Ralph Cotton - Midnight Rider

“No, it was my idea to go after them,” Casings said.

“Yeah, mine too,” said the Giant, “not Rock’s.”

“I saw how much money was in that safe, boss,” said Casings. “I figured there was no way you’d want that much money to get away from you.”

“So everything you two did, it was all for my sake, huh?” Grolin said dubiously.

“Not just for your sake,” Casings said. “It was for all of us. Rock did say he couldn’t let that much money slip through his hands—I couldn’t blame him.”

“Me neither,” said the Giant.

“Sounds like you two are really sold on Avrial Rochenbach.”

“We call him Rock,” said the Giant.

“So I hear,” said Grolin, still puffing.

Casings gave a shrug.

“You told us to keep an eye on him and tell you what we think,” he said. “I figure you want the truth.”

“I do,” said Grolin, “so give it to me.”

“The man is damn good at what he does,” said Casings. “He opened that safe like it was never locked. When we found Bonham and Batts murdered and robbed, he threw right into the chase with us. When we caught up to Macon Ray and his men, Rock took them down while Giant and I kept the other three busy.”

“I see,” said Grolin, listening intently. “Let me ask you this. If he’s so good, where the hell’s the money?”

Casings and the Giant looked at each other.

“When we found them, the money was gone,” said Casings. “That’s all we can tell you about it.”

“And you’d both tell me the same thing, if I had Penta and a couple of the boys work on your fingers and toes with a ball-peen hammer?” Grolin asked.

Casings withstood the harshness of the threat, feeling no real rage behind the gang leader’s words.

“There’s no other way we can say it, boss,” Casings said. “It’s all the sweet gospel truth.”

Grolin stared them down and puffed on his cigar. He wasn’t about to get any stronger with the Giant in his office, nobody covering him with a rifle or shotgun. If they were lying to him, he’d find it out in due time.

“It’s near suppertime. Both of you get chowed down and tend to your horses,” he said. “Get yourselves some rest and be ready to ride out tonight.”

“Yeah, the big job…,” Casings said, smiling.

“Every job we do is a big job,” said Grolin dismissingly. “You’ll know where you’re going once you get there.”

Outside his office, Grolin stood on the landing at the handrail as the two men walked down the stairs toward the bar. He looked at the bar and gave a nod to Denton Spiller and a young gunman named Doyle Hughes, who stood flanking Rochenbach, rifles loosely in hand.

“Your turn, Rochenbach. Let’s go,” Spiller said, stepping back from the bar and gesturing Rock and Hughes to the stairs.

Rochenbach took his time, downing his shot glass of rye, timing it so he would cross paths with Casings and the Giant as they came across the floor.

“I said, let’s go, damn it !” said Spiller. He started to grab Rochenbach by his arm, but the look Rochenbach gave him stopped him cold.

Above them, Grolin watched with a slight grin, seeing how expertly Rochenbach managed to take Spiller’s temper to the boiling point, then defuse it as he saw fit.

You’re good, Rock. That’s for sure, Grolin told himself, watching Rochenbach turn from the bar and walk over to the staircase.

Rochenbach and the two riflemen stopped until Casings and the Giant stepped off the bottom stair and walked toward the bar. In passing, Rochenbach’s eyes met Casings’ for only a second. But in that second he saw Casings reassuring him that everything was all right. Grolin had no problem with them trying to retrieve the money—he had bigger plans in the making, Rochenbach decided.

Climbing the stairs behind Spiller, Rochenbach stared up at Grolin. When the three men topped the stairs and Spiller started toward the office door, Rochenbach stopped cold and looked at Grolin.

“Tell me, Grolin,” he said, as Spiller turned around facing him, “am I working for you, or am I a prisoner here?”

“What a thing to ask, Rock,” Grolin said cagily. “Of course you’re working for me.”

“Then why am I walking between these idiots?” Rock asked. “I know my way around.”

Spiller and Hughes started to flare up, but Grolin stopped them both with a raised hand.

“All right, Dent, you and Hughes go back to the bar. We’re good here.”

Spiller stared coldly at Rochenbach, but he turned and gave Hughes a nod. Rochenbach and Grolin watched the two walk back down the stairs.

Grolin chuckled and said, “One word from me, Rock, Spiller would love to gut you.” He turned, stepped over and opened his office door. “Why do you keep him so stoked up?”

“I don’t know,” said Rock. “I suppose because it’s so easy to do.”

Rochenbach followed Grolin inside the office. He took off his hat and stood at the front of his desk as Grolin walked around behind it. Grolin gestured toward a chair. Rochenbach seated himself as the outlaw leader sat down behind his wide oak desk.

“I’ve got no questions for you about the Hercules Mining money,” Grolin said. “I figure anything Casings and the Giant didn’t tell me, you won’t tell me either. Anyway, it was a fluke, that much money being in the safe.”

“Fluke money still spends,” Rock said.

“Forget it,” said Grolin. “The job was a practice run to see if you could open a Diebold safe.”

Rochenbach only stared at him, confident.

“From what everybody tells me, you’re the best,” Grolin said.

“Obliged,” said Rock. “But practice run or not, I hate losing that much money.”

“So do I,” said Grolin, “but it’s over and done. I can’t let it distract me from something bigger.” He stuck his cigar in his mouth and stared knowingly at Rochenbach.

“So we’re all set?” Rochenbach asked.

“Yep, Thursday night—four days from now, we ride,” said Grolin. “There’s a big shipment coming out. We’re going to be waiting for it.”

“All right,” said Rochenbach, perking up in the chair. “Tell me all about it.”

“Nothing to tell,” Grolin said. He grinned and puffed on his cigar. “I’ve got everything covered. Now get out of here. Take a few days, rest, relax, enjoy everything the Lucky Nut has to offer. Come Thursday, be ready to ride out and make us both rich.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Rochenbach said, standing, putting his hat on and turning toward the door.

On the landing, Rock looked down at the bar but saw that all of Grolin’s men were gone. All right…, he told himself, heading down the stairs. He would find Casings and the Giant later. Right now he needed to report to his field superior, let him know that Thursday was set for the robbery. Other details he’d have to pass along as they came to him— if they came to him, he thought. If not, he was on his own. But that was all right. He was used to working alone.

Chapter 15

Leaving the Lucky Nut, Rochenbach walked his dun to the livery barn. He slung the horse’s saddle over a rack and hung its bridle on a wall peg. He grained and watered the hungry animal and wiped it down with a handful of clean straw. He walked the dun into a clean stall and pitched a fresh pile of hay at its hooves. Patting its muzzle, he turned and left, his Spencer rifle in hand.

After a meal of elk steak, beans and biscuits at Turk’s Restaurant, he drank a cup of hot coffee, paid for his meal and left. As he walked along the dark street back to his room at to the Great Westerner, he thought about how he hadn’t run into any of Grolin’s men—which was good, he reminded himself, entering the hotel lobby. Next door at the Lucky Nut, banjo and twangy piano music spilled out into the chilled night air as he closed the hotel door behind him.