“Very good,” Sally said.
“Very good,” Cal said.
“No, I was referring to the fact that you corrected yourself from is to are,” Sally said. “That was very good.”
“Thanks.” Cal beamed under the praise.
“Sally, what time is it?” Tamara asked.
Sally had a small watch pinned to the bodice of her dress, and she pulled it away on a little retracting chain to examine the face. “It lacks fifteen minutes of nine.”
“The bank opens at nine,” Tamara said. “If you don’t mind, I would like to get there just as soon as the bank is open.”
“That’s fine by me,” Sally said. “The quicker we can get the business done at the bank, the quicker we can get started on putting the restaurant together.”
“Good, I’m glad you see it that way too,” Tamara said.
“You goin’ to meet in the bank?” Cal asked.
“Yes.”
“If you don’t mind, I mean what with you ’n Miz McKenzie talkin’ business and all, I’ll probably just sort of wait around over at the mercantile store.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Sally said.
“Hey, do you reckon Pearlie would like one of them things you poke the ends of your bandanna through, so’s you can slide it up and hold the bandanna around your neck?”
Sally winced. She had long ago stopped trying to correct Cal’s grammar, and was pleased and surprised when, from time to time he corrected himself, as he had earlier.
“I think he would be very pleased with it,” she said.
Cal smiled broadly. “Then I aim to get him one.”
Travis Slater, the youngest of the five men, slipped his canteen off the saddle horn and took a drink, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then recorked it and hung it back on his saddle. He looked at his hand, and at the stub of his ring finger, healed now, from having been bitten off. He was still angry about that. He had killed the son of a bitch who did it, but wished he was alive so he could kill him again.
“Damn, we been two weeks without seein’ a town,” Travis said. “Don’t you think, maybe, we could stop at a saloon and get us a few beers afore we take care of our business?”
“Now, that would make a lot of sense, wouldn’t it, Travis?” Dinkins asked. “Yeah, why don’t we just go into the saloon, have us a few drinks and strike up a conversation with some of the locals? That way they are sure to have a good description of us. No, I got a better idea, why don’t we see if there is one of them picture parlors in town? We could have the photographer take our pictures, then there wouldn’t be no doubt as to what we looked like.”
“Hell, Bill, you don’t have to get so particular about it,” Travis said. “I was just sayin’ that a beer would be good, is all.”
“How we goin’ to keep from gettin’ recognized anyhow, once we rob the bank?” Johnny Putnam asked.
“They ain’t goin’ to recognize us if we do this job right,” Dinkins insisted. “If all of you do just like I tell you, we’ll be into that bank, have the money and be out again afore anyone in this town even knows what hit ’em.” He smiled at the others. “Then when we ride into the next town we’ll be able to come in like we own the place. All the beer we can drink, women, gamblin’ money. Hell, we’ll be king of the roost.”
“Have any of you ever know’d anyone to get hisself two whores at the same time?” Travis asked.
Parnell laughed. “Two whores? What the hell would you do with two whores at the same time? Hell, Travis, I’m not sure you’d even know what to do with one whore. You ain’t never even been with a whore yet, have you?”
“Why, sure I have, lots of times,” Travis insisted.
“Where did you have a whore?”
“I had me one oncet when I was in Denver.”
“Ha! One time in Denver. Yeah, that sounds like lots of times,” Parnell said
“That’s only ’cause I don’t never have enough money for whores,” Travis said.
“Well, you just do what I tell you to today, and you’ll have all the money you need ... even enough for two whores at the same time if you think you can handle that,” Dinkins promised. “Now, let’s get on with it. You boys, check your pistols.”
The men pulled their pistols and checked the cylinders to see that all the chambers were properly charged. Then they slipped their guns back into their holsters.
“Ready?” Dinkins asked.
“I’m ready,” Travis replied.
The others nodded.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Tamara and Sally went into the bank, they walked over to one side, where a low rail separated the lobby from a small office. The owner of the bank, a man named Kurt Flowers, was sitting at a desk. He was tall and distinguished looking, with silver hair, blue eyes, and a silver Vandyke beard.
