“Let’s get out of here!” Harris growled.
With Harris clutching the now-filled sack of money, the two men ran out of the bank, stepping over the customer’s body. The horses had been startled by the sound of the gunshot, and they were milling around in the street, making it difficult for Garon to control them.
“Garon, you get those horses under control now!” Harris shouted angrily.
After one more turn, Garon managed to quiet the horses. Then he held out the reins so Harris and Bryans could swing into the saddle. Once mounted, they slapped their legs against the sides of their animals, and the horses bolted down the street toward the edge of town.
By now, several of the townspeople had heard the gunshot, and had seen the three men leave the bank at a gallop. Some of them were calling out: “Bank robbery! The bank is being robbed!”
“Shoot up the town!” Harris shouted to the others. “Keep their damn heads down!”
Without even looking, the three bank robbers began shooting. It had the desired effect, as those who had come out of the stores and buildings to see what was going on now rushed back inside.
Unharmed, the three men galloped out of town.
Nobody chased them, because everyone’s attention had been drawn to the schoolyard.
There, two children and the schoolmarm lay dead.
When Falcon took the train to Green River, Wyoming, he carried with him a copy of the newspaper he had read two days earlier. The newspaper had the story of a bank robbery that had taken place in Green River a week earlier. Three men had robbed the bank, and the teller had heard all three names called. The names were Harris, Bryans, and Garon.
Falcon had not been specifically looking for the three men in the year since the Custer massacre; there had been other things to keep him occupied. But he hadn’t forgotten about them, and when he heard the three names together, he knew this was them.
When he stepped down from the train, he saw a wanted poster attached to the front wall of the depot.
WANTED!
For Bank Robbery and Murder
Dead or Alive.
Harrison- Garon- Bryans
$500 for each man.
When Falcon pushed the door open to the sheriff’s office a short time later, he saw two men playing checkers: one player inside a jail cell, the other sitting on a stool just outside the cell bars.
“Is Sheriff Dancer here?” Falcon asked.
“I’m Sheriff Dancer,” the man on the stool outside the bars said.
“Ha! I got you!” the prisoner said. “Crown me.”
“I’d like to crown you,” the sheriff grumbled as he stacked a second checker on top of the prisoner’s piece. After that, he turned to Falcon.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I’m here to talk to you about Clete Harris, Jim Garon, and Jay Bryans,” Falcon said.
“Clete, Jim, and Jay, huh? Those are their first names, are they?” Sheriff Dancer asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, we never knew their first names. Nobody in town had ever seen any of ’em before. Only way we got their last names is because they were dumb enough to use them. How do you know them?”
“I’ve been looking for them for over a year.”
“Are you a lawman?”
“No.”
“A bounty hunter then?”
“No. This is personal.”
“Personal, is it?”
“Yes.”
“How personal?”
“These three men stole some guns that I was responsible for,” Falcon said. “They sold those guns to the Sioux. The Sioux used those guns against Custer.”
“You say you were responsible for the guns?”
“Yes,” Falcon said, without going into further detail.
“How do you know they were used against Custer?”
“Because I was with Custer at his last fight.”
“What?” Sheriff Dancer asked, surprised by Falcon’s announcement.
