Authors: J. R. Roberts

East of the River (14 page)

BOOK: East of the River

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“And now?”

She hesitated, then said, “Well, I have a high opinion of you. I guess that's a start.”

FORTY-TWO

The next morning Thomas and John rode out to the farm for breakfast.

“We'll hit the bank today,” Thomas said. “Why wait?”

“Great!” Sam said.

John took some more flapjacks and doused them with syrup.

“Mort, what do you want to do about the farm?” he asked.

“Leave it.”

“And the store, Tommy?”

“Leave it,” Thomas said. “We hit the bank and keep on goin'.”

“To where?” Sam asked.

“Mexico,” Thomas said. “We'll lay low there for a few years.”

“Years?” Sam asked.

“This is not the kind of bank robbery that's gonna be forgotten anytime soon, Sammy,” John said. “We'll have to stay in Mexico at least a few years until things blow over.”

“Well,” Sam said, “do they take American money in Mexico?”

“They love American money in Mexico,” Thomas told him. “Come on, Sammy. Eat up. You're gonna need your strength.”

Clint answered the knock on his hotel room door. Hannie and he were dressed and already wearing their guns.

“Morning, Beau,” Clint said to the liveryman.

“They rode out of here early, Mr. Adams.”

“Who did?”

“Thomas and John Archer,” Beau said. “They keep their horses at my place.”

“I didn't know that,” Clint said.

“Yeah,” Beau said, “when their brothers hassled me, I don't think they knew either.”

“Okay, Beau, thanks.”

Because it was early, Eddie Randle answered the pounding on the front door himself. Sanchez hadn't come by yet to sweep.

“What the hellâ” he said when he saw Clint and Hannie.

“The Archers rode out this morning,” Clint said.

“Out?”

“Probably out to the farm to get the other two,” Clint said. “They're going to do it today.”

The deputy marshal rubbed his face vigorously.

“Okay,” he said, “we better get into place.”

“Okay,” Mort said, “I guess we better get goin'.”

“Just one thing,” Thomas said, nodding to brother John.

They both grabbed Sam and pinned his arms to the chair. Thomas looped a rope around their younger brother, who was struggling and yelling.

“What are ya doin'?”

Mort watched. He hadn't been in on the plan, but he caught on pretty quick.

“Don't worry, Sammy,” he said. “When we come back with the money, we'll untie you.”

FORTY-THREE

When the three Archers rode into town, nobody paid them any mind. They were part of the town landscape. Why should their arrival arouse any interest or suspicion?

They reined in their horses in front of the bank and dismounted. They had already decided that they would all go inside. Leaving one brother outside would look odd.

When they entered, none of the patrons, tellers, or other employees thought anything of it. Just three of the Archer boys coming into the bank.

Things were going according to plan.

But once inside, things changed . . . for everyone.

Thomas, John, and Mort all drew their guns.

“Ladies and gents,” Thomas said, “please don't be alarmed. If everyone does what they're told, no one will get hurt.”

For a moment their neighbors thought they were joking.

“Hey, Johnny,” a teller named Rickert asked, “what's goin' on?”

“Mr. Rickert,” John said, “we come for the federal payroll. If we gets it, nobody gets hurt.”

“Payroll?” Rickert asked. He was the head teller, a mousy man of forty-five or so. He had been held up twice before, in other jobs. “What federal payroll?”

“Don't fool around,” Thomas said. “The hundred thousand dollars.”

Rickert looked even more puzzled.

“John, if there was a hundred thousand dollars in this bank, I'd know about it.”

Thomas came over to the head teller's window and stood next to John. Mort kept the other people covered.

“Where's the manager? Where's Mr. Morris?”

“H-he's in his office.”

“I'll check,” Thomas said to Mort and John. “If anyone tries anything, kill 'em.”

Suddenly, Mr. Rickert knew this was dead serious, but there was nothing he could do to warn Mr. Morris.

Thomas moved around behind the head teller's window, approached the door to the manager's office, and opened it without knocking. He found himself looking down the barrel of Clint Adams's gun.

“Don't move,” Clint said, “don't even breathe.”

Outside the bank, as soon as the Archers entered, Deputy Marshal Eddie Reed and Hannie Welch had approached the bank and watched through the windows. As soon as Thomas went to the manager's office, Reed said, “We make our move now.”

“Why don't we wait for them to come out?” Hannie asked.

“No,” Reed said, “somebody inside might get hurt. Let's go. You follow me in.”

The deputy walked to the door and slammed it open. He stepped inside and said, “Drop your guns, boys!”

He felt the cold circle of the end of a gun barrel press against the back of his head.

“No, Deputy,” Hannie said, “you drop your gun.”

“We have a Mexican standoff, Adams,” Thomas said.

“How do you figure?”

“My girl's got her gun to your deputy's head.”

“What are you talkingâ” Clint stopped short when he realized there was only one thing this could have meant. “Crap.”

“Now you've got it.”

“You brought her inâ”

“âto take care of Doyle.”

“So her whole story?”

“Phony,” Thomas said. “She likes stories.”

“Your brothers, they knew?”

“They don't know everything I know,” Thomas said, “or everyone I know.”

“I see.”

“Let's see . . . Hannie?” he called out.

“I've got him!”

“Stand by!” Thomas said.

At that moment Clint was glad they hadn't told Hannie that the payroll was phony.

“Thomas,” Clint said, “listen carefully. There is no payroll.”

“You're lyin'.”

“No, it was a trick to draw you and your brothers out,” Clint said. “Think about it.”

Thomas did think about it, and it made him angry.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore.

“Now which one of us feels more stupid?”

They marched the Archers and Hannie Welch out of the bank at gunpoint, both Clint and Deputy Marshal Reed shocked that Sheriff Perry had come up behind Hannie Welch and pressed his gun to
her
head.

“I may not be the straightest arrow who ever wore a badge,” Perry said to them, “but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let anybody rob the bank in my town.”

“You might want to send your deputy out to the Archer farm,” Clint said. “Apparently they left little brother there.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“I'll be along in a minute, Sheriff,” Reed said.

“Okay, Deputy.”

As Perry walked the Archers and Hannie to the jail, Clint said, “Thomas was afraid they'd hang for their last job.”

“If we can prove they've been behind all those jobs, yeah, they will hang,” Deputy Marshal Reed said. He put his hand out for Clint to shake. “Thanks for helpin' me wrap this up.”

“What are you going to do with the saloon now?” Clint asked.

Reed shrugged.

“Get rid of it.”

“What about giving it to Newly?”

“Newly's not the simple bartender you think he is,” Reed said. “He's workin' his own angles, so I'm not about to hand him anythin'. I could sell it, but the money would have to go to Uncle Sam. What are you gonna do?”

“Me? I'm headed back to the other side of the Mississippi,” Clint said. “No good ever comes from being east of the river.”

Watch for

THE DUBLIN DETECTIVE

329
^thnovel in the exciting GUNSMITH series
from Jove

Coming in May!