Hades, no way. I turned and ran for the rear door.”
By now, half the town was crowded around Ty and Cornelius, hanging on every word the banker spoke. “The scalawag started shooting at me, and I had to jump behind Mr. Thornberry’s desk to keep from being shot in the back.”
“He never hit you?” Ty asked as he checked the banker for wounds.
“I cracked my head on the corner of the desk when I jumped. Split my scalp wide open.” He pointed to a small cut on his forehead. Cornelius rolled his eyes back into his head and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Then the bandit jumped the partition and tried to clobber me on the head with the butt of his gun.”
By this time, the two Franklin brothers were running back, leading two geldings. Ty tried to hurry Cornelius’s story along before the robber got any more of a head start.
“I rolled over and grabbed the scoundrel’s gun. His breath was right in my face. I thought for sure I was a goner. We struggled for what seemed an hour, when suddenly I somehow found enough strength to throw the robber off and jump up. He ran for the door. I grabbed my Colt from the cash drawer and fired twice at him. I was scared to death, I tell you. One bullet hit the front window. I guess they’ll make me pay for it. I think the other shot might have struck the doorframe.”
“You don’t think you hit him?” Ty asked.
“I don’t think so,” Cornelius answered. “I ran out here and shot three more times as they rode off.” Cornelius again pointed north. “I hollered for them to stop and then yelled for help.”
“They?” Ty said. “You said there was only one robber.”
“Sarah Thompson … she was with him.”
“What do you mean Sarah was with him?” Ty demanded.
“I mean she was with him … straddled on an Indian pony so skinny its ribs looked like a washboard. I couldn’t get a clear shot at him for fear of hitting Sarah.”
Adolph Coleman, the blacksmith, tapped Ty on the back. Practically shouting, he said, “We thought the bank was on fire and raced about the street, grabbing water buckets. Who’d ever think the bank was being robbed?”
“That isn’t all,” Cornelius interrupted, “while I was trying to tell these fools that the bank was being held up, the bandit and Sarah must have circled around behind the building.”
“What? What are you saying, they came back? The man with the top hat came back to the bank?” Ty couldn’t believe anyone would have such nerve.
“He did,” Cornelius said.
“He did for a fact.” Coleman shouted. “When I rushed into the bank with my bucket of water, he was carrying the gold from the safe right out the back door.”
“You saw him?” Ty turned and asked the burly blacksmith.
“I saw him and almost soiled my pants when he pointed his pistol at me and told me to sit down.”
“What’d you do, Coleman?” Ty asked.
“I sat down.”
“There was about nineteen thousand dollars in the safe,” Cornelius informed Ty. “I imagine it’s all gone.”
“The safe wasn’t locked?”
“I had just gotten back from Mr. Thornberry’s funeral and was about to open the bank for the rest of the day. I had opened the safe to take out the cash drawer,” Cornelius mumbled.
“What?” Ty asked, not hearing Cornelius’ reply with all the commotion around him.
“The safe was open,” Cornelius shouted in anger. “Okay?”
Chapter 6
“Come on, men, let’s ride,” Ty shouted as he grabbed Blaze’s reins from Matt Franklin and leaped into the saddle. The crowd stepped aside to expose an open lane to the north when Ty spurred the big sorrel. Blaze jumped to the command, and Ty had to grab the saddle horn as the horse kicked clods of dirt and rocketed after the bank robber and his hostage, Sarah Thompson.
Oh, my God, if something has happened to Sarah, I don’t know if I can stand it, Ty thought, spurring Blaze on. It’s my fault. If I’d stayed in Utopia, none of this would have happened.
Ty glanced over his shoulder as he passed Adolph’s Blacksmith Shop and saw only Dog, Ben, and Matt behind him. He cussed under his breath and decided right then and there that when this mess was over he was getting out of the law business.
I’ve had about all I want of taking care of a chicken-livered bunch that doesn’t care enough about things to form a decent posse.
Two miles north, the river made a sharp bend at Taylor Crossing. Here, the land opened up into five miles of open prairie before the canyon walls narrowed and limestone cliffs once again reached for blue sky. The sun hung white-hot in the west. Sweat ran in streams from Ty’s forehead and down his neck. They had traversed the river at the crossing and headed north when he began to feel Blaze slow. Ty knew he couldn’t run Blaze any more in the searing heat. He’d already pushed him as far as he could with the hard ride from Shine Barrow’s cabin to Utopia earlier in the day.
I’ll kill him if I don’t hold back, Ty thought, reining Blaze in.
“What’s the matter?” Ben shouted as he and Matt slid their horses to a bone-jolting stop beside him.
“Blaze has had all he can take. Look, you can see five miles up the canyon. No one’s in sight, no dust, nothing. Two riders couldn’t be ahead of us and we not see some sign of them.” Blaze was gulping in air. Dog made a beeline back to the cool, spring-fed waters of the river to wait until Ty moved one way or the other. “Ben, ride up the road a little and see if there are any fresh tracks up ahead.”
Ben nodded and jiggled the reins. The brown gelding he rode stepped out in a smooth gait. Ben leaned to his left, studying the ground as he guided the horse along the road. Ty and Matt watched from the shade of a live oak tree. Suddenly and without warning, the gelding shied then crow-hopped sideways from something in the grass. Ben reined in the horse and motioned for them to join him.
By the time Ty and Matt arrived, Ben had dismounted and was standing in the tall dry grass beside the wagon ruts that formed the northbound road to Vanderpool.
“Over here,” he called as they approached. “Someone’s had their head ‘bout blowed off. Dead for sure,” Ben said, and pointed to a body crumpled in a heap about twenty feet east of the road. “There’s a horse over there,” Ben continued, nodding his head toward a stand of sycamore trees near the river.
Ty swung his leg over the saddle horn and dropped to the ground. He didn’t want to look. From where he stood, he couldn’t tell who it was.
“God in heaven, don’t let it be Sarah,” he prayed.
Ben’s voice was a whisper when he spoke. “I saw the horse first and thought it was going to be the outlaw waiting to ambush me.”
Ty pushed past Ben and walked toward the body. “Keep a watch,” he said and edged closer. His heart was pounding and his stomach churning. He thought he was going to be sick, but he continued forward. “From what I’ve already seen of this man’s shooting, he could be anywhere and pick us off one by one out here in an opening like this.”
The boys pulled their horses together, forming a wall between them and anyone who might be hiding in ambush. Matt reached for Blaze’s bridle, and all three men slowly eased toward the body.
“You don’t think it’s Sarah, do ya?” Matt asked, his voice a hoarse, nervous sigh.
“I hope not,” Ben answered.
“It’s not Sarah,” Ty muttered. He was close enough to recognize the body. “It’s Paul Tant.”
“Holt?