Free Wolf Moon by Ed Gorman Page B

bank.
        The front door opened and Reeves came out. He looked dramatic with a fancy silver pistol in his right hand and his eyes scanning the tops of the buildings on the other side of the street.
        The two guards jumped down. One hefted a long canvas bag and went inside. The Jehu had taken one of the Winchesters and was watching the street carefully. Reeves stood right where he was, looking vigilant for all the townspeople to see.
        It took three minutes and it was very slick. They'd all obviously done this many times. At this point, anybody who tried to take the money sack would likely be outgunned.
        Then the bank door closed, Reeves inside, and the two guards jumped back up top and the Jehu took the reins and snapped them against the backs of the animals, and the stagecoach pulled out.
        The waitress with the dead baby story came back and gave me more coffee. She was young and chubby but with a certain insolent eroticism in the eyes, and a smile that made her seem more complicated than she probably was.
        "You ever see so much money?" she said and nodded across the street. "They make that delivery every week, and every time I see it, I think of what I could do with just one of them bags of money."
        "Buy yourself a house?"
        "A house, hell. I'd take off for Chicago and New York and I'd have me the best time a farm girl ever had herself."
        There was a certain anger in her tone that told me at least a little bit about how she'd been raised, and how she was treated in a town like this. If she had the money, she was going to tell a whole lot of people to kiss her ample ass. I understood her, but that didn't mean I liked her much. A hard woman is meaner any day than a hard man. Maybe I didn't like her because she was too much like me.
        She drifted away to cheer up some other people. I kept on watching the street.
        Around ten, Lundgren and Mars appeared on the steps of the Whitney Hotel. They wore their business suits and business hats and strode their important business strides as they made their way down the street amidst the clatter of wagons and the clop of horse hooves and the handful of lady shoppers on this beautiful autumn day.
        They went straight to the livery.
        A few minutes later they were back on this street, this time astride two big bays.
        They rode straight out of town without speaking to each other or looking around.
        I got up, paid my bill, went over to the livery stable, got myself a roan, and then walked it down the alleys to a place directly across from the bank.
        Just after eleven, they came back into town riding two different horses. This time they were got up as dusty cowhands, not businessmen. They didn't look like their previous selves at all, which was just how they wanted it. Mars had what appeared to be a sawed-off shotgun in his scabbard.
        I stood under the overhang as they rode down the street. Lundgren stayed up on his mount. Mars dropped off, grabbing the sawed-off shotgun. I wondered about the shotgun. I couldn't believe Reeves wanted anybody killed. A robbery would get you a jury trial and a prison stretch. A killing would you get hanged some frosty midnight while a lynch mob stood beneath you, grinning.
        They pulled blue bandannas up over their faces.
        Mars started moving quickly now, up on the boardwalk. But instead of going in the front door, the way I figured he would, he ducked into the alley and went through the side door. He had a key and he used it quick and smart. He opened the door and went inside.
        It sure didn't make any sense, him having a key.
        Lundgren leaned over and put his hand on the Winchester in his scabbard. He was ready for trouble when Mars came boiling out of the door.
        I rode my horse to the edge of town, ten feet away from the small roundhouse where an engine was being worked on. You could smell the hot