He looked at his watch. It was ten to nine. He noted, with satisfaction, that some of the people along the sidewalks were starting to wander off to attend to their own business. He was glad, not only for their sake, but out of fear that they might spook Vince Diver. He could only hope that Dalton Diver had done as he had been directed. If he hadn’t, Diver and his son and daughters were going to be the losers. Longarm had meant every word that he had told the man.
At nine o’clock there was still no sign of the bandits. Longarm was beginning to despair, and already thinking of the time-consuming work that would be involved in hunting down the gunmen and bringing them to death or justice. Then, just as he was thinking that, he saw a party of men suddenly appear on the north road, the road to Llano. They came on, heading straight for the center of town. As they got closer he could see that every one of them had his face covered with either a blue or red bandanna. But more importantly, the man in the lead was riding a paint horse. The hearse horse, as Diver had called it.
Longarm had his six-inch revolver in his holster. The gun with the nine-inch barrel was stuck in his waistband. He pulled it free and cocked the hammer. The feed sacks were only about three feet tall, so he was crouched down in an uncomfortable position. As the riders came on, he was able to count seven. He wondered if Vince had included any of the county boys. Dalton Diver had said they liked to give the home folks their chance so they’d feel a part of the doings. Well, if they were among the seven, they were going to get a chance to see what federal prison felt like.
The riders came on, pulling their horses down to a walk. Longarm saw them glance toward where Austin Davis was lounging around the corner. He hoped his “deputy” had the good sense to have his rifle out of sight and to look casual.
But other than that they seemed to pay no attention to anyone. Perhaps, Longarm thought, they felt their numbers were great enough to handle any force the town could muster, or maybe they felt like they were among friends. He reckoned the latter was more likely the truth than the former. As they came, he examined the man riding the pinto, guessing that he was Vince Diver. The man was stockier than Longarm would have expected. He also seemed older.
But Longarm had no time for such speculation, for the bandits were suddenly wheeling their mounts straight toward the boardwalk in front of the bank. Longarm tensed his muscles, making ready to rise slightly and advise the men that they were under arrest and that they were to dismount and surrender themselves. But in the instant before he could do so, he heard several rapid shots and the sound of yelling. He saw the horsemen stir and look over their shoulders. He turned his gaze to the right. Melvin Purliss had come out from behind the pecan tree, firing shots into the air from his revolver. The words he was yelling came clear to Longarm’s ears: “Run! Run! It’s a trap! Run for your lives!”
It was too long a shot for Longarm’s revolver, and he was scrambling to pick up his rifle when he heard a single shot ring out. He turned toward Purliss just in time to see the deputy clutch at his chest and fall over backwards. Down the street he could see the barrel of Austin Davis’s rifle.
There was no time now. He stood up and yelled at the bandits. “I’m a federal marshal! You are surrounded! Throw up your hands and surrender!”
But instead, they had guns in their hands and were firing in all directions. Longarm ducked down just as a slug whizzed over his head.
There was nothing for it now but to fight. He came up over the feed sacks, the Colt revolver out in front of him. The man on the paint horse was wheeling around. As he turned away from the bank, he presented himself full face to Longarm. Longarm squeezed the revolver carefully and fired. He saw the bullet take the man and knock him off the back of his horse. But Longarm had no time to look for there was wild firing from all directions. He saw a man go down, obviously from Austin Davis’s gun, but then Longarm was sighting on a man in a red bandanna whose horse was rearing up. The bunch had packed themselves in so close they were having trouble separating. Longarm fired, but the man’s horse jumped just as the hammer fell and he saw he’d only hit the robber in the arm. He thumbed the hammer back as the bandit turned toward him, raising his own revolver. Longarm fired an instant before the robber, and the man lurched backwards and then fell off the side of his horse.
The melee was clouded with smoke and dust and noise, but it seemed to Longarm he could still see three bandits atop their wheeling, pitching horses. He was trying to find a target in the confusion when, of an instant, the door of the bank suddenly flew open. Sheriff Bodenheimer filled it, a shotgun in his hand. He was just bringing it up to aim when Longarm saw a flutter of his shirt at his shoulder, and then the sheriff was suddenly whirled around and shoved backward into the bank as if someone had given him a hard push. Longarm turned back to the men in front of the bank. One of the three had disappeared, and the remaining two had freed themselves from the tangle of bodies and riderless horses and were spurring their horses across the street to cut across the courthouse grounds. Longarm shoved his revolver into his waistband and jerked up his rifle. He sighted on the back of the right-hand rider and followed him a few steps before he fired. Nothing happened, and he jacked another shell into the chamber and fired again, taking a quick shot just before the robbers could disappear into the pecan trees. The rider went a few more strides with his horse, and then slipped down the side and went rolling over and over along the edge of the courthouse lawn. The last man disappeared from view, spurring his horse east as fast as he could go. Longarm slowly stood up, the sound of the gunshots still ringing in his ear. It had suddenly gotten very quiet. He thought of the sheriff. He hoped the man wasn’t dead. He needed him for a witness. He also wondered what had made him decide to become brave and a law officer all at the same time.
Longarm walked out from behind the feed sacks toward the bodies that lay on the ground. Austin Davis came up just as Longarm stepped off the boardwalk. He said, “Well, so much for a peaceful surrender.”
Longarm gritted his teeth. “That damn Melvin Purliss. What did you shoot the bastard for?”
“Did you want a gun at your back? I didn’t.”
“No, but I would have liked to have roasted that treacherous bastard over some slow coals.”
“It’s over, Longarm. Forget it.”
“Yeah,” Longarm said. He knelt down over the dead figure of the stocky man who’d been riding the paint horse. He pulled down the bandanna. He said, “Aw, hell. Look here. It’s Old Man Diver. Sonofabitch!”
Austin Davis said, “Damn! He must have come along to make sure it went smooth. Then that bastard Purliss put his two cents worth in.”
Longarm straightened up. He looked at Austin Davis. “We didn’t have no choice, did we? Could you see where we could have done aught else?”
Davis shook his head. “No. They had their guns out. If we hadn’t cut down on them, who knows how many of these townspeople would have got shot.”
Longarm was about to speak when he became aware of the crowd that was building around them. With hard, flat eyes he spun slowly on his heel, staring at them. The people fell back a step. He said harshly, “Damn you! Get
