Fallen Angel

Part 2

Early the next morning, Hank and Zeke were at the bank before it even opened, knocking on the door. A small, thin man pulled back the shade and when he saw Zeke he let them inside. "Morning, deputy."

"Morning, Peters," Zeke said, nodding his head.

"What can I do for you?" Peters asked rubbing his hands together.

"Mr. Peters, my name's Hank Sheridan." Hank held out his hand. "I'm the new marshal and we have reason to believe that the Carlin brothers might attempt to rob your bank today."

For a second the manager just looked back and forth between them, then his eyes grew wide and he backed away from the door. "Marshal, what should I do?"

"Carry on business as usual, but make sure all your tellers have guns handy and are ready for anything. Zeke here is going to be waiting in the back office, watching for them. I'll be on the lookout from the store across the street. We have to catch them in the act and we want to try to capture them but are prepared for gunplay."

Peters nodded throughout the little speech and finally stopped rubbing his hands. "Is it just the two of you?" he asked.

"Carlin made a mistake last night, letting on about the bank, but today he might be more careful. I don't want to scare them off," Hank said. "I want it to look as normal as possible. Zeke and I've done this sort of thing before. Only it was foxes, not outlaws."

"Well, Peters, I think it's almost time to open." Zeke smiled, clapping the manager on the back and startling him.

"Oh, yes, of course." Peters flipped the sign in the door and then hurried back to the counter to talk to the two tellers who'd been watching them avidly.

"When do you think they'll come, Hank?" Zeke asked, his face suddenly serious.

"Hard to say, we might have to stakeout all day."

Zeke winced and held up a small paper bag. "I don't think I packed enough food."

After leaving Zeke at the bank, Hank crossed the street to the mercantile store. He gave a vague explanation to the proprietor who was only too glad to help out the new marshal. He even set up a stool by the window for Hank. He might have been a real nuisance if he hadn't had to open the store. A few customers trickled in, keeping him busy, and Hank was generally ignored.

Two hours passed and Hank opened up his own bag and snacked a bit on the jerked meat and biscuit Zeke had packed for him, but his eyes never strayed from the front door of the bank, until a pretty redhead turned the corner. He watched Gina as she walked down the boardwalk. She stopped right outside the store and was about to cross the street when Hank opened the door and called her name in a low voice. When she turned and saw him, she moved toward him, but before she could say a word he pulled her inside.

Ignoring the stares from some of the patrons, he led her back to his place near the window. "I assume you were looking for me." He grinned at the funny way her eyebrows pinched together and braced himself, but she didn't berate him.

"I saw them," she said coolly.

"The Carlins?" Hank lowered his voice, his smile vanishing.

"Yes, both of them. I was back behind the saloon when they rode past. They were going at a slow walk so I took the alleys and came here as fast as I could."

Hank looked out the window in the direction of the saloon and saw two riders coming slowly up the street. One was hunched low in the saddle, obviously not wanting to draw any attention to himself. That would most likely be Trent, Hank surmised. Tim was practically standing in his stirrups, both horse and rider chomping at the bit. A few people were milling about but didn't take any notice of the riders. A wagon with a family drove by in the opposite direction. The street was unusually quiet, as if it knew what was about to happen and was holding its breath.