Midnight Rider (Ralph Cotton Western Series) (14 page)

“Take a thousand each and keep our mouths shut about it?” asked Rochenbach.

The Stillwater Giant stepped back off the porch and looked at them curiously.

“We’re just talking about this money, Giant,” said Casings. “Ray Silverette has shorted it down to three thousand dollars. We’re saying split it three ways, to keep from having to explain things that wasn’t our fault. What do you say?”

“I’m with you, Rock,” said the Giant. “What do you say we do?”

“I’m with Pres,” said Rochenbach.

“And I say we keep it,” Casings cut in. “Besides, if Grolin hadn’t cheated Dirty Dave out of his money last year, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I get a thousand dollars, here and now?” asked the Giant.

“Yep, here and now,” said Casings.

A broad grin came across the Giant’s face.

“Give it to me, fellows,” he said with no further hesitation.

“Rock, check your arm,” said Casings, seeing the blood on Rochenbach’s sleeve for the first time.

“I’ve got it,” said Rock, loosening a bandanna from around his neck to shove down his coat sleeve onto his upper arm. “I took a graze a while ago,” he said.

“Welcome to the fold,” Casings said wryly. “Now you’ve shed your blood for Andrew Grolin, like the rest of us.”

“That’s right,” said Rock. “Now I want to ride back to the Lucky Nut, see how much he appreciates it.”

By the time Blind Simon Goss awoke, the Giant and Pres Casings had dropped the bodies of the three outlaws into an iron ore bucket tied off atop a steep set of rails that ran deep down into the hillside. The other two bodies they’d sent speeding down the rails in a flat cart that sat in front of the ore bucket.

“Adios, sons a’ bitches,” said the Giant, releasing the bucket’s hand brake. Casings reached out with a knife and cut the short safety rope.

“It’s better than any of you deserve,” Casings said
to the rumbling iron bucket. He dusted his hands together.

The two watched the big ore bucket roll down the rails until it disappeared into the blackness. The rumble of the bucket on the rails still resounded as the two turned and walked away.

At the porch of the shack, they stood back watching Rochenbach press a wet cloth to Blind Simon’s swollen face. Simon raised a hand and held the cloth in place.

“You upwinded me, didn’t you?” Simon said to Rochenbach, who stooped beside the chair where the Giant had seated him.

“Yes, I did,” said Rochenbach.

“What made you think to do that?” Simon asked.

“As soon as I heard that you’re blind, I knew I couldn’t slip up on you.”

Simon chuffed and shook his head.

“You sound more like a damned lawman than most road agents I’ve known,” Simon said.

“I used to be a lawman,” said Rochenbach.

“What?
No
, don’t tell me that!” Blind Simon said, sounding both amazed and disappointed. “I’ve been outthunk by a lousy lawman?”

“
Ex-
lawman,” Casings said in a raised voice.

“Who’s talking there? And why are you talking so damn loud?” Simon asked, turning his sightless eyes toward the sound of Casings’ voice.

“It’s Pres Casings. I work for Grolin,” Casings said, still in a raised voice, stepping closer as if to make his presence more intimidating. “I was by here a long time ago. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Simon with a wince,
holding the wet cloth to his face. “My brain works fine. “Who’s the stinking bastard beside you?” he asked. “The way he’s breathing, he’s taking up the air of three normal-sized men—sounds like a damn blacksmith’s bellows.”

The Stillwater Giant and Casings looked at each other.

“I’m Garth Oliver,” said the Giant, the sound of his deep, strong voice causing Simon to jerk back in a start. “Most folks call me the—”

“The
Stillwater Giant
,” said Simon, cutting him off, finishing his words for him. “I’ve heard of you. You are one big sumbitch, aren’t you?”

“Bigger than most,” said the Giant. “I can ride two horses side by side,” he added.

“I bet either horse appreciates the other,” Simon said with a chuckle.

The Giant looked puzzled for a second until he understood. He grinned.

“Yeah, I suspect they do,” he said.

Rochenbach watched and listened.

“What do we need to do with you, Simon?” he asked.

“Put a bullet in my head,” Simon said bluntly. “We lost here, fair and square. I beg no man’s mercy.”

“But you weren’t with Macon Ray and his men when they robbed us,” Casings cut in, still in a raised voice.

Blind Simon winced and lowered the wet cloth from his face.

“Will you tell this loudmouthed son of a bitch that I’m blind, not
deaf
?” he said to Rochenbach.

“He hears you,” said Rochenbach. “But Pres is
right—you weren’t with Macon Ray. We don’t want to kill you.” He paused and looked at Casings and the Giant. “We might need to hide out here ourselves sometime. You never know.”

“You killed my pals, Hobbs and Karr,” said Blind Simon. “They didn’t rob you either.”

“They were shooting at us,” said Casings, his voice down to a normal volume.

Rochenbach noted that Casings didn’t want to tell the man he’d killed one of his own pals.

“So was I,” Blind Simon replied.

Rochenbach cut in, saying, “One of your pals shot himself. He was running with a cocked shotgun.”

“That would be Hobbs,” said Simon. As he spoke, he’d fished a pair of dark-lens wire-rim spectacles from his shirt pocket and put them on. “He was prone to that—a terrible practice.” He shook his head in regret. “Who shot Karr?” He fished one of the cigars Macon Ray had given him from his shirt pocket and stuck it in his mouth.

Instead of answering, Rochenbach looked at Casings, judging how he would treat the matter.

“That’s hard to call,” said Casings, “everybody shooting the way we were.”

Simon read the tone and pitch of his words.

“I hear you,” he said. “You’re telling me I killed him.”

The three stood in silence while Simon sorted through it in his mind.

“Well,” he said finally, taking a match from his shirt pocket, “if you’re not going to shoot me, get the hell on out of here. I’m going to search around, find
any whiskey left inside. Get myself drunk enough to monkey-pound a she polecat if I feel like it.”

“You can ride into Central City with us,” said Casings, “or on to Denver City, as far as that goes.”

“Denver City,
ha!
” said Simon. “You know where they stick a blind man if they find one? The
crazy house
, is where.” He struck the match and ran a finger out the length of the cigar. Finding the end of the cigar, he stuck the flame to it and puffed.

“We wouldn’t let them,” said Casings.

“Huh…,”
Simon chuffed dubiously. “I’ve heard that before.” He blew out a stream of smoke.

“I’d give you my word,” said Casings.

“Obliged,” said Simon, “but I’ll stick here. I’m alone here most times anyway. You just came by when Karr and Hobbs happened to be lying low with me. You want to do something kind for a
poor old blind man
, help me sort this shack into shape before you leave.”

“We can do that,” said Casings, “but you ought to think about our offer.”

“I ever want to mosey down to Denver City, I know my way,” said Simon. He gave a crooked smile, the cigar planted firmly between his teeth.

Casings and the Stillwater Giant looked at Rochenbach, as if asking if they should persist on the matter. But Rochenbach shook his head and nodded toward the shack.

“Come on, then, Simon, show us inside,” he said. “We’ll set this place up, but only if you’ll allow us to stay here, we ever need to lie low.”

“You’ve got a deal,
ex-
lawman,” said Simon, leaning his chair forward and rising to his feet.

On their way back to Denver City, the three avoided the trail they’d taken through Central City, lest someone recognize them and associate them with the bodies of Lonnie Bonham and Turley Batts left lying in the trail up at Apostle Camp. Instead, they rode wide of Central City and made camp outside the town of Idaho Springs.

The following morning, they rose early and rode east. Without pushing their horses, they saw the outskirts of Denver City rise in the long shadows of evening.

“Are we of one accord on everything, Giant?” Casings asked as the three rode abreast, watching the town grow up taller and wider atop the roll of the earth.

“Yeah, we’re good,” came the Giant’s deep voice. “I’m not going to say anything I shouldn’t, if that’s something you’re worried about.”

“I’m not
worried
,” Casings said. “But I am concerned.”

“Ain’t that about the same thing, Rock?” the Giant asked.

“It’s close,” Rochenbach said. “Pay attention, Giant. Hear him out.”

“You got it,” said the Giant. “I’m with you fellows. Whatever you tell me to say is how I’ll tell it.” He gave his wide, toothy grin. “Being big doesn’t make me stupid.”

Casings looked at Rochenbach, then back at the Giant.

“I know that, Giant,” said Casings. “But we’ve got to go over this thing again—make sure we’re all three telling Grolin the same thing. You’ve seen what he’ll do to a man to get the truth out of him.”

“Yeah, I know,” said the Giant, his grin vanishing, replaced by a dead-serious expression.

“So,” Casings continued, “we tell everything just like it happened, except we never knew exactly how much money was there… and it was on the trail behind Apostle Camp where we found the saddlebags. We all three found them with the money missing, instead of Rock finding them alone and taking all the suspicion on himself.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, Casings,” Rock said. “I don’t mind telling Grolin that I found the bags on my own. He’s not going to do anything to me, leastwise not until I’ve opened the safe for him.”

“No dice,” Casings said, shaking his head. “We all three took a cut, we all three put our necks on the same block. Right, Giant?”

“Right,” Giant said. “Only, don’t use a chopping block as an example.” He gave a grin as he rubbed his thick neck.

“Sorry,” Casings said with a short laugh.

Rochenbach looked at the two of them, almost feeling guilty that they were willing to lie for him.

“Obliged,” he said quietly, not wanting to push the matter any further.

It was his job to gain their confidence. Still, deceiving men who had trusted him always left a bad feeling in his gut. He had to remind himself that in this case, it was not these two men he was after. In a sense, it wasn’t even Andrew Grolin he was out to get.

He wanted to bring down the man who fed Grolin the information from inside the mint. That helped, he told himself. If there was any way for him to let these two off the hook when the time came, he would do so.

“This pretty much cinches things,” he said. “It looks like we’re going off on our own now for certain.”

“Suits me,” said Casings. “What about you, Giant?”

“Whatever Rock wants to do, I’ll back him. You too,” said the Giant.

“Too bad we can’t pull Grolin’s big job out from under him,” Rock tossed in. “That would be a good one to start on.” He looked at Casings. “You said you can get us information?”

“I can,” said Casings.

“Find out who Grolin’s man is inside the mint,” he said. “If we can take this job over, we will. If we can’t, we’ll know who to contact next time.”

Casings thought about it and said, “It’ll be tough, but I’ll get it. If not from Grolin, maybe from Penta or Shaner. He tells them things he wouldn’t tell the rest of us. Grolin would never stand still for us using one of his contacts, now or ever.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking him,” Rock said.

“How soon do we need to know?” Casings asked.

“The sooner, the better,” said Rochenbach. “Once Grolin’s
mint man
sees how easy it is to clean out the Treasury car, maybe he’ll want to move on to some other big job. We bypass Grolin and that man will be all ours.” Rock rubbed his thumb and fingertips together above his cutoff gloves. “When he knows I’ve got a knack for opening safes, he’ll want to be as close to us as first cousins.”

“That’s to you, Rock,” said Casings. “What’s going to draw Giant and me as close as kin to this
mint man
?”

Rock looked them up and down. “There’s nothing to keep you both from learning what I know about opening safes. I’m willing to teach you what somebody taught me. Is that what you want to hear me say?”

Both Casings and the Stillwater Giant smiled.

“I can’t deny it,” Casings said, “it’s music to my ears.”

They rode on toward Denver City at an easy gait, their horses’ breath steaming in the chilled morning air. The last three miles, before they reached the trail leading to the Lucky Nut, they spotted Frank Penta, Bryce Shaner and Denton Spiller thundering toward them across a stretch of flatlands.

“Here comes our first test,” Rock said to the other two. They stopped their horses on the trail and waited until the three outlaws rode up and slid their horses to a halt.

“Blast it, Casings,” said Frank Penta, “where the
hell have you been? Grolin is walking up and down the walls! He told us to ride all night until we found you, dead or alive.”