by Hall, Billy
‘Shotguns would be good,’ Frank said. ‘Twelve-or ten-gauges. Double-ought buckshot. That way you can’t miss at close range.’
‘Rifles are better to just hit who you wanta hit,’ Lowenberg argued. ‘There’ll be folks on the street.’
‘For a few minutes, probably,’ Dwight agreed, ‘but after the first shots are fired everybody’ll scramble for safety except the bad guys and us.’
Ralph’s eyes reflected the trauma of too many other battlefields. ‘I’d really hoped I’d seen the last of war that I’d ever see,’ he bemoaned.
‘So did we all,’ Sven agreed, shadows of the same phantoms in his own eyes.
Virgil Zucher spoke for the first time. ‘That war is over. But as long as there are evil people who prey on others there will be wars and rumors of wars, as the Good Book says. We will either stand like men and war against evil as the need arises, or we will cower from its threats and be its victims. If there are those who would attack even in the heart of town, we have no choice but to stop them.’
It was probably the longest speech any of them had ever heard from the normally laconic carpenter. None seemed willing to disturb the thoughtful silence his words evoked.
When the silence became too long, Dwight said, ‘Can I count on all of you?’
A chorus of solemn and quiet responses ranged from ‘Yes,’ to ‘Count me in,’ to ‘Danged right.’
‘The paper said the stage was due Thursday. That’s four days from now.’
Dwight nodded. ‘It’ll be in Thursday, along about mid-afternoon or later. We’ll want to be ready by noon, then I’ll have each of you get in place when we get word that it’s a couple miles out. Then on Friday it’ll start loadin’ up about six in the mornin’. It’s supposed to be loaded an’ outa town by eight.’
‘They’re gonna load all that gold an’ money in less’n two hours?’
‘They’re supposed to do it in less than an hour. The most dangerous time’ll be when it’s just about all loaded, before they get ready to lock the strongbox.’
‘What do they do with the keys?’ Frank wondered suddenly. ‘They sure don’t carry ’em along, do they?’
Dwight shook his head. ‘Wells Fargo keeps ’em. The Wells Fargo office in Cheyenne has keys that match.’
‘Ah! That makes sense, then.’
A dozen other questions were asked and answered. Then each man went home to decide whether to explain it all to his wife or keep it to himself.
Dwight had the same decision to make when Belinda arrived, shortly after the last man left.
She hugged Dwight briefly and kissed him lightly. ‘It looked like some kind of meeting just broke up,’ she observed. ‘I was coming to see you, and then I noticed all the men going into your office, so I went across the street and drank coffee at Helga’s until they left.’
That oppressive silence settled uncomfortably between them for a long moment. Dwight cleared his throat. ‘I … we … I’ve been gettin’ a little worried,’ he fumbled.
‘I saw the newspaper,’ Belinda said. ‘Is that what’s worrying you?’
He took a deep breath. If this woman was going to be his wife, share his life, bear his children, she certainly deserved his trust. ‘I’d just as soon it doesn’t get noised around too much, so be sorta careful what you say. I’m worried someone’s gonna try to rob that stage.’
‘Are you serious? Why in the world would anyone try to rob the most difficult to rob stage ever made?’
‘Because it’ll have more money than’s ever been put on one stage. Ever. More’n a hundred thousand dollars.’
Belinda gasped. ‘My word! Are you serious? But how would they rob it?’
‘By hittin’ it right here in town, before the strongbox gets locked.’
Belinda gasped. ‘Really! Do you know somebody’s going to do that?’
‘Nope. Just a guess. And I’d guess we both know some of the ones that are in on it.’
‘Are you kidding me? Who?’
He glanced at the jail cell, verifying that Frenchy was still passed out. ‘How many guys that are really too smart and educated to be range bums or boom-town drifters have come into town the past three weeks or so?’
She thought about it. He could count how many she thought of, because every time she thought of another one who fit his description her head jerked up and her eyes met his.
‘The printer,’ she said softly, ‘McCrae, because the newspaper office is where information is.’
‘The carpenter, Goode, because they’re working on the bank,’ Dwight suggested. ‘He even finagled to get me to suggest he ask for a job there.’
‘That new guy who’s a teller at the other bank. I don’t even remember his name, but nobody seems to know where he came from.’
‘What about the little guy, at the hardware store?’Dwight said, his voice telegraphing his uncertainty.
Belinda frowned. ‘I don’t know. Isn’t he the one that beat McCrae up for hitting the Humbolt boy?’
‘Yeah, and I don’t think that was something to distract me. He worked him over so fast and so good it was like something you’d go to one o’ them travelin’ circuses to see.’
‘I heard about it.’
‘There’s another thing,’ Dwight said, deciding to lay all his cards on the table. ‘That guy – Val Lindquist he says his name is – stopped in a couple days ago. He said when I needed to know it, he wanted me to understand that he’s on my side.’
‘On your side? Whatever did he mean by that?’
‘I don’t know. That’s about all he’d say. I sure have the feeling he ain’t what he seems to be, though.’
‘Do you really believe he’s on your side?’
Dwight thought about it a long moment, then said, ‘Yeah. Yeah I do. I really can’t tell you why, but yeah. I do.’
He would fret about whether that was a smart decision before long.
CHAPTER 9
He was really getting tired of this feeling. Dwight’s stomach was a twisted knot that kept turning over and over. He looked up and down the street. All those people! Where did they all come from? Why couldn’t they all just go home?
He knew why, and it didn’t help the knot in his gut a bit. Off to the south he could already see the small dust cloud. Even as he noticed it, so did someone else. ‘There she comes!’ that someone else yelled.
Excitement rippled the length of Headland’s main street like lightning dancing among the rocks on a mountain top. Some people started running toward the edge of town. Others crowded into the street, straining for a look at the long-expected ‘Treasure Stage’, as it had begun to be called.
‘Bull’s-Eye Stage is what it is,’ Dwight muttered. ‘If somebody tries to hit it when it comes into town, it’s gonna be a bloodbath, with all these people in the street.’
He looked back and forth, up and down the street. He glanced up at the four second floor balconies that Main Street boasted. His ad hoc posse was all in place. They were poised in positions where they had the best chance he could give them, should a robbery attempt take place. One member of that group was also placed inside each of the banks that was receiving a shipment of cash for the various payrolls that were being delivered. The others were placed strategically along the street. In addition, each bank had hired a couple extra guards. It seemed to be about all anyone could do.
‘I’m presuming those are your men on the balconies?’ a quiet voice at Dwight’s shoulder asked.
Dwight jumped, his hand streaking to his gun. He hadn’t heard Val Lindquist walk up beside him. ‘Sorry,’ the smaller man said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘I guess I’m kinda jumpy.’
‘I would guess you have reason to be.’
‘Who are you?’ Dwight asked abruptly.
Val grinned. ‘Just who I said. Val Lindquist, at your service. Yours and Pinkerton’s, that is.’
‘Pinkerton! The detective outfit?’
‘One and the same.’
‘What’s Pinkerton got to do with this?’
‘The company is under contract to ensure the safety of this new stagecoach’s deliveries. Half of the outriders who will be accompanying it are also in the employ of the agency.’
‘You don’t say! Is that what you meant when you said you’re on my side?’
‘Precisely. I was under orders not to disclose my connection until the day of the stagecoach’s arrival, in order to be better able to assess who might be plotting something. I grew worried that I wouldn’t have time to let you know if something happened too quickly, so I took the precaution of trying to keep you from shooting me if the festivities were initiated too quickly.’
‘Are you as good with that hideout gun you carry as you are with your fists?’
Val grinned. ‘I guessed you would have noticed it. Yes. Better, actually.’
Dwight fished in his pocket and pulled out a misshapen glob of lead. ‘This wouldn’t happen to belong to it, would it?’
‘Ah! You retrieved my bullet. I’m afraid it’s no longer useable.’
‘How’d you end up in that deal?’
‘I chanced to see the man watching you when you were dealing with a rather inebriated cowboy. I saw him walk into that space between stores. Unfortunately I didn’t realize what he was up to before he shot at you. You were most fortunate. You walked right behind that post just as he fired, I believe. I returned his fire at almost the same time you did. Quite obviously, we both missed.’
Dwight studied the approaching stage. ‘So you’re backin’ me up on this deal?’
‘I am, to be sure. I also have another small ace in the hole, that I was just about to go get.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Have you seen one of Colt’s new revolving shotguns?’
‘Revolving shotgun? Never heard o’ such a thing.’
‘Not too many folks have. It is a twelve gauge shotgun, with six barrels. It operates exactly like a six-shooter, except that the cylinder extends all the way to the end, so it has six barrels. It will fire six shotgun shells as rapidly as you can squeeze the trigger. It has pretty short barrels, so the shot spreads quite rapidly. It is truly a fearsome weapon at close range.’
‘And you’ve got one o’ them.’
‘That I do. It and I will be idling at the corner of the Land and Mineral Bank. If nothing happens there, I will amble along to the Wells Fargo along with the stage.’
‘They ain’t likely to hit it today,’ Dwight said, almost to himself.
‘I suspect you’re right,’ Val agreed. ‘There are too many people in the way. I doubt the ones involved care how many of them might get killed, but a general panic would certainly interfere with any kind of rapid getaway.’
‘You know who’s plannin’ somethin’?’
‘In a way.’
‘What do you mean, “In a way”? Do you or don’t you?’
Val took a deep breath, clearly deciding what or how much to share with the marshal. ‘We have had information for some time that a man by the name of Will Bandy has been recruiting men for a major robbery. He has helped Johnny Rivers to escape from prison in Kansas. Our information says they have been joined by a man named Jesse Wrigley. How many more they have recruited is anybody’s guess.’
‘Do you know any of them by sight?’
‘Only Rivers. I am the one who arrested him.’
‘How many of these drifters who’ve come into town are part of it?’
‘Three that I would guess are part of it. It’s pure guess, though.’
‘McCrae, Goode, and Tighson?’
‘Very good, Marshal! You have made the same guesses I have.’
‘Here it comes.’
It might just as well have been a traveling circus, the president, and a rajah riding an elephant, all arriving simultaneously. If there were a single citizen of Headland who wasn’t in the street, it was because he was either sick or in jail. Men were waving their hats in the air. The second floor windows of buildings that had a second story were jammed with faces peering downward. Children of all ages were running at top speed toward the approaching stagecoach. Soon the shouting, cheering mob completely surrounded the strange-looking Concord.
If the eight-horse team hadn’t been worn down to the point of exhaustion they would certainly have bolted. Even fatigued as they were, their eyes rolled and their ears lay back flat against their heads. Fighting against the bits and tossing their heads, they lost the power of teamwork. They struggled more and more to keep the inordinately heavy vehicle moving forward.
Two of the horses caught Dwight’s immediate attention. One was the biggest Belgian he had ever seen, hitched as the inside lead horse. Even more striking was an even larger Lithuanian Draft horse, hitched in the outside wheel position. It was only the steady aplomb of those two that prevented the total panic of the rest of the team. The two of them, each weighing well over 1,800 pounds, blandly ignored the tumult surrounding them and kept their attention riveted on the road ahead. Their calm demeanor and the fatigue of the whole team won the day. Little by little the driver was able to steady the rest of the team, and keep it headed toward the Wells Fargo Bank.
The outriders fought their way through the crowd, trying to keep next to the stagecoach without trampling anyone. At the bank they leaped from their horses and used their rifles as iron bars, to push against the crowd, forcing them back away, clearing a path between the stagecoach and the bank.
One less than sober fellow pushed his way to the opposite side of the stage and stuck his face up to the cross shaped slots in the iron side of the coach. No sooner had he done so than a rifle butt smashed against his face from inside the coach, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling into the street.
Nobody offered to help him up. Some stood in open-mouthed amazement. All took a step or two back away, finally giving the team and coach a circle of cleared space.
Four of the outriders climbed to the top of the stage. As if it were scripted and rehearsed, each took a position at a corner of the coach’s roof, knelt on one knee, rifle held at the ready, scanning the crowd and the surrounding buildings.
A hush slowly settled across the crowd. Clem Adkins, general manager of the Headland branch of Wells Fargo stage line, pushed his way through the crowd. ‘Make way! Make way!’ he kept shouting as he shoved people out of his way.
When he emerged into the cleared circle he stopped, looked around with an overt air of self-importance. He pulled a ring with a single key from his vest pocket, marched to the stage, and climbed up to the top. One at a time he unlocked and removed the large padlocks from the strongbox. He stood at the end of it, farthest from the side toward the bank.
As he did, four men emerged from their positions just inside the bank door and climbed up on to the stage. Two of them lifted and held the heavy hinged lid of the strongbox.
‘This is it,’ Dwight muttered. ‘If they’re gonna hit, it’s gonna be right quick now.’
His eyes darted here and there, looking for the telltale signs of approaching trouble. Some part of his mind was aware of Val Lindquist, mirroring his actions and his look of ready apprehension.
One by one, Dwight made eye contact with each of the ten men he had carefully positioned. None gave any indication of alarm.
Bags of money were handed down from the top of the stage to men on the ground. They carried them quickly into the Wells Fargo Bank. The door of the bank slammed shut behind them.
The two men holding the lid of the strongbox lowered it back down, but Adkins eschewed locking the padlocks again. Instead he seated himself on the box and nodded to the driver.
The driver yelled, ‘Heeyaah!’ and snapped the reins against the backs of the team. Reluctantly they leaned into their harnesses. Slowly the heavy coach began to move again. With the circle of entranced citizens surrounding it, it lumbered a little more than a block down the street and stopped in front of the Headland Land & Mineral Bank.
Obviou
sly watching for it, two men emerged instantly from that bank. Bags of money were handed down to them as well. The scene just enacted at the Wells Fargo Bank was repeated. When the money was safely ensconced in that bank’s vault, Dwight felt a huge relief rush through him.
‘That’s all folks!’ Clem Adkins announced from his perch atop the stage. ‘Show’s over.’
He climbed down, followed by the guards, who were noticeably more relaxed. The men began to joke and jostle one another, as they headed across the street for one or another of the saloons, or to where duty had been left suspended by the stage’s arrival. The driver and shotgun guard were left on their own to move the stage to its quarters and take care of the team.
‘Well, we got by that one,’ Val said softly at Dwight’s shoulder.
Dwight nodded. ‘At least there oughta be a whole lot less people in the way in the mornin’.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Val observed.
The relief Dwight had felt at the successful offloading hadn’t lasted long. The tight knot was back in his stomach. He knew the big test was still to come. He wouldn’t sleep much tonight. He had no way to know how much he would need the sleep, before his job was finished.
CHAPTER 10
Death and destruction send no publicity notices in advance of their coming.
Soft early morning sunlight bathed Headland’s Main Street in a deceptive cloak of serenity. In the trees that had survived the town’s building boom, birds blithely chirped their welcome to the new day. In the prairie grasses surrounding the town meadow larks added the blind optimism of their lilting melodies. Even the absence of any breeze seemed to contribute a sense of peace and well-being.
The pretense of peacefulness was not echoed in Marshal Dwight Stern’s visage. Shadows around his eyes gave witness to the near-sleepless night he had spent. The breakfast of pancakes, sidepork, eggs and coffee had done nothing to relieve the knot in his belly. His eyes darted here and there, leaping to any new movement they detected, poking into the shadows between buildings, then lifting to scan the distant reaches of the roads leading into town. Not even a small hint of stirred dust indicated the approach of any danger.