BART MOORE RODE INTO THE CAMP where the other men waited and jumped off his horse.
“What are you doin’ back here so soon?” Dewey Cann asked.
Moore stomped over to the campfire and kicked dirt into a choking cloud. Then he grabbed the coffee pot and smashed it against a tree. “I’m back because my uncle lets assholes run his ranch!”
“What did they do?”
“What did they do?! They kicked me off the place, that’s what they did! Me! Bart Moore!”
Nobody said anything. Moore stood there with an ugly twist to his mouth, his face flushed and his fists tightly clenched.
“What do you want us to do, Bart?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Moore looked at the four remaining members of his gang. “Where’s Harry?”
“He lit a shuck, but he ain’t going far.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“He said he was leavin’ the territory, got on his horse and started riding off. He said some bad things about you and your uncle, so I plugged him in the back.”
“You drop him?”
“No, he still rode off, but he ain’t goin’ far.”
Moore looked at his men for a minute, gauging them against a hatching plan.” All right, gettin’ back to my plans. I don’t know about you guys but I’m tired of living this bullshit life. We do little stuff here and there and we got nothin’ to show for it. It’s time we hit it big so we can enjoy a little of the good life.”
“Sounds good to us, Bart,” Cann said. “What big hit do you have in mind?”
“How does robbin’ the Kentville Bank sound?”
“Now you’re talkin’. There’s big money there for sure.”
“Yeah there is, but we’ll have to be careful because of the guards. I’ve been in the area where the vault is with my uncle. I know how we can do this but everyone has to follow the plan.”
“We’re with ya, Bart.”