The others nodded.“What did Clint say?”asked Simon Ford.
Rafe’s silence answered the question.
“You’re stuck with us,” Simon said.“We haven’t got anyplace to go, and that small claim is paying my keep.I don’t like the idea of someone out there killing miners.”He didn’t say he filed for the claim simply to justify his presence in Rushton, or that its yield didn’t even come close to what he had been making as a top horse hand.
“Hell, you’re all a bunch of fools,” Rafe said.The words had been difficult to say.It had been a long time since he’d known this kind of loyalty.
He looked at them helplessly as Clint returned.Clint looked around and grinned.“They’re not buying it, either, huh, Rafe?”
Rafe gave him a disgusted look.“I don’t want to be responsible.…”
“You won’t be,” Ben said with a crooked grin.“We were all damned bored.Things were becoming too tame.”
“Is the woman pretty?”asked Simon, the womanizer of the group.
Rafe scowled.“She’s a damnable nuisance.”
“That means she’s right pretty.”Simon grinned.“Can we take a look?”
“Not unless you want your face on a poster,” Rafe growled, and then was saved from saying anything else as Skinny Ware rode up.
Clint passed around the bottle, each man taking a swallow, as at ease with each other as they had been ten years earlier before a battle.More, in fact.Now they knew what to expect and how the others would respond.They were a family, like brothers.Rafe knew they wouldn’t leave him now, no matter what he ordered.
How did everything get so damned messed up?
Clint told them of the possible posse and the sheriff’s escort of the stagecoach.Until now the stagecoach robberies had been carefully planned, and there had been no shedding of blood.A boulder or tree had blocked the road; six masked men with guns prevented any reckless action.Both driver and escort had quickly surrendered each time; neither was paid enough to die.
But Clint knew Russ Dewayne and his sons wouldn’t give up without a fight.
“We’ll have to take the payroll before it’s placed on the stage,” Rafe said.
“Rob the bank?”Clint asked with surprise.
“The express office,” Rafe said.“Didn’t you say the money is usually transferred to that safe the night before, since the stage leaves so early?”
Clint nodded.“It has been.”
“Randall’s payroll will be marked, won’t it?”
Clint nodded.“It should be.Randall’s arranged for a loan, but it might be the last one he gets.He’s just about run his credit out, according to the foreman.”
“Does the money belong to Randall or the bank?”
Clint grinned.“Randall’s already signed for the money.He was talking about it at the dance; that’s why he was thinking about taking special care of it.It’s his, all right.”
Rafe stood.“Anyone know about explosives?”
Skinny nodded.“I’ve worked with them in mines.”
“We have two days to get dynamite.”
Skinny shrugged.“No problem.I can buy some, say I need it to clear some rock.”
“Sure it won’t be traced back to you?”Rafe worried.
“Miners are always buying dynamite.’Sides, I can get it here at the general store.No one will connect it with an explosion in Casey Springs.”
Rafe nodded.“I’ve learned a little about picking locks.We shouldn’t have any trouble getting in.”They all looked at him.“The last year I was in prison,” he explained, “the man in the cell next to me could open any damn lock, including the cell doors, and he taught me.Since I had just two months left to serve, I decided to wait and leave the legal way.”
