THIRTY-SIX
Silverton was abuzz with news when Clint, Weaver, and McBeth arrived. As Clint had predicted, there had been a robbery in the area. To Clint’s surprise, however, it had only taken place three days before.
They got the news when they stopped in the nearest saloon. All they had to do was listen to the talk going on around them, and then Clint asked the bartender point-blank for some information. The man reached under the bar and produced a newspaper, The Silverton Star.
“See fer yerself,” he said.
“Thanks,” Clint said.
He scanned the story. Four men had held up a bank in the nearby town of Fort Hampton and had gotten away with about forty thousand dollars. They had also killed two people, a teller and a customer.
“That’s a big haul,” Weaver said.
“Too big to have been planned,” Clint said. “They lucked into a bank carrying that much money.”
“What does that mean to you?” McBeth asked.
“Men like them,” Clint said, “that’s enough money to fall out over. Is Dolan a greedy man?”
“That’s hard to say,” McBeth said.
“You know more about this man than anyone,” Clint said. “You must, you’ve been hunting him for so long.”
“I’ve been hunting him as a killer,” McBeth said. “He did not rob banks in Ireland. If that’s somethin’ he likes now, he learned it here. So if he has become a greedy man, he learned that here, too.”
“Okay,” Clint said, “I understand.”
“How long a ride is it to Fort Hampton?” Ben Weaver asked.
“A day, if we push,” Clint said. “We’ll spend the night here, rest the horses, get a good meal, and start out early in the morning.”
Clint saw McBeth wince, as if in pain.
“Why don’t you fellows go and get us some rooms,” Clint suggested. “McBeth you look like you could use some rest.”
“I’m okay, but yes, some rest would be nice.”
“How about a doctor?” Clint asked. “This town’s got to have one.”
“He’ll want to remove the bullet,” McBeth said. “I don’t have time for that right now.”
“What are you gonna do while we get rooms?” Weaver asked.
“I’m going to talk to the local law,” Clint said, “see if they know anything about the robbery that wasn’t in the paper.”
“When do we eat?”
“When I finish with the sheriff, I’ll come over. We can eat then.”
“Good,” Weaver said, “I’m starvin’.”
As they started for the door, Clint let McBeth go first, then grabbed Weaver’s arm.
“See if you can get him to lie down until I get there,” he said in a low voice.
“Yeah, okay,” Weaver said.
They walked out, found McBeth waiting on the boardwalk.
“Try that hotel over there,” Clint said, pointing. It was the nearest and looked pretty big. “I’ll find the sheriff’s office.”
“Don’t take long,” Weaver said. “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Clint said. “I’ll be over in about fifteen minutes, give or take.”
They parted company. Clint decided to waste some time to give McBeth a little more rest. Weaver’s appetite would just have to wait.