some new six-shooters, and the usual odds and ends of gear and supplies to be found around any frontier trading post.
Dutch cut off a piece of cheese with his jack-knife and walked over to where Considine was seated. He hitched himself up on a barrel. “It should be rich,” Dutch said, “but this is a tough one.”
Dutch had thought about this before. Months ago he had come into Obaro and stopped there briefly. No one knew him there, and he had loafed about town listening to the gossip. He had even gone into the bank to change some money, and had glanced at the safe. It was not too tough. It could be done.
There was still much talk in the town about the great fight between Runyon and Considine, and there were many who thought that if it happened again, Runyon would not be so lucky.
Of the four of them, only Considine would be known in town, so if necessary the others could ride in and be located about town before anything was suspected. That depended on whether they wanted to take the bank in broad daylight or in darkness.
Considine got up. “You boys talk it over, then I’ll lay it out for you.”
He went outside and stood at the end of the porch looking down the trail.
It was very hot. A dust devil danced in the distance, the sky was wide and empty, the bunch-grass barrens stretched away to the mountains. Far down the trail among the dancing heat waves he saw two riders, unbelievably tall in the mirage made by the shimmering heat.
That would be Dave Spanyer and his girl. What had he called her? Lennie…
When she had looked at him there had been something very wise, very knowing in her glance, but it was that unconscious awareness such girls sometimes have, old as the world, old as time.
But this was no time to be thinking of a girl, especially when her father was a tough old coot like Dave Spanyer. They said he had been a gunman for the big cattle outfits, and had killed eleven men. That might be an exaggeration, for many such stories were exaggerated, but he was no man to fool around with.
Considine went to the pool and dipped up a bucket of water, and then went back among the trees and stripped off his clothes and bathed, dipping another bucket to complete the job. He discarded his old shirt, and went back to the store for another.
Dave Spanyer and Lennie were riding into the yard as he crossed to the store, and he saw the girl look at his broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, and then at his eyes.
He went into the store and selected a dark red shirt with pearl buttons from the stock, and slipped it on. When he came out again, Spanyer was taking the horses to the corral.
Spanyer came up on the porch with Lennie, who carefully kept her eyes averted from Considine. She was, he admitted again, quite a girl. And the fact that her blouse was a bit too small for her did nothing to conceal the fact.
“Where’s Honey?” Spanyer demanded.
“Gone to Obaro.”
They went inside, and after a moment Considine followed. The Kiowa was balancing a knife in the palm of his hand, and as they entered he suddenly caught it by the tip and flipped it into the calendar across the room. It stuck there, and quivered.
It was June, 1881.
Chapter 4
----
I T WAS STILL and hot. Outside a road runner appeared and darted along the road, slowed, flipping its tail up and down, then ran off a little farther. A mockingbird sang in a cottonwood tree back of the store.
A buckboard went by on the trail, flanked by two riders, but it did not stop, making fast time along the road to Obaro.
“Never figured you to have a family, Dave,” Dutch said, glancing at Lennie; “and she’s no youngster, either.”
“She’s been to school in Texas,” Spanyer replied proudly. “More than you and me can say.”
“You should find a place and roost, Dave. This is no time to be traveling—not with a girl along.”
“We’ll make it.” Then irritably, he added, “I figured on going into Obaro, but now I dasn’t…they might figure I
Dutch cut off a piece of cheese with his jack-knife and walked over to where Considine was seated. He hitched himself up on a barrel. “It should be rich,” Dutch said, “but this is a tough one.”
Dutch had thought about this before. Months ago he had come into Obaro and stopped there briefly. No one knew him there, and he had loafed about town listening to the gossip. He had even gone into the bank to change some money, and had glanced at the safe. It was not too tough. It could be done.
There was still much talk in the town about the great fight between Runyon and Considine, and there were many who thought that if it happened again, Runyon would not be so lucky.
Of the four of them, only Considine would be known in town, so if necessary the others could ride in and be located about town before anything was suspected. That depended on whether they wanted to take the bank in broad daylight or in darkness.
Considine got up. “You boys talk it over, then I’ll lay it out for you.”
He went outside and stood at the end of the porch looking down the trail.
It was very hot. A dust devil danced in the distance, the sky was wide and empty, the bunch-grass barrens stretched away to the mountains. Far down the trail among the dancing heat waves he saw two riders, unbelievably tall in the mirage made by the shimmering heat.
That would be Dave Spanyer and his girl. What had he called her? Lennie…
When she had looked at him there had been something very wise, very knowing in her glance, but it was that unconscious awareness such girls sometimes have, old as the world, old as time.
But this was no time to be thinking of a girl, especially when her father was a tough old coot like Dave Spanyer. They said he had been a gunman for the big cattle outfits, and had killed eleven men. That might be an exaggeration, for many such stories were exaggerated, but he was no man to fool around with.
Considine went to the pool and dipped up a bucket of water, and then went back among the trees and stripped off his clothes and bathed, dipping another bucket to complete the job. He discarded his old shirt, and went back to the store for another.
Dave Spanyer and Lennie were riding into the yard as he crossed to the store, and he saw the girl look at his broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, and then at his eyes.
He went into the store and selected a dark red shirt with pearl buttons from the stock, and slipped it on. When he came out again, Spanyer was taking the horses to the corral.
Spanyer came up on the porch with Lennie, who carefully kept her eyes averted from Considine. She was, he admitted again, quite a girl. And the fact that her blouse was a bit too small for her did nothing to conceal the fact.
“Where’s Honey?” Spanyer demanded.
“Gone to Obaro.”
They went inside, and after a moment Considine followed. The Kiowa was balancing a knife in the palm of his hand, and as they entered he suddenly caught it by the tip and flipped it into the calendar across the room. It stuck there, and quivered.
It was June, 1881.
Chapter 4
----
I T WAS STILL and hot. Outside a road runner appeared and darted along the road, slowed, flipping its tail up and down, then ran off a little farther. A mockingbird sang in a cottonwood tree back of the store.
A buckboard went by on the trail, flanked by two riders, but it did not stop, making fast time along the road to Obaro.
“Never figured you to have a family, Dave,” Dutch said, glancing at Lennie; “and she’s no youngster, either.”
“She’s been to school in Texas,” Spanyer replied proudly. “More than you and me can say.”
“You should find a place and roost, Dave. This is no time to be traveling—not with a girl along.”
“We’ll make it.” Then irritably, he added, “I figured on going into Obaro, but now I dasn’t…they might figure I
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