Well, just where the hell was Shannon and his men? He really didn't expect to find them here, nor did he think they even knew of the place, 'Hard Luck' they called it, well, someone did. It would do, not that Case cared about what the place was called, it offered his men a respite from the trail, and they needed it. Hard ridding, and hard living took its toll on the toughest of them
Things had soured quickly in Big Flat, far quicker than he had thought they might, in fact, he had actually doubted the camp would turn on them the way they had. They were all lucky to get away, especially him. He had been the focal point of almost everything good or bad that happened, and most all of it actually was his fault. His unquenchable desire for the power he had wielded in Whitefish did not sit well with the free wheeling miners and merchants of Big Flat.
Whitefish, that had turned into a nightmare, if ever there was one. It was said Mother Nature put an end to it and Case would not argue that, it was a storm like no other, but then too, there was the fire. The last time he had ridden over to what remained of his town, it was still a shock. Not that he expected the place to look the same as it had, but the complete devastation of the town made him feel uneasy, almost small, and that he didn't like.
He tossed off the drink he had been nursing, to clear away the thought, looked at the bottle sitting on the table, considering pouring another.
That's when the woman screamed!
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Shannon had one simple rule, 'Don't Foul Up.' Over the years he had had any number of men with him, and mostly they followed that rule. The two with him now as odd as it may seem, lived by that rule. Understood why the rule was so important to them. Jail, or worse, did them no good in the bank robbing business. Making a spectacle of ones' self did nothing to enhance their chances of passing through unnoticed.
All of that meant, little drinking, controlling ones temper in certain situations, such as card games, or the drunken insult from someone in the saloon. Not easy, but practiced control went a long way to preserving their freedom, and their anonymity in the towns they passed through.
And so they found themselves, bathed, shaved, dressed in clean clothes, and sitting in the cafe, steaks on platters before them with beans and fried potatoes. Oddly enough, each a cup of coffee before him. All part of the plan to be as nondescript as possible. These boys knew how to remain all but unseen. In fact they might be remembered for the tall Indian, or for their quiet and polite nature, all part of the act, which had become practiced habit and allowed them to pass through towns with little notice.
Now, all strangers are noticed, don't get me wrong, it's impossible in the west to go unnoticed, but it is how unnoticed a man can be, and Shannon, Charlie, and Oldham were about as unnoticed as they could be. Just men passing through, even if they came back at night to relieve the bank of it's contents. So they wouldn't be long in town, so they wouldn't be remembered
The scream had Case on his feet looking up at the staircase, a woman was at the landing, blood streaming from her nose as he looked back and screamed again, Robbins was after her, in his long johns, pecker hanging out, and a Bowie knife in his hand, his face screwed up in rage murder in his eyes!
The woman rushed down the stairs stumbling and falling down the rest of the way, Robbins in pursuit. Case's hand flashed to his gun, that was out, cocked aimed and belching flame. The explosion loud in the room. The slug caught Robbins in the chest, knocking him back before he tumbled forward, breaking through the banister, and slamming into the floor, dead.
The woman recovered, got to her feet and rushed to the bar for protection. Case surveyed the room, ready for anything. "Don't do nothin' stupid, we'll kill every on of you!" And he meant it. Get him outta here!" Dyer moved to the body' lifted him up and carried him outside, while the miners in the room sat still, hands raised, or just sitting. eyes wide.
Killings were not unknown on the mountain, not at all, in fact the happened with some regularity, none had been as swift as the one they had just witnessed, and not in defense of a whore. Case holstered his gun as Dyer walked back in.
"He's along side the building." The big man announced.
"You got a doc in this town?" He asked the bartender.
"Nope, but we got a fella was a hospital steward during the war, tends to folks up here best he can." The bartender replied.
"You best get him for the lady here." Case stated, then fished out a double eagle and laid it on the bar. "For the banister. Dyer, get Robbin gun and outfit, leave the clothes, just the gun leather and his knife. Anything in his clothes belongs to the woman here."
"Right boss." And up the stairs he went.
No one had moved, "You!" He pointed to a miner at the nearest table, "Go get the hospital steward!" The man got to his feet and bolted for the door. Then he looked at Toole who was on his feet and stable. "Get 'em ready to ride!" Then he looked to the bartender. "I'll leave the man's horse, saddle and all, you see she either gets it, or whatever you can sell it for." He looked at her, "Ma'am." And headed for the door. It would be an evening ride up to the ridge
Storyteller / Shared NPC
They started the climb, a thin whisper of a trail that would take them to the summit and then down the other side toward Lost Lake Ranch and on to Kalispell. They would only make it a ways up before they would be forced to camp for the night. Such was life on the trail.
Now, they could have stayed where they were, not that there were rooms available, maybe a couple. It was not a town geared toward visitors, not at all, it was a place where you pitched your shelter and made do. The other problem was, as Case saw it, one killing, no matter how justified ,could lead to another and then there would be real trouble. And true, they could just as well camped there, or close by, but Case was uneasy about that, miners could be easily spooked by their continued presence and that could turn ugly quickly.
Case knew he made the right decision leaving. But it was seldom that he ever second guessed himself about much of anything. They had maybe an hour of daylight left, so he was looking for a likely spot to camp for the night. The men were quiet. Robbins had been their friend, he had been with the gang since the beginning, in the same breath, every man there knew you did not manhandle a woman, whore or not. Not when you rode with Case Steelgrave.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Now the first thing Walt Shannon decided to do was to but a mule, if one could be had. There was money buried not far from Rollins, that would include a pack saddle and some simple mining gear. They did it quickly and quietly, just as they had done while in the town. They did no drinking, It was decided that buying mule and accouterments to give the impression of them as miners put them in front of too many people.
Shannon like to be quiet when in a town, liked to be as unobtrusive as possible during that stay. There attire was about as nondescript ans any, except perhaps Injun Charlies top hat, but then, several could be seen in most any town, along with derbies, and bowlers, kepis and flat caps. But the purchases altered Shannon's plans. They would leave Rollins once they had their escape route planned. There was nothing odd about men walking around town, even if it seemed aimlessly, but nothing the three ever did was aimless, it was just made to look that way.
So, on the morning of their second day, the had breakfast in the Bon Ton Cafe, bought supplies that they actually needed at the general store, which included sulfuric acid, and then, loaded up and departed town to the south, misdirection for any that might be watching. They would make a wide circle to recover the stashed money to the west of town and rest until nightfall.
By midnight they were back in Rollins, at the back door of the Rollins Community Bank.
The killing of Rollins actually weighed heavily on Case, the man was cold to be sure, and killing didn't bother him, but, when it came to one of his own, well, that there was different. Rollins had been with him a long time, since early on in Whitefish, losing him hit Case hard, but he violated the rule, no harm to women.
And, even though it was clear what Rollins intended for the whore, the gun was out, cocked, and fired almost before Case realized it, with no warning given. So while the other slept, Case Steelgrave sat awake, tending the fire, lost in his own thoughts, which were not just about Rollins, but other things as well. Speed Guyer came to mind. His sister Leah, his father Elias. Many things that troubled him came to roost including his brothers and what they might be doing, where they might be.
Life has it's way of not allowing the past to disappear. It can be pushed aside at will, but it come back, at least the things on pushes aside the hardest. Family for case was on of those things. True he disagreed with his father on most things, including the running of the Evergreen, but at the same time, he loved him. The same with his brothers, but then brothers fight one another today, and fight outsiders together tomorrow. He missed them, he missed them all, most of all strong willed Leah who fought their father at every turn.
It wouldn't be long before they were at the bottom of the mountains and on the trail to Kalispell, and beyond. Whether he rode to the ranch right off was a decision he had yet to make. But Leah, he would go see her, if she was still in town, that was for sure.
Toole walked up and squatted, "Never knew Rollins had a mean streak toward wimmen. Nope, never did, but had you not shot him, well, he'da kilt her sure, and then it'd been Katey bar the door. Them miners'd tried ta kill us all."
Case looked at him, "Yep, they woulda. Been a rel mess then."
"Where to when we hit the bottom?"
"Not real sure, maybe skirt Kalispell and ride for the hide out. Be less problems that way, and with luck no one'd be the wiser that we were back. Give us time to figure what we're going to do. Should be more outfits with cattle to take. Might fight shy of the bank in town, but that don't mean we can't have Shannon and his boys take it.."
Toole grinned, "Yeah, that'd be good. Maybe send out some scouts, see what the range has to offer. I agree, there's likely more cattle than when we left. More ranchers stakin' out range for themselves, but the plumb, now that'd be Lost Lake. Maybe have a look-see at the place, there was a rumor Shade 'er none of 'em'd been seen since winter."
"Your right, I hadn't thought about old Shade Thonton and his lot." Case said, a smile cracking across his face. "Might leave ol' Quentin Cantrell to hold down the fort, or maybe he went with 'em wherever that was. Hard to tell, but easy enough to find out. Wouldn't you say?"
"Damn sure would be. You think maybe that farmer, what the hell was his name? Oh yeah, Redmon, gotta odd first name, but yeah, maybe he's hornin' in on the land, or maybe yer Pa took it from Cantrell an' them that was still there."
Case smiled as he exhaled through his nose. "May be, no tellin' what's happened since we've been gone."
"Hmmm, my Pa, yeah maybe given the chance he'd ride on over and take the place, and the farmers too, then again, maybe not. But if the Thornton's are gone gallivantin' around the country, we need to know that and how many hands are still on the spread. I've an idea, but we need to know what we're up against." Case stated. His mind was working, and there was a plan, but there would be a risk to it, aside from the Lost Lake crowd, if there was one.
Knowing better than to ask Case about a plan he was developing Tole offered, "so the hide out we used should still there. I doubt anyone's move onto it, course had they, it'd be a terrible mistake on their part."
Case laughed, "Exactly Toole, exactly. So roust the boys, suns comin' up, time to get movin'."
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Well now, there's a whole lot of interest in the the Thorntons, if one was privy to father and son. And it means that the Lost Lake Ranch is getting a considerable amount of of attention of late. Like the cherry is there to be plucked, and it's riches there for the taking.
So, are them children still on the place under Cantrells care? Or have they left as well, in the care of someone else? Good questions, because we ain't heard a thing related to the Lost Lake, nada, nothin'. An' while I'm at it, this supposed telegram to Tyrell Thornton from cousin Shade, what's that really all about? And will Tyrell pull his freight from the Lazy S to answer the call? Lotsa questions flyin' around.
Meanwhile Case and the boys broke camp and are headed over the top and down t'other side. Fact is, Case will have a stunning view of Lost Lake from the vantage point of his descent, and it'll be slow and easy with lotsa time ta be thinkin' an' plannin'. Not much else to be doin' while ridin'.
-----
Case sat at the head of the the group as they picked their way down the mountain. The trail, like the one coming up from the other side, was not the best, and the going was slow, which one would expect even on a decent trail. And yes, he was looking at the vista that was Lost Lake, not in envy as some would, but in reflection of what might be possible, such as relieving Lost Lake of it's cattle, perhaps not all, but enough.
He had no thoughts of having his own place, not even the Evergreen, that would turn into brother against brother when the old man died. His plan was to figure a way to enrich himself and hightail it for Denver, or some civilized big city where he could simply disappear. Maybe even San Francisco, one never knows, but first, the money that it would take to disappear. He could move enough cattle to Canada, that was always a lucrative market for his efforts, and with the thought of more ranches, and more cattle, yes, that was the ticket, then with the bank money coming in from Shannon, he could be gone much faster than without it.
As the day wore on and they dropped lower down the mountain, the vista changed from a more panoramic view, to just mountains, but the idea didn't.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Rollins did not have a night deputy, in fact most towns did not. Some Sheriff's actually lived in the office, granted that was far from the norm, but it did happen. Town was fast asleep, the streets they past were empty. Nary a light in any window, and that was good.
Unlike the last bank job, there was also no stream bed with soft sand to hide their tracks. But Rollins sat on the banks of what would one day be called Flathead Lake, they had not heard what it was called, nor did they care. The objective was the safe inside the bank.
Rollins City Bank, it was called. A nice, friendly name. It had easy access to the rear of the building, and the door had a simple, easy to pick lock. Which had already be done. The back door hanging open, Wally Oldham kneeling at the safe's iron door applying a generous amount of sulfuric acid to the hinges. It was an older safe, so it would be an easy one. Charlie stood by to help with the door when the hinges gave and it fell away. Which it did in short order. The latching mechanism was a hurdle, but in most cases it allowed enough room to get inside the box and empty it.
It was not a huge haul, like the last one, but when a porterhouse steak dinner cost fifty cents in San Francisco, removing seventy eight hundred dollars in gold and cash was a whole lot of money! Short of saddle bags the money was stuffed inside small grain bags. Within six minutes of the door on the safe falling away they were mounted and walking their horses away from Rollins to the west. Perhaps one hundred yards away from town they spurred their mounts on and disappeared into the night.