Rising Fire. William W. Johnstone

a thousand apiece.”

      “How else you gonna earn that much money, Juliana?” Curly asked. “You sure never did when you was workin’ in the Duchess’s place in Rapid City.”

      Juliana Montero fastened a cold gaze on Curly and said, “That’s because the Duchess’s customers were cheap owlhoots who never had any money because they were stupid. That description remind you of anybody, Curly?”

      Curly’s cocky grin disappeared and he tightened his grip on his reins, as if he was about to turn his mount toward Juliana’s. Alden said sharply, “Hush up that squabbling, you two. I swear, the way you pick at each other, I’m surprised neither of you has shot the other one yet.”

      “Could happen any day now,” Juliana said.

      “No, it won’t. We’ve got a job to do, and we’re all going to get along.” Alden turned to look at the rest of the men. “Isn’t that right, boys?”

      A couple of the outlaws muttered their agreement, and the others nodded.

      Alden looked hard at Curly and Juliana and said, “Well, what about you two? A truce? No more arguing until we finish this job?”

      The two of them looked at each other. Curly sniffed. Juliana said, “All right. Truce. For now.” She pointed a slender finger at Curly. “But you keep your dirty cracks to yourself.”

      “Just remindin’ you of where you came from, darlin’,” Curly drawled.

      “It doesn’t matter where somebody came from,” Alden snapped. “The only thing that’s important is where they wind up. And for me, I plan on that being San Francisco, once I’ve got enough money saved up.” He nodded toward the settlement. “This is just one more step along the way.”

      It was true that Harkerville didn’t look very impressive. A single street lined with maybe a dozen and a half businesses. A scattering of dwellings ranging from substantial houses to log cabins to ramshackle hovels with tar paper and tin roofs. Not a single building in town was constructed of brick or stone. The largest and most impressive structure was a false-fronted saloon. But almost as large was a building made of thick beams. Alden pointed to it and said, “That’s the bank. Billy Ray said he saw several gents who looked like successful cattlemen going in there.”

      A small young man with a ratlike face nudged his horse ahead as if responding to hearing his name spoken. “That’s right,” he said eagerly. “I done a good job of scoutin’ the place, didn’t I, Alden?”

      “You sure did. Nobody ever noticed you hanging around, did they?”

      “No, sir! Nobody ever notices me.”

      That was the truth. Whenever folks looked at Billy Ray, they immediately dismissed him from their thoughts. That made him a valuable asset for the Simms gang. They never rode into a town to pull a job without Billy Ray going in first to have a look around. Twenty-four hours in a town and he knew it intimately.

      Juliana crossed her hands on the saddle horn and leaned forward. She dressed like a man, in a long, dark brown duster over jeans and a gray shirt. She carried an old Colt Navy in a cross-draw rig on her left hip.

      “So when do we hit this bank?” she asked.

      Alden pulled a turnip watch from the pocket of his black trousers and flipped it open. “No time like the present,” he said after checking the time. “The bank’ll be closing in half an hour. We’ll split up and ease into town between now and then, so folks won’t be as likely to notice this many strangers showing up. You and Curly and me will go in and get the loot. Billy Ray, you’ll be in charge of the horses, as usual.”

      Billy Ray bobbed his head and grinned.

      “Childers, Hamilton, Britt, Dumont,” Alden addressed the other four members of the gang, “you’ll wait outside the bank and try not to look too suspicious. But if there’s any trouble, it’ll be up to you to keep those townspeople from getting in there until we’re ready to light a shuck . . . especially the local law.”

      Alden knew from Billy Ray’s scouting that Harkerville had a town marshal, a fairly young man with a wife and two little kids, but he was the settlement’s only star packer.

      The plan was identical to the one they had followed in holding up banks in half a dozen other towns in Wyoming. They had been working their way south and now weren’t far from the Colorado border. Only one of the robberies had played out differently because Juliana hadn’t been feeling well that day and Childers had had to take her place inside the bank. But everything had gone all right and the substitution hadn’t caused any problems.

      Since everyone knew what they were supposed to do, there wasn’t any point in waiting. A few of the men wished each other good luck, and then they scattered to ride into Harkerville from different directions. None of them would arrive together except for Alden, Curly, and Juliana, who would be siding each other as they entered the bank.

      They angled down the slope and struck the road that led into the settlement from the east. They didn’t get in a hurry as they approached the edge of town. They wanted to walk into the bank no more than five minutes before it was supposed to close for the day.

      As they rode, Curly said quietly, “Hey, Juliana, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You know I didn’t mean nothin’. I just like to pick at you a little. Shoot, I don’t care what you used to do for a livin’.”

      “I wouldn’t think so, since you were one of the regular customers at the Duchess’s place.”

      Curly grinned. “We had some good ol’ times there, didn’t we?”

      “Good for you, maybe. You just got what you came for and left.” Juliana shrugged, then reached over and patted him on the leg. “But you were always nicer than some, I’ll give you that. You talked too much, but there are worse things.”

      “You was always my favorite, you know.”

      “I know.”

      The three of them were ambling along the street now, with the bank up ahead to their right. They angled toward an empty hitchrack that wasn’t directly in front of the bank but was nearby. They left their horses there, and as they stepped up on the boardwalk, Alden glanced both directions along the street and spotted the rest of his men, Britt and Hamilton on this side of the street, Dumont, Childers, and Billy Ray on the other. None of them paid any attention to the others. Once Alden, Curly, and Juliana were inside the bank, Billy Ray would start gathering up the horses and bring them, one by one, to the hitchrack where the three ringleaders of the gang had left their mounts. He was very good at being unobtrusive about what he was doing, but when the time came for them to make their getaway, all the horses would be waiting together.

      The bank had double doors with glass in the upper halves. One of them opened when the three outlaws were less than twenty feet away. They didn’t slow down as a man stepped out of the bank and started to turn in the other direction. That fella had had a close call and didn’t even know it.

      But he didn’t keep going. Instead, he stopped, looked back over his shoulder, and then turned around to face the three of them. He was young, medium-sized, wearing a gray suit and vest and a black hat. He looked at Juliana and exclaimed, “Caroline?”

      All three of the outlaws stiffened. Caroline was the name Juliana had used when she was working for the Duchess in the house in Rapid City. What were the odds that they would run into one of her former customers in this one-horse town, as Curly had called it, hundreds of miles away?

      Gruffly, Juliana said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister. That ain’t my name, and I don’t know any Caroline.”

      “Well, you look mighty different dressed like that,” the man said, “but I would’ve sworn—”

      “Sorry, friend,” Alden said. “The lady told you you’ve made a mistake. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some business we need to take care of.”

      “Sure,