Day of Reckoning

by William W. Johnstone

  “Who the hell were they? Does anyone know?”

  “I don’t have any idea,” another said. “But I’d sure as hell like to know.”

  “Yeah, me too. I got money in that bank. I wonder how much they got?”

  * * *

  “Six hundred and twenty-nine dollars,” Callahan said after he counted the money at their encampment that night. “Damn, I woulda thought we got more than that.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s sure more’n we had, ’n I’d like to find us some place where we can spend the money,” Manning said. “I want some good whiskey and a bad woman.”

  The others laughed. “Yeah, what do you say, Callahan? Let’s find us a place where we can spend some of the money.”

  “All right,” Callahan agreed. He smiled. “The way I look at it, there ain’t no sense in havin’ money if you can’t spend it.”

  * * *

  “It was them,” Suzie said to the bartender. The Brown Dirt Cowboy was filled with customers now, many of them the men who had gone out in the posse. Others were there also to find out how the posse had fared, as well as to talk about the robbery and murder. “The ones that robbed the bank are the same four men who were in here.”

  “You’re kinda puttin’ the cart before the horse, ain’t you?” the bartender asked. “We don’t know it was them.”

  “Well, think about it, Roy. Four men came in here, wouldn’t have anything to do with any of the girls. They stayed less than fifteen minutes, talked real low so’s that nobody could hear ’em, then left. Five minutes later the bank was robbed by four men. Who were those men? None of us had ever seen ’em before, ’n it’s for sure we haven’t seen ’em since.”

  Roy nodded. “You might have a point there,” he said. “But I’d be careful about sayin’ anything to anyone else about it. If word gets back to them that you’ve figured out they’re the ones who robbed the bank, they may wind up comin’ back for you.”

  Suzie’s suspicions were well confirmed when several of the townspeople filled the saloon that evening, talking about the bank robbery.

  “Four of ’em, they was, ’n one of ’em was a big man with a real flat pug nose, like as if it had been real bad broke.”

  Suzie glanced over at Roy, and the bartender nodded. It was the same four men who had been in there, who robbed the bank, all right. But what good did it do for her to know that now? Nobody had ever seen them before, so she didn’t have any idea as to their names, and they had certainly left town as quickly as they could. And enough people had seen them and described them, that even if she did share her thoughts about the men with others, she wouldn’t be adding anything to the information, so there was no way the men would come back on her, as Roy had suggested.

  “Here’s the thing though. They left before they got most of the bank’s money. Turns out they didn’t get no more’n five or six hundred dollars, or so.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sky Meadow Ranch

  Because there was no railroad or telegraph service for Bordeaux, nobody at Sky Meadow Ranch, or even in Chugwater, had heard about the bank holdup. As a result, Duff and the others were unaware that the men they were searching for were the same men who had held up the bank in Bordeaux.

  After buying the things they would need for the pursuit of the men who had killed Ina Claire’s parents, Duff had invited Ina Claire out to the ranch to prepare for the upcoming mission. He had invited Meagan as well, because he thought her presence would make Ina Claire more comfortable.

  “If you’re going to come with me, I need to teach you to shoot,” Duff said to Ina Claire.

  “You don’t need to teach me. I’ve already learned to shoot.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, do you think that just because I’m a girl, I can’t shoot?”

  “All right, let me see what you can do.” Duff walked over to the fence and put an empty can on each of four posts.

  “Take a shot at that first can for me,” he said when he got back to her.

  Ina Claire raised the pistol to eye level, extended her arm, took very careful aim, and pulled the trigger. She was rewarded with a clinking sound as the bullet from her pistol swept the can from the post. She looked at Duff with a satisfied smile of accomplishment.

  “What do you think of that?” she asked. “Papa taught me how to shoot.”

  “That’s pretty good,” Duff said.

  “Pretty good? What do you mean that’s pretty good? I hit the can, didn’t I? How could it have been any better?”

  “It could have been better if you hadn’t aimed at the can.”

  “What do you mean if I hadn’t aimed at the can? Isn’t that what you told me to aim at?”

  “No, I told you to shoot it. I didn’t tell you to aim at it.”

  “Mr. MacCallister . . .”

  “Duff,” Duff corrected. “You’re my sister-in-law, remember.”

  “Duff, you aren’t making sense. You said shoot the can but don’t aim at it. How do you expect me to shoot the can if I don’t aim at it?”

  “Like this,” Duff said. He pulled his gun and, without raising it to aim, shot two times and knocked two of the cans off the posts.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I did that by thinking where I wanted the bullets to go.”

  Ina Claire laughed. “You think where you want them to go?”

  “Aye, lass, I think them to the target. There is one can remaining. Shoot at it again, but don’t aim this time.”

  “I believe I see what you mean. If you draw your pistol fast, you won’t have time to aim it.”

  “That’s partly it,” Duff agreed. “But the truth is, I’ve never been proficient in what the Western Americans call the fast draw.”

  “But Papa said you had been in many gunfights,” Ina Claire said. “How did you survive them if you aren’t fast on the draw?”

  “Being the first one to draw your pistol isn’t as important as being the first one to hit what you are shooting at. Most fast-draw gunmen depend upon their speed to intimidate the adversary. If you are able to withdraw your pistol in a reasonable amount of time, and put the first shot on target, ninety-nine and nine-tenths of a percent of the time, you will emerge victorious.”

  “Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time?” Ina Claire asked. She chuckled. “That still leaves one-tenth of one percent of the time where you would lose. And you only have to lose once.”

  “That is true, lass. That is also why you must be accurate one hundred percent of the time. Now, draw your gun and shoot at that can. Don’t aim at it, just feel where it is.”

  Ina Claire pulled the pistol and started to raise it, but stopped, then fired from the hip. The can was unscathed.

  “I missed,” she said sheepishly.

  “You missed, did you?” Duff laughed. “No doubt now you’ll tell me that your hair is red.”

  “You needn’t make fun of me,” Ina Claire said, stung by his reply.

  “You’re right, lass, and ’tis sorry I am for doing such a thing. Here, let me help you out. Don’t forget, someone may be shooting at you as well, so don’t give them much of a target. Turn yourself so that you are showing only your side.” He moved Ina Claire into position. “Now don’t turn your body, but look at the target by turning your head back toward it.”

  Ina Claire did as she was instructed.

  “Bring the pistol up to eye level and aim at the target, just as you did before, but don’t shoot. Good. Now close your eyes and lower your pistol so that it is pointing straight down. With your eyes closed, aim at it again.”

  “How am I going to do that if my eyes are closed?”

  “Just listen to me. Close your eyes, then bring your arm back up, thinking about where the target is. When you think you have it lined up, tell me.”

  With her eyes still closed, Ina Claire brought her arm up until she thought it was aligned with the target. “All right, I think I have it lined up.”

  “Pull th
e trigger, but don’t open your eyes.”

  Ina Claire pulled the trigger.

  “Now open your eyes and look.”

  Ina Claire opened her eyes and saw a nick in the post just below the can.

  “I almost hit it!” she said excitedly. “I had my eyes closed, and I almost hit it!”

  “Aye, lass, indeed you did. Now spread your feet apart about the width of your shoulders. Keep your legs straight but not stiff. Think you can do that?”

  “Yes, of course I can.”

  “Now let me ask you something,” Duff said. “What are you going to do with your other arm?”

  “I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “It’s good that you hadn’t thought about it. As far as you’re concerned, the other arm isn’t even there. None o’ the rest of your body is there, not your other arm, not your legs, not your back. There is only your right arm, your hand, and your mind.”

  “And the gun,” Ina Claire said.

  “Nae, lass, the gun is nae there, either.”

  “What do you mean, the gun isn’t there? That’s the whole point of it, isn’t it?”

  “The gun has become a part of your hand, you see. So when ’tis your hand you’re thinkin’ of, ’tis actually your gun.”

  Ina Claire nodded. “All right,” she said. “All right, I think I can do that.”

  “Good. Now put your pistol back in the holster, then look at your target by turning your head and eyes slightly without moving from the neck down. When you know exactly where the target is, pull the pistol from the holster, but don’t raise the gun to eye level and sight down it. Shoot it as soon as your arm comes level.”

  “Should I try and draw the gun very fast?”

  “No. Remember, it’s more important to hit the target than it is to get the gun out fast. Just pull the pistol at a normal pace, raise your arm just far enough to extend your gun, and shoot.”

  Ina Claire followed his instructions and was rewarded for her effort by seeing the can fly off the fence post.

  “I did it!” she cried in delight.

  “Good. I’m going back to the house now. I want you to stay out here and continue to practice your shooting. And I want you to keep practicing until you can hit twenty cans in a row without a miss.”

  “What if it gets to be lunchtime and I still haven’t hit twenty cans in a row?”

  Duff laughed. “Oh, now, lass, I dinnae expect you to be able to do that in one day. Nae, it’ll take you several days I think, maybe a week before you’ll be able to do that.”

  “A week? A whole week? That’s too long.”

  “You’re young, Ina Claire. What’s time to you?” Duff asked.

  “But they’ll get away.”

  “They’ve already gotten away, and they’ll nae be any farther away for the wait. We’ll find them, all right. And when we do find them, I want to make certain that you can defend yourself.

  “I’m giving you eight boxes of shells. That will give you forty shots a day for ten days. If, at the end of ten days, you can’t get twenty in a row, then you’re never going to be able to do it.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ina Claire said. “And it won’t take me any ten days to do it, either.”

  Duff smiled. “I have every confidence in you, lass.”

  * * *

  As Duff started toward the house, Elmer and Wang came over to stand by Ina Claire.

  “Have you come to spy on me, to make sure I don’t cheat?” Ina Claire asked.

  “Those who cheat do not succeed. Those who succeed do not cheat,” Wang said.

  “What?”

  Elmer laughed. “Wang is always sayin’ stuff like that. At first I just passed it off as bein’ somethin’ a crazy Chinaman is sayin’. But then I got to listenin’ to him, ’n damn if from time to time, the words didn’t start makin’ some sense.”

  “Yes,” Ina Claire said. “Like now, he’s telling me not to cheat, isn’t he?”

  Elmer shook his head. “No, darlin’, he’s tellin’ you that it won’t do you no good to cheat.”

  “That’s easy for him to say,” Ina Claire said. “He doesn’t have to hit the can without looking at it.”

  Wang was looking directly at Ina Claire. Without turning his head he pulled a throwing star from a little leather pouch that hung from his belt, then, with his back to the can, he threw it with a side-arm motion and a little flip of his wrist. The star flew through the air, flashing in the sun as it did so. It sliced entirely through the can so that the top of the can fell to one side of the post, and the bottom of the can fell to the other.

  “Wow! How did you do that?” Ina Claire asked, shocked at what she had just seen.

  “Darlin’, don’t ask Wang to fly,” Elmer said. “I ain’t seen ’im do it yet, but I wouldn’ pass out in total surprise if he up ’n done it one day.”

  “To think is to do,” Wang said with an enigmatic smile.

  “To think is to do? That’s sort of what Mr. MacCallister, I mean Duff, he told me to call him Duff, that’s sort of what he said when he told me to think the bullet to the target.”

  Elmer walked over to the fence post and put another can in position. “Now try it,” he said when he rejoined Ina Claire and Wang.

  Ina Claire drew her pistol and, extending her arm, but not specifically aiming, she fired.

  The can flew off the post.

  “To think is to do,” Wang said, turning away to start back toward the bunkhouse.

  Elmer didn’t say anything, but he did smile and nod at her.

  Uva, Wyoming Territory

  When Clay Callahan and the others stepped into the Red Sky Saloon in Uva, Callahan put a nickel on the bar, then took a newspaper from the stack. The four of them bought a bottle between then and took it and four glasses to a table that sat under the painting of a ship in full sail.

  “Ha!” he said. “Listen to this.” He cleared his throat then began to read: “Bank of Bordeaux held up by gunmen, robbers unidentified.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Manning said with a broad smile. “Boys, we got away, slicker’n a whistle.”

  “Hey,” Callahan said as he continued to read. “Did you know they got Bates, Donner, and Pardeen in jail up in Millersburg? Says they’re goin’ to be tried for murder next week.”

  “That’s too bad,” Morris said. “They’re good boys.”

  “Yeah, I rode with ’em for a while my own self,” Cooper said.

  Callahan looked up with a smile. “You know what I’m a-thinkin’?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m thinkin’ that if we had them three boys, that would make seven of us, ’n we could put together a gang that would be strong enough there wouldn’t be no posse in all of the Territory of Wyoming that could handle us.”

  “That’d just be more men to split our take with, though,” Morris said.

  “The bigger the gang, the bigger the take,” Callahan said. “And the bigger the take, the bigger the split. I don’t know about you three, but the two hundred ’n thirteen dollars we got from the peddler, ’n the six hundred and twenty-nine dollars we got in Bordeaux ain’t hardly worth the effort. We need to do a job that’ll give us a lot more money’n that, ’n with seven of us, why, there wouldn’t be a bank or a train in the whole territory we couldn’t take. Yes, and in Colorado as well. I ain’t talkin’ about hundreds of dollars here, boys. I’m talkin’ thousands. No, tens of thousands.”

  “Damn, that’s a lot of money,” Manning said.

  “That’s the size of jobs we would go after, if we had a gang big enough,” Callahan insisted.

  “All right, let’s get ’em out,” Cooper suggested.

  “We’ve got a week to come up with an idea,” Callahan said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sky Meadow

  Duff and Meagan were sitting in the parlor of his house, while the sound of gunfire could be heard outside.

 
; “Did you tell her how to think the bullets to the target?” Meagan asked with a little chuckle.

  “Aye.”

  “And did you make her close her eyes and take a shot?”

  “Aye, that, too.”

  “Well, it worked for me, so I see no reason why it wouldn’t work for Ina Claire.”

  “Oh, ’twas much easier with Ina Claire because I had more to start with. Unlike you, the lass was already a very good shot. All I had to do is change her technique a bit.”

  “I know you are teasing me, just trying to see if you can get my dander up. But I have no doubt but that she was much better than I was. Remember, until you taught me to shoot, I had never even fired a gun.”

  “You were a good learner,” Duff said.

  Meagan smiled, then leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on Duff’s lips. “You were a good teacher,” she said.

  Outside, the steady barrage of shots continued.

  * * *

  “Bless her heart, she’s been doing that for three days now,” Meagan said a few days later.

  “Aye, but according to Elmer, twice she’s gotten as many as seventeen in a row, and once she got eighteen. I expect it won’t be much longer before she does it.”

  “When are you going to tell her?” Meagan asked.

  “Tell her what?”

  “You know what. When are you going to tell her the most important thing about learning to shoot?”

  “I’ll tell her as soon as she hits twenty cans in a row. What’s for dinner?” he asked.

  “Ham, fried potatoes, biscuits, and gravy,” Meagan replied.

  Duff chuckled. “You can’t get much more American than that.”

  “You could always go back to Scotland, you know,” Meagan teased.

  “Nae thank ye, lass, but I’ll be for stayin’ here.”

  “Sure ’n ’tis hopin’ I was for a favorable response from himself,” Meagan said.

  “Och, woman, ’tis a foul mouth ye have when ye try ’n mimic the sound o’ Scotland,” Duff replied, his laughter ameliorating the harsh meaning of his words.