CHAPTER 2 (Robbery of the Tradesman County Bank)
It was a windy day in the old west about a hundred years ago as Tom Drake went about the duties of closing up the small western town’s only bank. The Tradesman County Bank, where everyone within twenty-five miles did their banking, closed at four in the afternoon. Hours of watching and waiting had brought one cagey outlaw to the point he was on this day. Arty had spent many days casing the joint for the best way and best time to rob the bank. Robbery and stealing was what Arty did best. The fact is that was about all Arty done, besides wine, women and song. Actually he drank stronger stuff than wine and couldn't sing in tune at all. In truth the reason Arty had knocked off so many banks was to finance his naughty habits.
He hadn't robbed a bank for maybe six months. The money he had taken from the earlier robbery was pretty well used up. That's why he was outside this bank on this particular day.
Arty couldn't control his spending habits. He would flaunt his money when he had it but refused to work so robbing banks was his source of financing the many bad habits he was cursed with and keeping his girl happy.
There wasn't another soul at the bank at the moment except Drake and as he went to close the door the wiry, dark haired character with a bandanna over his face burst in waving a forty-five in one hand and carrying two saddle bags in the other.
"O.K. man," he said,"fill'em up. Don't try anything funny and I just might let ya live." Drake didn't see much of the man's face but he swore he knew those brown eyes which stared daggers at him now. Drake didn't try to be a hero. The banker simply took the bags and filled them with about twenty thousand dollars in twenty's, fifty's and hundred-dollar bills as instructed. Twenty Thousand dollars at that time was a pretty fair amount of money. A couple of people could live well off it for a long time. Arty and his girl would live to well off it for a much shorter period of time.
"Now lay down on your belly and put your hands behind your back," the robber demanded.
When he left with the money Drake was lying on the floor with his hands tied behind him and a gag in his mouth. He knew it would only be a matter of a half-hour or so before the sheriff dropped by. If Drake didn't check in with the sheriff at his office after closing the bank the sheriff always came looking. This was a piece of information that Arty had not taken into account. Drake lay there trying to remember where he had seen those brown eyes.
At that same moment, the wind blew strong from the southwest as a figure huddled behind an old shed at the edge of town where there was a perfect view of the beautiful red glow of the sunset. She wasn't looking at the sun, though. She looked up from the book she was reading to see if anyone was coming but saw nobody. Andorra had been Artys’ main squeeze for about twenty years. Twenty years ago at the age of fifteen, she had found it was an exciting life full of romance and intrigue but now at the age of thirty-five, it was becoming wearisome to her.
