Clint and Roper each ordered a beer.
“Eyes on us?” Clint asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Roper said, “but like you said, they won’t try anything until we have the money.”
“Let’s talk to the sheriff about having pack horses at the back door of the bank.”
“Can we trust him?”
“He’s the one person We’re going to take a chance on,” Clint said. “And then he can have somebody take the horses to the back door.”
“Okay,” Roper said. “We might as well drink these down and get that done.”
They finished their beers and walked out, seemingly without looking around.
“They’re oblivious,” Jason said.
“Huh?” Victor said.
“They don’t know what’s going on around them,” Jason said. “This should be easy.”
“Easy?” Victor said. “That’s the Gunsmith.”
“This is not the Old West anymore, Victor,” Jason said. “His time has passed. It’s our time, now.”
“Jason,” Victor said, “I don’t think—”
“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said today,” Jason said. “Don’t think.”
“You want to put two horses at the back door of the bank?” the sheriff said.
“Packs horses,” Clint said.
“No saddles.”
“We want it to look like we’re going to put the money on the pack horses.”
Sheriff Harlan sat back in his chair and regarded the two men.
“Sounds like a good plan,” he said, finally. “If anybody’s lookin’ to hit you for that money they be waitin’ at the back door.”
“We hope,” Roper said.
“But,” Harlan said, “the horses will have to be loaded down. If you’re really not takin’ them with you, what happens to the supplies.”
“They go back to the store,” Clint said.
“It’ll still cost,” Harlan said.
“We’ll pay for the supplies,” Clint said, “you see that they get back to the mercantile.”
“I can do that,” Harlan said. “And I’ll have Henry, over at the livery, put the horses behind the bank.”
“Can we trust him?” Clint asked.
“Can you trust me?” Harlan asked.
“I hope so,” Clint said.
“Henry’s my cousin,” Harlan said. “Don’t worry about it. What time are headin’ for the bank?”
“Eight a.m.,” Clint said.
“I’ll see you boys then.”
Clint and Roper turned in early. Early the next morning while he was dressing Clint looked out his window and saw the sheriff standing in front of his office, wearing his gun.
“Attaboy, Sherriff.”
The he saw a man walking two loaded pack horses past the hotel.
“Attaboy, Henry,” he said.