LITMIR.BIZ

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one carefully, looking for any descriptions that matched what he knew of the bank robber.

      Sounds of an awakening town had finally caused him to push back from the desk, stretching as he stood. He needed more information about the holdup and the culprit; rushing to follow the trail of the thief hadn’t left time for a comprehensive investigation. Talking with witnesses again might provide additional information to tie to the wanted posters. Buckling his holster around his waist and settling his prized Stetson on his head, Wyatt blew out the lamp on his desk and walked out the door. He’d learned the café was a favorite morning spot for many of the single tradesmen in town, and Wyatt decided to combine two chores at once: breakfast and information gathering.

      The food was tasty and plentiful, but Wyatt didn’t learn anything particularly useful, and he answered as many questions as he asked. Finishing his breakfast, he left the gathered diners speculating among themselves about the how and who of the robbery, and more importantly, when the marshal was going to find their missing savings.

      His next stop was the bank, and though the doors were closed and locked with a sign that read Closed Until Further Notice, his knock brought Mr. Phineas Samuels to the door.

      “I’d need to discuss the bank robbery if you have some time this morning.”

      Mr. Samuels motioned him inside and closed the door before speaking. “I see you failed to catch the scoundrel who robbed my bank, Marshal.”

      He ignored the accusation in the banker’s voice and followed the man across the front room holding the cashier’s desk to Mr. Samuels’s office. As they entered, Mr. Samuels waved Wyatt toward a chair before circling his desk and taking his own seat.

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Samuels, but we lost the tracks in a passing cattle drive. That’s why I’d like to go over the events of that day again. I need all the information I can find. Maybe I can match him to accounts of other holdups and alert surrounding marshals to keep an eye out for anyone matching his description. Would you start at the beginning and tell me everything you can remember, please?” Wyatt perched his hat on his knee and pulled a small notebook and pencil from his shirt pocket.

      “I don’t see how that’s going to help you now. Seems to me you’re shutting the barn door after the cow has escaped.” Mr. Samuels rocked back in his chair, folding his soft pudgy hands over his brocaded paisley vest.

      “Humor me, if you would.”

      The man’s tone was irksome, but Wyatt kept his demeanor passive. The balding, wire-rimmed-spectacle-wearing banker perched behind his massive desk like a king on his throne, and Wyatt felt sympathy for anyone who’d ever had to ask this banker for a loan.

      Mr. Samuels grudgingly began to recite the events of the day of the bank robbery. “Mr. McIsaac and I were finishing up our business here in my office when a man walked in, pulled a gun and demanded that I open the safe. I argued, but he threatened to shoot me, so I opened the safe. When he turned his back and started grabbing money and throwing it into a bag, Mr. McIsaac pulled his own gun from beneath his jacket to stop him. Unfortunately the thief turned in time to see it and shot him. I thought he was going to shoot me next, but instead, he hit me on the head. Next thing I remember was you and Franks coming in.”

      “How did he get into your office without the teller seeing him?” Wyatt questioned.

      “My bank teller quit a couple weeks ago to move closer to his widowed mother. I hadn’t replaced him yet, so it was just Mr. McIsaac and me in the bank that morning.”

      “What did he look like?”

      “He had a black hat pulled low over his head, a blue bandanna covered the rest of his face and he was wearing a dirty leather jacket over brown shirt and pants.”

      Wyatt looked up from his notes when Mr. Samuels stopped speaking. “Did you notice anything else?”

      “Yes, I did. I saw the horse he rode away before I blacked out. It was wearing the McIsaac ranch brand.” Mr. Samuels rocked his chair back. “If it wasn’t for the fact that McIsaac was shot, I’d wonder if he had anything to do with it. Or maybe one of those derelicts he’s hired as ranch hands decided the pickings were better here!”

      Wyatt hid his surprise at this bit of news. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. If you’d been hit on the head, how did you see the horse he rode?”

      “I managed to get to my feet to call for help as he left, and I saw him through the window but then I must have blacked out.” The man puffed up like a little banty rooster. “I am the victim here, Marshal! Are you questioning my word?”

      Wyatt hastened to smooth his feathers. “No. I’m simply trying to get the events straight in my mind. How much did he get away with?”

      “Everything in the safe! You saw it that day. He cleaned me out! I’ve had to close the doors because I have nothing to do business with. And then you couldn’t manage to catch him or get the money back! I’m beginning to have serious doubts about the town council’s choice for marshal!” Mr. Samuels slammed his palms down on the desktop as he stood.

      “Everything?” Wyatt let his surprise show this time. “How could one man carry everything from the safe? How much was everything?”

      Mr. Samuels instantly went on the defensive. “This is a small Western bank, not a big Eastern city bank. We don’t have the same amount of capital as bigger cities, and until I’ve contacted my investors, I’m not at liberty to divulge the dollar amount of what was stolen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my papers. I’m explaining to my backers what’s happened to their money!”

      “If I’m to recover the stolen money, I need to know how much was taken, Mr. Samuels.”

      “When you have a suspect in custody, Marshal Cameron, I will divulge that information to you. Until then, I’ve told you everything I know. Good day, Marshal!”

      “I need to know the amount that was taken, Mr. Samuels,” Wyatt said implacably.

      “I said good day, Marshal!” The man was sulled up tighter than a mad, wet hen.

      Wyatt eyed him for a moment before reluctantly deciding to retreat from this particular battle until the man had calmed down. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Samuels. If you think of anything else that might be helpful, let me know.” He picked his hat off his knee, stood, nodded to the disagreeable man and walked out the bank door.

      Outside he returned his hat to his head and tucked the notebook back into his pocket.

      Whew!

      If other townsfolk felt the same way, it was going to be rough around here until the culprit was apprehended and the money returned. He already knew one person in particular who was definitely not going to be happy to see him when she found out the reason for his visit.

      Miss McIsaac’s father was still unconscious as far as he knew, but their ranch had been implicated in the bank job, and he needed answers. He really needed to talk to Mr. McIsaac, but only God knew when—or if—that would happen. Looked like Miss McIsaac would have to do.

      Sending up a quick plea for help, he’d headed toward the Kilburns’.

      * * *

      Now Wyatt watched Miss McIsaac’s reaction carefully as he motioned toward the back door. “If you’ll step outside into the garden, I have a few questions I need to ask you about the bank robbery.”

      Her face showed the fatigue of the past several days’ vigil, and there was a hint of redness around her eyes as if she’d been crying. But aside from the wariness that had appeared when he’d come in, Wyatt saw no other emotions at his words. If her ranch was somehow involved in the robbery, no hint of it showed on her face.

      “Oh, goodness, there’s no need for that. Sit down and enjoy your coffee.” Mrs. Kilburn placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “Come, dear, I’ll help you straighten that mess you call a desk.”

      Miss McIsaac’s voice halted

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