LITMIR.BIZ

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or not I can hold them proper? Hell, you got only one eye so you can’t see ’em anyway,” Terrell replied, and the others laughed.

      “I like it when he deals. With no more fingers than he’s got on that hand, that means he can’t deal off the bottom of the deck,” Poole said.

      “You can tell he ain’t a’ doin’ that,” Caldwell said. “The onliest one of us winnin’ is Luke Mueller. If I don’t win somethin’ soon, I’m goin’ to have to get me a job some’ eres.”

      “I’ve got a job for you,” Luke said as he picked up the cards Terrell had just dealt.

      “What kind of a job?” Caldwell asked. “’Cause I tell you true, I don’t want to be shovelin’ no shit out of a stall or nothin’ like that.”

      “Believe me, it is nothin’ like that,” Luke answered. “It’s quick, easy, and there’s a lot of money in it.”

      “Ha!” Terrell said. “Where are you goin’ to find somethin’ that is quick, easy, and has a lot of money? Unless you’re plannin’ on robbin’ a bank.”

      Luke looked at Terrell, but made no comment.

      “What?” Terrell asked. “I’ll be damned, that’s it, ain’t it? You’re a’ plannin’ on robbin’ a bank, ain’t you?”

      “Why don’t you just go out into the street and shout it?” Luke asked.

      Caldwell looked over at Poole. “You know this feller, Poole. Me’n Terrell don’t. Is he serious?”

      “You recruitin’ people to ride with you?” Poole asked Luke, without responding to Caldwell’s question.

      “I might be,” Luke replied. “That is, if I can find a few good men I can depend on.”

      A broad smile spread across Poole’s face. “You know you can depend on me. I’m in,” he said.

      “What?” Caldwell asked. “You really are serious, ain’t you?”

      “Are you in, or out?” Luke asked.

      “I’m in, hell yes,” Caldwell replied.

      “Me too,” Terrell added, excitedly.

      “What about Egan Drumm?” Poole asked.

      “What about him?” Luke replied.

      “Don’t he ride with you and Clete? Where’s he at?”

      “I don’t have no idea where he is,” Luke said.

      “So, what you’re a’ sayin’ is that he ain’t a’ goin’ to be a part of this,” Poole said.

      “That’s what I’m sayin’.”

      “Good. I never liked that son of a bitch anyway. Don’t know why you and Clete ever took to runnin’ with him.”

      “When do we hold up this here bank?” Terrell asked.

      Luke fixed a stare at Terrell, then he looked back at Poole. “Does this dumb bastard not know when to keep his mouth shut?”

      “Who are you callin’ a dumb bastard?” Terrell asked angrily.

      “I’m callin’ you a dumb bastard,” Luke said coldly.

      “Ollie,” Caldwell said, reaching over to put his hand on Terrell’s shoulder. “Don’t get carried away here. You know damn well you don’t want to get into a pissin’ contest with Luke Mueller.”

      Suddenly Terrell realized how close he was getting to making a very foolish mistake, and he forced a smile. “Come to think of it,” he said. “I guess I can be a dumb bastard from time to time.”

      Caldwell laughed to ease the tension, then the others laughed as well.

      “To answer your question,” Luke said. “It’ll be tomorrow, over in a place called MacCallister.”

      MacCallister, Colorado, the next day

      The Reverend Charles Powell and his wife, Claudia, were standing outside the bank when the teller, Clyde Barnes, opened the door to let them in.

      “Good morning, Brother Powell, good morning, Mrs. Powell,” the teller greeted. “You’re here awfully early today. You must have some important business to attend to.”

      “More pleasure than business,” Powell said. “We’re going to Denver to see our new great-granddaughter, and I thought we might need a little walking around money.”

      “Walking around money? You mean you are going to walk to Denver? You aren’t taking the train?” Barnes teased.

      For a moment Powell didn’t get it, then when he did, he laughed out loud.

      “No train for us. I figured Claudia and I would just walk along the track ’til we got there,” Powell said. “No, sir, who needs an old, loud, smelly train?” He laughed again.

      “You aren’t going to miss the dedication of Colonel MacCallister’s statue, are you?” Barnes asked.

      “Oh, goodness no. I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” Reverend Powell said. “But that’s some time away, yet. We’ll be back in plenty of time for that.”

      “I didn’t think you would want to miss it. I’ve heard you are giving the invocation.”

      “I will be giving it, and mighty proud to do so,” Reverend Powell said.

      “Come on up to the window, Reverend, and I’ll give you your money. Have you drawn the draft yet?”

      “Yes, I have it right here,” Reverend Powell said, pulling the draft from his pocket.

      “Well then, we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

      Suddenly the front door burst open and five men came charging into the bank. All five had their guns drawn, and they were so sure of themselves, that none of them were wearing masks. One of them had only one eye, and Mrs. Powell had to turn her head away in revulsion, rather than look directly at him.

      “Everybody, get your hands up!” one of the men shouted. He was a small man, but the gun in his hand made him look big enough. “This is a bank robbery. Teller, get behind the cage and give us all the money you got!”

      Barnes stepped around behind the counter, opened his drawer, and pulled out a couple hundred dollars. He handed it through the window to the robbers.

      “What is this?” the small man asked. “Are you tellin’ me this is all the money you’ve got in this bank?”

      “There is more money in the safe, but it’s locked and I don’t have the combination,” Barnes said. “Mr. Dempster only lets me have what he thinks I’ll need durin’ the day.”

      The leader of the group, the one who had given the teller his orders, turned his pistol on Claudia Powell and pulled the trigger. The woman let out a cry of pain, then fell.

      “Now, you open that safe or someone else dies,” the little man with the big gun said.

      “What have you done?” Reverend Powell shouted. Even though he was unarmed, he started toward the shooter.

      Calmly, and without changing the expression on his face, the little man fired again, and the good reverend went down, collapsing on the floor next to his wife. At that moment a young woman came into the bank, and the little man pointed his pistol toward her.

      “No!” Barnes shouted. “Please, don’t shoot her! That’s my wife! I’ll get the money for you!”

      The small, evil man smiled. “So, you’ve suddenly remembered the combination to the safe, have you?”

      “Yes, Mr. Mueller. Please, no more shooting.”

      “Luke, the son of a bitch knows us,” one of the other

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