CHAPTER 21
Just as the day before, Flint met Buck at Clara’s Kitchen at seven o’clock for breakfast. Once again, they were to endure the taunting of the women at the dining room.
The second early breakfast convinced Clara something was up and the sheriff wasn’t talking about it. After coffee was served to the two lawmen, she walked over to their table. “What’s going on in our little town today?” she asked, casually but with an accusing eye.
“I reckon that’s what we’re waitin’ to find out,” Buck answered, well familiar with the woman’s tendency to dig for information the rest of the public wasn’t privy to. “Do you know something?”
“Come on, Buck, you know it’s not the usual thing for you two to meet here for an early breakfast. Two mornings in a row? Something’s going on.” She glanced over at Flint, whose face remained a blank slate, then back to Buck. “What are you expecting, a bank robbery or something?” She failed to notice the sudden lifting of Flint’s eyebrows when Buck answered her.
“I declare, Clara, you do beat all. Where do you get ideas like that? Me and Flint decided to eat early yesterday to get an early start on the day. We liked it so much we thought we’d try it again today.”
They were saved then from additional grilling when Mindy arrived with their breakfasts. Clara reluctantly turned away to let them eat in peace, but not before casting a suspicious eye in Buck’s direction.
“Sitting at their new breakfast table again. They’re up to something,” she said to Margaret as she walked back into the kitchen.
“I swear, that woman’s got a nose like a bloodhound,” Buck remarked. “Maybe we shoulda asked her if she thinks they’re gonna hit the bank today.”
“Nah,” Flint replied. “She’s just nosy. Has to have something to gossip about, and there ain’t much to choose from in Tinhorn. Any little change in anybody sets her mind to wonderin’.”
They enjoyed another fine breakfast with plenty of attention from Mindy, even though it would have been much nicer without the uncertainty of what might befall their little town. Consequently, they kept an eye on the clock on the wall by the kitchen, and the other eye on the bank next door. They were especially alert when Harvey Baxter unlocked the back door at eight o’clock and went inside. In a few minutes’ time, both tellers showed up as well.
Deciding they’d best get out on the street again, Flint picked up Ralph’s breakfast tray and Buck told the ladies they’d see them at dinner.
Flint didn’t spend much time getting Ralph set up with his breakfast before he picked up his rifle, checked to make sure the magazine was fully loaded, then he stood at the door. If any of the outlaws showed up, he hoped to see them before they saw him. He had his hand on the knob to go outside when he was stopped by the sight of two riders walking their horses slowly past the bank. He did not recognize them at first.
“Buck.” Flint’s tone of voice was enough to make Buck go immediately to the door. “You know those two fellows?”
“Today’s the day!” Buck exclaimed. “It’s goin’ down. We’d best get up to the bank.”
Knowing it was important not to be seen by the outlaws, they remained inside until the two riders rode past the jail. Neither rider was the one who’d said he was Malcolm Smith, but they recognized one of them at almost the same time.
“Damned if that ain’t Vike Trask!”
They weren’t surprised Vike was in it with “the Smiths”, but they didn’t expect him to be that brazen. The big hat and bandana weren’t enough to disguise him. When the two riders rode on down to the south end of the street, Flint and Buck hurried out the door and ran around to the back of the building.
“Did they see us?” Buck asked when Flint stopped at the back corner to check.
“Nope.”
“Good.”
They ran along the backs of the buildings until reaching the post office right across the street from the bank, and ducked into the building.
“Hold on,” Buck said when Flint started to run out again. “There’s another ’n pullin’ up in front of the hotel!”
“Buck, Flint, what’s goin’ on?” Louis Wheeler, the postmaster asked, baffled by their sudden entrance.
“Louis,” Buck roared, “the U.S. Postal Service is about to take part in the defense of Tinhorn. We’ve got a bank holdup about to happen and your post office is gonna be my firin’ position.”
“Good Lord in Heaven!” Louis exclaimed. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to get back there in your cage and keep your head down. Me and Flint will take care of the rest.” Turning back to Flint, Buck said, “Whenever you’re ready!”
“I’m waitin’ till that last fellow looks the other way.” Looking back to answer Buck, Flint spotted a couple of hats hanging on hooks near the half door of the postmaster’s cage and hurried over to them. “I need to borrow a hat,” he said, figuring anybody in the gang who had seen him had never seen him wear a hat.
When Willy Fletcher turned his horse back toward the Tyler road and waved his arm to signal Malcolm and Harley that it was all clear, Flint didn’t wait for an okay. He plopped a borrowed hat onto his head and strode across the street, holding his rifle vertically and hiding it with his body. He went straight to Harper’s store next door to the bank and went in the front entrance.
“Howdy Flint,” John Harper sang out, puzzled to see the deputy with a hat on.
“Mr. Harper,” Flint returned without slowing down.
To the store owner’s astonishment, Flint ran straight through the store to the feed section, where he ran by Paul Roper, and out the back door. Across the alley between the buildings, he ran to the back door of the bank and started rapping loudly.
“We’re not open yet. Please use the front entrance,” a voice he did not recognize informed him.
“It’s Deputy Moran! Open the door!” He heard no answer for a few moments then recognized the voice of Harvey Baxter and heard the rattle of a key in the door lock. “It’s happenin’,” he said as Baxter let him in. There was no need to explain what he meant.
“What do I do?” Baxter asked frantically.
Flint looked at the big clock on the wall. “You’re supposed to open in five minutes. Are you still determined to stay?”
Baxter nodded rapidly. His tellers stood gaping and confused.
“All right.” Flint looked at the tellers. “You two go out the back door and over to Harper’s next door. There’s gonna be an attempt to rob the bank, and I don’t need to take a chance on one of you gettin’ shot. Go now!” Before they could move, he said, “Wait a minute! I need to borrow one of your coats. Yours.” He pointed toward Bannerman, who took off his large black morning coat immediately. “Okay, now go!”
They didn’t wait.
Baxter watched him put the coat on, then take off the borrowed hat and toss it behind the teller’s cage. “Where do you want me?” he asked, trying hard not to show any nervousness.
“I want you in your office. Be prepared to be called out. No matter what’s happenin’ with me, just do whatever they tell you to do. The penalty for bank robbery ain’t nowhere near as bad as the one for murder, and I’m hoping these boys keep that in mind. Just do what they say. And remember, Buck Jackson is right across the street with a rifle, so they ain’t gonna get very far with the money.” Flint put his rifle behind the teller’s cage and removed his gun belt, then drew his Colt six-gun and stuck it in his belt.
“I’ll have to open the front door,” Baxter said. “It’s nine o’clock.”
“This mornin’, I’ll do that. You just unlock the door then go to your office. I’ll open up and hook the doors. If I see any trash, I’ll pick it up.”
“Can’t you and Buck just go ahead and arrest them, instead of letting them in the bank?”
“Arrest ’em for what?” Flint asked. “Loiterin’? They ain’t broke no laws yet.”
Baxter nodded as if understanding, went to the door with Flint, and unlocked it. He gave Flint a look of uncertainty and said, “I’ll do as you said, but I’ve got a revolver in my desk, and if I hear any shooting, I’ll blast the first one of them that comes through my door.” Then he retreated to his office.
Flint opened the front door and hooked it on the post there for that purpose, all the while trying to look inconspicuous. Relieved to find no obvious trash to pick up, in case Malcolm and Harley’s gang watched every detail when they had scouted the bank, he hurried back inside and behind the teller’s cage where he had left his rifle. He saw a pair of glasses and a tinted visor on top of the cash drawers, and put them on in an effort to complete his disguise.
* * *
“So far, so good,” Malcolm told Harley when they saw Justin and Vike approaching the bank just as one of the tellers opened up the front door.
“Open for business,” Malcolm japed and nudged his horse to lope the rest of the way. It couldn’t have been better, he thought. No customers were waiting for the bank to open, which meant no one to run down the street, yelling for the sheriff.
Willy was waiting for them in front of the bank and took the reins of Harley’s horse when he stepped down and quickly pulled up a full face mask made from a cloth sack to cover his entire face. It was identical to the one his father, Malcolm, pulled on. They were in real danger of being recognized. Vike Trask might have been recognized by the sheriff or deputy had they been present at the holdup. Since the plan was to strike the bank and get away before the law could be alerted, the gang didn’t anticipate seeing the big sheriff and his gunman deputy. Vike, like the other two members of the party—Justin and Willy—relied on his bandana to prevent a likeness of his face from showing up on WANTED posters.
Justin and Vike pulled up and quickly dismounted, handing their reins to Malcolm and Willy.
“Go get it, boys,” Malcolm said, “and let’s be quick about it.”
Justin and Vike followed Harley into the bank, while Malcolm and Willy held all the horses.
* * *
Through the front window, Flint could see the three men preparing to enter the bank, and he was not sure how he wanted to handle the confrontation. He had asked Buck what his plan was, to arrest them, or to kill them. Buck’s answer was to shoot them all down as soon as they entered the bank with obvious intentions of robbing it.
“Even if they throw up their hands and surrender?” Flint had asked.
“They ain’t likely to do that,” Buck had replied. “They’re most likely to shoot their way outta there, so you might as well make sure they don’t. ’Cause if you do, there’ll just be one more coyote out there waitin’ to ambush you to get his revenge.”
Flint wasn’t sure he felt right about shooting a man who threw his gun down and surrendered. To him, that sounded too much like murder.
As those thoughts were running through his mind, the three outlaws pushed through the doors. With guns drawn, they swaggered into the bank, looking right and left.
Upon seeing only one man behind the cage, Harley demanded, “Where the hell are the others?”
“They went out the back door to go to breakfast,” Flint said. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“Gentlemen! Ha!” Harley snorted and threw a large canvas bag at him. “This is a holdup. Empty them cash drawers into that bag, no coins, and make it quick unless you want me to put a hole in your head. Where’s the bigshot that owns this bank?”
“That’s his office yonder.” Justin pointed toward Baxter’s door. “I’ll bet that’s where the big money is, in his safe.”
Harley looked back at Flint. “How ’bout it? Is that where the safe is?” He roared, “Hey, you dumb hick, I told you to empty them drawers.” He looked at Justin. “You keep your eye on him, and if he don’t fill that bag, shoot him. We ain’t got time to fool with nobody who’s dumb as a fence post. I’m goin’ to visit the bigshot.” He started toward Baxter’s door.
“That’s as far as you go, Harley.” Even with a full face mask, Flint had recognized him from his exaggerated walk to compensate for his shortness. Flint slid the barrel of his Henry rifle under the bars of the teller’s cage.
The command stopped Harley cold, and he suddenly recognized the voice. He spun around and fired, too fast for accuracy it turned out. Before he could get off another shot, he doubled over in pain when Flint’s shot caught him in the stomach. Caught completely off guard, Vike and Justin opened fire on the teller’s cage as Harley dropped to his knees and fell over onto his side.
But Flint was no longer there. Having anticipated their response, he’d dropped down on the floor and crawled to the end of the cage. While Vike and Justin continued to destroy the teller’s window, Flint pulled his six-gun from his belt. With one quick move, he came from behind the end of the cage and placed a shot in Justin’s chest before ducking back behind the base of the cage. Finding himself alone against the deadly fire from the teller’s cage, Vike backed toward the door, firing at the end of the counter until he emptied his gun. When the hammer fell on a spent cartridge, Flint raised up and caught him in the back with one shot as he turned and ran out the door. Vike managed only two steps outside before a slug from Buck’s Winchester smashed his breastbone.
Alarmed by the first shot he’d heard inside the bank, Malcolm Fletcher’s initial reaction was anger. He had planned a nice quiet holdup with no gunfire to alert the town. When it was followed by the sounds of many shots exchanged, he knew something had gone wrong. When Vike staggered out the door and was dropped by a shot from across the street, Malcolm cried, “They was waitin’ for us! Run!”
He dropped the reins of the extra horses and immediately wheeled his horse and galloped away. Willy was not so lucky. Unlike his father, he had stepped down from the saddle, and Buck’s second shot nailed him as he attempted to step up. With one foot in the stirrup, the impact of the shot between his shoulder blades caused him to fall across his saddle on his belly. The frightened horse chased after Malcolm’s horse, along with the other horses. Willy’s body slid off his horse in front of the hotel to lie still in the road.
The sheriff ran out of the post office and threw one shot at the fleeing survivor, but Malcolm was already too far away for accuracy. Buck turned and ran into the bank. He found Flint standing over Harley Fletcher who looked closer to death than survival. Reaching down, Buck pulled the sack off his face.
Harley’s eyes flickered open to stare up at the big sheriff bending over him.
“You gonna make it, Harley?” Buck asked. “Your daddy took off when the shootin’ started. He’s the only one that made it, except you. You wanna tell me your real last name?”
“I’m gut-shot, you dumb gorilla,” Harley muttered. “I’m good as dead. I ain’t tellin’ you squat.”
“I expect you’re right.” Buck pulled out his pistol and put a round right between his eyes. Looking at Flint, he asked, “Is Baxter in the bank?”
“He’s in his office,” Flint answered. When Buck started to go there, Flint added, “and he said he’s gonna shoot the first son of a gun that walks through that door.”
“Glad you remembered to tell me that.” Buck called out, “Mr. Mayor, you can come out now.”
“My horse is saddled and waitin’ down at the stable,” Flint said. “I’m gonna see if I can catch up with Harley’s daddy. We ain’t got time to get up a posse.” He took Bannerman’s coat off and laid it across a chair. “Tell Eugene I’m sorry I got it a little dirty.” He ran out the door just as Baxter came out of his office with his revolver still in hand.
“You be careful you don’t run into no ambush,” Buck yelled after Flint.
Flint ran through a small gathering of people already out in the street.
Lon Blake was standing in front of his stable. “I heard all the shootin’. You come for your horse? What was it?” he asked as Flint ran by him to the corral.
“An attempt to rob the bank,” Flint told him as he led Buster out of the corral and stepped up into the saddle. “They didn’t get any money. I’ll tell you about it later. I ain’t got time now.” He started back up the street at a gallop, dodging spectators who wanted to know what was going on.
Past Doc Beard’s house on the northbound road, he saw a couple of horses with empty saddles that had evidently followed Malcolm before trailing off. Flint was in a race, confident his buckskin was a fairly fast horse. But Malcolm was also riding at a gallop.
Wondering how fast the bank robber’s horse was, Flint urged his horse faster. “He’s got a pretty good head start on you, Buster.”
* * *
“Somebody’s comin’!” Trask called to Ada, who was down by the edge of the creek.
Because she couldn’t hear anything, Ada called back to him, “Better be careful. It might not be them.” She walked back up to join him by the horses. In a few seconds, she heard what he evidently had. “That sounds like somethin’ comin’ this way, but it don’t sound like them comin’ back. Maybe it’s a stray cow or somethin’. It ain’t movin’ very fast.” She drew her Colt .45 just in case it might be needed. Then they heard the alert.
“Get on your horses!” Malcolm yelled.
They saw him then, flailing away at his exhausted horse, which was laboring to push slowly through the bushes, barely able to remain on its feet. He slid off the horse and frantically began taking his saddle off, as if afraid the horse might collapse before he got it off.
“Malcolm, what the hell?” Trask exclaimed. “Where’s the rest of ’em?”
“They’re dead,” Malcolm answered as he took his saddle over and threw it on his favorite horse. Working as fast as he could, he pressed them to get ready to ride. “Everybody but me, dead. It was a trap. They was waitin’ for us. I don’t know how they knew we was gonna hit that bank, but they was ready and waitin’.”
“Damn!” Ada exclaimed. “Who was it? Rangers?”
“No, it weren’t Rangers,” Malcolm replied, almost panting in his haste to saddle up and flee. “Had to be the sheriff and his deputy. They had us set up in a crossfire.” He paused to look at them as if he couldn’t believe it had happened. “They knew we was comin’. They was there, waitin’ for us,” he repeated.
“Flint Moran.” Ada spat the name as if it was offensive to her tongue.
“Vike?” Trask asked. “Vike’s dead? You said this was gonna be a simple little job.”
“Damn it, Liam, I lost three of my sons. I know how you feel. I feel as bad as you do. I lost my boys. I don’t know how the hell the sheriff coulda known we were gonna hit that bank, and the day we were gonna do it.
“Don’t forget I was there when all the shootin’ was goin’ on. Me and Willy was standin’ outside in front of the bank while the boys went inside. Anybody coulda shot me and him any time they wanted to. Then when the shootin’ did start, we tried to run. I made it, but they got Willy. What I’m tellin’ you now is we’ve got to get outta here if you don’t wanna get killed, too.”
“Get on your horse, Pa,” Ada told him when it appeared he might not do anything but stand there. “Whatever we do now is better than gettin’ caught by a posse.” He nodded his head sadly and climbed up into his saddle. They followed Malcolm down the creek to the river. They kept the horses in the river and turned back toward Tinhorn. Two fathers who were career criminals, now found themselves the fathers of daughters and one young son to carry on their chosen line of work.
* * *
Flint was not willing to hold Buster to a gallop past the point where the buckskin began to show signs of fatigue. Reining him back to a walk, Flint figured he must be about three miles or so from town and had to admit he was not likely to catch up with Malcolm Whoever. With his head start, Malcolm had a sizable lead and had shown he was going to get every last ounce of effort from his horse before he rested him. Flint was afraid he could never close the gap between them. And then up ahead he saw one lone horse with an empty saddle standing beside the road, drinking from a creek. It had to be one more of the horses that had galloped away after Malcolm and become too tired to continue the gallop. The horse made no move to avoid him as he walked Buster to the creek to let him drink as well.
Finished, Flint decided to turn Buster around and walk him home. As they turned, Flint noticed hoofprints in the soft sand at the edge of the road and realized they led to the creek. He drew his rifle from the saddle sling and dismounted.
Leading Buster, he walked along the creek bank where he saw many hoofprints. It dawned on him the outlaws might have left fresh horses there in case of a quick posse, and was proven right when he came to their campsite. They had camped there last night, and left in such a hurry when Malcolm returned they didn’t take the rope used to tie the fresh horses.
Down at the edge of the creek Flint saw the weary horse he had been chasing. If their holdup plan had been successful, five weary horses would have been left there, while the bandits rode away on fresh horses.
And I’m left here with a tired horse. Might as well go back and tell Buck I lost him.
Changing his mind, he decided to follow the creek to the river. See which way Malcolm went from there. Flint led his horse for what he figured was another one hundred yards before he reached the river. He stood on the bank for a minute or two where the tracks went into the water. North or south? he wondered. He looked at Buster and said, “You ain’t too tired to keep my feet dry, are you? That bank over on the other side ain’t very steep.”
As usual, Buster declined to answer, so Flint stepped up into the saddle again and rode across to the other side and dismounted.
Looking closely on the other bank, he could find no tracks showing any horses leaving the river on that side. There would have been some trace of probably more than one horse, he figured, because someone had probably been left to watch the fresh horses. He did see tracks, but they were left by a group of horses going into the river.
Flint had no doubt now the horses he was tracking had stayed in the river to keep anyone following from knowing which way they’d gone. It occurred to him the tracks leading into the river from that side should have come from the north, if the bank robbers had ridden down from Tyler, which was what he and Buck had assumed. But Flint was looking at tracks left by a bunch of horses coming from the south to cross at the creek.
Was this another party?
He had to find out. Walking up the river north of the creek, he found no tracks of any horses. It was pretty clear the bank robbers had gone to the trouble to always leave town to the north, but their home base was somewhere south of Tinhorn. And if they had ridden up to this creek from the south, he was bound to find their tracks where they had come out of the river this morning. He turned around and started walking downriver watching for their exit from the water.
He walked only a couple hundred yards before finding it—not very well hidden, which he attributed to their haste to escape. The tracks continued following the river south, right past Tinhorn. He could not give chase now. Unlike Malcolm and the man or men he had with him, Flint had no fresh horse. In view of that, he decided to walk the three miles back to town to let Buster walk without a load in the saddle.
He continued walking on that side of the river until he saw the buildings of Tinhorn through the trees on the opposite side of the river. Reaching the spot where Liam Trask and his son, Vike, had fled from the jail after attempting to free Ada, it registered that they had run to the south. It became obvious a hive of outlaws was operating someplace south of Tinhorn. He rode Buster across the river to the Tinhorn side, dismounted, and walked him straight to the stable.
Since Lon wasn’t there, Flint took off his saddle and turned Buster out into the corral. This would be a good time to rob one of the other places, he thought. It appeared everyone was still up at the bank.
“I swear,” Buck exclaimed when he saw Flint making his way through the group of spectators jamming up the doorway. “I was wonderin’ if you hadn’t got bushwhacked. Don’t look like you caught up with him.”
“Nope,” Flint replied. “They had fresh horses waitin’ at that creek about three-and-a-half miles north of town. He broke that horse’s wind he was ridin’ away from here.” He went on to tell Buck what he had found up by the river. “If you go across the river there, you can see their tracks where they rode past the town on their way up to that creek. They went to a lotta trouble to make us think they came from somewhere north of here.”
“Did you take a look at that one?” Buck pointed to the body just past the doorway.
Flint replied that he had not.
“You already shot him once. He’s still wearin’ a bandage around his belly. I pulled his bandana off his face. It was Vike Trask all right, just like we thought.”
That was no surprise to Flint, and he wondered if one of the men guarding the fresh horses was Liam Trask. “So him and his pa hooked up with Malcolm and his gang. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ada was down there with ’em. The question is where? I just think it’s south of here somewhere. I expect the Texas Rangers might like to know that.”
That reminded him of a conversation he and Buck had a few days ago. They were talking about Ranger Matt Conway, and wondering if he’d had any luck trailing that little herd of horses. Based on what they found out after the attempt on the bank, Flint had to assume Conway wasn’t successful. Either that, or he found Ada Tubbs and took her back to Tyler. He mentioned it to Buck.
“I am surprised the Rangers didn’t bother to let us know what happened.” Turning back to the business at hand, Buck said, “I told Walt he could go ahead and take the bodies. Too bad I didn’t get a chance to thank Mr. Malcolm Smith and his runaway mouth for causin’ you to get so suspicious. If he hadn’t tried to show off so much, he mighta pulled that bank robbery off with no trouble.”