Shotgun Charlie by Ralph Compton Page B

precious dollars in a bank vault in a town such as this. Like as not I’ll have use of such in a few hours anyway.” He guffawed. “Once I have my share, that is.”
    He winked and rode off, leaving Pap shaking his head.
    Off to the side of the road leading in, an out-of-place thresher warred for space with an abandoned wagon that looked as if it had been scavenged for parts until there wasn’t much else left to pry off the old thing.
    â€œAbout what I feel like,” muttered Pap. “Boys use me and then move on. Well, good luck and good riddance. The only one ever mattered, I had to run off.” He sighed.
    Up ahead, Grady began speaking. “We get into town, I want you all to do exactly as I laid it out for you. You got me? Ace, Mex, you two head on over to the Lucky Dollar Saloon, tie up out front, but don’t go in, you got me? Last thing I need is to deal with a couple of drunks.” He smiled broadly and winked. “Time enough for that business when we’ve conducted our transaction. When it’s time, you come on over to the bank, lead your mounts there, tie up.”
    â€œYou got it, boss.” Ace’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. He cut his glance quickly to Pap, but the man was still lagging behind.
    But Grady heard it, and he smiled. He liked the sound of it. Someone calling him “boss.” That had happened before, earlier in the week. If he recalled correctly, it was the one they called Simp. It was an entirely appropriate name, given the man’s dumb nature.
    He was not impressed with any of the men, but he felt sure they’d do what he told them to. He’d gone over it time and time again in hopes that it would stick. He felt confident that he’d hit the right combination of explanation and ordering without sounding too much like a cavalry boss.
    . . .
    Pap watched from the street, trying to figure an angle, some way he might be able to stop the foolish proceedings. They were really going to do it, really going to rob that bank. It was easily one of the grandest structures Pap had ever seen. In fact, his first thought on arriving in Bakersfield, when he saw the brick edifice of the bank jutting in all direction, angles and roof points and arches and column, was one of awe.
    He’d never seen so much brick in one place. He even made the mistake of saying so aloud, and wouldn’t you know, Grady Haskell had to be riding up alongside him. They both slowed, staring hard at each other. Another moment of unvarnished hatred exchanged.
    â€œAnd I’m fixing to take it apart, brick by brick, very soon.” Haskell didn’t take his eyes from Pap as he said it.
    â€œDon’t do this thing, man! You’re a fool if you think you can get away with it.”
    Haskell had laughed at him, then ridden up ahead once again, to take the lead.
    â€œMy word,” Pap said, thumbing his grizzled chin. He had to admit that neither he nor his men had been much impressed with Haskell’s so-called plan to rob the bank. With it boiled down to its raw parts, there wasn’t much to it, in fact. They were going to bluster on in there, wave guns, and snatch what money they could.
    He had to admit that Haskell was a natural leader of some sort. He had a way of convincing folks around him that they had to listen to him, had to trust him. But Pap saw something else too. Saw that the man was an idiot and not someone who had brains enough to plan a job the size of this one.
    But he had no luck in convincing the boys that Haskell’s plan was little more than a whole lot of talk about how much money they were all going to get, equal parts, in fact. Including Haskell, which Pap doubted to high heaven, but he gave up trying to convince those fools that their new leader, an even bigger fool, would turn out to be anything but fair.
    He watched Dutchy, Simp, and Haskell swagger on through the tall, heavy oak-and-glass double front