2

As I’d told the bartender, I was in the saddle at first light the next morning. And as I’d also told him, I headed northwestward on the road to San Angelo.

However, unlike the impression I’d left, I only took that road little more than three miles, then turned left onto a little-used side trail. I followed that trail another mile, then turned right, up a dry stream bed. The rock- strewn watercourse showed few signs of my horse’s passing. Another quarter mile up led to a nest of scattered boulders. I pulled my horse to a stop, cupped my hands around my mouth, and gave the low, melancholy call of a mourning dove. A moment later another dove answered my call. I repeated the signal, heeled my sorrel into motion, and sent him around the rocks.

Four men were seated around a smokeless campfire there. They had just finished breakfast and were now enjoying cigarettes. They looked up at me, but said nothing until I had dismounted. One of them detached himself from the rest of the group, filled a tin cup with coffee, and brought it to me while I unsaddled my horse.

“Howdy, Dan. What’d you find in Junction?” he asked, handing me the cup.

“About what I expected, Jerry,” I answered. “Soon’s I get Dandy rubbed down we’ll go over everything. And get the boys ready to ride.”

“’Sta bueno,” Jerry Carpenter, my long-time partner and the segundo of my outfit, replied. “I’ll tell the others.”

While I rubbed down my gelding, I could hear the other men mulling over the bit of information I’d given Jerry. I knew they were anxious to get back into action, and I didn’t intend to keep them waiting any longer.

I turned my horse loose with the others in a rope corral, then headed for the fire.

“Jerry tells us we’re ridin’ out,” Vance Brigham spoke up, “Reckon that means easy pickin’s for us.”

After Jerry, Vance had ridden with me the longest. Tough as whang leather, he was the one man I wouldn’t want to tangle with. Vance combined the loyalty of a bulldog with the tenaciousness of a terrier.

“That right, Dan?” Beau Thibodeaux echoed. Thibodeaux was a Cajun from the Louisiana bayou country, mean as a snake and twice as ugly.

“This outfit never takes anything for granted. You all know that,” I retorted. “But if everyone does his job, we should have no trouble.”

“We always follow orders, don’t we?” Ed Thornton grumbled. He was the youngest, little older than that deputy in Junction. His tow hair, pale blue eyes, and smooth-skinned face made him look more like a sixteen year old farm boy than a hard-riding outlaw and coldblooded killer. Thornton was sure of himself, sometimes too cocky, but his skill with both gun and knife justified that arrogance.

“Yes, you do,” I conceded, “Which is why we’ve always been successful. I expect we will be again. And after this bank job in Junction, we’ll head for Mexico. We’ll have enough money to live well in Chihuahua for a long time.

“Tequila and senoritas. That’s what I’ve been waitin’ to hear,” Thibodeaux grinned.

“Never mind that. Let’s get down to business,” Carpenter ordered. “Dan, what’ll we be up against?”

“Gather round and I’ll tell you.”

I squatted on my haunches, the others settling into a circle while I used a stick to draw a rough map in the sand.

“This here’s the First Bank of Junction,” I explained. “Sheriff’s office is on the opposite corner. Saloon’s across the street, hotel and general store next to that. There’s alleyways alongside each of them if we need to use those to escape.”

“What about the livery stable, in case one of our horses gets plugged and we need a replacement real quick?” Brigham questioned.

“It’s at the end of town. Too far away to do any good,” I explained. “If we lose one of the horses we’ll have to grab another one from a hitchrail, or double up until we make our getaway.”

“How about the bank itself?” Carpenter asked.

“Should be easy enough. There’s three teller’s cages and the vault. The vault was wide open. Appears to be kept that way during business hours. Four of us can get in there, clean the place out, then get out real quick.”

“That sounds fine, Dan,” Thornton said. “What about the law?”

I had to grin. Leave it to Ed to ask about the law. He’d killed several lawmen in his short outlaw career, and was always looking for the opportunity to gun down yet another.

“Nothin’ to worry about there. In fact, it’ll be even easier than usual,” I explained. “The sheriff’s out of town, escortin’ a couple of prisoners to San Saba. The only law in town’s a young snot-nosed deputy. He’ll be no problem at all. If he does butt in, you’ll take care of him, Ed.”

“That’s fine and dandy,” Thornton smirked. The expression on his face told me that deputy was already good as dead.

“I didn’t finish,” I continued. “There’s also a Texas Ranger.”

“A Ranger?” Brigham exclaimed. “Hold on a minute, Dan. I don’t mind tacklin’ a job that’s a mite tough, but tanglin’ with a Texas Ranger’s a whole other story. We don’t need that grief.”

“I can handle any Ranger,” Thornton declared, with an oath. “I’ve been waitin’ for the chance to drill one of those hombres right through his lousy guts.”

“Just relax,” I cautioned. “This particular gent who claims to be a Texas Ranger is an old coot who’s at least eighty years old. And I doubt he was ever a Ranger. No one in town believes he was. It doesn’t matter. He’s a harmless old drunk who spends his days talkin’ folks into buyin’ him beers. We’ve got nothing to worry about from him.”

“Dan had you goin’ for a minute there, didn’t he, Vance?” Thibodeaux chuckled.

“Holloway, one of these days…”

“You’re gonna rip my guts out. I know, Vance,” I laughed. That threat had been a joke between us for years.

“Anything else we need to know?” Carpenter asked.

“That’s about it. We’ll start ridin’ out of here in a bit. Ed, you and Beau will leave first. When you get to town, head for the saloon and have a couple of beers. Vance,

you’ll leave thirty minutes after them. You can also stop at the saloon for a beer.”

“But I don’t know Ed or Beau,” he concluded.

“That’s right. Take a table by the front window, where you can watch the street. Jerry and I will reach town a half-hour later. When you spot us, leave the saloon and drift across the street. Ed, you and Beau do the same, five minutes later. Jerry and I’ll go into the bank first. You two follow right behind us. Vance, your job is to hold the horses and warn us if it looks like trouble’s brewin’.”

Brigham nodded.

“And plug anyone who gets in the way. Right, Dan?”

I nodded.

“Any other questions?”

“What about the deputy?” Thornton asked.

“Don’t worry, Ed. I’ll save him for you,” Brigham promised.

“That’s settled,” I said. “Anything else?”

There were no replies.

“Seems not,” Carpenter grunted.

“All right. We’ll rest for another couple of hours, then we’ll head out and meet up in Junction. That’ll put us in town just before the bank’s closing time. We’ll hit it

ten minutes before they lock the doors. Check your guns and ammunition.”

While the others went over their weapons, I dug a piece of mirror, bar of soap, and a razor from my saddlebags. I propped the mirror on a rock, lathered my face, and commenced scraping the whiskers from my neck and jaw. I didn’t really expect my newly-shaven countenance to fool many folks, but it might keep a few from recognizing Dan Holloway and Dan Brown as one and the same.

Once I’d finished shaving, I settled back against a boulder, stretched out my legs, and tilted my Stetson over my eyes. I’d get some more shut-eye before we rode for Junction.