’,” he announced breathlessly.
Clint and Taylor both jumped to their feet. Taylor dropped his cards on the table. Four kings, best hand he’d had all day. He hoped it was an omen of good things to come.
Clint grabbed Roscoe by his shoulders while Taylor broke out the rifles and shotguns from the gun rack. He leaned down and looked the boy in the eyes.
“How many?” Clint asked.
“I done like you tol’ me, Mr. Adams,” Roscoe said. “I looked for the dust cloud, I looked underneath . . . I done what you tol’ me. . . .”
“Okay, calm down, Roscoe,” Clint said. “Take a breath. How many?”
“A dozen easy, maybe more.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “go to the saloon and tell the others.”
“Take these.” Taylor gave the boy two rifles. “Give them to Kale and Delaney.”
Clint had checked the men’s rifles, and they would have been lucky not to have them explode in their hands.
“Tell them to get into position.”
Roscoe cradled the rifles in his arms.
“Yessir.”
“And then go get Marty off that other roof,” Clint said.
“Then what do we do?”
Clint straightened.
“Then you both get off the streets.”
Clint and Taylor both ran to the north end of town and spotted the riders.
“Gotta be them,” Taylor said.
“Who else would it be?” Clint asked. “Are you ready?”
Taylor dried his palms on his thighs.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I’ll be waiting in the alley next to City Hall,” Clint said. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
Clint left the sheriff there to greet the riders, hoping that things went as planned.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Ned Pine saw the solitary man standing at the edge of town on Main Street, legs spread, sun glinting off the badge on his chest.
“Who’s that?” Rafe asked, riding up alongside him.
“That’s the sheriff.”
“He’s waitin’ for us?”
“Yup.”>
“That ain’t good.”
“It don’t matter.”
“But how did he know we was comin’, Ned?” Rafe asked anxiously.
“Don’t be stupid, Rafe,” Ned said. “I told him we were comin’ back, remember?”
“Yeah . . . but you didn’t tell him when . . . exactly.”
Charlie came riding up on Ned’s other side.
“Why don’t we ride right over him?” he suggested. “That’d take care of him good.”
“That ain’t what we’re gonna do,” Ned said. “Pass the word. Nobody talks but me. Got it?”
“Yeah, Ned,” Charlie said, “we got it.”
“And the bank closes in one hour,” Pine said. “You all know what you’re supposed to do?”
“We got it, Ned,” Rafe said. “We got it.”
Andy Taylor stood his ground as the gang of men rode up to him, Ned Pine at the front. For a moment he thought they might try to ride right over him, but finally they reined in their mounts and sat there looking at him.
Way with a Gun Page 9
