shotgun guard will be the one they’re looking for first? They’d blast you off the top before you could lift a finger.”
“I’ve thought about that. I had an idea I’d ride inside. You say you haven’t had a guard, so it’s likely they won’t be expecting one.”
Rollins settled back again. “All right. What do you want to do?”
“Have the job, stay out of sight, and make one run over the route to sort of get the lay of the land. I’d like to talk to your drivers, too.”
Rollins shook his head. “No, that’s too risky. One of them might say something. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. We have a bed in the back of the station here. We can fix you up there, you can eat and sleep there, and you can talk to Tobin Dixie. He’s our smartest driver, and very likely he’s the one you’ll have. He knows every inch of the route, knows it the way you know the shape of your face.”
That night, sitting on the edge of a cot in the back room at the stage station, I listened to Dixie. He was a small, wiry man with sandy hair, lean jaws constantly busy with Navy plug, and shrewd, careful eyes. Right off, I liked him. There was something about him that told you he’d stand with you.
“It ain’t so easy, Tucker. The first ten mile is open country, right out in the sagebrush. There’s no cover, none a-tall, and no place to hide a horse…not even room to hide your hat.
“Then the road goes uphill for three, four mile. Winding road, lots of cover. There’s one big gray boulder that’s been used by half a dozen holdup men. Sticks right out into the road.
“After that it’s all downhill, right to the next station. There’s lots of brush and boulders, but the stage is moving too fast to stop it easy. Only one holdup man tried that stretch, and the stage just ran off and left him standing there.”
We talked quite a spell, and when Tobin Dixie had gone I stretched out on the bed, put my hands behind my head and began to study on what I’d heard.
A logical place would be on the slow upgrade, but that didn’t seem what Heseltine would do. Maybe on top? I thought about that, but didn’t like it either.
The thing was, I was going to have to guess right. If I didn’t, I could get myself shot…and probably would anyway.
On the downhill side the stage would be rolling too fast…but suppose, for some reason it wasn’t? Suppose for some reason it had to go slow?
The more I studied on it the more likely it seemed, if it could be worked. But how could a man slow down a stage without being on it? If one of them did ride the stage they would see me, and I would see them before they ever left town. It didn’t seem a very sure possibility.
A boulder or a log in the road? No, the driver would know right away something was wrong, and would either turn around, if there was room, or go around the obstacle, or get shaped up to fight.
Bob Heseltine was no fool, and he wouldn’t choose a place where they were likely to be ready for him. All the way up that slow, winding hill they would be set for trouble, and when they slowed at the top to take a breather, they would be sitting with their guns ready. On the long ride downhill they would be relaxed, feeling the danger was over. The question was, how could the stage be slowed down without its being a warning.
Tobin Dixie had gone over the road for me thoroughly, but there’s nothing like seeing a trail for yourself. So I had that to do, if I could do it without being seen.
At the same time, holed up as I was, I had a chance to study the situation. I did not want to kill anybody, and particularly I didn’t want to kill either Reese or Heseltine. I wanted my money back, and I was sure they hadn’t spent all the money as yet…they hadn’t had time.
It seemed likely they had some idea in mind that called for more money than they had. Instead of just whooping it up in saloons, they must have an idea of going somewhere else and starting something else that required more
“I’ve thought about that. I had an idea I’d ride inside. You say you haven’t had a guard, so it’s likely they won’t be expecting one.”
Rollins settled back again. “All right. What do you want to do?”
“Have the job, stay out of sight, and make one run over the route to sort of get the lay of the land. I’d like to talk to your drivers, too.”
Rollins shook his head. “No, that’s too risky. One of them might say something. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. We have a bed in the back of the station here. We can fix you up there, you can eat and sleep there, and you can talk to Tobin Dixie. He’s our smartest driver, and very likely he’s the one you’ll have. He knows every inch of the route, knows it the way you know the shape of your face.”
That night, sitting on the edge of a cot in the back room at the stage station, I listened to Dixie. He was a small, wiry man with sandy hair, lean jaws constantly busy with Navy plug, and shrewd, careful eyes. Right off, I liked him. There was something about him that told you he’d stand with you.
“It ain’t so easy, Tucker. The first ten mile is open country, right out in the sagebrush. There’s no cover, none a-tall, and no place to hide a horse…not even room to hide your hat.
“Then the road goes uphill for three, four mile. Winding road, lots of cover. There’s one big gray boulder that’s been used by half a dozen holdup men. Sticks right out into the road.
“After that it’s all downhill, right to the next station. There’s lots of brush and boulders, but the stage is moving too fast to stop it easy. Only one holdup man tried that stretch, and the stage just ran off and left him standing there.”
We talked quite a spell, and when Tobin Dixie had gone I stretched out on the bed, put my hands behind my head and began to study on what I’d heard.
A logical place would be on the slow upgrade, but that didn’t seem what Heseltine would do. Maybe on top? I thought about that, but didn’t like it either.
The thing was, I was going to have to guess right. If I didn’t, I could get myself shot…and probably would anyway.
On the downhill side the stage would be rolling too fast…but suppose, for some reason it wasn’t? Suppose for some reason it had to go slow?
The more I studied on it the more likely it seemed, if it could be worked. But how could a man slow down a stage without being on it? If one of them did ride the stage they would see me, and I would see them before they ever left town. It didn’t seem a very sure possibility.
A boulder or a log in the road? No, the driver would know right away something was wrong, and would either turn around, if there was room, or go around the obstacle, or get shaped up to fight.
Bob Heseltine was no fool, and he wouldn’t choose a place where they were likely to be ready for him. All the way up that slow, winding hill they would be set for trouble, and when they slowed at the top to take a breather, they would be sitting with their guns ready. On the long ride downhill they would be relaxed, feeling the danger was over. The question was, how could the stage be slowed down without its being a warning.
Tobin Dixie had gone over the road for me thoroughly, but there’s nothing like seeing a trail for yourself. So I had that to do, if I could do it without being seen.
At the same time, holed up as I was, I had a chance to study the situation. I did not want to kill anybody, and particularly I didn’t want to kill either Reese or Heseltine. I wanted my money back, and I was sure they hadn’t spent all the money as yet…they hadn’t had time.
It seemed likely they had some idea in mind that called for more money than they had. Instead of just whooping it up in saloons, they must have an idea of going somewhere else and starting something else that required more
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