Rafe, discovering the trend of this thinking, snorted in disgust. He'd
Keeping hold of the reins he limped over to the corner and had a look at the street. It was still too early for anyone to be about, though he did see smoke coming out of a number of stovepipes. He was about to step back when hoof sound hit him with its tap-tap of warning, not loud but plain, certainly moving this way. At about the same time he heard the skreak of greaseless buggy wheels.
That last would be Pike with Bunny and Bender. But who were the horsebackers? Helpers or enemies? Didn't hardly seem time enough for Luce to be coming along with that banker. What if this were a couple of Gourd and Vine gunhawks!
Rafe figured he'd better find out.
He slipped the spur off his heel, left Bathsheba on grounded reins. Hard to tell, the way sound slapped around, which was hoofs and which was echoes, but it looked a poor bet to wait till they got here.
Scurrying along the bank's back wall, he reached the alley formed by the flank of the Big Bun Bakery, the smells coming out of this near overwhelming him. His stomach went into a spasm of protest as Rafe, hard-faced, plunged into the passage, catfooting streetward through a clutter of tumbleweeds, cans, broken glass and wind- whipped, twisted tore-apart papers. He stopped, gun in hand, when he was close to the street, all his faculties screwed wiretight, edgily listening a spell before popping his head out.
He needn't have got such a sweat up. It was Luce and Alph Chilton making the hoof sound. They were just coming past the front of the Cow Palace, the banker scowling and wagging his lip like a sore-backed bull with a mouthful of larkspur. Rafe, making ready to fade back through the rubbish, went suddenly stiff as his glance crossed a face in the harness shop doorway.
The light wasn't good, the range a full eighty strides across hoof-pocked dust with the guy pulling back into deeper shadow, but Rafe would of swore it was the feller he'd left tied up in the woods the last time he'd gone to the bank to see Chilton—one of the pair Spangler'd staked out at Pike's! If the guy hadn't ducked Rafe might never have seen him.
He went cold all over. Were the rest of them here, stashed around between buildings, or was this ranny on his own, left in town to keep cases? Either way he spelled trouble.
Rafe softly cursed. He was sure enough wedged between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't leave the guy loose to go running to Spangler.
Keeping narrowed stare bitterly pinned to the doorway, Rafe scanned his chances. Last thing he wanted was to rouse the town, and any sudden commotion, or gunplay, could do it. It wasn't likely whoever ran the shop had opened yet; so if he started across the road, both of them knowing he had the guy cornered, the feller was pretty near bound to shoot.
The wheel skreaks had quit. Though he couldn't see it without poking his neck out again, Pike must have the buggy in front of the bank. And the horsebackers had apparently arrived there, too. 'Couldn't this have waited till the bank opened for business?' he heard Chilton say in a voice gruff with outrage. Saddle leather popped and boots thumped ground, and Bunny was tartly saying through the protest of buggy springs, 'Stand around in plain sight with his arms full of money?'
'I haven't seen any money yet!'
'You'll see it,' Pike said, 'when you get that door open—'
'What're
'Somebody has to be a witness to this.'
Muttering something about 'highly irregular' Chilton was unlocking the bank's front door when Rafe staring hard, suddenly made up his mind. A man could swing just as high for a sheep as a goat in this country and, since he dared not leave that feller loose, he yelled with his gun up, 'Come outa that doorhole.
Brick chips stung the side of his face. Muzzleflame bloomed in the harness shop shadows. Firing at the flash Rafe saw Spangler's man stumble out of the doorway clutching his side, lurch two crazy steps in a kind of half circle and crumple into the dust.
Shouts and the slapping of thrown up windows came through the stomping clatter of echoes as Rafe, diving into the street, gun lifting, ran toward the huddle of statuelike shapes before the bank's open door, the gallop of horses hammering hard at his heels.
Only thing that surprised him was that nobody fired. In all that confusion of cries and called questions it was hard to hold firm to any kind of a course. He saw Chilton in the entry, white-faced, eyes about to roll off his cheekbones. He shoved his free hand against Pike's shoulder. 'Inside! Inside!' He tried to will them to move.
Some excited fool yelled, '
He stood with sinking heart, all his hopes and defenses toppling. Then he grabbed a fresh breath. 'Get 'em inside, Sheriff, an' hurry it up!' He ran to Bill's rearing horse and snatched free the rifle, levering a cartridge into the chamber. Some of the men hurrying out of near houses sprinted for cover as Rafe put a blue whistler over their heads. He loosed a couple of more to make sure they kept going, and ducked into the bank in the wake of the others, slamming the door.
The rest of this tune he was going to have to play by ear, but he could still take some of the heat off his Pa; and he was glad, looking around, to see that someone had thought to stuff a tow sack for him which the old man was clutching against his chest like it was heavy. And he noticed how Chilton's piggish eyes, though darting around, kept sneaking back to it.
Now, pushing forward, Rafe said, 'Let's get this over with.' His stare speared the banker. Sheriff Ed said, getting his wind up. 'What're we here for? What's goin' on?'
'We're here,' Rafe said, 'to get shed of that mortgage Chilton holds against Gourd and Vine. Anything in them papers, banker, says we can't clear the whole debt off right now?'
Chilton hemmed and hawed, plainly dissatisfied. He looked uneasy, almost frightened, Rafe thought, but the glances he kept stabbing about didn't seem to pick up much in the way of encouragement. He finally said, 'No-o,' in
