James was sitting in a wooden chair outside the general store. Thomas perched his hip on a nearby barrel and looked across the street.
“What have they been doin’?” he asked.
“Nothin’,” his brother said. “Just sittin’ there, all afternoon.”
“That’s it?”
James shrugged.
“Anybody talk to them?”
“Thomas,” James said, shaking his head, “they hardly have said a word to each other.”
“Well,” Thomas said, “why don’t you take a break and I’ll watch for a while.”
“You won’t get any argument from me,” James said, standing up. “I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
Thomas took his brother’s place in the chair. “Take a couple of hours, James,” he said.
Before he left, James said, “You might want to think about something I’ve been wondering about for a while.”
“Like what?”
“If they strand up and go separate ways,” James asked, “which one will you follow?”
“You’re right,” Thomas said. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”
As James walked away, Thomas looked at the two men across the street and instinctively knew which one he would follow.
“They changed deputies,” Davis said.
“I can see that.”
“So…what are we gonna do?”
“Have you been keeping count?” Cardwell asked.
“Of what?”
Cardwell closed his eyes. “Okay, how many of our men have ridden in since we’ve been sittin’ here?”
“Uh…a few?”
“Six,” Cardwell said. “Six of our men are here.”
“Six…well, hey, that’s all of them.”
“Right,” Cardwell said, glad that at least Davis knew that much. “So we’re all in place.”
“Except us,” Davis said.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Cardwell said, “when the time comes we’ll be in position.”
The other six men had strict instructions from Cardwell not to be seen together in more than twos. They also had instructions to ignore both Cardwell and Davis whenever they saw them. And their final direction from Cardwell was when to be at the bank, because that’s what they were all in town to do—rob the bank.
But Cardwell had the robbery mapped out in steps, and each of the men had his own steps to take. In the event the job was called off, Cardwell would make direct contact with the others or would have Davis do it.
But so far Ben Cardwell had not seen anything in town that would make him change his plans. The sheriff might have been impressive when he was younger, but not now, and the fact that his deputies were his two sons —well, that didn’t exactly inspire Cardwell to cancel his plans either.
Things were going to go off as planned.
12
Shaye was sitting in his office while his sons took turns keeping an eye on the strangers. When the door opened and a man entered, he looked up, expecting one of the boys. Instead it was Harry Chalmers, who was a clerk for the mayor and, like him, also a lawyer. Chalmers was about the same age as Thomas.
“Sheriff.”
“Afternoon, Harry. What can I do for you?”
“Mayor Timmerman sent me over to tell you—uh, ask you—to come over and see him.”
“What’s botherin’ the mayor?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Chalmers said. “He doesn’t tell me everything.”
“That’s funny,” Shaye said, “I thought he did, Harry.”
“Sheriff,” Chalmers said, “I don’t think the mayor tells anyone everything, not even Mrs. Timmerman.”
“Uh-huh,” Shaye said. “Okay, tell the mayor I’ll be over shortly.”
“Shortly?”
“Oh, you thought I’d come right over with you?”
“Well…”
“Go back and tell the mayor…shortly.”
“Okay,” Chalmers said, “but, uh, today, right?”
“Yes, Harry,” Shaye said, “today.”
Shaye didn’t make the mayor wait very long, just long enough for the man to realize he wouldn’t come running whenever he was called. About a half hour later he appeared in the mayor’s office.
“Ah, Sheriff,” Harry Chalmers said from behind his desk, “I’ll tell the mayor you’re here.”
“You do that, Harry.”
Chalmers knocked on the mayor’s door and entered, then returned and held the door open.
“You can go right in, Sheriff.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
Shaye slid past the clerk into the mayor’s office. Timmerman remained seated, making a statement that way. He was a large, barrel-chested man in his fifties who, even in just the year Shaye and his sons had been in town, had put on weight. Shaye knew they were the same age, but Timmerman looked considerably older.
“Ah, Sheriff Shaye,” Timmerman said, “thanks so much for coming over.”
“Harry seemed to think it was important, Mayor,” Shaye said. “Some town business I should know about?”
“No, Sheriff,” Timmerman said, “it’s more of a, uh, personal matter. Have a seat, will you?”
Shaye sat down opposite the man, wondering what kind of personal business they could possibly have.
“Sheriff…Daniel…can I call you Daniel?”
“I prefer Dan, if that’s all right with you, Mayor.”
“All right, Dan,” Timmerman said.
Shaye knew the man’s name was William, but he wasn’t about to call him “William,” or “Will” or “Bill,” for that matter. “Mayor” was good enough for him.
“What’s on your mind, Mayor?”
“Well, actually…Dan…I want to talk to you about one of your sons.”
“One of my deputies?”
“I know they’re your deputies, but I need to talk to you about one of them as your son.”
“And which one would that be, Mayor?”
“The young one,” Timmerman said, “James.”
Shaye took a moment to study the mayor and scratch his head.
“What about James?” he finally asked.
“You know my daughter, Nancy.”
“Not really,” Shaye said. “I mean, I know you have a daughter, but I don’t know her.”
“Well, Nancy works at the bank,” Timmerman said, “and it has come to my attention that your son James has been, uh, well…hanging around my daughter.”
“Hanging around?” Shaye asked. “What does that mean, mayor?”
“Well, he’s always around the bank, and this morning he was in the cafe where my wife and daughter were having breakfast.”
“Mayor,” Shaye said, “my son Thomas and I were both with James in the cafe this morning. We were all having breakfast there. Is that a problem?”
