One More Sunrise (17 page)

Kathryn Tully felt her nerves tighten.
If it’s that prosperous
, she thought,
it will be well-guarded
.

When Tag went on to say that sometime next year, he wanted to rob Salt Lake City’s two banks simultaneously, Kathryn’s stomach began to wrench. Try as she might, she was still having a horrible time giving in to living like this indefinitely.

She thought about Darryl Moran being killed as a result of the stagecoach robbery, and in her mind, she kept picturing Gib lying dead on a slab after he had been gunned down during a bank robbery. This was so real that it made her clench her fists underneath the table. She bit down hard in an effort to hide her feelings and shook away the panic that had bubbled up like acid in her chest.

While Tag was giving the details of his plan to rob the two Salt Lake City banks to the group, he ran his gaze to Kathryn’s face, and she did her best to disguise the turmoil that was going on inside her.

Tag could see that Kathryn was uncomfortable with the subject at hand, but said nothing to her.

Tag went on. “As I was telling the boys before the cougar showed up, since we haven’t hit any banks in southwest Wyoming, we’ll go there after the Vernal holdup. We’ll hit the banks in Evanston, Green River, and Rock Springs. We’ll do this next month, then hibernate here at the cabin for the winter.”

Tony Chacone was draining his coffee cup. Kathryn left the table, saying she would get him some more coffee. As she moved toward the stove where the coffeepot sat over the fire, she glanced out the kitchen window. What she saw made her heart bang her ribs. She stopped, looked back at the others. “There’s movement out there in the trees! Someone’s coming!”

Tony chuckled. “Aw, it’s just an ol’ mountain lion, Kathryn. He’s prowling around down there in the forest.”

Kathryn’s face was white with fear. She shook her head. “It’s no mountain lion. It’s a man on horseback, and he’s heading straight for the cabin. There’s got to be more men with him. It’s a posse as sure as anything!”

Suddenly all five men were on their feet, pulling their revolvers, and charging toward the window.

Lucinda followed, her own face almost as pale as Kathryn’s.

Tag reached the window first and pressed his face close to the glass. “Hey! It’s no posse, Kathryn. It’s Doke Veatch! All of you remember that I told you he’d be coming up here to see us.”

Bart looked past Tag’s shoulder. “Whew! It’s Doke, all right. I’m sure glad it’s not a posse.”

Tag slid his gun back in its holster and hurried to the door. He stepped out on the porch, with the others on his heels, just as Doke drew up and pulled rein. He smiled. “Howdy, Tag. Howdy, Bart. Howdy, Jason.”

The Moran brothers bounded off the porch while Doke was dismounting, and each one shook his hand, saying how good it was to see him.

Tag took Doke by the arm, led him up the steps, and said,
“Doke, I want you to meet Bart’s wife, Lucinda.”

Lucinda offered her hand. Doke took it, saying what a pleasure it was to meet her.

Tag then introduced him to Gib and Kathryn Tully, and to Tony Chacone.

When Doke had shaken hands with them, Tag said, “We were eating lunch when we saw you coming, Doke. You hungry?”

The Wells Fargo shotgunner patted his stomach. “Sure am.”

Moments later, they were seated at the table with fresh, hot coffee in their cups, and while the hungry Doke Veatch wolfed down his food, he and the Moran brothers talked about old times in their childhood.

When Darryl’s name came up, there was sadness on their faces.

Tag said, “Doke, I’ve been thinking about that doctor in Cheyenne.”

Doke swallowed a mouthful of chewed beans. “Uh-huh?”

“I still wonder if he let Darryl die because you told him Darryl was an outlaw.”

Doke shook his head. “I don’t think so. Darryl was already close to death when I carried him into the doctor’s office.”

Tag frowned. “Lots of men with a bullet in them have been close to death, but good doctors have been able to save them. I think he saw a chance to rid the world of an outlaw.”

Doke didn’t like the look in Tag’s eyes. “I—I really don’t see it that way, Tag.”

The frown deepened. “What’s his name? Wayne Brogan? Something like that.”

“Dane Logan. Dr. Dane Logan.”

“Oh yeah. Dane Logan. I won’t forget it again. I think Darryl would still be alive right now if Logan hadn’t asked you about the circumstances when he was shot.”

Doke’s face pinched. “Tag, I hope you understand why I had
to tell Dr. Logan that Darryl was shot while holding up the stage. If I’d lied about how Darryl was shot, and for some reason the doctor called in the law to investigate, I could have been found a liar. This could have led to an investigation that might prove that the Moran brothers and I grew up together in Scottsbluff. You remember I told you I didn’t let the doctor know that I knew Darryl.”

“Yeah. I’m not blaming you for anything, Doke. It means a lot to me that you tried to save his life.”

“Right,” spoke up Bart. “We really appreciate it.”

Jason smiled. “We sure do, Doke. And let me say, it sure is good to see you again. Boy, were we surprised when we stopped that stage and saw you sitting up there in the shotgunner’s seat.”

Tag laughed. “That’s for sure!” He leaned his elbows on the table and looked Doke in the eye. “Did your driver give you a problem when you said you wanted to pick up that wounded outlaw and take him to a doctor?”

Doke shook his head. “No. The passenger who shot Darryl wanted to just let him lie there and die, but the driver went along with me wanting to take Darryl’s horse and get him to a doctor in Cheyenne. He told me to go ahead and do it.”

There was a quiet moment. Kathryn broke the silence by saying, “Doke, Tag has told us a little bit about saving your life when you were both just boys. We’re about finished with lunch here, but after lunch, will you tell us about it?”

Doke grinned, looked at Tag, then back at Kathryn. “Sure. I’ll tell you all about it.”

After lunch, Lucinda and Kathryn told the men they would do the dishes after they had heard Doke’s story, and everyone gathered in the parlor and sat down.

As requested, Doke told the story so Kathryn, Lucinda, Gib, and Tony could hear the details of how Tag saved his life at the North Platte River when they were teenagers.

When he finished, Doke said, “So you can understand how I
feel about Tag. He risked his life to save mine in that debris-filled river.” He blinked at the excess moisture gathering in his eyes and cleared his throat. “I owe my life to Tag. I will always be his friend.”

Kathryn stood up. “That’s quite a story, Doke. Well, Lucinda, the dirty dishes await us.”

The women excused themselves and headed for the kitchen.

Doke looked at Tag, then ran his gaze over the faces of the other men. “I’ve read about you guys and your bank robberies in the newspapers. I know there are lawmen all over these parts who would love to catch you and put you in prison. How is it that you are able to evade the law when you’ve had so many posses on your trail after you’ve held up bank after bank?”

Tag grinned at him. “Well, Doke ol’ pal, the main reason we established our hideout high up here in the Rockies is because it’s so much harder to track us in the mountains. If we were hiding out somewhere on the plains, it would be much simpler to catch us. Some other time, I’ll tell how we found this old cabin and claimed it for ourselves. Anyway, you noticed in your ride up here that there are many streams flowing down the mountains.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Well, when we’re running from a posse, we take advantage of those numerous streams by riding our horses in them. None of them are more than four feet deep.” He paused. “I’m not talking about the Cache La Poudre River. In some places, it’s ten and twelve feet deep. I mean those small streams.”

Doke nodded.

“You see, Doke,” Tag went on, “there is no way to track someone who’s riding his horse in a stream. So we ride those streams. We always find a rocky place to enter them, so the horses leave no tracks. When we come out of the streams, usually after several miles, we always pick a rocky place to do it.”

Doke nodded. “Smart.”

“Yeah,” put in Jason, “and often we switch streams to further throw those relentless posses off. This makes it virtually impossible for the law to find us.”

Doke shook his head in wonderment. “That’s good thinking, guys. I hope they never catch you.”

Tag set his gaze on Doke. “Tell you what, my friend, I think it’s time for you and me to have that private talk I told you about.”

“Sure,” said Doke, slipping his pocket watch from his vest pocket. He glanced at it and put it back. “I have to leave by around four o’clock and head back to Fort Collins so I can get a good night’s rest. I have to be at the Wells Fargo office early in the morning. My stage will be heading north just after sunup. Four o’clock will give us enough time, won’t it?”

“Sure,” said Tag, rising to his feet. “Let’s put on our jackets and go outside. We’ll talk out there on the porch.”

Moments later, the two friends sat down on wooden chairs on the front porch. The late September breeze made them button their jackets all the way to their necks. The roar of the river below filled the clear mountain air.

Tag adjusted his chair so he could look at Doke, then leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “As you know, we really made a good haul when we robbed your stage of that cash box from the Fort Collins bank.”

“Yeah. Fifty thousand.”

“We like that kind of money, Doke. I understand Wells Fargo carries those cash boxes quite often for the banks.”

Doke nodded, feeling a tightness forming in his chest.

“I won’t tell you how I found out about the fifty thousand you were carrying that day, Doke, but I got to thinking about it. As shotgunner, you always know when you’re going to have a cash box, don’t you?”

Doke’s mouth was going dry. “Well, yeah.”

“How about we work out a way you can let us know in
advance? We’ll rob the stage, and we’ll give you a cut of the take. Nobody ever has to know that you’re the one who gives us the information.”

Doke looked around, his mind racing. The pressure he was feeling from Tag made his flesh crawl. “Tag, I’d like to help you because of what you did for me that day at the North Platte River. But—but—”

Tag’s brow furrowed. “But what?”

Doke took a deep breath. His voice came out in a quiver. “Tag, the people at Wells Fargo have been very good to me. I—I have a sense of loyalty to them like I have toward you in a different way. I—I just can’t do it to them. Whenever they are robbed of a cash box, just like when you and your gang robbed my stage, Wells Fargo has to make it up to the banks. They trust me. I just can’t betray that trust. Do you understand?”

Tag Moran studied his old friend’s nervous features for a long moment, then eased back on the chair. “Yeah. I understand. I’m an outlaw, Doke, but I still have to admire a man who has principles about him.” He extended his open right hand. When Doke took it and they gripped one another’s hands, Tag said, “Still friends?”

A grin curved Doke’s mouth. “You bet. Still friends.”

Tag stood up, pulled a pocket watch from his pants pocket, and looked at it. “It’ll be four o’clock in twenty minutes. Let’s go back inside for a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure.”

When they entered the parlor, Lucinda and Kathryn had returned from the kitchen.

Jason looked up from his chair and smiled. “Well, Tag, did you two get whatever it was all talked out?”

Tag nodded. “We did. As Doke told us earlier, he has to leave by four o’clock. Anything else you want to say to him, Jason? Bart?”

Everyone stood up.

“Just that it sure was good seeing you, ol’ pal,” said Bart.

They shook hands, then Jason stuck out his hand. “Come back and see us again, okay?”

“Sure,” said Doke as they shook hands. He ran his gaze over the other faces, then looked at Tag. “I’ll say it again. I hope the law never catches up to you.”

Kathryn was standing next to her husband. She smiled at Doke. “I hope they don’t either.”

Gib took hold of her hand and squeezed it.

Everyone put on jackets so they could walk Doke out to his horse. As they stepped out onto the porch, Tag laid a hand on Doke’s shoulder.

“Like Jason said, Doke, come back and see us again.”

“I’ll do it, Tag.”

With that, Doke moved down the porch steps, untied his horse, and swung into the saddle. He smiled, gave a wave, wheeled the horse about, and rode down the steep slope through the trees. Everyone called out their good-byes. Doke turned around in the saddle and gave them a friendly wave.

Seconds later, he and his horse passed from view.

As Lucinda held her gaze on the spot where Doke was last seen, a cold dread took hold of her heart. She looked at Tag. “What’s to keep some lawman from following him up here?”

Tag’s brow furrowed. “No one even suspects that he knows us, so why would they follow him?”

Lucinda shrugged, a worried frown creasing her brow. “I don’t know. I only know I have a strong, uneasy feeling about him. Maybe you shouldn’t be so open with him about things, Tag.”

Bart took hold of her hand. “You worry too much, sweetheart. Doke isn’t going to do anything to bring harm to the man who saved his life. His loyalty to Tag is steadfast and strong.”

Lucinda shrugged her shoulders again. “I hope you’re right about him. All I can do is tell you how I feel.”

Kathryn shivered and rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but with that sun going down behind those peaks over there, this breeze is getting colder. I’m going inside.”

“Us boys are gonna go feed and water the horses,” said Tag. “You ladies go back in the cabin.”

As Lucinda moved inside on Kathryn’s heels, a heaviness about Doke Veatch still pervaded her senses.

While the men were walking around the side of the cabin toward the barn, Jason said, “Tag, I wish we could invite Doke to join the gang, but I have a feeling he would never become an outlaw.”