ELEVEN
Sheriff Garver was at the bank, in a meeting with the manager, Harold Birzer.
“Do you have enough guards?” Birzer asked nervously. He mopped his face with a handkerchief, even though it wasn’t particularly warm in his office.
“I don’t wanna have too many,” Garver said. “Don’t want to give ourselves away that somethin’ big is goin’ on. But don’t worry, I’ve got good men.”
“So then you’re ready?”
“I think we’re ready, Mr. Birzer,” Garver said. “Send your telegram and have your money delivered.”
Birzer nodded, then said, “Will you come to the telegraph office with me?”
Garver wanted to ask the bank manager what he thought anyone might steal from him as he went to and from the telegraph office, but instead he said, “Of course, Mr. Birzer.”
“Thank you,” Birzer said. “I’m very nervous about this.”
“I can see that, sir,” Garver said. “After you?”
Clint came out of the post office and saw Sheriff Garver walking on the other side of the street with a nervous-looking man in a suit.
“Hey, Billy.”
Dixon came around the counter and joined Clint at the door.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s that walking with the sheriff?”
“That’s Harold Birzer. He’s the manager of the bank,” Dixon answered.
“The bank manager?” Clint asked. “How many banks in town?”
“Just the one.”
“What do you know about Birzer?”
“He’s always nervous, always sweatin’,” Dixon said. “He thinks everybody who walks into the bank wants to rob it.”
“Sounds like he’s got the wrong job,” Clint said.
“Or he’s the right man for the job,” Dixon said. “Far as I know, the bank has never been robbed.”
“I wonder where they’re going,” Clint said.
“Could be anywhere,” Dixon said. “Telegraph office is in that direction, but maybe they’re just goin’ to get coffee together.”
“Think I’ll tag along on this side of the street,” Clint said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” Dixon said, “let me know what you find out, huh?”
“Sure.”
Dixon went back inside while Clint started walking, keeping the sheriff and the bank manager in mind. They passed a saloon and a café without pausing, finally came to the telegraph office, and went inside.
He wondered what was going on only because Dixon had told him the lawman was crooked. Why was the crooked lawman walking with the bank manager? Was he also crooked? Were they planning something? Well, if the sheriff and the bank manager were planning on robbing the bank, that was their business. Clint was only supposed to be in town for a few days visiting Dixon. Why should he even care?
The answer was simple.
He had a hard time minding his own business when he knew a crime was about to be committed.