Jake saw a sheriff’s deputy running in his direction. “Go around behind the bank!” he yelled to the man.
The deputy hesitated, then ducked into an alley.
“Who’s out there!” a man inside yelled.
“Jake Harkner!” Jake called back. “There are innocent people in there! Send them out!”
“Like hell! They’re our way out!”
There came more shouts and another scuffle inside. Two shots were fired, and the next scream sounded like Randy.
“Jesus,” Jake whispered. Was she hurt?
“Bring back our horses or the women in here are dead!” someone roared. “We already killed a teller for trying to run!”
Jake waved his gun at a young boy standing near two of the horses, motioning for him to bring them over. “A boy’s collecting the horses!” he shouted. “Don’t shoot! He’s just a kid!”
Excited, the boy ran toward Jake with the horses’ reins in his hand, and Jake grabbed them. “Get out of here!” he told the boy. “Get behind something!”
The boy ran off, and Jake holstered one gun in order to keep hold of the reins to the two horses, plus the one he’d been using for cover.
“I’m bringing the horses,” he yelled again. “There’s two left in front of the bank!” He walked them across the road, staying between the horses as he quickly wrapped the reins around a hitching post. He backed away then, putting a hand to the wound in his side. It was only then he realized how badly he was bleeding. There wasn’t time to worry about it. His wife and granddaughter were inside that bank. He backed away, wiping blood from his hand onto his pants. He ducked behind a freight wagon sitting on the same side of the street, several feet from the bank.
“You’ve got your horses! Send the women and child out first and let them get out of the way. Do that and I’ll let you ride out of town. But if you hurt any of them in there, you’re dead men!”
“Jake! We’re all right!” It was Randy.
“That really Jake Harkner out there?” a man inside yelled.
“It’s me!”
“Sonofabitch!” another man swore. “I think he killed Matt and Billy…and the sonofabitch blew a man’s head off last year for hurting his son.”
“You bet your ass I did, and you’ll all die, too, if you harm those women or that little girl!”
“Grampa!” Tricia cried again.
“You stay still, Button!” Jake yelled back. “You’ll be okay.”
“I ain’t comin’ out if it’s Harkner out there!” one of the men shouted. “I don’t believe you when you say we can ride out!”
“Believe it! All you have to do is send out the women and children!”
“You’re a lyin’ sonofabitch!” a man yelled. “Jake Harkner is a no-good outlaw who used to rob banks himself, and he don’t ever leave a man alive! You can’t even count the number of men you’ve killed!”
Jake recognized the voice as the one doing most of the talking. “Who’s in there?” He stayed behind the wagon.
“George Callahan, and after today, I’ll be famous for being the man who shot down Jake Harkner!”
“Come out and try it!” That was a name he recognized. Callahan was a train robber whom the law and Pinkerton detectives had been after for a long time.
“I’m comin’ out, all right, with four other men! And with your wife and her friend and the little girl and another woman! One wrong move and every one of them is dead!”
There came another scuffle. Finally, a tall, burly man with messy blond hair emerged from the bank with an arm around Randy’s neck, keeping her in front of him, a six-gun pointed at her head. Jake saw the terror in her eyes. He felt sick at the sight. He’d worked so hard at helping her overcome her fears, and now this. Callahan was a huge man, and Randy was so small. A second man came out with Teresa in front of him and a third man holding a squirming little Tricia in a tight grip. A fourth man kept another woman in front of him, a frail-looking older woman.
“Susan!” her husband yelled from across the street.
A fifth man came out, carrying four canvas bags stuffed with what was obviously money.
“Let the women and little girl go, Callahan, or you won’t live to see the sun set!” Jake warned.
“You can’t shoot long as I have your wife in front of me,” Callahan answered. “And you ain’t gonna shoot Jimbo over there while he’s holdin’ the little girl.”
“Don’t bet on it!”
“No!” Susan’s husband pleaded. “You’ll kill my wife!”