Black Jack

There was no exuberant joy to meet this suggestion.  McGuire had, as a matter of fact, made his territory practically crime-proof for so long that men had lost interest in planning adventures within the sphere of his authority.  It seemed to the four men of Pollard’s gang a peculiar folly to cast a challenge in the teeth of the formidable sheriff himself.  Even Pollard was shaken and looked to Denver.  But that worthy, who had returned from the door where he was stationed during the presence of the sheriff, remained in his place smiling down at his hands.  He, for one, seemed oddly pleased.

In the meantime Sandy was setting forth his second and particularly interesting news item.

“You-all know Lewison?” he asked.

“The sour old grouch,” affirmed Phil Marvin.  “Sure, we know him.”

“I know him, too,” said Sandy.  “I worked for the tenderfoot that he skinned out of the ranch.  And then I worked for Lewison.  If they’s anything good about Lewison, you’d need a spyglass to find it, and then it wouldn’t be fit to see.  His wife couldn’t live with him; he drove his son off and turned him into a drunk; and he’s lived his life for his coin.”

“Which he ain’t got much to show for it,” remarked Marvin.  “He lives like a starved dog.”

“And that’s just why he’s got the coin,” said Sandy.  “He lives on what would make a dog sick and his whole life he’s been saving every cent he’s made.  He gives his wife one dress every three years till she died.  That’s how tight he is.  But he’s sure got the money.  Told everybody his kid run off with all his savings.  That’s a lie.  His kid didn’t have the guts or the sense to steal even what was coming to him for the work he done for the old miser.  Matter of fact, he’s got enough coin saved—­all gold—­to break the back of a mule.  That’s a fact!  Never did no investing, but turned everything he made into gold and put it away.”

“How do you know?” This from Denver.

“How does a buzzard smell a dead cow?” said Sandy inelegantly.  “I ain’t going to tell you how I smell out the facts about money.  Wouldn’t be any use to you if you knew the trick.  The facts is these:  he sold his ranch.  You know that?”

“Sure, we know that.”

“And you know he wouldn’t take nothing but gold coin paid down at the house?”

“That so?”

“It sure is!  Now the point’s this.  He had all his gold in his own private safe at home.”

Denver groaned.

“I know, Denver,” nodded Sandy.  “Easy pickings for you; but I didn’t find all this out till the other day.  Never even knew he had a safe in his house.  Not till he has ’em bring out a truck from town and he ships the safe and everything in it to the bank.  You see, he sold out his own place and he’s going to another that he bought down the river.  Well, boys, here’s the dodge.  That safe of his is in the bank tonight, guarded by old Lewison himself and two gunmen he’s hired for the job.  Tomorrow he starts out down the river with the safe on a big wagon, and he’ll have half a dozen guards along with him.  Boys, they’s going to be forty thousand dollars in that safe!  And the minute she gets out of the county—­because old McGuire will guard it to the boundary line—­we can lay back in the hills and—­”

“You done enough planning, Sandy,” broke in Joe Pollard.  “You’ve smelled out the loot.  Leave it to us to get it.  Did you say forty thousand?”

And on every face around the table Terry saw the same hunger and the same yellow glint of the eyes.  It would be a big haul, one of the biggest, if not the very biggest, Pollard had ever attempted.

Of the talk that followed, Terry heard little, because he was paying scant attention.  He saw Joe Pollard lie back in his chair with squinted eyes and run over a swift description of the country through which the trail of the money would lead.  The leader knew every inch of the mountains, it seemed.  His memory was better than a map; in it was jotted down every fallen log, every boulder, it seemed.  And when his mind was fixed on the best spot for the holdup, he sketched his plan briefly.

To this man and to that, parts were assigned in brief.  There would be more to say in the morning about the details.  And every man offered suggestions.  On only one point were they agreed.  This was a sum of money for which they could well afford to spill blood.  For such a prize as this they could well risk making the countryside so hot for themselves that they would have to leave Pollard’s house and establish headquarters elsewhere.  Two shares to Pollard and one to each of his men, including Sandy, would make the total loot some four thousand dollars and more per man.  And in the event that someone fell in the attempt, which was more than probable, the share for the rest would be raised to ten thousand for Pollard and five thousand for each of the rest.  Terry saw cold glances pass the rounds, and more than one dwelt upon him.  He was the last to join; if there were to be a death in this affair, he would be the least missed of all.

A sharp order from Pollard terminated the conference and sent his men to bed, with Pollard setting the example.  But Terry lingered behind and called back Denver.

“There is one point,” he said when they were alone, “that it seems to me the chief has overlooked.”

“Talk up, kid,” grinned Denver Pete.  “I seen you was thinking.  It sure does me good to hear you talk.  What’s on your mind?  Where was Joe wrong?”

“Not wrong, perhaps.  But he overlooked this fact:  tonight the safe is guarded by three men only; tomorrow it will be guarded by six.”

Denver stared, and then blinked.

“You mean, try the safe right in town, inside the old bank?  Son, you don’t know the gents in this town.  They sleep with a gat under every head and ears that hear a pin drop in the next room—­right while they’re snoring.  They dream about fighting and they wake up ready to shoot.”

Terry smiled at this outburst.

“How long has it been since there was a raid on McGuire’s town?”

“Dunno.  Don’t remember anybody being that foolish”

“Then it’s been so long that it’ll give us a chance.  It’s been so long that the three men on guard tonight will be half asleep.”

“I dunno but you’re right.  Why didn’t you speak up in company?  I’ll call the chief and—­”

“Wait,” said Terry, laying a hand on the round, hard-muscled shoulder of the yegg.  “I had a purpose in waiting.  Seven men are too many to take into a town.”

“Eh?”

“Two men might surprise three.  But seven men are more apt to be surprised.”

“Two ag’in’ three ain’t such bad odds, pal.  But—­the first gun that pops, we’ll have the whole town on our backs.”

“Then we’ll have to do it without shooting.  You understand, Denver?”

Denver scratched his head.  Plainly he was uneasy; plainly, also, he was more and more fascinated by the idea.

“You and me to turn the trick alone?” he whispered out of the side of his mouth in a peculiar, confidentially guilty way that was his when he was excited.  “Kid, I begin to hear the old Black Jack talk in you!  I begin to hear him talk!  I knew it would come!”