CHAPTER 18
The days that followed the killing of Matt Conway were uneventful on the Fletcher ranch, which was reassuring to Malcolm and Liam. Some of the boys went out to check on the trail left by the fifty horses Trask brought all the way down to the ranch. It seemed to be just as Ada said it would be. The grass and brush would soon recover and there would be no trail to show the horses had been driven there. Since Ada could not know of Flint Moran’s involvement in the Texas Ranger incident, and that Tyler had been notified Conway was following her trail down south of Tinhorn, it was hard to predict how long Conway had to go missing before a party was sent to investigate. And even when they did, Ada insisted they would start at the Trask farm. By that time, there would no longer be any sign of a trail left by the herd of horses. It would be extremely unlikely Conway’s body would ever be found, since it was buried in a wild stretch of bluffs on the Angelina River.
In light of all this, it was decided to plan the robbery of the Bank of Tinhorn.
Malcolm and Harley would ride up to Tinhorn one day to scout the bank and the town, the location of the sheriff’s office and how far it was from the bank, where to leave the horses, and which way to leave the town. It was forty-four miles to Tinhorn from the ranch, so they decided to make the trip in one day, stay overnight, and scout the town the next day. Depending on what they found, they’d start back that same day. Trask was disappointed not to go with Malcolm, but he knew he would be recognized if he showed up in Tinhorn. Malcolm and his son left the ranch early one Sunday morning for the long ride to Tinhorn.
* * *
Fred Johnson, desk clerk at the Tinhorn Hotel, looked up when he heard the front door open. Two strangers walked in, looking right and left as if they’d never been in a hotel before.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” Fred asked.
“I hope so,” Malcolm Fletcher replied. “Me and my son have been ridin’ all day, and we need a room for the night. Can you fix us up?”
“I sure can,” Fred answered. “You want one room or two?”
“One room oughta do.” Malcolm asked, “Has it got a good-sized bed?”
“Yes, sir, it’s a full-size bed,” Fred assured him.
“One room, then,” Malcolm said. “Has the hotel got a stable?”
“No, sir, but you can take your horses to the stable down at the other end of the street, and there’ll be no charge. The hotel has an arrangement with the stable. We pay for your horses.”
“How ’bout the dinin’ room?” Harley asked. “Are we too late to get some supper?”
Fred assured him that Clara’s Kitchen would be open for another hour, and that would give them time to take their horses to the stable before they ate. So they said they would take the room.
“What are your names?” Fred asked as he started to fill out the guest register.
“We’re Malcolm and Harley Smith,” Malcolm said. “I’m Malcolm. He’s Harley.”
Fred started to write, then paused to smile at them. “You aren’t any kin to the owner of the hotel, are you? His name is Gilbert Smith.”
Malcolm had to chuckle. “Well, now, I don’t rightly know, to tell you the truth. You know how many hundreds of Smiths there are. If we are kin, your Mr. Smith most likely wouldn’t want to claim it.”
“Just thought I’d ask,” Fred said with a chuckle. “It would have been a coincidence.”
After they put their saddlebags in their room, they took their horses to the stable, which they had passed when they first hit town. Lon Blake assured them that he would take good care of their horses.
Harley said, “Come on, Mr. Smith, let’s go eat before they close that dinin’ room.”
Lon was puzzled to see them so amused by that.
* * *
“I’m gonna have to come up with a reason why I didn’t eat supper at the boardin’ house again,” Flint complained. “Hannah wants to know why, every time I don’t show up. I hope Myrna doesn’t think it’s the cookin’ I don’t like.”
“It is hard to beat Clara’s when you’re talkin’ about day in and day out, three meals a day,” Buck remarked, and signaled Mindy for more coffee. “When is that niece of Hannah’s gonna show up for the visit?”
“I don’t know,” Flint answered. “I don’t know if Hannah really knows.” He was sorry he had told Buck about his coffee with Hannah and the threat of niece Nancy. It had provided Buck with an opportunity to periodically jape him about it. He was about to tell him so when they were suddenly distracted by an issue at the door of the dining room.
They paused to see what the problem was and saw right away it was one that occurred quite regularly with strangers. They waited for a minute or two to see if Clara would be able to explain the policy and take care of the problem. But it soon appeared that she was not having much success.
“I’ll go,” Flint volunteered and got up from the table.
Malcolm was in the middle of a long explanation to Clara as to why there was no reason for him and Harley to surrender their weapons. “We’re registered guests in the hotel, and so we oughten not have to take our guns off.” He glanced up and saw Flint approaching, wearing a badge and a gun. He looked back accusingly at Clara. “What? You called the law on us?”
“No,” Flint answered him. “She didn’t call the law. The sheriff and I are eatin’ supper, and it looked like you were concerned about takin’ off your guns. I thought maybe I could reassure you that nobody else in the dinin’ room is wearin’ a gun but the sheriff and me. It’s the policy of the dinin’ room. They want you and everybody else to enjoy a nice peaceful supper. I know this table is close to that outside door, but if you’re worried about somebody runnin’ in and stealin’ your guns, I want you to know the sheriff and I will keep an eye on ’em while you eat. Now, is there any other reason why you don’t wanna do what every other customer came in here for, to have a quiet, peaceful supper? I’m willin’ to bet you’ll find the food good.” He waited for their reaction.
The determined expression on Malcolm’s face slowly dissolved to form a smile of amusement. “What is your name?” he asked politely. When Flint told him, Malcolm repeated it. “Deputy Moran, I thought so.”
“Yeah? Why is that?” Flint replied. “I don’t recall seein’ you fellows before.”
“Nothin’,” Malcolm answered him. “I just heard your name mentioned somewhere. I don’t remember where.” He started unbuckling his gun belt, the grin even wider now. “My name’s Malcolm Smith. This is my son, Harley. Harley, take your gun off. We don’t wanna disturb the peace here in the dinin’ room.” To Flint, he said, “’Preciate the explanation.”
Flint nodded. “Hope you enjoy your supper. Welcome to Tinhorn.”
“Just seat yourself anywhere you like,” Clara told them.
They left their gun belts on the table and walked over to a table near the window.
Flint couldn’t help noticing the younger man’s walk. He was not a big man, but he walked boldly, with his shoulders square and his head held high. It looked as if he was trying to look bigger than he actually was.
Clara raised her eyebrows and shook her head, then whispered to Flint, “Thanks.”
When Flint returned to the table, Buck wasn’t even interested enough to ask him anything about the conversation, figuring it was taken care of. But Flint couldn’t forget the smile of amusement on the face of the man who said he was the younger man’s father. He thought it odd that the man said he had heard of him, when he was a stranger in town, unless he had some contact with someone Flint or Buck had arrested.
Finally Flint shrugged and thought, nothing to do about it.
At the table by the window, a genuine smile of amusement was pasted on Malcolm Fletcher’s face. He had taken a chair that allowed him to watch the sheriff and his deputy. “I can’t wait to tell Ada that Deputy Flint Moran, himself, officially welcomed us to Tinhorn.”
“She’ll probably ask you why you didn’t just take your gun out and shoot him.” Harley said between large bites of roast beef. “That’s how she handled that Ranger.” He turned his head to take another look at Flint. “He don’t look all that hellfire mean, like she talks about him. That big horse he’s settin’ with looks like he’d be a handful.”
“A feller that size just makes an easy target,” Malcolm commented. “Besides, I’ve heard some people say he’s been on the job too long, and that’s the reason they hired a deputy.”
“Maybe so,” Harley declared. “But I’d just as well not see him again when we come back here. He’s got a helluva reputation. Put a lotta men in the ground.”
“Ada says he’s took to the whiskey bottle, and that’ll dang-sure slow you down.” Malcolm waved his hand back and forth until he got Mindy’s attention. When she went over, he said, “Gimme a slice of that pie that feller over there’s eatin’.” He looked at Harley and told her, “Make it two.”
She returned shortly with two slices of apple pie.
He took a look at it and said, “That looks pretty good. Take a couple more slices over there to the sheriff and his deputy. Tell ’em it’s compliments of Malcolm and Harley Smith.”
When she left to do his bidding, Harley was prone to ask, “What the hell are you doin’, Pa? You tryin’ to start some trouble with ’em?”
Malcolm laughed at his son’s concern. “Trouble? I just bought ’em a slice of apple pie. They ain’t gonna arrest us for that.”
Harley could see that his father was enjoying the fact that he knew a bank robbery was going to happen in their town, and the law had no idea they were eating pie with two of the robbers. He felt the need to correct his father’s attitude. “I thought we was supposed to stay low while we scouted this town, so nobody wouldn’t notice us.”
“Maybe that’s what we talked about doin’,” Malcolm replied. “And that’s what we woulda done if we hadn’t got into that argument with the boss-lady and wound up with the deputy steppin’ into it. So we was already noticed. The best thing to do now is let ’em know we ain’t got nothin’ to hide.” While he talked, he was watching the lawmen’s table, waiting to see their reaction to his gift. In a minute or two, Mindy went to their table with the pie. Malcolm grinned to see the looks of surprise on the two lawmen’s faces as they questioned Mindy. Then they both turned to look at Malcolm and Harley and nodded their thanks. Malcolm responded with a wave back at them.
“I don’t know, Pa,” Harley said. “I can’t decide if you’re smart or crazy as a bat. Let’s just finish up this pie and get the hell outta here.”
At Buck and Flint’s table, Buck commented, “That’s mighty good pie. I swear, Flint, what did you say to those two? You sure musta made an impression on ’em.”
“There’s something mighty fishy about those two,” Flint said. “I can’t help feelin’ they’re up to something. Makes me think I’d better keep an extra sharp eye when I’m makin’ my rounds tonight.”
As he said it, Malcolm and Harley got up to leave and Malcolm nodded once again toward their table. Both Buck and Flint held up a hand to respond.
When the strangers went out the door to the outside, Flint waved Mindy over. “Those two that just left, did they say why they sent that pie over here?”
Mindy shrugged. “All they said was the pie looked good, and to send a couple of slices to you and the sheriff. Is something wrong?”
“No, I was just wonderin’. It ain’t every day a couple of strangers buy you a slice of pie. Have you got Ralph’s plate ready to travel?”
“And put a slice of pie on it,” Buck said with a chuckle. “Everybody gets pie tonight.” Buck decided to linger for one more cup of coffee.
Mindy walked to the door and held it open. “Good night, Flint,” she said as he went out the door.
“Goodnight, Mindy,” he returned, his mind still occupied by the two strangers. As he took Ralph’s supper, complete with a slice of apple pie, down to the jail, he decided to keep a real sharp eye out for anything that didn’t look just right.
Ralph was pleased to get the apple pie with his Sunday night supper, so Flint told him how it came about. He talked for a while, knowing how much Ralph appreciated any opportunity for conversation. It wasn’t long before Buck came into the office, and as usual, not very long before he said everything was quiet in the town so he’d retire to his room and do some reading.
“I’ll see that the town gets buttoned up for the night,” Flint told him.
After Buck left, Flint hung around the office until Ralph was through eating and had all the coffee he could hold. Then he locked the office and began his nightly rounds.
The town was already locked down pretty much, since it was a Sunday. Even the church was dark. Due to poor attendance, they’d quit having the evening services. The Reverend Rance Morehead said he could preach to himself at home as well as he had been doing at the church on Sunday nights. The only place open was Jake’s Place.
Flint stopped in. While he was talking to Jake and Rudy, the two strangers came into the saloon. Seeing Flint, Malcolm Fletcher walked over to the bar to join him, leaving Harley no choice but to follow, striding boldly as usual.
“Well, Deputy Moran,” Malcolm spoke out. “Fancy meetin’ you again. Me and my son was takin’ a little after-supper walk around your town before we turn in for the night. We thought we’d like a little drink first. This is our first time in Tinhorn. Looks like a nice, peaceful little town.”
“Mr. Smith,” Flint returned. “Jake and Rudy, this is Malcolm Smith and his son, Harlan.”
“That’s Harley,” Malcolm corrected him.
“Harley, beg your pardon,” Flint continued. “They’re stayin’ at the hotel tonight and I owe ’em a drink of whiskey.”
“That’s mighty sportin’ of you, Deputy,” Malcolm replied. “I didn’t expect anything for that piece of pie. I just thought you might enjoy some.”
Flint reached into his pocket, pulled out a couple of coins, and put them on the bar. “I like to stay square on all my debts,” he insisted as Rudy poured the two drinks.
“Well, if you insist,” Malcolm replied. “It’s always best not to have any debts, I reckon.” He slid one of the shot glasses over to Harley, who was not at all comfortable with the situation. “Why don’t you pour another and have a drink with us,” Malcolm suggested.
Harley bit his lower lip to keep from saying anything. He knew his father was just trying to fatten up the story he was eager to tell everybody back home. He could already boast about buying the pie and the deputy buying him a drink. It would be an even more entertaining story if he could say that they even had a drink of whiskey together. Harley was glad when the deputy declined.
“Thanks, anyway,” Flint said. “I’m on duty, and I don’t drink when I’m on duty.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Malcolm tossed his whiskey back. “Drink up, son,” he said when Harley hesitated. He knew Harley hated the law enough not to want to drink the whiskey.
“Where are you and Harley headed?” Flint asked.
“We’re headin’ up Tyler way,” Malcolm answered. “There’s some timber land up there we wanna take a look at. We might wanna set up a sawmill up that way.”
“Is that a fact?” Flint asked. “Where’s home for you?”
“Shreveport,” Malcolm said. That being the only town he could think of on the spur of the moment. And that was only because that was the planned site of their next holdup after the Tinhorn bank.
“You’ve come a long way,” Flint said.
“Yes, we have, and we’ve gotta get an early start in the mornin’. So instead of standin’ around here, gabbin’ and drinkin’, we’d best thank you for the whiskey and say good night to you all.” Malcolm tapped Harley’s shoulder. “Come on, son.” When he had safely reached the door, he called back over his shoulder, “Nice talkin’ to ya, Deputy.”
Downright suspicious of the two, Flint looked at the big clock on the wall behind the bar. “I gotta get outta here, too. I’ll see you later.” He hurried out the door in time to see Malcolm and Harley walking rapidly toward the hotel, so he went in the opposite direction. The stable had already closed, so he went around to the back where Lon’s living quarters were. A lamp was burning inside the small apartment, so he rapped on the door.
It took several times before Lon called out, “Who is it?”
“Lon, it’s me, Flint.”
Lon opened the door immediately afraid that his barn or the stable was on fire.
“I’m sorry to bother you like this, but I need to ask you a question.”
“A question?” Lon asked, amazed he had been awakened for that. “What kinda question?”
“Two strangers in the hotel left their horses with you today. Malcolm and Harley Smith they said their names were. At least that’s how they registered at the hotel. All I need to know is how many packhorses did they have and were they loaded pretty heavy?”
Lon looked stumped for a moment. “They didn’t have no packhorses. Just the two horses they rode in on.”
“That’s all I need to know, and I wanna say again I’m sorry to wake you up for that. But I really needed to know it.”
“Shoot, that’s all right, Flint,” Lon said. “I’da probably woke up before long anyway. I forgot to turn my lamp off.”
Flint hurried away from the stable and took a quick check to make sure everything was all right at the jail. Ralph was already asleep, so Flint locked up again and hustled up to the hotel. It was getting late, but the night clerk, J.C. White was still at the desk.
“Whatcha say, Flint?” White greeted him when he walked in. “You just caught me. I was fixin’ to go to my room. What can I do for ya?”
“I’m just kinda curious about a couple of your guests. Their names are Malcolm and Harley Smith.”
“Yeah. They just walked in a few minutes ago.”
“I would just like to know how much luggage they checked in with. I mean any big bags, or funny-lookin’ bags. But I’d rather they not know I’m checkin’ on ’em. I know you weren’t here when they checked in, so I was gonna ask if I could take a quick look in their room. But they’re already back in it. It’s most likely nothin’ a-tall. I was just curious.”
“Well, I can tell you that,” White said. “I put some clean towels in their room earlier this evenin’, and they didn’t have any luggage. Nothin’ but two saddlebags.”
“Just their saddlebags?” Flint asked to be sure.
“That’s all there was,” White confirmed. “Is somethin’ wrong?”
“No, nothin’ wrong. Well, thanks, J.C. Like I said, I was just curious.”
Flint walked back out the front door of the hotel and paused on the front porch for a few minutes while he thought about Malcolm and Harley Smith, and what they might have in mind. Maybe Buck was right. He had commented that Malcolm just had a little too many wheels in his brain that weren’t turning at the right speed.
“Maybe I’ve just got too much sawdust in my brain,” Flint muttered to himself, “but I believe those two are up to something. And I doubt if it’s legal.” He was determined to keep a sharp eye on the town for the rest of the night, even though he couldn’t imagine they could have any illegal act planned. They were checked into the hotel, and their horses were locked up in the stable. They had brought nothing with them but their saddlebags. They weren’t prepared to do anything, unless they were going to meet someone else who was prepared.
His first thought for a target was naturally the bank. He was 100 percent certain they had something in mind that was against the law. The lies they told were reason enough for suspicion. They claimed to have ridden all the way from Shreveport, Louisiana, on their way to Tyler, with no packhorses and only their saddlebags. In his opinion, they weren’t prepared to pull off any robbery . . . unless, it occurred to him, they’d just come to scout the town in preparation for a robbery to come. That suddenly made sense of their arrival in Tinhorn.
On the question of Malcolm Smith’s—or whatever his name was—willingness to attract attention, that could be attributed to Buck’s theory of loose wheels in the brain.
The more Flint thought about it as he walked the street once again, the more he came to the opinion nothing was going to happen that night, especially with their horses in the stable. His earlier determination to watch the town all night was not necessary. He decided it more important to be in position to watch the bank when it opened in the morning. Still not convinced they would try anything, but to see if they hung around to watch it open. He would talk it over with Buck in the morning. See if he read it the same as Flint had.
He went back to the jail to check on Ralph, then sat in the office for about an hour before taking one last round on the street to make sure everything was buttoned up tight. Everything was quiet, so quiet even Jake was closing up the saloon when Flint walked by.