Big Jim 5 by Marshall Grover

Author:Marshall Grover [Grover, Marshall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: winchester rifle, colt 45, western ebook, piccadilly publishing, marshall grover, big jim rand, gunfighters and outlaws, leonard mears, american west 1880s, outlaws 1880s
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Six – Four of a Kind

The last customer had departed. Fred Quale closed and locked the windows, secured the front door and, toting a bottle of Chet Millard’s best bourbon, climbed the stairs to the office. The brothers, he noted, had made Rudge welcome. The bearded man was seated in an upholstered chair, puffing on one of Chet’s Havanas, Despite recent financial reversals, the brothers continued to indulge expensive tastes. Rudge stopped talking abruptly, as Quale entered. The elder brother leaned back in his chair, tucked his thumbs into the armholes of his vest and waited patiently. Eddie, lounging on the office sofa, waved airily to the barkeep and assured Rudge,

“You can talk freely in front of Fred. He’s one of us.”

“All the way?” demanded Rudge.

“What Eddie means,” drawled Quale, “is I know how to keep my mouth shut, and I’ll take my share of any risks.”

“Keep talking, Nick,” grunted Chet. “Fred’s okay.” To the barkeep, he explained, “Nick happened on a little information while he was passing through Howard City.”

“I was squattin’ under a window of the stage depot,” Rudge told him. “What I found out—well—there’s no use me tellin’ you unless I can be sure of one thing.”

“Which is?” prodded Chet.

“That you could ride with me tomorrow mornin’,” said Rudge. “It means you’ll be out of town till around noon. Now—how about that? Is anybody apt to get curious if you hombres ain’t seen before noon?”

“Tomorrow is Thursday,” mused Chet. “We don’t open before twelve-thirty Thursdays. Not enough trade. I don’t know why, but all the before-noon drinkers stay away from this part of town. It’s scarce worth our trouble to open up in the mornings.”

“Chet and me and Fred bunk right here in rooms along the gallery,” offered the younger brother. “Nobody’s apt to come looking for us.”

“Well, all right then,” frowned Rudge.

“Tell us the rest of it,” urged Chet. “Just when were you snooping alongside of the stage office in Howard City?”

“Yesterday mornin’—early,” declared Rudge. “But not so early that I couldn’t be seen. It was broad daylight. If I’d been spotted ...”

“You sure did take a risk, amigo,” opined Quale, studying him with new interest.

“One thing you better know about Nick,” grinned Chet. “He doesn’t care about the risks—not when he stands a chance of making a fortune. That’s his big dream—isn’t that so, Nick? Two stretches in the big pen for attempted robbery. You’re a two-time loser—and you’re still in there trying.”

With deep feeling, Rudge asserted, “I’d as soon risk growin’ old in prison than work and sweat for nickels and dimes. I want the big dinero—thousands—and I want it fast, all in one passel!”

“You think this could be the time?” challenged Eddie.

“Hear me out,” growled Rudge. “Then you tell me.”

“Go on, Nick,” invited Chet.

“I got it figured out that the two hombres I heard talkin’ were the manager of the stage depot and the boss-cashier of a banking outfit, the Considine Company. You probably know the Considine Company has branches all over. Well .

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