PART 6

The 10:10 to Salt Lake

 

The rusty mining car creaked slowly to a stop at the end of the tracks. Crouched silent as a whisper inside, Dead-Eye Dan Crowley tightened his gun belt and cracked his knuckle against his weathered cheek. He counted three Mississippis, then tightened his gun belt again. He leapt from of the car and raised his Colt revolver.

“Freeze! Not another move there, y’hear?”

Blackjack Billy Perkins whirled, a bulging sack of gold bars clutched against his chest. No doubt about it, Dan Crowley had hooked a big one this time. Blackjack Billy dropped the bars and raised his hands toward the ceiling of the tunnel.

“Why, Dead-Eye Dan Crowley, how is it you always manage to end up right smack in the middle of the action?”

Dead-Eye Dan threw back his head and laughed. “Haw, haw. Well, I reckon I just got a nose for it. Now, keep your mitts where I can see ’em and come out slowly!”

DEAD~EYE DAN TAKES THE RIDE OF HIS LIFE