said.
“Then what is?”
“I aim to go out on my own, now.”
“Damn, Egan, you don’t like us no more?” Clete asked.
“No, it ain’t that,” Drumm said. “It’s just—well, think about it. We just kilt four people back there, and what did we get for it? Two hunnert dollars apiece. Two hunnert dollars, that’s all.”
“Two hunnert dollars ain’t nothin’ to sneeze at,” Luke said. “Hell, if you was ridin’ for twenty and found, it’d take you damn near a year to earn that much money.”
“I know, I know, that’s why I don’t ride for twenty and found,” Drumm said. “But I think I want to go out on my own, none the less. No hard feelin’s.”
“No hard feelin’s,” Luke replied.
As Luke and Clete turned their horses in the direction of the small town, Drumm continued to ride on in the same direction they had been going.
“Where do you reckon he’s a’goin?” Clete asked.
“Who knows? He’s got a burr in his saddle over somethin’,” Luke replied. “Ahh, we don’t need him. We’ll find someone else to work with the next time we do a job, and when we do, it’ll be a lot bigger than this one we just pulled.”
“Yeah,” Clete said. “We don’t need him no more, no how.”
Brownville, Colorado, one month later
In the Gold Digs Saloon Clete Mueller was talking with one of the bar girls. Talking was all he could do because he had already spent nearly all of the money he had gotten from the Dumeys.
Luke Mueller was playing cards with three others. Ollie Terrell was dealing the cards. He had only three fingers on his left hand. Bo Caldwell had a patch over his right eye, though a few minutes earlier he had removed the patch to scratch his eyebrow, and Luke saw there was no eye there at all, just a puff of scar tissue. The third man was Clarence Poole.
The Muellers had never met Terrell or Caldwell, but they knew Poole. They had served a little time with him in the Missouri State Penitentiary in Jefferson City.
“What the hell you dealin’ for, Terrell?” Caldwell asked. “Hell, you can’t even hold the cards proper.”
“What do you care whether or not I can hold them proper? Hell, you got only one eye so you can’t see ’em anyway,” Terrell replied, and the others laughed.
“I like it when he deals. With no more fingers than he’s got on that hand, that means he can’t deal off the bottom of the deck,” Poole said.
“You can tell he ain’t a’ doin’ that,” Caldwell said. “The onliest one of us winnin’ is Luke Mueller. If I don’t win somethin’ soon, I’m goin’ to have to get me a job some’ eres.”
“I’ve got a job for you,” Luke said as he picked up the cards Terrell had just dealt.
“What kind of a job?” Caldwell asked. “’Cause I tell you true, I don’t want to be shovelin’ no shit out of a stall or nothin’ like that.”
“Believe me, it is nothin’ like that,” Luke answered. “It’s quick, easy, and there’s a lot of money in it.”
“Ha!” Terrell said. “Where are you goin’ to find somethin’ that is quick, easy, and has a lot of money? Unless you’re plannin’ on robbin’ a bank.”
Luke looked at Terrell, but made no comment.
“What?” Terrell asked. “I’ll be damned, that’s it, ain’t it? You’re a’ plannin’ on robbin’ a bank, ain’t you?”
“Why don’t you just go out into the street and shout it?” Luke asked.
Caldwell looked over at Poole. “You know this feller, Poole. Me’n Terrell don’t. Is he serious?”
“You recruitin’ people to ride with you?” Poole asked Luke, without responding to Caldwell’s question.
“I might be,” Luke replied. “That is, if I can find a few good men I can depend on.”
A broad smile spread across Poole’s face. “You know you can depend on me. I’m in,” he said.
“What?” Caldwell asked. “You really are serious, ain’t you?”
“Are you in, or out?” Luke asked.
“I’m in, hell yes,” Caldwell replied.
“Me too,” Terrell added, excitedly.
“What about Egan Drumm?” Poole asked.
“What about him?” Luke replied.
“Don’t he ride with you and Clete? Where’s he at?”
“I don’t have no idea where he is,” Luke said.
“So, what you’re a’ sayin’ is that he ain’t a’ goin’ to be a part of this,” Poole said.
“That’s what I’m sayin’.”
“Good. I never liked that son of a bitch anyway. Don’t know why you and Clete ever took to runnin’ with him.”
“When do we hold up this here bank?” Terrell asked.
Luke fixed a stare at Terrell, then he looked back at Poole. “Does this dumb bastard not know when to keep his mouth shut?”
“Who are you callin’ a dumb bastard?” Terrell asked angrily.
“I’m callin’ you a dumb bastard,” Luke said coldly.
“Ollie,” Caldwell said, reaching over to put his hand on Terrell’s shoulder. “Don’t get carried away here. You know damn well you don’t want to get into a pissin’ contest with Luke Mueller.”
Suddenly Terrell realized how close he was getting to making a very foolish mistake, and he forced a smile. “Come to think of it,” he said. “I guess I can be a dumb bastard from time to time.”
Caldwell laughed to ease the tension, then the others laughed as well.
“To answer your question,” Luke said. “It’ll be tomorrow, over in a place called MacCallister.”
MacCallister, Colorado, the next day
The Reverend Charles Powell and his wife, Claudia, were standing outside the bank when the teller, Clyde Barnes, opened the door to let them in.
“Good morning, Brother Powell, good morning, Mrs. Powell,” the teller greeted. “You’re here awfully early today. You must have some important business to attend to.”
“More pleasure than business,” Powell said. “We’re
