Kill Crazy Read online

  No. He thought of Meagan.

  The next morning, Johnny and Emile Taylor, Clay Calhoun, Bart Evans, Julius Jackson, and Al Short were going over their final plans.

  “When we go in, we’ll ride down the alley until we get to the back of the bank. Al, you stay outside with the horses, and remember, these is all stole horses, so we don’t have any idea how they are going to act, so you damn well better hang on to ’em tight, so that they don’t get away. The rest of us will go around the bank so that we come in through the front door. After we do our business, we’ll leave the bank by going out through the back door.”

  “Why don’t we go in through the back door too?” Evans asked.

  “More ’n likely the back door will be bolted shut from the inside. We can go out through it, but can’t go in through it,” Johnny explained.

  “Say, Johnny, how much money do you reckon there is in that bank, anyhow?” Jackson asked.

  “I figure there’s at least thirty thousand,” Johnny said. “That means you boys can split up fifteen thousand between you. ’Course, it might be more.”

  “What do you mean, we can split up fifteen thousand between us? If there’s thirty thousand, why ain’t we splittin’ it all up?” Short asked.

  “We done been over that,” Johnny replied. “Me ’n’ Emile are the ones that got the idea to rob this bank. And we’re the ones that put ever’one together. You know’d that, comin’ into this job.”

  “Johnny’s right, Al,” Evans said. “This was what we all agreed to when we come into the job.”

  “All right, all right,” Short said, waving his hand. “I don’t think it’s none at all fair, but iffen ever’one else is willin’ to go along with it like this, I am too.”

  “What’s one fourth of fifteen thousand dollars?” Jackson asked.

  “Three thousand, seven hunnert, and fifty dollars,” Evans said. I done figured it all out.”

  “Three thousand dollars? That ain’t bad,” Jackson said. “Truth is, it’s more money ’n I’ve ever had before.”

  “More money ’n I’ve ever had, too,” Evans said.

  “If you boys stick with Johnny ’n’ me, you’ll have lots of money,” Emile said. “This here bank is just the first one we got planned out. We got lots of ’em planned out after this.”

  “Let’s get into town,” Johnny said. “I want to get there right soon after the bank opens.”

  Mrs. Guthrie was checking on her dress when Duff walked in through the front door of the Ladies’ Emporium.

  “Mr. MacCallister,” Mrs. Guthrie said. “What do you think of the new dress Meagan is making for me?”

  “Sure now ’n’ I’ve never seen a more beautiful dress, Mrs. Guthrie,” Duff said. “And ’twill look even better worn by a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

  Mrs. Guthrie laughed. “I’m not so old that I can’t tell when a man is spreading it on thick. I’ll be wearing the dress and if Mr. Guthrie himself recognizes it as new and gives me a compliment, then I’ll be satisfied. Meagan, if you don’t mind, I’ll just pay for the dress now so that when you finish it all I have to do is pick it up.”

  Meagan smiled. “I never turn down an early payment,” she said.

  Mrs. Guthrie gave Meagan a bank draft as payment, and when she left the store, Meagan laughed.

  “My, my, Duff, you may be a Scotsman, but it’s the Irish blarney you are spreading.”

  “Aye, but ’tis no harm to make a lady feel good about herself.”

  “I see. And you know all about women, do you?”

  “I make no such claim, lass, but ’tis no need for me to know everything because Elmer does,” Duff replied with a chuckle, recalling the conversation with his foreman yesterday.

  “And just what makes you think Elmer knows all about women?” Meagan asked.

  “He told me he knows. And he wouldn’t be for lying to me about such a thing now, would he?”

  Meagan laughed with him.

  “Now, that’s funny. Vi told me that if I needed to know anything about men, all I have to do is ask her.”

  Vi Winslow was a widow who owned Vi’s Pies. She and Elmer Gleason had been “keeping company,” as Vi described it.

  “Sounds as if they are perfect for each other,” Duff said.

  “Didn’t you say you were going to the bank this morning?” Meagan said.

  “Aye, I’m going to have to move some money from my business account into my personal account.”

  “Good, then we can walk down to the bank together. This is a pretty large draft. I’ll just deposit it.”

  Down at Fiddler’s Green at that moment, Cindy Boyce was counting out the money she had received in tips from the male customers the night before.

  “Mr. Johnson, if it’s all right with you, I’m going to walk down to the bank and make a deposit,” she said.

  “That’s fine by me,” Biff replied. “I think that is very smart of you.”

  “You had better watch out for Cindy, Biff,” Nell said. “As many tips as she gets, and saving money the way she does, she might just wind up buying you out.”

  Duff and Meagan were the only other customers in the bank when Cindy arrived, and she smiled broadly at Duff.

  “Hello, Duff,” she said, brightly.

  “Hello, Cindy,” Duff said. Then, seeing the questioning look on Meagan’s face, he introduced them.

  “Meagan, this young lass is Cindy. I do nae know her last name, but ’tis a new girl for Biff, she is.”

  “It is nice to meet you,” Meagan said. She looked at the rather revealing dress Cindy was wearing, then added, “And if you find yourself in need of a new dress, I own the Ladies’ Emporium.”

  “Yes, I know your place,” Cindy said. “It is right next door to Fiddler’s Green, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. And speaking of the emporium, I need to get back to it,” Meagan said.

  “I can nae leave just yet,” Duff said. “Mr. Welch isn’t finished with the transfer.”

  “That’s all right. Just don’t forget that we are having lunch together.”

  “Not to worry, lass. As soon as I’m finished here, I’ll be callin’ for you with bells on m’ toes,” Duff said.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Welch,” Meagan called to the teller who had handled her transaction.

  “Good-bye, Miss Parker,” Welch called back.

  “She is your lady friend, is she?” Cindy asked after Meagan left.

  “You might say that,” Duff replied.

  “She is a very pretty woman.”

  “As fair as the Scottish thistle, she is.”

  “Thistle? You mean, like a sand spur?”

  “Nae like a sand spur. The thistle is the national flower of Scotland, a purple bloom.”

  “Oh.”

  Suddenly the front door of the bank was pushed open and five masked men wearing long, tan-colored dusters, barged in. All five were brandishing pistols.

  “Here, what is this?” Welch shouted, and bending down, he came back up with a shotgun in his hand.

  The shortest of the six robbers shot him, and Welch fell back with a bullet hole in his forehead.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Bernie Caldwell, the other bank teller, shouted. He stuck his hands into the air.

  “You!” the short one said to Duff. “Take your gun out and drop it into the spittoon.”

  Duff hesitated, and the robber grabbed Cindy and pulled her to him, putting his gun to her head.

  “Do it now, or I kill the woman!” he shouted. “Use two fingers.”

  Obeying the instructions, Duff pulled his pistol from the holster and dropped it into the brass container of expectorated tobacco juice.

  One of the other robbers took out a cloth bag and handed it to Caldwell. “All right, Mr. Bank Teller,” he said. “I want ever’ dollar this bank has to be put in this sack.” He cocked the pistol and pointed it at Caldwell. “And if you hold back as much as one dollar, I’ll blow your head off.”

&n
bsp; “I won’t hold anything back!” Caldwell said, taking the bag with shaking hands. He moved quickly to the safe, opened it, then began taking out packets of bills and dropping them in the bag.

  “Whooee, look at that money, Johnny! Did you ever think we would get so much?”

  “Clay Calhoun, you ignorant son of a bitch! Don’t use my name!”

  When the bag was filled, Caldwell handed it to the man Clay Calhoun had identified as Johnny.

  “All right, boys, let’s get out of here,” Johnny said.

  The robber who was holding Cindy gave her a shove as the five men started toward the back door of the bank. Duff watched until all were outside. Then he stuck his hand down in the spittoon and came up with his pistol, now dripping with brown slime. Ignoring the odorous goo, he started toward the back door.

  “No!” Cindy said, running in front of him. “Don’t go out there! They’ll kill you!”

  “Let me by, lass!” Duff said.

  “No!” Cindy grabbed him and tried to hold him back. “Don’t you understand? They will kill you!”

  Gently, but firmly, Duff pushed Cindy away, then stepped out into the alley. Mounted now, the six bank robbers were galloping down the back alley, shouting and shooting their pistols into the air to keep everyone back.

  Chapter Ten

  Outside in the alley behind the bank, Duff took careful aim and squeezed off a shot, and one of the riders fell from his horse. He fired a second time, and another rider fell. But before he could shoot a third time, the remaining four riders went around a corner. Duff ran back through the bank, where he saw Cindy standing by the front window looking out onto the street, while Caldwell bent over Welch’s body. Duff ran out of the front door to see if he could get a shot, and he saw the bank robbers at the far end of the block, where they had come back out from the alley. He raised his pistol to take aim, but there were too many townspeople drawn into the street by the commotion. Curious men and women were standing in the street between Duff and the fleeing robbers, preventing him from getting a clear shot.

  By now, Marshal Jerry Ferrell, as well as Deputies Willie Pierce and Frank Mullins, showed up, their own pistols drawn. “What’s going on?”

  “The bank’s been robbed, Marshal!” someone shouted.

  Seeing Duff with pistol in hand, standing in front of the bank, Ferrell hurried down to him.

  “Did you get a shot at them?” Ferrell asked.

  “Aye, two of them,” Duff said. “One I think I killed, and one I but wounded. They are out back in the alley.”

  “Ha!” Ferrell said. “When I took this job over from Marshal Craig, he told me you were like an unpaid deputy. Willie, Frank, you keep an eye on things out here. Duff, what do you say you and I go back there and take a look at them?”

  Ferrell and Duff moved quickly back into the alley. There they saw two men on the ground, one lying, and one sitting up. The two robbers were behind Guthrie’s Building and Lumber Supply, and R.W. Guthrie and Fred Matthews were standing over them, holding pistols on the one who was sitting up. The masks had been pulled away from both of them.

  “I thought I recognized you. Marshal, this gentleman is Emile Taylor,” Duff said. “Or at least, that is what he said his name was when I met him in Fiddler’s Green.”

  Ferrell chuckled. “Yes, I heard about that meeting.” Ferrell looked at Emile. “And I heard about your little episode with Burt Kennedy too. Not so much now, are you, Taylor?”

  “I’m hurt,” Emile said.

  “Are you now?” Ferrell replied, though there was absolutely no compassion in his voice. “Have you checked him over, Fred? How bad is he shot up?”

  “He’s got a crease in his shoulder is all. He was hurt worse when he fell off his horse than he was by the bullet,” Matthews said.

  “You’re slipping, Duff. I would have thought you would have killed both of them.”

  “I thought you might want to speak with one of them,” Duff said.

  “That’s a fact,” Ferrell said.

  Deputies Pierce and Mullins arrived then.

  “Ain’t nothin’ more happenin’ out front,” Pierce said.

  “Folks still standing around in the street?” Ferrell asked.

  “Yeah, they’re doin’ that, all right.”

  “I’d better get back out there. Come on, Taylor, you’re going to jail. You two, keep him covered.”

  “I heard what you done to Burt Kennedy,” Mullins said. “So I would really love it if you would try and run.”

  “I ain’t runnin’ nowhere,” Emile mumbled.

  Duff and Marshal Ferrell walked back out into the street, where the crowd of curious onlookers had grown even larger.

  “Folks, the show’s over,” Marshal Ferrell shouted. “You may as well get out of the street so horses and wagons can pass.”

  “I heard Mr. Welch was killed,” someone said. “Is that right?”

  “Aye, I’m afraid it is,” Duff said.

  “He is the one who shot Danny,” Caldwell said, pointing to the prisoner that Pierce and Mullins had in tow.

  “Let’s string the son of a bitch up!” another shouted. “Get a rope! I’ll put it around his neck myself!”

  Marshal Ferrell saw who had shouted, and he pointed at him. “Prentiss Montgomery, if you so much as open your mouth again, I will throw you in jail. And if anyone else makes such a comment I will throw him and you in jail! There will be no more such talk in this town. Do you hear me? I’m talking to all of you.”

  “Marshal, Danny Welch was a good man,” someone said. “We can’t let this son of a bitch get away with killin’ him.”

  “Welch was a good man, that is a fact,” Ferrell said. “And if Mr. Taylor here is the one who shot him, there is no doubt in my mind but that he will hang. But if he, or anyone else, is hanged in this town, it’s going to be legal. Or else there will be two hangings. The one that is illegal, followed by the legal hanging of the son of a bitch who did it.”

  “Duff! Oh, Duff!” Meagan shouted, running up from her place of business. There was an expression of fear and worry on her face, but when she saw Duff standing uninjured in the street with the marshal, the expression of fear and worry was replaced by one of relief and joy.

  “Oh,” she said. “I heard—I was afraid—I’m so glad to see that you are all right.” Without hesitation or embarrassment that they were standing in front of the entire town, Meagan went to him and embraced him.

  She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of relief; then she saw his hand, still soiled with the expectorated tobacco offal. She stepped back with an expression of repulsion.

  “Oooh!” she said. “What is that?”

  “Och . . . ’tis naught but tobacco juice,” Duff said with a wry grin. “They made me drop my pistol into a wee pot o’ the stuff.”

  “And you stuck your hand down into it?”

  “Aye, for ’twas the only way I could retrieve my gun,” Duff said.

  “Which, I may say, Miss Parker, he put to excellent use,” Marshal Ferrell said. “He put two of the varmints down.”

  “But the others got away with the money,” Duff said.

  “How much money did they get?” one of those standing in the street asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Marshal Ferrell replied. “We’ll have to go through the records and find out.”

  “Damn! I had money in that bank!”

  “We all had money in that bank, Snellgrove,” Guthrie said.

  Johnny Taylor and the others galloped for two miles before they slowed their horses to a trot. There, the riders dismounted, unsaddled their horses, then gave the animals a swat on their flanks and sent them galloping off.

  “Where’s Emile?” Johnny asked.

  “Him ’n’ Julius didn’t make it,” Calhoun said. “They was both shot.”

  “My brother was shot?” Johnny said distressed by the news.

  “Emile wasn’t kilt though,” Short said.

  “He wasn’t ki
lt? How do you know?” Johnny asked anxiously.

  “He was right beside me, and I seen where it was that he got hit. He just got hit in the shoulder is all.”

  “Julius is dead though,” Calhoun said. “Hell, I seen blood and brain comin’ out of his head where the bullet hit.”

  “Did anybody see who it was that shot ’em?” Johnny asked.

  “Yeah, I seen ’im,” Calhoun said. “It was the one we made drop his gun into the spittoon. He must’ve fished it out.”

  Carrying their saddles, the four men walked almost a mile into a closed canyon where six horses were hobbled.

  “When are we goin’ to divide up the money?” Short asked.

  “We’ll divide it up now,” Johnny answered

  “Good,” Calhoun said. “And now with two of ’em gone, that just gives us that much more money to divide up.”

  “Not quite. Emile and I still get half of the money,” Johnny said. “But you three can divide up the money that would have gone to Jackson.”

  “What do you mean, Emile and you get half the money? Emile ain’t even here,” Short said.

  “He ain’t dead, either. So that means I’m goin’ to keep his money for him.”

  The four men sat down then and counted the money. It came to forty-five thousand dollars.

  “All right,” Johnny said. “Half of forty-five thousand is twenty-two thousand five hundred, which I’ll keep for Emile and me. That leaves seven thousand five hundred dollars for each of you.”

  “That don’t seem no way right,” Short said.

  “Is that, or is that not, what you agreed to?” Johnny asked.

  “Johnny is right, Al,” Evans said. “We did agree to that, and if you think about it, what with Julius gettin’ hisself kilt an’ all, why, we’re gettin’ a lot more ’n we bargained for.”

  “Plus, we come up with more money that we thought we would,” Calhoun added.

  “Yeah, and if you boys just stick with me, there will be a lot more where this come from,” Johnny said as he continued to count the money. “I’ve got at least two other jobs in mind.”