Eli Toombs took all the cash from his cash drawer and dropped it in the cloth bag Travis handed him. He didn’t resist. The two brothers had threatened to kill his wife if he did.
“I thank you very much for that contribution, Mr. Toombs.” Travis took the bag of money, then looked over toward the old mountain man. “What have you got that we might want?”
“I ain’t got a damn thing, sonny,” the mountain man replied with a dismissive slur.
“Maybe I should just see about that.” Travis reached toward Clem Perkins. The old mountain man grabbed his hand, raised it to his mouth, and bit the end of his finger off.
“Ahhh!” Travis screamed in pain. He shot the old man and, even after he fell, continued to shoot him until the hammer fell repeatedly on empty chambers.
“Let’s go!” Frank shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”
Grabbing a shirt that was for sale on one of the tables, Travis wrapped it around the end of his finger to staunch the flow of blood.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Toombs grabbed a shotgun from under the counter, but Frank saw him and before Toombs could bring his weapon to bear, Frank shot him.
When Mrs. Toombs, who was screaming in anger and fear, grabbed the gun from her husband’s dead hands, Frank shot her as well.
A moment later they rode away from the store with a bag that contained forty-nine dollars and fifty-seven cents. Behind them lay the gruesome remains of their visit, the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Toombs, and that of one of Colorado’s earliest pioneers.
Risco was a scattering of fly-blown, crumbling adobe buildings laid out around a dusty plaza. What made the town attractive to people like Bill Dinkins, John Putnam, and Cole Parnell was its reputation as a “Robbers’ Roost,” or “Outlaw Haven.”
The town was neither incorporated, nor listed on any map. It had no city government of any kind, including no mayor, constable, marshal, or sheriff. Visitations by law officers were strongly discouraged and there was a place in the town cemetery prominently marked LAWMAN’S PLOT. Two deputy sheriffs, one deputy U.S. marshal, and a private detective, all unwelcome visitors to the town, lay buried there.
Dinkins, Putnam, and Parnell were in the Purgatory Saloon. The three horses they had stolen from the Canon City Livery were tied up out front. Because of the lawlessness of the town, they had absolutely no concern about riding stolen horses. It was certain nobody in town was going to challenge them over it.
Parnell recognized Frank and Travis Slater when they came in. “Well, well,” he said quietly. “Last time I saw them two boys, we was in jail together back in Elco. I went to prison from there, never did find out what happened to them.”
“What was they in jail for?” Dinkins asked.
“Stealin’, as I recollect,” Parnell said.
“We need a couple more men to make sure we pull off the job I have in mind. Do you think they would be the men for it?”
“Don’t know whether they would be or not. Don’t know ’em that well. But if I was just guessin’, I would say they would be all right.”
“Why don’t you go and invite them over?” Dinkins suggested.
“All right.” Parnell finished his drink, then walked to the two bothers. “Frank and Travis Slater.”
Both men whirled toward him with their hands covering the butts of their guns.
“Hold it, hold it!” Parnell held out his hands, palms open. “You ain’t goin’ to throw down on an old pard, are you?”
“Parnell?” Frank asked. “I thought you was in prison.”
“I was,” Parnell answered. “But I got let out. I guess you boys was let out too, seein’ as the last time I seen the two of you, you was in jail.” Smiling, he extended his hand, and each shook it. “Come on over. I’ve got some fellas I’d like for you to meet,” he invited.
Frank and Travis followed Parnell over to the table where Dinkins and Putnam were sitting.
“Bill, Johnny, these two boys is old friends of mine,” Parnell said. “Like I told you, we was in jail together back in Elco.”
“Pull up a chair and join us,” Dinkins invited.
The two brothers sat down.
“Before I go any further, I need to ask a question. Which side of the law are you boys on?” Dinkins asked. “What I mean is, are there any wanted posters out on you?”
“There ain’t no dodgers out on us, ’cause we ain’t done nothin’ to be wanted for,” Travis said quickly.
“Well then, in that case, you probably wouldn’t be interested in my proposal,” Dinkins said. “Because what I have to suggest will put you on the wrong side of the law for sure. So, if you’ve got enough money that you ain’t interested, well, go on back up to the bar and finish your drink.”
“Wait a minute,” Frank said. “What is it that you have to suggest?”
“Nothing that would interest you two, I’m sure,” Dinkins said. “I mean, bein’ as you ain’t never done nothin’ to be wanted for.”
“Supposin’ we had,” Frank said.
“But your brother just said that you hadn’t.”
