CHAPTER 28
Reno, Nevada
Carl Andrews shivered from the chilly wind sweeping across the valley of the Truckee as he walked toward his home. He ducked his head so the derby would keep it from blowing in his face quite so much.
Andrews lived with his wife, Rebecca, and twelve-year-old daughter, Sadie, in a neatly kept frame house on one of Reno’s side streets. They had lived there, and Andrews had worked in the bank, since Sadie was a toddler.
It was a good life, although one not blessed with further children, which was something of a disappointment to Andrews and Rebecca, but he certainly had nothing to complain about.
That satisfaction was reflected in the Christmas carol that Andrews whistled as he opened the gate in the picket fence in front of his house and went up the walk to the porch. He was eager to get inside.
For one thing, it would be warm and cheerful, and for another, this evening was when he and his wife and daughter planned to decorate the small pine tree he had cut down a couple of days earlier. They had made a family outing of it, taking the buggy and driving into the foothills to let Sadie pick the tree.
Yellow lamplight glowed in the front window. Andrews opened the door and went inside, taking off his derby as he did so. He hung it on a hat rack in the foyer, then shrugged out of his topcoat and hung it up as well.
Smiling, he turned toward the parlor to greet his wife and daughter, both of whom normally greeted him with hugs and kisses.
Tonight he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun instead.
“Don’t move, Carl,” the man holding the revolver said. “I’d hate to have to shoot you.”
“I reckon these two beauties would hate it, too,” said another man, this one standing next to the sofa where Rebecca and Sadie sat, both of them pale and obviously terrified of the gun the stranger was pointing at them.
The man standing closer to the arched entrance between the foyer and the parlor said, “You remember me, don’t you, Carl?”
In his shocked state, Andrews hadn’t taken a good look at the man until now. When he did, there was something familiar about him, but Andrews couldn’t quite remember....
Then he did, and he said, “Bob Stevens! You were sitting next to me at the Red Top! I recommended the stew to you.”
That was an awfully mundane thing to think about under these awful circumstances, but it was what came back to Carl Andrews in that moment.
“That’s right,” the man said. “I’m afraid I lied to you. My name’s not Bob, and I never drove a freight wagon in my life.”
Andrews’s eyes opened wider as a possibility occurred to him. “You’re a bank robber!”
That exclamation made the man smile behind the gun he aimed at Andrews.
“Now, see, that tells me you’re a smart man, and that makes me happy. Because a smart man’s not going to do anything that will get him—or his family—hurt.”
“Leave them alone.” Andrews tried to put some strength and courage into his voice, tried really hard, but he didn’t think he succeeded very well. “If you hurt them, I . . . I’ll—”
The man holding a gun on Rebecca and Sadie said, “Oh, hell, let’s not waste time with that. You ain’t gonna do nothin’, mister, and we all know it. We can do whatever the hell we want, and there’s nothin’ you can do about it.”
He was a lean man with a shock of dark, curly hair and an easy grin that should have been friendly. Instead, the expression was one of the most coldly horrifying things Andrews had ever seen, especially when the man stepped closer to Sadie and cupped his free hand under her chin.
“If I want, I can teach this little lady what it’s like to be a woman,” he went on. “You reckon she’d like that, Mister Bank Teller? I know I would.”
“Don’t,” Andrews said in a choked voice.
The first man—Andrews couldn’t help but still think of him as Bob—said, “That’s enough. For now. But if you don’t cooperate with us, Carl, I can’t make any promises about what my friend there might do to your wife . . . or your daughter.”
Andrews’s pulse pounded like a steam engine inside his head. Rebecca and Sadie were both fair-haired beauties, no doubt about that. Rebecca was so lovely that she could have done much better than him, and right now he wished that she had. Then she wouldn’t be in danger from these two . . . animals.
A part of him wanted to fight back against them, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. They would just kill him or, worse, overpower him and force him to watch while they assaulted his wife and daughter.
His shoulders slumped, and he said in a defeated voice, “What is it you want?”
“That’s better,” Bob said with a smile. He gestured with the gun toward an ottoman. “Sit down. We’re going to have a talk.”
The other man said, “That’s it? He’s gonna give up that easy, before we have any fun?”
“We’re not here to have fun,” Bob snapped. “We’re here to find out what we need to know.” Again he told Andrews, “Sit down.”
Andrews sank onto the ottoman and sat with his hands dangling between his knees.
“Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you,” he said. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt them.”
“That’s exactly the way we want it,” Bob said.
Andrews didn’t believe that. He knew that from the way the other man looked at Rebecca and Sadie they would never be safe as long as these intruders were here. But maybe if he cooperated with them, they would go.
“Tell me about the money shipment that’s coming in,” Bob said.
Andrews couldn’t keep from lifting his head in surprise. He said, “You know about that?”
“You practically told me about it while we were eating lunch.”
“I . . . I just said that the bank was unusually busy for Christmastime. . . .”
“Well, what else could it be?” Bob said. He let out a curt laugh. “But don’t worry too much, Carl. To tell you the truth, I already knew there was a big load of money coming into Reno. It was just a matter of finding out which bank.”
“We’ll be handling it.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred thousand dollars.”
Bob’s breath hissed between his teeth as he inhaled sharply. He said, “That’s a lot of money. What’s it for?”
“Do you know who Cameron Coolidge is?”
Bob frowned in thought. He shook his head. “I don’t reckon I do.”
“He owns the Gullywasher mine.”
“Never heard of it.”
“That’s because Coolidge keeps his operation quiet for the most part,” Andrews said. “But it’s a very lucrative silver mine. Coolidge is worth several million dollars. So he can afford to buy the Tabernacle mine from Thomas Nickerson.”
“Haven’t heard of that one, either.”
“It’s not worth what the Gullywasher is, but it’s a fine, steadily producing mine,” Andrews explained. “Coolidge intends to buy it for his wife, Cassandra. As a . . . a Christmas present.”
“Wait a minute,” the other man said. “This hombre’s gonna spend nearly half a million dollars to buy a mine and then give it to his wife for Christmas?”
Andrews nodded. “That’s right.”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”
Bob said, “Rich people do loco things like that, or at least so I’ve heard.” He narrowed his eyes at Andrews. “You’re sure about all this?”
“Positive. I’m the head teller at the bank, and Mr. Hopkins—he’s the president—trusts me with such details.”
The grinning man laughed. “Well, that wasn’t very smart of him, was it? Just the threat of us havin’ a little slap-and-tickle with this pretty little girl o’ yours made you spill your guts right out.”
“Like I said before, Carl’s a smart man,” Bob told him. “Now tell me, Carl . . . when’s that money getting here?”
“It’ll arrive on the train, a special express shipment, on the morning of Christmas Eve. As soon as it’s here, Coolidge and Nickerson will come to the bank and conclude their arrangement. Nickerson, you see, insisted on a cash payment. He’s an older man, very crusty. He says he prefers money he can hold, instead of numbers written on a piece of paper.”
“Lucky for us he feels that way.”
“I’ve told you what you want to know,” Andrews said, allowing a note of hope to enter his voice. “Now, if you’ll just go away and leave us alone, I promise that I’ll never say anything about you to anyone else. I won’t do anything to jeopardize whatever you’re planning. I swear to that.”
“And I believe you,” Bob said. “Problem is, your word, and me believing you . . . well, that’s just not good enough.”
He turned his head and nodded at his companion, who holstered his gun and drew a knife from a sheath attached to his belt.
For some reason, the blade was even more terrifying than the gun. Sadie shrank away from it, and Rebecca let out a soft, frightened cry.
The man’s other hand shot out and grabbed Sadie by the back of the neck. He jerked her onto her feet and toward him.
Andrews started to lunge up off the ottoman. Bob thrust the gun closer to his face and eared back the hammer. The sinister, metallic click, plus the looming menace of the gun muzzle, which looked like a cannon from Andrews’s perspective, forced the bank teller to freeze.
Rebecca cried, “No! Leave her alone!”
The man with the knife ignored her. He kept his hand clamped on the back of Sadie’s neck, holding her still as he slid the tip of the blade under the top button of her dress. The knife was a Bowie, so the upper edge along that part held a keen edge, too.
An expert flick of the man’s wrist cut the button loose and sent it spinning away to land on the floor and bounce across the parlor. He moved the knife down to the second button and did the same, followed by the third and fourth.
Then he used the knife to push back both sides of the dress, revealing the shift Sadie wore underneath it that clung to her budding breasts. She trembled and tears ran down her cheeks as he slipped the knife just under the top of the shift.
“That’s enough,” Bob said without taking his eyes off Andrews. The gun in his hand hadn’t budged.
“You sure?” the grinning man asked. “I wouldn’t mind gettin’ a look at what I might be samplin’ later on.”
“There’s no need to scare these good folks any more than we already have. They’re going to cooperate and do everything we say. Isn’t that right, Carl?”
“I already told you I would,” Andrews replied, his voice shaking a little from the depth of the emotions he was feeling.
“Here’s how it’s gonna be, then. My friend and I are going to stay right here and keep your wife and daughter company for the next couple of days. You’ll go on to work and act like there’s nothing wrong.”
“I . . . I don’t know if I can do that.”
Bob’s voice hardened. “You’d damn well better be able to, if you know what’s good for your wife and daughter. My friend there is going to be nice and polite to them and they won’t have to worry about a thing . . . as long as I say it’s going to be that way. You don’t do your part, Carl, and I’ll just have to wash my hands of the whole deal and let whatever happens . . . happen. You understand what I mean?”
Andrews swallowed hard, looked down at the floor, and whispered, “I understand.”
“Good. You’ll go on to work, like I said, and come home in the evening, and nobody will be the wiser. Then, Christmas Eve morning, once that money has been delivered, you’ll make sure the back door of the bank is unlocked. That’s all you have to do. Well, that and stay out of our way. Then it’ll all be over and you and these ladies will be safe.”
“How . . . how do I know that?”
“Why, I give you my word. Isn’t that enough?”
Andrews didn’t answer that question. Instead he asked, “How will you keep them from warning anybody, that morning?”
“We’ll have to tie them up and gag them. I regret any discomfort that’ll cause, I truly do, but it can’t be helped. When it’s all over, though, you can come straight here and turn them loose. See? It’s all worked out.”
Slowly, Andrews nodded. “I understand. I’ll do what you say.”
“Carl—” his wife began.
“I know, Rebecca. It’s terrible, but we don’t have any choice.” He sighed. “I’ll be ruined. I’ll probably be sent to jail for helping them. But it’ll be worth it to keep you and Sadie safe.”
“Well, hell,” the grinning man said. “This is disappointin’. I was hopin’ you’d take more persuadin’ than that, mister.” He laid the flat of the blade against Sadie’s cheek, causing her to shudder again. “I was gonna enjoy the persuadin’.”
Rage flared up inside Andrews again. He said, “You . . . you—”
“Settle down, both of you.” Bob lowered the gun slightly and motioned with the barrel. “Carl, go over there to that table by the window and pick up the lamp.”
“What?”
“Do what I told you.”
With a look of confusion on his face, Andrews went to the table. When he had the base of the oil lamp in his hand, Bob went on, “Now push the curtain back. When you’ve done that, move the lamp back and forth three times in front of the window.”
“A signal,” Andrews said as realization hit him. “You have friends watching the house. You’re letting them know I agreed to the plan.”
“Smart, just like I said. Go ahead.”
Andrews opened the curtain and gave the signal.
“All right, put it back down and close the curtain.”
Andrews did so. “Now what?”
Bob chuckled and said, “Your wife’s got what looks and smells like a good supper on the table, and I don’t reckon it’s gotten too cold while we were talking. Is there enough for all of us, Mrs. Andrews?”
Rebecca said, “I . . . I . . . Of course.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, visibly gathering her courage. “I’ll have to set two more places.”
“That’s mighty accommodating of you. I’m looking forward to spending the next couple of days with you and getting to know you better. It’ll be Christmas Eve before you know it.”
“We gonna sit around singin’ carols?” the other man leered.
“I’m sure we’ll find ways to pass the time,” Bob said.