Red River Vengeance Page 3
* * *
When they reached a small stream approximately five miles south of Paris, Leonard Watts said, “Let’s pull up here and take a look at your hand.” He dismounted and waited for Jesse to pull up beside him. “Is it still bleedin’ pretty bad?”
“Hell, yeah, it’s still bleedin’,” Jesse complained painfully. “I think it broke all the bones in my hand.” He had bound his bandanna around the wounded hand as tightly as he could, but the bandanna was thoroughly soaked.
“Come on,” Leonard said, “let’s wash some of the blood off and see how bad it is.” He helped Jesse down from his horse and they knelt beside the stream to clean the hand. After he had cleared some of the blood away, he said, “The bullet went all the way through.”
“Hell, I know that,” Jesse retorted, “you can see the mark on the grip of my Colt. And I can’t move my fingers.”
“Well, quit tryin’ to move ’em. That just makes it bleed more. Lemme get a rag outta my saddlebag, and I’ll try to bind it tight enough to hold it till we get back to camp. Micah can take a look at it and see what we gotta do. You might have to ride down to Sulphur Springs. They got a doctor there.”
“That sneakin’ egg-suckin’ dog,” Jesse muttered. “I oughta go back and call him out with my left hand.”
Leonard shook his head. “I don’t know, Jesse, that was a helluva shot that feller made, comin’ outta the doorway when he done it. You weren’t lookin’ at him when he shot you, but I was lookin’ right at him when he opened the door. And his gun was in the holster when he started to step out. I don’t know,” he repeated.
“I reckon that was the reason you never thought about pullin’ your gun,” Jesse grunted sarcastically. “He was just lucky as hell,” he insisted. “He was tryin’ to shoot me anywhere and just happened to hit my hand.”
“I don’t know,” Leonard said once again, thinking he had seen what he had seen, and knowing he had never seen anyone faster. Finished with his bandaging then, he said, “Maybe that’ll hold you till we get back to the others.” Jesse’s two brothers were waiting at a camp on the Sulphur River and that was fully ten or eleven miles from where they now stood. Leonard didn’t raise the subject with Jesse, but he was thinking Micah and Lucas were not going to be very happy to learn of the attention he and Jesse had called upon themselves in Paris. Their purpose for visiting the town was to take a look at the recently opened bank while Micah and Lucas rode down to Sulphur Springs to look at that bank. Their camp was halfway between the two towns and the plan had been to go to the towns in the morning, look them over, and meet back at the river that afternoon. It was easy for Leonard to forget his part in encouraging Jesse’s behavior and then blame him for causing them to be one man short in the planned robbery. I reckon he can at least hold the horses while we do the real business, he thought. “We’d best get goin’,” he said to Jesse.
* * *
Leonard was right on the mark when he figured that Jesse’s older brothers were not going to be happy to hear the cause for his wounded hand. “What the hell were you two thinkin’?” Lucas demanded. “We told you to lay low while you were up there and not attract any attention. So you decided to challenge somebody to have a gunfight out in the middle of the street? I swear, no wonder Ma and Pa decided not to have no more young ’uns after you popped out.” He looked at the eldest brother, who was busy examining Jesse’s hand. “Whaddaya think, Micah? Think we just oughta hit that bank in Sulphur Springs? It’s been there a lot longer than the one they looked at, but there is a damn guard.”
“Yeah, and they got a pretty tough sheriff, too,” Micah replied. He turned to Leonard and asked, “Tell me what you did find out when you weren’t tryin’ to get everybody to notice you.”
“I swear, Micah,” Leonard responded, “we did look the town over. It didn’t take long. It ain’t a big town, not as big as Sulphur Springs. The bank’s new, and they ain’t got no guards workin’ there. It’d be easy to knock it over. They got a sheriff, but he’s just part-time. Most of the time he works in a blacksmith shop. I don’t think they’d be able to get up a posse to amount to much. And there weren’t but a few people that got a look at me and Jesse. Besides, we’d be wearin’ bandannas over our faces, anyway.”
“Right,” Lucas scoffed, “and one of the bandannas would be blood soaked on the feller with a bandaged-up hand. How ’bout it, Micah? Is he gonna have to go see a doctor about that hand?”
“Well, it ain’t good, but it coulda been busted up a lot worse. Just feelin’ around on it, I think it mighta broke one of them little bones in there but not all of ’em. It just went straight through. If he can stand it, I think a doctor can wait till we get the hell outta Texas.” He turned to Jesse then. “What do you say, Jesse? Can you make it?”
Jesse took a look at his bandaged right hand and cursed. “Yeah,” he decided. “I can wait till we get our business done here and get gone.”
Micah studied him for a long moment before deciding Jesse was not just blowing smoke. Considering what he now knew about the two possible targets for bank robbery, he made his thoughts known to the others. “Right now, I’m thinkin’ that Paris bank is the smartest move, especially since we’re short a man. It’s smaller, not well guarded, and they’ve got a part-time sheriff. There’s one other thing I like about it, it’s a lot closer to the Red River, only about sixteen miles and we’d be in Indian Territory. I’m thinkin’ that right there would discourage any posse they might get up to come after us. Sulphur Springs is more like fifty miles before we could slip into Oklahoma Indian Territory. It’s been a while since we were up that way, but ol’ Doc O’Shea is most likely still over at Durant Station. If your hand don’t show signs of healin’, we can let him take a look at it.”
“If the old fool ain’t drank hisself to death by now,” Lucas said. Dr. Oliver O’Shea was a competent physician when he was sober, so it was said. They knew that he was adequate even when drunk, since that was the only state in which they had ever seen him.
There was no disagreement on the plan from any of the four after they discussed it a little further. They decided Micah was right in his opinion that there was less of a gamble on their part if they struck the smaller town. “All right, then,” Lucas declared, “I reckon we’ll ride on up to Paris tomorrow, camp outside of town tomorrow night, so the horses will be rested up good. Then we can go to the bank the next mornin’ to make a withdrawal. That’ll be a Friday. That’s a good day to go to the bank.”
CHAPTER 3
“What’s Sonny talkin’ about—you shootin’ somebody?” Possum Smith wanted to know. He had had some second thoughts about not going into town with Perley. It was only natural that he would, since they had been constant companions ever since Perley accompanied him and Emma Slocum to Bison Gap. He counted himself fortunate to have crossed paths with Perley and he had not hesitated to go back to Perley’s home at the Triple-G Ranch with him.
“Oh, it was just a little discussion with a couple of saddle tramps in the dinin’ room at the hotel,” Perley said. “Didn’t amount to much.”
“Sonny said you shot some fellow,” Possum insisted. “That sounds like more than a discussion.”
“I shot a fellow in the hand ’cause he was fixin’ to shoot Buck,” Perley said, knowing Possum would whittle away at him until he got the whole story. “That was the end of it. They got on their horses and left town.”
Possum just shook his head, knowing that Perley had stepped in another cow pie, just as Rubin and John always predicted. He admitted that it often seemed the case, but he thought most of the time it was Perley’s father’s fault for naming him what he did. “I shoulda gone into town with you instead of Sonny,” he finally said. During the last couple of years, it had been his lot to partner with Perley in some dangerous business while they were down in Bison Gap. It had served to form a bond between the older Possum and the young Perley. Consequently, Possum felt a certain responsibility toward Perley. Perley appreciated Pos
sum’s concern, but he felt he was getting to be like his guardian or something, and that was the last thing Perley needed. “Why was he gonna shoot your horse?” Possum asked, refusing to give up until he got the complete story.
“’Cause he tried to ride him and got thrown,” Perley replied. “At least, that’s what a fellow who was standin’ in front of the saloon told me. I was still in the hotel when that happened. So that’s the whole story.”
“I swear, trouble follows you like stink follows a hog,” Possum declared before he finally let the incident rest.
“Talk to Buck,” Perley replied. “He’s the one who wouldn’t let him ride.”
* * *
Friday morning dawned in Paris with the arrival of four riders, two of whom were strangers to the little Texas town. One of the other two wore a heavy glove on his right hand. They led two packhorses casually along the wide main street past the hotel at the lower end, across from the railroad tracks. Wilford Taylor, president of the First National Bank of Paris, paid them no particular mind as they walked their horses past the bank, which was just beyond the hotel. James Bedford and Thomas Deal, his two tellers, were standing at the door, waiting for Taylor to unlock it. “Good morning,” he offered cheerfully as he inserted his key in the heavy lock.
“Good morning, sir,” both men replied, almost as one. They anticipated a busy afternoon following a growing trend for the new bank on Fridays. The bank had been well received by the merchants of the little town as well as many of the farms and ranches close around. Taylor had invested heavily in his banking enterprise, counting on the potential of the little town. He could already foresee the need to employ a full-time custodian, but for the time being, his tellers took care of cleaning up the premises when they were not busy with customers. With the sign on the door still turned to CLOSED, Taylor went in the back to get the cash drawers out of the safe while his tellers went about the business of raising the shades in the windows and front door. They were still in the process when someone tapped on the front door.
Thomas Deal glanced at the big clock on the wall as he went to the door. “It’ll just be five minutes before the bank opens,” he announced loud enough to be heard by the smiling man on the other side of the glass.
“Five minutes?” Micah Sage responded. He held a pouch up that looked to be stuffed quite full and showed it to Deal. “You mind if I wait inside?”
“I reckon that would be all right,” Deal answered, thinking the man wanted to deposit some cash. He looked over at Bedford and got a shrug of indifference from him, so he turned the key in the lock. Micah went inside, holding the door open behind him for Lucas and Leonard, who had been waiting at the corner of the building where they couldn’t be seen from inside. Not realizing what was happening, Deal blurted, “Wait! We’re not open quite yet.”
“That’s all right,” Micah said, “they’re with me. We won’t be long.” Deal stared down in shocked disbelief at the .44 handgun now in the hand of the intruder.
When Bedford realized what was happening, he froze in his tracks, not knowing what to do, and stared at the pistol in Leonard Watts’s hand. “Now, let’s go around to your cages, little birds, and we’ll see what you got in those cash drawers,” Leonard said.
They walked the two tellers around the partition in time to meet Wilford Taylor coming from the safe, carrying the two drawers. Like his tellers, he froze when confronted with the bank robbers, one with a gun pointed at him. “Just set ’em down right there on the counter,” Lucas Sage instructed. “Then me and you can go see what you’ve got in that safe.”
“You’re making a big mistake to think you can get away with this in broad daylight,” Taylor was finally able to sputter.
“Well, we woulda waited till after dark to do it, but you ain’t open at night,” Lucas responded, grinning broadly. “What you need to worry about is to just do like I tell you, so I don’t have to use this gun on you. Now get your ass back there to that safe.” Since the safe was still open, Lucas had only to order Taylor to empty the money into the canvas bank sacks beside the safe. “Damn, there’s more in there than I figured on,” Lucas said. “How much is it?”
“I don’t know the exact amount without looking at my ledger in my desk drawer,” Taylor claimed. “I can get it for you.”
“Well, now, that’s mighty accommodatin’ of ya,” Lucas said. “Which drawer is it in?”
“Right there in my desk. I can get it for you.”
“You just keep fillin’ that sack,” Lucas directed, and took a few steps backward until he felt the desk against the back of his legs. Then he looked down quickly and opened the top desk drawer. “Good thing I looked for you. There’s a Colt Peacemaker in this drawer. You mighta shot yourself by accident when you reached for this book.” He took the pistol out and stuck it in his belt. “Now, why don’t you give me a rough estimate of how much is in that safe? You don’t need to look in the ledger. You know how much you’ve got.”
“There’s roughly forty-eight thousand dollars,” Taylor sadly admitted when there was no use not to. When he saw the look of surprise on Lucas’s face, he made a desperate request for mercy. “Most of that money is mine, that I invested to start up this bank until it can generate enough on its own. I beg you to leave me some of it to operate the bank.”
Lucas studied the desperate man for a long moment before responding. “I’m not an unreasonable man. I can understand what a fix this is gonna leave you in, so I’ll work with you.” He looked at the safe, now empty of cash money. He took the sack from Taylor and peered in it. “Yep, there’s plenty for us. I’ll leave you a little to operate the bank on.” He slipped a twenty-dollar bill out of a pack of bills and put it on the desk. “There you go, you can operate on that.” He favored Taylor with a wide grin then called out, “You done out there?” When Micah answered, saying they were ready to go, Lucas said, “Bring ’em on back here.”
When the two tellers were herded back in the office, Lucas pointed to a supply closet in the corner. “That’s as good a place as any,” he said, and they put the three of them inside. Since the closet door opened to the outside, Micah propped a side chair under the knob, figuring that would hold long enough for their escape.
“I swear, this whole thing was awful easy,” Micah declared. “Too damned easy, as a matter of fact.”
“That ain’t the best part,” Lucas replied. “Wait till I tell you how much money he had in this scrawny little bank.”
Becky Morris took a few steps inside and stopped. The sign on the door said the bank was closed, but the door was standing open. She could hear voices in the back office behind the cages, but it was strange for no one to be in the teller cages. Suddenly, three strange men carrying canvas bags walked out. Then she recognized Leonard from the other day and immediately turned to run, only to be met at the door by Jesse Sage. She screamed.
“Shut up!” Jesse commanded. “I’ll put a bullet in your head!” He grabbed her by the front of her blouse with his left hand, pushing her on inside. Well aware of what was happening, she screamed again, forcing him to release her blouse in order to backhand her, knocking her to the floor.
“What tha . . . ?” That was all Micah got out before he heard the chair holding the closet door give way, apparently in response to the young woman’s screams. He turned and fired two quick shots through the door of the office to stop any heroic attempt by the three men. “First one through that door gets a round in the belly,” he warned. It served to stop any attempt to come to the lady’s rescue, but it also sounded an alarm to prevent their quiet departure from town. Seeing Jesse standing over Becky, Micah demanded, “What are you doin’ in here? Where are the horses?”
“They’re right out front,” Jesse replied. “Everything was goin’ good until she showed up. She’d seen Leonard before, so I came in to keep her from runnin’ to the sheriff.”
“Well, we’d better get the hell outta here now,” Lucas said, “since we woke the whole damn town up.
” He went to the door and looked up and down the street. When he saw someone running toward the sheriff’s office, he exclaimed. “We’ve got to go now! Bring her!” he said to Leonard. “We may need her!” Once he was up in the saddle, with the sack of money secured, he said, “Put her up behind me.” And when Leonard put her up behind him, Lucas told her to wrap her arms around his waist. “You’d best hold on to me, sister, ’cause if you let go, I’ll put a bullet in you for sure.” To encourage her, he added, “I’ll let you go, soon as we get outta town.” Too terrified to resist, she did as he directed.
Sheriff Paul McQueen came out of his office door with Bill Simmons, the barber, right behind him. Simmons pointed toward the bank. “They’re holdin’ up the bank!” he cried. “Look yonder!” McQueen ran toward the bank, his six-gun drawn, but could not get there before the four robbers galloped off past the stable on the north road.
“Don’t shoot!” James Bedford exclaimed. “They took Becky Morris!” McQueen checked his shot just in time when he realized it was Becky holding on behind the last rider galloping away. Wilford Taylor and Thomas Deal ran out in the street and frantically began telling the sheriff about the robbery and the abduction.
Within minutes, the dining room in the hotel emptied onto the street, with Beulah and Lucy among the crowd. Since she didn’t see Becky anywhere, Lucy ran over to the sheriff. “Paul, have you seen Becky? She just went to the bank to get money for the cash drawer.”
“They took her,” McQueen answered. “Sat her down behind the last rider, so I couldn’t take a chance on shootin’ at ’em.” He shook his head slowly in sympathy with Lucy’s immediate look of despair. “Maybe they’ll let her go, since they got outta town okay.” There was nothing he could do to comfort her, so he turned his attention back to what he could do.