The driver was whistling and calling to his team, and the shotgun guard was rolling a cigarette, so neither of them noticed Falcon as he reached the top of the coach, then came up behind them.
“There are some men up ahead,” Falcon said.
Because they didn’t know he was there, both were startled and they jumped. The guard spilled all the tobacco from his roll.
“Damn, Falcon don’t do that!” the shotgun guard said. “Look at all that terbacky you made me lose.”
“Sorry, Ben, I just thought I would warn you,” Falcon said.
“What do you mean there are some men up ahead? Arnie Sessions, the driver, asked. “How many? What do they want?
“I saw at least two,” Falcon replied. “And since they were trying to stay out of sight, I expect that whatever they want is not good.”
“You got ’ny ideas?” Sessions asked.
“Yes. When we make the next cutback, stop and let your passengers out. You’ll be out of sight then, so they won’t see what we are doing and won’t get suspicious. Then, when we get up there, we’ll be ready for them.”
“Sounds like a good idee,” Sessions said. “There’s a second scattergun down here at my feet. You want it?”
“No, keep it ready for yourself. I prefer the pistol.”
When the coach reached the next cutback, it stopped, and Falcon jumped down, then opened the door.
“Folks, we need you to all get out here,” he said.
“What? Why, this is preposterous!” the lawyer said. “Why should we get out?”
“Because there are some men up at the top of this grade, and I have a hunch they aren’t there just to wave at us as we go by,” Falcon said. “I believe you will be safer if you wait down here.”
“You are going to put us out just on some hunch? Well, sir, I shall need more than that before I am put afoot.”
“Mr. MacCallister is right,” the driver called down. “If there’s nothing to it, I’ll come back for you. But if them fellas up there have somthin’ planned for us, well, I’d feel just a heap better iffen none of you was in the line of fire, so to speak. Especially with the little ones.”
“I think the driver is right,” the doctor said.
“I think this is unconscionable,” the lawyer said. “And if you force us to leave this coach, I guarantee you, the stagecoach company shall hear of it.”
“Mr. Gilmore, I know you are an important lawyer and all,” Ben Carney said. “But we’re doin’ this for your own good.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Carney. Mr. Gilmore can stay in the coach with us, if he wishes,” Falcon said to the shotgun guard. “After all, there may be shooting, and if there is we could well use another gun.”
“What do you mean there may be shooting?” Gilmore asked. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to get into any shooting battle,” the lawyer said.
“No, I think Mr. MacCallister is right. You can stay in the coach, Mr. Gilmore. The more guns we have, the better our chances will be,” Sessions said.
The lawyer climbed out of the stage. “No, now that I think of it, I believe someone should stay here and keep an eye on the woman and children,” Gilmore said.
“Good idea,” Falcon said.
With all the passengers disembarked, the driver started his team again and the coach resumed its long pull up the grade. Falcon sat on top of the coach just behind Sessions and Carney, but just before the coach reached the top, he touched the driver on the shoulder.
“I’m going to jump down here,” he said. “I’ll see you at the top.”
“Right,” Sessions said. “Ben, you do have that thing loaded, don’t you?”
“Loaded and ready to go,” Carney replied, shifting the shotgun.
The horses strained in their harness as they pulled the coach up the last one hundred yards.
“Andy, Poke, get ready!” Garon called out. “The coach is just about here, no more than another minute or so!”
As the coach reached the top of the grade, the three road agents jumped out with their guns drawn.
“Hold it right there!” Garon called, pointing his pistol at the driver and guard. “Driver, are you carrying an express box?”
“Nothin’ here but a mailbag,” Sessions replied.
“I don’t believe you. If you ain’t carryin’ a strongbox, why do you have a shotgun guard ridin’ with you?”
“It’s just somethin’ the company makes us do,” the driver said. “But there ain’t no strongbox, and if you don’t believe it, you can climb up here and see for yourself,” the driver replied.
“All right, throw the mailbag down. And you folks inside the coach, come out!” Garon shouted. “I want all the passengers outside now. Come on, let’s see what you have.”
“There ain’t no passengers,” Sessions said. He had not yet thrown down the mailbag.
