“It’s bad money. We would be bank robbers,” Rance said. “We have to give it back.”
“Are you crazy?” B.W. said. “No way.”
“It’s wrong, can’t you see that?”
”What did I ever do for a conscience ‘fore I met you,” B.W. said.
“May not have had one,” Rance said.
“Oh I have one, I just don’t get carried away with it like you do,” B.W. said. “Do you think anyone else in their right mind would give back that much money in these kind of times?”
“Guess we just have a different view of what’s right and wrong.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Tommy said.
“Yes you do, partner,” B.W. said. “Let’s hear it.”
“I think the major’s right,” Tommy said. “We don’t need another posse after us.”
B.W. stared at Tommy “You stole pennies and dimes from Harden,” B.W. said. “Now you’re wantin’ to give up a fortune too?”
“That’s what we have to do,” Rance said. “May be a town is close by. Take the money and the kids there and have them notify the sheriff in Pinefield. Don’t want to backtrack, may run into Preston.”
“What if I say no?” B.W. said.
“Then I’ll do it anyway,” Rance said.
“You that set on this?” B.W. said.
“Yeah,” Rance said. “Let’s head out. Keep movin’ south while we still got daylight.”
“If we run into any of their kin we may have to kill some more of that family,” B.W. said. “What’s your conscience say about that, major?”
“Won’t change what we got to do with the money, whatever happens.”
“I could just take the money and leave,” B.W. said.
“Couldn’t let you do that,” Rance said.
“You know you would have to kill me.”
“I do.”
“Or I would have to kill you first.”
“You would,” Rance said.
“Damn it, I can’t go against you both. I don’t like it, but okay. We better do it soon, them bodies are gonna start stinking.”
“We’ll find a town that’ll bury ‘em,” Rance said.
“That’s right considerate of you,” B.W. said. “Since I won’t have to do the digging.”
They tied the dead boys on their horses and mounted. The lingering gun smoke disappeared in the trees from a cross wind as they rode away.
Further down the trail, they saw a sign reading Buffalo Flats—Four Miles. They stopped and looked at the sign.
“If they got a road sign it’s probably big enough to have a telegraph,” Rance said.
“Maybe,” B.W. said. “Didn’t that sheriff say he was going to see if the bank would put up a reward?”
“Seems like I recall that,” Rance said.
“Maybe we won’t come out of this too bad after all,” B.W. said.
“Unless they know somebody’s after us,” Tommy said.
16
Everyone stared at the dead boys as they rode down the street. Soldiers from both sides, still in uniform, some missing arms and legs, standing around doing nothing.
By the time they got to the sheriff’s office they had gathered a motley-looking crowd of ex-soldiers and old men.
They rode up to the sheriff’s office. Rance dismounted and tied Buck to the hitching post.
“Might be better if you and Tommy stay on your horses while I check in with the sheriff,” Rance said.
B.W. nodded and took the lead rope from their horses.
“These people act like they never seen a dead man before,” Tommy said.
“They seen plenty, just curious,” B.W. said. “They think we might have somebody they know.”
Someone in the crowd yelled, “Who you got?” as Rance walked into the sheriff’s office.
A wiry-looking little man with sky blue eyes wearing a rebel hat stood up. He had a homemade tin star pinned on the black and white checked shirt he was wearing, and an ivory-handled Navy Colt hanging from his hip.
“What’s all the commotion goin’ on outside?” he asked.
“Got two dead ones outside. Bank robbers,” Rance said. “You the sheriff?”
“I am. Name’s Sheriff Billy Shaw. You bounty hunters?”
“No,” Rance said.
“How you know they robbed a bank?”
“We heard about it when we was in Pinefield. Money bags had Pinefield Bank on them, money was still in the bags. They charged us on the trail, thinking we were the posse, I guess. Didn’t have a choice but to kill or be killed. Just kids, though, hate that it had to happen.”
“You don’t say,” he said. “You have this money with you?”
“We do, in their saddle bags out front.”
“Who’s we?”
“An Indian and a boy I’m ridin’ with.”
“Let’s have a look.” The sheriff stood up and headed for the door. Rance followed.
“Alright,” the sheriff said to the crowd. “You boys go on, this is law business.”
An old skinny man with a long white beard and a face full of wrinkles stepped in front of the sheriff.
“Who they got, sheriff?” he asked.
“None of your business, Welford, now move out the way.” The sheriff pushed the old man aside, grabbed the hair of one of the dead boys hanging across his horse and raised his head. “Know him,” he said. “Ike Bannister.”
He dropped the boy’s head and repeated the same thing with the other one. “This is his bother, Keavy. The Bannisters lived on a small farm outside of town. Was the only ones left from a Yankee raid on their farm last winter. Bring those saddle bags in and let’s have a look. Welford, take these boys to the undertaker for me. Tell him we’ll settle up with him later.”
“Do I get any whiskey money out of it?” the old man asked.
The sheriff handed Welford a coin.
B.W. and Tommy dismounted, tied the horses to the hitching post, got the saddle bags and handed Welford the reins to the dead boys’ horses and he led them away.
B.W. and Tommy sat the saddle bags beside the desk and the sheriff opened them and took the bank bags out and placed them on the desk.
“Like you said, got Pinefield Bank painted on the bags.” He opened one of the bank bags, scooped a handful of gold coins and some paper
