The Chase by Clive Cussler (motivational books for students .txt) 📗

“I guess you could say that,” Pardee replied confidently. “There’s no way it could succeed.”

Margaret left the Pardee house and walked toward the Silver Belle. As soon as she was out of sight, she ran down an alley to the New Sheridan Hotel to pack her meager clothes. She felt pleased with herself and could not believe her luck. Staying with the sheriff and his wife would give her access to most of the town. When her brother arrived, she would have enough information for him to plan a foolproof crime.

Her only problem was the whereabouts of her brother. To her knowledge, he had not arrived in town, and tomorrow was the only day the payrolls could be robbed before they went to the mines for distribution to the miners. She began to feel extremely uneasy.

26

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, A BLACK-HAIRED WOMAN drove a smart-looking buggy pulled by a dappled gray horse on the road into Telluride. The road led from the ranching community of Montrose, a rail terminus for the Rio Grande Southern Railroad. She had arrived from Denver and rented the rig and horse at the local stable. She was dressed in a long buckskin skirt over a pair of pointed-toe leather boots. Her upper torso was covered by a nicely knit green sweater under a wolfskin fur coat. A lady’s-style flat-topped cowboy hat was set squarely on her head. She was fashionably attired for the West, but not ostentatious.

She came onto Colorado Avenue, passed the San Miguel County Courthouse, and pulled the horse to a stop in front of the town stable. She climbed down from the buggy and tied the horse to a hitching post. The stable owner came out and lifted his hat.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?”

“Yes, I wonder if you would please feed and water my horse. I have to be on the road back to Montrose this afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the stable owner politely, slightly taken aback by a voice that had a gentle harshness about it. “I’ll take care of it. While I’m at it, I’ll tighten your front wheels. They look a mite loose.”

“You’re very kind, thank you. Oh, and by the way, my sister will come for the buggy and pay you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman left the stable and walked a block to the New Sheridan Hotel. She approached the desk clerk and asked, “Do you have a Miss Rachel Jordan registered here?”

The clerk shook his head, stared at what he saw as an attractive woman, and said, “No, ma’am, she checked out last night.” He paused, turned, and pulled an envelope out of a mail-and-key slot. “But she said if someone asked for her to give them this.”

The woman thanked the clerk, walked out onto the sidewalk, opened the envelope, and read the note. She stuffed it in her purse and began walking through town. After a short hike, she came to the Lone Tree Cemetery, on a hill north of the San Miguel River. She passed through the gate and walked among the tombstones, noting that most of the deceased had died from mine accidents, snow slides, and miner’s consumption.

A pretty blond woman was sitting on a bench beside a grave site, leaning back and sunning herself. Out of the corner of one eye, she caught the approach of another woman. She sat up and stared at the intruder, who stopped and looked down at her. Margaret began to laugh.

“My God, Jacob,” she finally gasped. “That’s the most ingenious disguise you’ve ever created.”

Cromwell smiled. “I thought you’d approve.”

“A good thing you’re short, thin, and wiry.”

“I don’t know why I never thought of it before.” He awkwardly bunched up his buckskin skirt and sat down on the bench next to Margaret. “Tell me, sister dear, what have you learned since you’ve been here?”

Margaret told him how she became friendly with the sheriff and his wife. She handed him a sketch she’d made of the Telluride First National Bank’s interior and a description of the employees. Her report included the arrival of the payroll shipment from the bank in Denver and the counting today before it was sent to the mines tomorrow.

Cromwell looked at his watch. “We have one more hour before the bank closes. The best time to remove the currency and leave town.”

“I spotted a man hanging around the railroad depot. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I suspect he might have been a Van Dorn agent who was on the lookout for you.”

Cromwell looked thoughtful. “Even if Van Dorn sends agents to watch train arrivals and departures during payroll shipments, they’re only chasing a phantom. No way they could know where I’ll strike next.”

“If they’re wise to your boxcar, it’s a good thing you had it repainted.” She looked at him quizzically. “Just how do you expect us to make a clean escape after you rob the bank?”

Cromwell grinned wolfishly. “Who would suspect a pair of clean-cut, attractive ladies riding slowly out of town in a horse and buggy?”

She placed her arm around his shoulders. “The simplest plan is the best plan. You are brilliant, brother. You never cease to amaze me.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” he said, rising to his feet. “We don’t have much time. The payroll awaits.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“Go to the stable and pick up my horse and buggy. I told the stable owner my sister would come by to get the rig. Then wait at the back door of the bank.”

WHILE IRVINE watched the train station and town railyard, Bell and Curtis manned the Telluride Bank. Sitting in Murray Oxnard’s office, Bell began to think he had bet on the wrong horse. There were only ten minutes left before closing time and no sign of the bandit. Playing the role of a teller, Irvine was getting ready to close out his cashbox in anticipation of waiting on the last customer.

Bell glanced down at the .45 Colt automatic he’d