“John, listen to me,” Smoke urged. “Where is the nearest military unit based?”
“Why…New York State, I’m sure. But we have a fine militia here in New Hampshire. I’ll get right on it the first thing in the morning. I’ll wire the governor and he’ll see to it immediately.”
John did not see the look that passed between the three gunfighters.
“How long is this going to take, sir?” York was the one who asked.
“Oh, several days, I’m sure. The governor has to sign the orders mobilizing the unit, then the men have to be notified and moved into place…” He fell silent with a curt wave of Smoke’s hand. “What is it, Son?”
“We don’t have time, John. Not for all that. Can you contact the governor tonight and have him notify the Army?”
“I’m…why, certainly. And tell the Army what?”
“Of our suspicions.”
“I’ll get a wire off immediately.” He shrugged into his coat and called for his buggy. He looked at Smoke. “I’ll handle this part of it, Son. Be back in half an hour.”
When he returned, his face was long. “The governor is taking an early Thanksgiving vacation.” He grimaced. “A very early Thanksgiving vacation. I sent a wire to the commanding officer of the Army post over in New York State. He’s in Washington, D.C., for some sort of hearings. Son, we appear to be hitting a stone wall every way we turn in this matter.”
“I got a bad feelin’ about this thing,” York said. “I got a feelin’ it’s gonna break loose on us tomorrow.”
“And those are my sentiments, as well,” Louis agreed. “What is your opinion of the sheriff and the chief of police, John?”
“Oh, they’re good men. But with only a small force between them.”
Smoke and Louis and York had already checked on the cops in the town and county. A very small force. Five men, to be exact. But they all agreed the cops and deputies checked out to be good, stable men. But not gunfighters.
The hall clock chimed. It was growing late. “We see them first thing in the morning,” Smoke said.
“I’ve packed my things,” Louis said. “I’ll stay here, with your permission, John.”
“Of course, of course. I insist that the both of you stay.” He glanced at York, received a nod, then looked at Smoke. “We’ll see the sheriff and the chief first thing in the morning.”
The sheriff was very indignant. “I don’t see why you couldn’t have leveled with us first thing, Marshal,” he said to Smoke.
“Because by doing that, you would have alerted the militia and the Army and deputized every man in the county. And that would have scared them off.”
“So? That would have been a bad thing?”
“In a way, yes. They would have just laid back and hit you when you stood the men down and sent them home. How many men can you muster? Good men, Sheriff.”
“Jensen, we don’t have gunfighters in this town. We have shopkeepers and schoolteachers and farmers and small businessmen. And a nice fat bank,” he added grimly.
“How fat?” Louis inquired.
The sheriff hesitated. But Louis Longmont was known worldwide, not only for his talents with a gun and with cards, but also as a very rich man. “Very fat, Mr. Longmont. And need I remind you all that today is the last day of the month?”
Payday for most working people. The bank would have pulled in more money to meet the demand.
“They planned it well,” Smoke said, as much to himself as to the others. “How well do the people listen to you, Sheriff?”
The question caught the lawman off guard. “Why…I don’t know what you mean. They elected me.”
“What I mean is, if you told them to stay off the streets today, would they heed your words?”
“I feel certain they would.”
The door to the office burst open and a flustered-looking stationmaster stepped in.
“What’s the matter, Bob?” Chief of Police Harrison asked.
“I can’t get a wire out in any direction, Harrison. My unit is dead as a hammer.”
Louis snapped his fingers. “They’re planning on using the train to get away. Remember all the horses I was told they’d bought, Smoke? They’ve stashed them along the railway, and they’ll ride the train north to their horses.”
“Huh? Huh?” the stationmaster asked, his eyes darting from man to man.
“And the uniforms they stole were not meant to be used here,” Smoke added. “They’ll be used as a getaway after they’ve ridden the train north. And it will be north. When they get close to the Canadian line, they’ll peel out of those uniforms and ride across as civilians, after splitting up.”
The mayor of Keene had stepped in while Louis was talking. “What’s all this?” George Mahaffery asked. “I’m trying to get a wire out to my sister in Hanover, Bob. Old Sully tells me the wires are down. What’s going on here?”
Nobody paid any attention to Hizzonor.
Sheriff Poley pointed at his lone deputy on duty that day. “Peter, get the women and the kids off the streets. Arm the men.”
“Oh, crap!” York muttered.
“I demand to know what is going on around here?” the mayor hollered.
Nobody paid any attention to him.
Smoke stopped the deputy. “Just hold on, partner.” To Sheriff Poley: “You’re gonna get a bunch of good men hurt or killed, Sheriff.”
Poley stuck out his chest. “What the hell do you mean by that, Marshal?”
“This is New Hampshire, Sheriff, not Northfield, Minnesota. Parts of Minnesota is still wild and woolly. When is the last time any man in this town fired a gun in anger?”
That brought the sheriff up short.
“Goddamn!” Mayor Mahaffery hollered. “Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on around here?”
“Shut up,” York said to him.
Hizzonor’s mouth dropped open in shock. Nobody ever talked to him in such a manner.
“And keep it shut,” York added.
“I’d guess the Civil War, Marshal,” Poley finally answered Smoke’s question.
“That’s what I mean, Sheriff. Ten men, Sheriff. That’s all I want. Ten good solid men. Outdoorsmen if possible.”
The deputy named a few and the sheriff added a few more. The stationmaster named several.
“That’ll do,” Smoke halted the countdown. “Get them, and tell them to arm themselves as heavily as possible and be down here in one hour.” He glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. “When’s the next train come in?”
“Two passengers today, Marshal,” Bob told him. “Northbound’s due in at eleven o’clock.”
“They’ll hit the bank about ten-forty-five then,” Louis ventured a guess.
“That’s the way I see it,” Smoke’s words were soft. “But when will they hit the Reynolds house? Before, or after?”
Farmer Jennings Miller and his wife had left the day before to visit their oldest daughter over in Milford. That move saved their lives, for the Miller farm was the one that had been chosen by Dagget for a hideout until it was time to strike.
The outlaws had moved in during the last two nights, riding in by ones and twos, stabling their horses in the Millers’ huge barn.
The outlaws had been hitting banks on their way east and had amassed a goodly sum of money. This was to be their last bank job before moving into Canada to lay low for as long as need be.
And Davidson was paying them all extra for this job, and paying them well. The bank was only secondary; the primary target was Sally Jensen and the babies.
Studs Woodenhouse had three men with him. Tie Medley had four from his original gang left. Paul Rycroft had brought two men with him. Slim Bothwell had three. Shorty, Jake, and Red. Brute Pitman. Tustin. LaHogue. Glen Moore. Lapeer. Dagget. Rex Davidson.
Twenty-six men in all. Over one hundred thousand dollars in reward money lay on their heads.
All were wanted for multiple murders, at least. The outlaws had nothing at all to lose.