It had been a grueling couple of weeks for Clay Nash and Jim Hume.
For the first week, neither of them had left Denver, in fact, for three days, neither even left the office. They rigged bunks in a spare room of the Wells Fargo offices and slept there. Hume’s normally orderly office was a mess of papers and maps pinned to the walls, even a couple of models of the express car and the route the train would take.
The car had been sheathed in thick steel plates and the doors had been fitted with heavy bolts and locks—inside and out. There were firing vents let into the walls, but not simply normal slits: most of them were T-shaped, which allowed the men inside to swing their rifles in a wide arc either side. Two were movable turrets that swept an arc of one hundred and fifty degrees.
Once the gold was placed inside and the guards locked in, nothing could open that van until it reached its destination and the special keys were used on the locks. For, though the doors could be opened from inside, the outside locks could only be released by the federal agents waiting in Washington. The locks had been made there and the keys were kept in the Capital. Once the locks were snapped closed, they could not be opened between Denver and Washington.
Nash and Hume considered that the express car was about as impregnable as technology of the day could make it.
The main problem was still the transfer of the gold from Denver to Washington. Moving the gold coins from the mint on Currency Street would take place only minutes before the train was due to leave, and it would be done with the aid of a full battalion of soldiers, lining the whole route. The streets would be cleared of people and traffic. It was to be a massive operation, but Hume felt it was the only way to accomplish it.
He still occasionally cursed the bureaucratic bungling that had sited the mint so far from the railroad, with the only route down to the depot through the heaviest traffic.
“This damn route is makin’ me lose sleep and weight, too,” Hume said in the middle of the third week, pushing a pile of papers and maps aside. “The weight won’t do me any harm, but my brain feels like I’ve got a head full of scrambled eggs. Can’t think clearly, damn it.”
Nash straightened and wiped sweat from his brow.
“Jim, the only way is for us to take a ride along the route ourselves.”
“We don’t have time for that.”
“Not all the way.” They were irritable and had been tending to snap at each other for days. They knew it was the pressure getting them down but that still didn’t stop the rancor coming through. “I mean within the state. We’ve got a lot of rugged mountains to pass through. This is the kind of country that gives good cover to robbers; lets ’em set up an ambush. Once clear of Colorado and movin’ out across the high plains of Kansas, they ain’t gonna have a hell of a lot of a chance to get within spittin’ distance of the train. The army and the cavalry’ll be patrolling all the way, in any case. But there are a lot of remote regions through the Rockies where we can’t get men on station. Any of ’em could be used for an ambush attempt.” Hume sighed and took a cigar from his humidor. He offered the jar to Nash but the investigator shook his head and pulled out his makings. He started to build a cigarette as Hume lit his cigar.
“If anyone is gonna be loco enough to try to grab that gold, they’re gonna do it here. Kansas we can virtually forget about, though there are some rough hombres on the loose over there and if they’ve gotten word about the coins, they might still make their bid. I know dozens of men who’d risk their necks for a hundred thousand.”
“Well, I think if anyone’s going to try, it’ll be in the Rockies. Ideal for ’em. Gives ’em plenty of cover to run to and lose themselves. And they’ll figure we won’t be expecting an attempt so soon.”
Hume puffed on his cigar.
“Seems there’s nothin’ else for it. You and me’ll have to check the tracks first thing in the morning.” He searched among the papers on his desk and cursed as half a dozen maps slid to the floor. Then he found what he wanted, a calendar. He stabbed at it with a stiffened finger. “We’ve got ten days—twenty-third’s the shipping date, confirmed by Washington. In that time, we’ve got to survey the tracks through the mountains and arrange for all the spur tracks that we need switched in the right direction, so that there’s no chance of delays of the gold train.” He glanced at Nash quizzically. “Reckon we can be back here in a week?”
“Reckon we’ll have to be. We’ll need those three days here for final checks.”
“Then let’s go get cleaned up and grab some sleep. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”
“Train for Deertrail and Riverbend leaves at six. We could ride it down and hire mounts in Riverbend.”
“Good idea. Save time.” Hume shook his head as he made for the door. “What worries me is that there’s no chance we can keep this thing secret. Too many folk have to be brought into it to make it go off smoothly.”
“Only way we’ve got a chance of gettin’ the gold through safely, Jim,” Nash pointed out as he followed Hume into the passage.
“Yes. But I wish we didn’t have to rely on so many other people. Human error is what usually breaks up the best plans.”
The two weary men made their way back to their hotel rooms, looking forward to hot baths and early beds.
Mohawk Brown’s men were distributed throughout the ghost town on their usual guard duty. They were up on the roofs of any building that would support them and there were others out on the trails leading into town.
In the saloon, there was another meeting of the Ghost Riders. The men were tense and excited as they gave their attention to Grant Tibbs. This time they were seated around an old card table and Tibbs had some papers spread out before him.
He glanced around at the hard, eager faces.
“This cost me five hundred bucks—which I want to get back out of the robbery proceeds. Everyone agreed on that?”
There were mutterings, impatient, curt, growling. Mohawk blew a stream of smoke from his cigarillo into Tibbs’ face.
“You’ll get your lousy five hundred.” He grinned crookedly. “What would you’ve done if someone had said they didn’t agree? Packed your papers and walked out? Or tried to?”
Tibbs colored.
“Enough of this proddin’ and snipin’ at each other,” Sam Castle growled. “We got us a job to do. Forget the personalities. Let’s get on with the plan for stoppin’ that damn gold train.”
Burman and Hayden nodded agreement and Tibbs looked levelly at Mohawk, accusingly.
The outlaw leader gave Castle a hard look but said nothing. He knew he had all the aces; if things got nasty, really nasty, he only had to snap his fingers and his men would come running.
The others realized it, too, and wouldn’t push him too hard. He figured he could afford to let them get away with the censure this time, but he wouldn’t forget Sam Castle—the old rancher was coming down just a mite too hard for Mohawk’s liking. Tibbs shuffled some of the papers.
“Okay. The date is the twenty-third. That’s final. There’ll be no changes and I’ve checked around—the army’s on full-scale alert that day. We’ve got no chance of getting to that gold between the mint and the depot. I don’t know just when they’re moving it, but it’ll probably be just on daylight and all traffic is gonna be cleared between Currency and Elliott Streets. They got troops all along the way.”
Castle muttered a curse.
“Damn! I’d been thinkin’ that mebbe it’d be better to try to get the coins before they were loaded but don’t sound like there’s much chance of that.”
“None,” Tibbs said. “The railroad route ain’t been confirmed but we’ve only got two real alternatives before they hit Kansas and I reckon we can cover them.”
“We can each watch the spur tracks in our own areas,” said Pres Hayden. “Some of ’em’ll have to have alterations made so they can run onto the main line. Soon as we see any activity, we’ll know which way they’re gonna go.”
“Or which way they want us to think they’re gonna go,” cautioned Tod Burman.
Castle nodded. “Yeah. Don’t forget we’re dealin’ with Wells Fargo and their top men at that. They’ve had years of experience. They know all the tricks. We’ll have to watch we ain’t suckered.”
“Well, whichever route they pick, they’re gonna have to go through or over the mountains,” Tibbs continued. “We know the Rockies backwards and we can easily pick us a fast trail to get us back here. Then we scatter while the coins are melted down.” He glanced at Mohawk a little uneasily. “Your men got that stuff set up we sent in?”
Mohawk nodded. “See for yourself before you go. We put it in the old blacksmith’s forge, figuring that was best. It’s got the bellows for the fire and there are even old gantries we can use for melting pots.”
“We’ll check it out, but it’s not too important at this stage. The main thing is to come up with some way of bustin’ into the armored van.”
“Derail the goddamn train,” Mohawk said casually.
They stared at him.
“Well, hell, that’s a sure way of gettin’ rid of the opposition.”
“Too risky,” Sam Castle said quickly. “There’ll be too many soldiers on board.”
“Hell, it’s worth a few necks for a hundred thousand,” Mohawk said.
“I don’t mean that ... I mean there’ll be too many for us to be sure some won’t get away. And there seems as if there’ll be horses on board as well. Both men and horses could jump off and by the time we get into that car, they could be together again and organized. Derailment’s no good.”
“’Course it ain’t,” growled Hayden. “Loco. Best way to bring the whole damn country down on your neck is try somethin’ like that.”
Mohawk looked hard at the crooked lawman.
“You figure we won’t have the whole damn country down on our necks whatever method we use?”
“Sure we will,” said Burman. “No way out of that—but we don’t want to wipe out a whole troop of soldiers into the bargain. If there’s some other way, I mean.”
“We’re gonna have to kill a lot of people,” Tibbs said slowly. It wasn’t that he minded the killing: it was the inconvenience of the hell it would stir up later that bothered him.
“What about the armored van itself?” Castle asked. “Any more information?”
Tibbs pulled his mouth into a tight line. He pushed a square of paper towards the others.
“That’s a sketch of it. Gonna take more’n a can opener to get in there.”
The others studied the rough sketch. Mohawk sat back and blew cigarillo smoke deliberately into the group. They waved it away irritably, and he grinned.
“You hombres figure out where and how to stop the train. Forget about the van. I know how to get into that.”
They looked at him in disbelief.
“One glance at a rough sketch and you know how to get past all that armor?” asked Hayden, with a sneer in his voice.
“That’s right, lawman,” Mohawk answered easily. “I know how to do it. Now, how about you come up with somethin’ useful? Or shut your face.”
Hayden flushed and Castle put a hand out swiftly and rested it on the man’s right hand as he started to jerk it from the table. The rancher set cold eyes on the outlaw leader.
“I reckon you better tell us what you’ve got in mind, Mohawk,” he suggested quietly. “It might not be as practical as you figure.”
“It is. You fellers come up with a way to stop the train. I’ll guarantee to get the gold out of the van.”
And that was all the outlaw leader would say.
By the end of the day, the meeting had come up with some alternative plans for stopping the train, dependent on which route was taken. They all contributed something and, as long as the route took the train over a steep peak, they were confident they could stop it—despite all the precautions that were being taken.
After that, they started to break up and Mohawk, still keeping his plans for breaking into the armored van to himself, went outside to gather his men.
While the others got their gear together, Sam Castle walked to the window and watched Mohawk move down the street. Then the rancher turned to face the others.
“Gents,” he said very quietly. “There’s somethin’ else we have to discuss.”
They all stopped what they were doing and looked at him quizzically.
“Just between us. We’ve got to watch Mohawk Brown. He’s showin’ all the signs of not only wantin’ to take over the Ghost Riders—but most of the profits as well. Anyone else get that impression?”
“Damn right,” Hayden said feelingly.
“I ain’t been easy about it for the last couple of jobs,” said Tod Burman. “He’s too close to goin’ completely loco. I don’t mind killin’, but he looks for it. Next it’ll be women or kids, just as long as he’s got a target.”
“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about,” Castle said crisply. He looked out the window again. “We knew he was loco and ruthless when we asked his bunch to join us. But he’s gettin’ too big for his britches. And this is the kind of deal where he might just decide that he should take over—or wipe us out so he and his bunch have a bigger share.”
Tibbs frowned. “I don’t like him. But we need him in this. He’s pulled many a train job. He’s got men who are experts in explosives.”
Castle nodded. “Yeah, we need him, I think we’re all agreed on that. We need him afterwards, too, to see to the melting down. But, after that ...” He raked his bleak eyes around the group. “Well—when we come to divvyin’ up, maybe we can fix it so there’s just the five of us. Four to one ... Savvy?”
“You mean, we turn on him and gun him down?” Hayden asked, eagerness showing on his narrow face.
Castle nodded. “Without him as leader, I don’t reckon his bunch would be too much trouble. As long as we kept them well away from the gold.”
He started for the batwings.
“Mohawk’s comin’ back now, but think on it, gents. I’ll see you here in a few days for the final talk. Adios.”