by Anita Sanchez

          The money was piled high, in crisp stacks of hundred dollar bills. It was more money than Gilling had ever seen in one place, even in his long and respectable career as a banker. He threw an involuntary glance over his shoulder, but of course no one was behind him, the office was quiet and dim in the afternoon light. He closed the lid of the suitcase softly, and snapped the latch, but he still seemed to see the lovely stacks of green dancing before his eyes.

          He stood up and tried to calm his pounding heart by taking a few deep breaths. He smoothed his hand over his white hair, and straightened his bow tie: it was necessary to keep looking the part of the respectable banker, right up to the end. He swung the heavy suitcase off the desk, and tried to think what to do next. He'd been afraid for some time that the main office of the bank, in Denver, had been getting suspicious, and he was anxious to talk the matter over with Lennox, his partner, as soon as possible. Lennox had been in on it with him, right from the start, and had always advised caution. Maybe they should leave town soon, thought Gillings, hefting the suitcase uneasily. Surely they had enough money in this last batch. Careful as he had been, Denver was getting suspicious, he was sure, and it couldn't be long before a couple of federal marshals were sent over to check things out. Lately he'd been having nightmares, every night, about tall figures silently coming up behind him, hands grasping his shoulders, and grim-faced men dragging him off to jail.

          He left his private office and went through the outer part of the bank; the wide room was empty of tellers and customers, since it was after hours; dust motes floated in the bars of sunlight from the tall windows.. He went outside and locked the big door behind him, and started down the marble steps of the bank, but at the foot of the stairs he stopped abruptly, his heart pounding louder than ever.

          A pair of strangers were riding down the main street of town. They looked weary and dust-covered, and plainly had ridden far. As they slowed their horses to a walk, the two men glanced from side to side with a peculiar wariness, and something about them made it clear that they weren't ordinary cowhands out for a night on the town. As they drew near he could see that they rode with their guns tied down on their legs, a sure sign of professionals. He stared at them, feeling his lips grow cold and his stomach churn. His worst nightmare had come for him.

          Heyes noticed the white-haired, well-dressed man standing on the marble steps of a building and staring fixedly at him. He hastily looked away, feeling a familiar churning in his stomach, then glanced over at Kid, and knew from his partner's carefully blank expression that he had noticed the guy, too. Heyes could feel the man's gaze boring into his back as they rode past.

          He caught Kid's eye, and raised his brows in an unspoken question. This had happened so many times in the last few months, this threat of being recognized, that they almost didn't need to say anything at all. "Think so?" Heyes muttered.

          "Hell, I don't know," growled Kid. "We're starting to jump at our own shadows." He glanced back over his shoulder. "He's just standing there. What do you think?"

          Heyes looked back and read the sign on the building. “Pleasantville Bank and Trust Company,” he muttered to Kid. “We didn’t ever rob that, did we?”

          Kid shrugged. “I don’t know, I lose track,” he said. “Don’t think so.”

           “Damn it, there isn't another town for fifty miles in any direction,” Heyes said wearily, taking off his hat and beating it on his knee to shake the dust off. “Let's at least stay the night, there's a hotel right over there."

          "All right," said Kid. "I guess so. We gotta let the horses rest a bit, anyway." They rode slowly down the street, looking warily at the saloon, the feed store, and the undertaking parlor. When they came abreast of the sheriff's office they both peered into the window. Heyes caught a glimpse of a tall, hawk-nosed man sitting at a desk. "Recognize him?" Kid inquired anxiously.

          "Nope," Heyes said with relief. "Never seen him before."

          "There's his name on the sign," Kid observed. "Sheriff Frank Lennox. Never heard of him."

          "Nope, never heard of him," Heyes agreed happily. "See, we're okay."

          As the two strangers dismounted in front of the livery stable and led their horses inside, Gilling scuttled across the street to the sheriff's office.  Lennox had told him to stay clear, to avoid being seen together, but this was an emergency. He banged the door open, and burst into the office, panting, as Lennox jumped to his feet, a hand flying to his holster.

          "God damn it!" said Lennox in a low tone when he realized who it was, then strode to the door and slammed it shut. "I told you not to do anything that draws attention to us! Why don't you just wear a sign that says 'Look, I'm a bank robber?'"

          "I'm sorry," said Gilling nervously. Lennox always made him nervous. "But those two men, the ones who just rode into town--didn't you see them?"

          "I noticed them going by," said Lennox slowly, sitting down at his broad, paper-covered desk. "What about them?"

          "Didn't you see how they were peering around, checking everything out? I told you Denver 'd be sending federal marshals, or a couple of Bannermen men, to investigate, if we got too greedy.” Gilling put the suitcase down, and ran trembling fingers over his hair and mustache. “They're marshals, I'm sure of it. Denver's been suspicious for a while now. I've been expecting something like this."

          "You're crazy," said Lennox, but without conviction, and he gazed uneasily out the window into the sunny street.

          "I don't think so," said Gilling, pacing about. "They were mighty interested in looking in your window, and reading your name on the shingle. They wear their guns tied down--"

          "How would they know about me?" demanded Lennox, shifting his gaze to Gilling's face ominously. "If Denver's seen through some of your finagling, how would they connect that with me? You've been talking , you little weasel--"

          "No, no, no, not at all," protested Gilling. "No, indeed! No! I'm just a little worried, that's all."

          Lennox walked to the window, lifted the curtain, and peered out. "There they go," he said. The two strangers had left the livery stable and were crossing the street.

          Gilling peeked out the window under Lennox's arm. "They're going into the hotel," he pointed out. "See, they're not just in town for a poker game, they're going to stay. Why don't you go on over and check them out? Ask them what they're in town for? If they're marshals they'll be glad to work with local law enforcement."

          "Hmm," said Lennox, watching the strangers walk up the hotel steps and pause to survey the street behind them before they entered. "Maybe I will. I'll see if they know anything."

          "What if they do?" asked Gilling, chewing on his small mustache nervously. "If they do, what? Maybe we should get out of town."

          "I'm not going anywhere," said Lennox. He pulled the gun out of his holster and checked it carefully, then replaced it. "I'll just go pay them a visit."

          Heyes sank down on the soft mattress with a sigh. "Ah," he said. "A feather bed. I could sleep for a week." The hotel room was not only carpeted, but had a brass bedstead and three sunny windows. “Wish we could stay here longer,” he added, thumping the downy pillows.

          Kid strolled to the window and surveyed the street below. "Anything?" asked Heyes anxiously.

          "Nah," said Kid, letting the curtain fall. "We've got to stop being so jumpy." He sat down in the cushioned chair and pulled his boots off with a sigh of contentment. "This is one nice hotel, bet they've got a good restaurant. I could use a steak."

          "Steak and fried potatoes," Heyes agreed. "And a few beers." He got up and went over to the window, and peered out.

          "Will you stop?" said Kid. "You're worse than I am."

          "I know," said Heyes. He unbuckled his gunbelt and kicked his boots off, then flopped back down on the bed. "I'm gonna take a nap before dinner. "

          "Good idea," said Kid. He got up and laid down on the soft mattress, too. He lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling with open eyes, and then got up and looked out the window. "Damnation,” he growled.

          Heyes was on his feet and beside him in an instant. "Oh, no," he said softly. The door of the sheriff's office was open, and the little man was standing on the threshold, wringing his hands nervously. A tall man was striding purposefully across the street, heading directly towards the hotel, the star on his chest gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.

          "Come on, nap time's over," said Heyes. "Let's get out of here."

           "How?" asked Kid grimly. "He'll be inside in a minute, and there's only one flight of stairs. We're cornered." They looked at each other, then at the door. Heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs, and then a loud knocking made the thin door shake on its hinges.

          Lennox banged on the door again, and shouted, "Open up, this is the sheriff! Anyone in there?" The hotel proprietor, a plump man, panted up the stairs and stood in the dim corridor watching him, eyes wide. "Anything wrong, sir?" he quavered.

          "Maybe," said Lennox shortly. "I've knocked three times and no one answers, but I know they're in there. Maybe there's something wrong, you got a key to this door?"

          "Yes, sir, but..."

          "Open up, then," snapped Lennox. "Quick about it."

          "Yes, sir," said the man, and pulled a jingling ring of keys from his belt. He unlocked the door and then stepped aside hastily and scurried back down the stairs.

          Lennox swung the door open, and waited, a hand on his gun. Nothing happened. He took a step into the room, saying, "What's going on here?" then stopped, looking around. The bedclothes were rumpled, and a pair of saddlebags were hung over a chair, but the room was empty.

          "Damn, I had a brand new shirt in those saddlebags," Kid complained in a whisper, as Heyes silently slid the window shut behind them. They crept across the porch roof, carrying their boots, and looked over the edge. It wasn't a bad jump.

          "I had two pairs of clean socks in mine," Heyes told him. "Into each life some rain must fall, come on." They jumped into the alley from the low porch roof, landing softly in their stocking feet. "Hurry up, " said Heyes hopping on one foot as he pulled a boot on. "He'll figure that one out pretty quick. Let's get the horses and get out of here."

          "A feather bed with no bedbugs," said Kid, looking up at the window of their room regretfully. "We paid for it and everything, too, three dollars and fifty cents."

          "It's the price we pay for being stupid, come on," Heyes said, and Kid yanked on his boots and followed Heyes down back alleyways to the livery stable.

          Gilling stood on the walk outside Lennox's office, gnawing on his mustache, and waited for what seemed a year. No one emerged from the hotel, not Lennox, not the strangers. Suddenly, he couldn't take the suspense anymore. He'd had enough. 

          No family tied him down, he had no reason to stay in Pleasantville; unlike Lennox, who had a prestigious job as sheriff, Gilling had always planned on leaving town when things got tough. It looked like now was the time. He glanced down the street to the comfortable house he lived in alone. There was nothing there he was sentimentally attached to, that he couldn't buy fresh with what was in the suitcase. And if he left now, he wouldn't have to give Lennox his half. There was more than enough cash in the brown leather suitcase for him to live like a king anywhere in the world. He picked the case up and walked hastily towards the livery stable.

          He slipped inside the big barn door, and looked around the stable at the piles of hay and grain sacks, and the horses standing patiently in their stalls. Hank, the proprietor, usually took a dinner break at the hotel at this hour, and was nowhere to be seen, which suited Gilling just fine. He hastened to the stalls and led out a quiet mare that he sometimes rented. He was unaccustomed to saddling up for himself, but he managed to heave a heavy saddle across her back, then hurried over to the big closet where Hank kept the bridles and harnesses.

          Suddenly he stopped and listened intently. He heard a door close, quietly--too quietly for Hank, who always slammed and stamped around. Gilling froze, listening harder, and sure enough, he heard stealthy footsteps and whispers. He slunk into the closet and pulled the door almost shut, then peeked out across the stable. Sure enough, it was the two strangers, as he'd feared. Hot on his trail.

          Kid led their horses out of the stalls while Heyes lugged over the saddles. The stable was quiet in the afternoon sunshine, and they talked in whispers as they worked. Kid swung his saddle onto his horse's back, and began to pull the girth straps tight. "Hate to do this to you, pal," he said, patting the horse’s rump.

          "At least they got some dinner," Heyes grumbled as he trotted over to the closet where the harnesses were kept. He swung the door open, and then Kid heard him give a startled squawk of "Jesus!" Kid looked up and saw the small man who had recognized them, standing in the closet doorway. A small derringer was in his hand, held an inch from the center of Heyes' chest.

          "Hands up," said the little man in an unsteady voice, and both of them raised their arms obediently. The man looked from one to the other, plainly uncertain what to do next. The hand that clutched the derringer was shaking badly. Kid knew well that guns are most dangerous in the hands of frightened people, and from the look on his partner's white face, he could see that Heyes knew it too.

          "Take it easy, mister," said Kid soothingly. "Watch that gun, now, you got us, we're not going anywhere."

          The man glanced at him, but the gun stayed pointed squarely at Heyes. "I'm sorry about this," the stranger quavered. "But it's just ...there's so much money at stake, you see...I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you." His finger tightened on the trigger, and the hammer rose slowly.

"Wait a minute," said Kid, his voice rising a notch. "You don't want to do that, now. You ever shoot a man as close up as that? It'd be a terrible mess." Heyes gave him a glance, but said nothing. "You don't have to shoot us, no need of that," went on Kid in a calm voice. "Just tie us up, easy as pie."

          "Well..." said the man uncertainly. "I suppose I could..."

          "Sure," said Heyes, and made a tight smile. "We'll lie down on the floor, you tie us up good, and you're all set. How 'bout it?"

          "Well, all right," said the man, biting at his mustache. "I never shot anyone before, but...I suppose if I tie you up I can be miles away before you get untied..."

          Heyes and Kid exchanged puzzled glances. "Miles away?" Kid repeated.

          "You bet," said the man. "You'll never catch up with me. Here, lie down on the floor, like you said, both of you," he went on, his voice growing firmer. "Right now."

          "Okay, okay," said Kid, bending down.

          "What are you gonna use, that leather thong there?" Heyes inquired in a casual tone, nodding at the harnesses hung on the wall beside the stranger. As soon as the man's eyes moved, Heyes threw himself to one side, knocking the man's arm up. The gun cracked loudly in his ear, and he heard the bullet whizz past him. Kid sprang across the room and grabbed the little man by the collar, wrenching the derringer out of his trembling hand.

          "You okay?" Kid demanded, turning to look at Heyes without letting go of the stranger. Heyes nodded, panting, and picked himself up off the floor. His hands were shaking, and he leaned against the wall for a minute, limp with relief, as Kid turned back to the stranger with fury in his eyes. "All right, what's going on here?" Kid shouted, shaking the man like a rat. "What the hell are you after anyway?"

          "I...I..." spluttered the little man, pale as a sheet.

          "Talk!" commanded Kid, pulling his gun and jamming it under the man's nose. "Talk! Tell us what's going on or by God I'll..."

          A gunshot crashed in their ears, and the man threw up his arms with a horrid scream, then sprawled on the floor. There was an enormous red hole in the middle of his forehead. Heyes stood rooted to the ground, thinking for a horrified second that Kid had murdered the man, but looking at his partner he saw that Kid was as shocked as he was; he stood staring openmouthed at the corpse and wiping his face where the dead man's blood had spattered it. They both whirled around to see the tall sheriff standing in the doorway, a smoking revolver in his hand. The partners looked blankly at each other, then Kid dropped his gun, and they both raised their hands.

          The sheriff gave them a friendly smile, and nodded. "You two fellas all right?" he inquired politely. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" He holstered his gun, and walked towards them. They both backed up, till the wall stopped them, and stood at bay. "Frank Lennox, happy to be of service," said the tall man, holding out his hand. Heyes took it mechanically, and the sheriff pumped his arm up and down with enthusiasm. "Glad I got here in the nick of time," he said, shaking hands with Kid as well.

          Lennox looked down and prodded the body with the toe of his boot. "Narrow escape you boys had. He's a dangerous lunatic, I've had my eye on him for some time. Was afraid he'd snap and do something like this."

          Heyes resisted the temptation to catch Kid's eye. "Really?" he managed to say. "That's remarkable."

          "It is," agreed the sheriff. "Doesn't look it, does he? Very dangerous man." He looked over at the half-saddled horses. "But you were saddling up, fellas? Leaving town?"

          "Um, well..." Heyes stammered.

          "Don't let me keep you," said Lennox cordially. "Here, can I give you a hand?"

          "Ah, thanks, no, I guess we're all set," Heyes said, trying to think of a convincing explanation for why they had to leave so hurriedly, but Lennox seemed to be the least curious sheriff in the nation. "Excellent!" said Lennox, beaming at them. "Well, I'll just head off and, ah, get the doctor, that’s it, I’ll go get the doc and see if he can do anything for Gilling here."

          "Seems unlikely," said Kid, looking at the gaping red hole between Gilling's staring eyes.

          "Ah, well, you never know," Lennox said airily. "He's a very good doctor. You boys run along, and I'll take care of things here." He hastened off with a cheery wave, leaving the two of them staring after him.

          Finally Heyes shook himself out of his amazement, and smacked Kid on the shoulder. "You heard him, let's go," said Heyes, throwing his saddle across his horse's back. “He don’t have to tell me twice, I’ve spent all the time I want to in this town.”

          "What, and callously leave this wounded man before the doc gets here?" said Kid, looking down at the small corpse. "Something's going on, here, Heyes."

          "That's right, we're going, as fast as we can," said Heyes, yanking on the girth strap. "That guy's crazy as a bedbug, let's get out of here before he comes back and starts shooting again." Kid hesitated for a minute, then grabbed a bridle, and they finished saddling up with lightning speed.

          "Wait a second," said Kid, as Heyes pulled himself into the saddle. "What's this?" He kicked a brown leather suitcase that lay on the ground near Gilling.

          "Who the hell cares, let's go," said Heyes. But Kid knelt and snapped open the latch, then caught his breath as he swung the lid open. Heyes glanced down impatiently, and his jaw dropped.

          The money was piled high, in crisp stacks of hundred dollar bills. It was more money than Kid had ever seen in one place, even in his long career as an outlaw. He looked up at Heyes. The two of them debated wordlessly for a long minute; Kid saw temptation in his partner's eyes, and knew it was mirrored in his own.

          Then Kid  closed the lid of the suitcase softly, and snapped the latch. He mounted his horse, but he still seemed to see the lovely stacks of green dancing before his eyes. They rode away, leaving the suitcase lying near its owner on the blood-spattered hay.