Swank nodded and said, “We’ll have a wagon here before you can say—”
“Keep up the good work,” Kane blurted out in a slurred voice, cutting him off.
Grolin and Swank stared at Kane.
“Jesus,” said Swank. Lowering his voice, he said just between him and Grolin, “You ought to put that one out of his misery.”
“Don’t worry about him,” said Grolin. “Just get us a wagon and let’s get this thing done, partner.”
“One hour,” said Swank. “Be ready to ride when we get here with it. We might have a teamster or two shooting at our tails.”
When Swank and his men were well on their way back along the trail toward the town of Dunbar, Silas Dooley rode up close beside Swank. The other three gunmen rode up on his other side. Swank looked back and forth at them. He grinned.
“If this is a robbery, you got here too early,” he said. “You should have waited until I took possession of a wagon full of gold ingots.”
“That’s the very thing we wanted to talk about, Heaton,” said Dooley. “We want to know how we fit in on this deal you’re cooking with Grolin. We were hired on to guard a wagonload of gold for you and the people you work for.”
“Nothing’s changed,” said Swank. “You’ll all still get paid, just like we agreed to.”
“Except, now we might have to ride right into a posse,” said Dooley, “or end up fighting the Stillwater Giant and whoever is sided with him against Grolin.”
“Dooley’s right, Swank,” said Eli March. “This job has taken on a whole new hazard.”
“You wanting out, Eli?” He shrugged. “Okay, you’re out,” he said. He looked at the others. “Anybody else want out?”
“I’m not wanting out,” said March. “I’m saying what we’re all thinking. We want a better deal.”
Swank jerked his horse to a halt and stared from one to the other.
“All right,” he said, “how about this? You give up the pay you’ve got coming—take a share of the gold instead?”
The men fell silent in contemplation.
Dooley said, “You mean take a share of your share?” He shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like much to me. We’re better off with what we started out with—”
“Look at me, Dooley,” he said. “All of you,” he added, looking around at them. “Tell me if I look stupid enough to settle for a share of this deal, when it’s clear that Grolin is too weak to defend himself.”
The men looked at each other. A crafty smile crept onto Dooley’s face.
“We’re going to take it all, ain’t we?” he said.
“Think about it,” Swank said. “There’s five of us. Grolin is down to three men and one of them has been knocked cock-simple. I’d hate for anybody I know to hear that I had a chance like this and didn’t take it. Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yes, putting it the way you said,” Dooley replied.
“So, what do you say, fellows?” Swank said in a chiding tone. “Want to get one of them freight wagons that run out of Dunbar every day, or what?” He didn’t wait for an answer; he batted his boots to his horse’s sides.
The five nodded and booted their horses into a gallop behind him.
Chapter 24
Hidden among large rocks and scrub pine above the trail, Corporal Rourke and one of the troopers, a young man named George Winslow, sat with their rifles ready as they kept watch in both directions. Overhead, the sun stood farther west. Winslow let out a breath.
“How long you figure the captain will wait here for these men, Corporal?”
“I don’t know, Trooper,” said Rourke. “We can’t leave soon enough to suit me.” He drew a watch from inside his duster pocket, flipped the lid open and checked the time.
“Me neither,” said Winslow. “We’ve been perched up here like squirrels all day.”
“Three hours,” Rourke corrected him. He closed the watch and put it away.
“All right, three hours,” said Winslow. “I can’t believe we’re here. Seems like the captain would want to get right on their trail and ride them down.”
Rourke looked at him.
“I’m just saying it’s quite a gamble the captain has taken,” Winslow explained. “What if they don’t come back for the gold at all? We’ll look like fools when the general finds out.”
“No,” said Rourke, “Captain Boone will look like a fool. But I’m sure the captain thought all that out before he decided to stay here.”
“I don’t mean to be second-guessing the captain,” Winslow said. “It just seems risky, is all.” He shrugged. “Although there are always risks in this man’s army, one could argue.”
“Yes, life is risky. And now it’s going to start getting even riskier, Trooper,” Rourke said, staring off down the trail below.
Winslow looked down in the same direction and saw three riders moving into sight single file.
Rourke lifted a palm-sized signal mirror from the inside lapel pocket of his duster and wiped it on his sleeve. He gave Winslow a grin.
“It appears the captain just won his feathers for the day, eh?” he said.
“Yes, he has,” said Winslow, looking almost relieved. “I’m happy to say I was wrong.”
Rourke raised the signal mirror and cocked it to the afternoon sunlight. He moved it back and forth slowly.
Among the rocks on the steep hillside thirty yards back along the trail, Sergeant Goodrich saw the flash of piercing sunlight blink on and off. He turned to the trooper beside him, a young man named John Trent.
“All right, Trooper, be ready. Hold your fire until I give you the order,” he said.
“Yes, Sergeant Goodrich,” the young soldier replied somberly.
Goodrich turned and waved a hand back and forth toward Captain Boone, who sat in the cover of rock farther down the hillside.
“We have riders moving up the trail, sir,” Goodrich called out, keeping his voice as quiet as he could.
Boone waved in acknowledgment, then backed away in a crouch and hurried down a few yards to a level spot where the third trooper stood watch over the three prisoners.
“Trooper Lukens, the thieves have arrived,” he said, seeing Rochenbach seated against a slender pine, his arms behind him, cuffed around the tree’s six-inch trunk. “Are you prepared for a fight?”
“Yes, sir, Captain,” the trooper said, snapping to attention in spite of his civilian trail clothes. “Ready and willing, sir.”
“Good man,” said Boone. “See to it these prisoners are secured and come with me.”
“Sir, should I gag them with a length of rope to keep them quiet?” Lukens asked as he stepped around the tree and checked Rochenbach’s handcuffs.
“I think not, Trooper,” said the captain. He stared down at Rochenbach, then at Casings, whose hands were also cuffed around a slender pine. “If I hear either of you try to call out and tip off your cohorts, I’ll send someone down here to shoot the three of you. Is that clear enough?” he asked.
Rochenbach and Casings both nodded. At a much larger tree a few feet away, the Stillwater Giant sat sleeping soundly. His big hands, already tied at the wrists, were now held snuggly to his chest by a rope that wrapped around him five times, tying him to the tree.
“Back to our positions, then, Trooper,” the captain said. “These men aren’t going anywhere.”
The two turned and hurried away through the brush and rocks. No sooner were they out of sight than Casings turned to Rochenbach.
“Got any ideas, Rock?” he asked. “This place could turn inhospitable in a hurry once the shooting starts.”
Before Rock could answer, the Stillwater Giant said quietly, “I’ve got an idea.”