One More Sunrise (9 page)

Buck frowned. “Swimming with debris in the river?”

“Well, up to that point it wasn’t too bad, but I’m about to tell you of the change that came.”

“Okay.”

“After a while, I decided to go in again, but at that moment, heavy debris was floating on the river’s surface. Tag told me I should wait till the heavy stuff passed. But you know how twelve-year-old boys are. I laughed and told Tag I could swim around the debris. So I ran and dived in. I didn’t know it, but there was a log floating just under the choppy, foam-covered surface. When I dived in, I struck my head on the log and it knocked me cold.”

Buck shook his head. “Oh, boy.”

“Well, the Moran brothers saw what happened, and it was Tag who dived in to rescue me in spite of the debris that was coming down the river. They told me later that I kept going under the surface, then bobbing to the top. Tag had to risk his own life to finally get his hands on me. He pulled me out and pumped water from my lungs. When I came to, Bart, Jason, and Darryl told me how Tag risked his life to save me from drowning. I hugged him and thanked him for it.”

“I can see why you were close to him.”

“Very close, even though he’s five years older than me. It grieves me, Buck, that Tag has become an outlaw, but I still owe him for laying his own life on the line to save mine. This was one reason why I wanted to try to save Darryl’s life yesterday. He was Tag’s brother, and I’ll always feel a debt to Tag.”

“I can see that,” said Buck. “It’s just too bad Tag and his brothers became outlaws.”

“Yeah. It puts a wall between us, for sure.”

At just after nine o’clock, the stage pulled into Douglas, and after a half-hour layover, it was rolling swiftly along the road southward toward Wheatland.

Though he tried to stay awake, Doke slumped down on the seat next to Buck.

W
heatland’s Main Street was busy with traffic as the brilliant Wyoming sun edged its way toward its apex in the awesome blue sky.

Wagons, buggies, and carriages moved both directions, stirring up dust. People moved up and down the boardwalks, some stopping to talk to each other. Amid the creaking vehicles in the dusty street were riders on horseback.

Tag Moran stood in the shadow of the slanted wooden roof that hovered over the boardwalk several doors down from the Wells Fargo office. He leaned against one of the supporting posts, his hat pulled low, and kept his line of sight trained on the wide, dusty street toward the north.

The outlaw leader had moseyed past the Fargo office a few minutes earlier and noted the chalkboard by the front door, which gave the arrival and departure times of the stagecoaches.

The stage from Casper, which Tag knew had a regular stop in Douglas, was scheduled to arrive at noon.

For a moment, Tag ran his gaze the other direction along the street, noting the town’s two banks that stood catercornered from each other at Wheatland’s main intersection. He and his gang had held up Wheatland National Bank six months ago and made a
clean getaway, even though the sheriff came after them with a posse of twelve men. One day soon he would bring the gang back and rob the Bank of Wyoming across the street.

He thought of the fifty thousand dollars they had gained by robbing the Wells Fargo stagecoach yesterday and smiled. Looking north once more, he said in a whisper, “Doke, ol’ pal, if I could talk you into tying in with us, you’d be invaluable. You could let us in on more money shipments like the one yesterday when the affiliated banks send cash to each other.”

Tag rubbed his jaw.
If I could have some time with you, Doke, I think I could convince you it could be done without endangering yourself with the law, or with Wells Fargo. And when we cut you your share, you’d have money to make your life much more enjoyable than it is on shotgunner’s pay
.

Suddenly Tag’s attention was drawn up the street where he saw the stagecoach coming toward Main Street ahead of its cloud of dust.

Up in the box on the stage, Buck Cummons tugged on the reins as the stage drew into town. While they were moving slowly down the street, Doke yawned and laid his shotgun at his feet. Then, rubbing his belly, he said, “I’ve got a hungry on, Buck. I’m glad it’s time to stop for lunch.”

Buck chortled. “We both like the food at the Meadowlark, pal. I’m gonna get me a big T-bone steak.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Moments later, Buck drew the stage to a stop in front of the Wells Fargo office. He and Doke left the box and moved earthward. At the same time, the six passengers climbed out of the coach, looking across the street at the Meadowlark Café. One of the men was telling the others how good the food was there.

The same man looked at Buck and Doke with a smile. “You
gentlemen going to join us across the street?”

“We sure are,” replied Buck. “You all go ahead. We have to let our agent know we’re here, in case he hasn’t seen us. Doke and I will be with you shortly.”

The group of four men and two women hurried across the street between traffic while Buck told Doke to wait there; he would be right back. Buck dashed into the office, greeted the agent, and advised him that all was well.

While Buck was in the office, Doke stood at the edge of the street, looking first to the north, then to the south. Suddenly he caught sight of a man standing in the shade of the boardwalk’s slanted roof, waving his hat and motioning to him. Doke focused on him.

It was Tag Moran!

Doke nodded to Tag that he saw him, then heard Buck coming out of the office.

Buck drew up beside him. “Okay, hungry man, let’s get over there where the food is!”

Doke noticed Tag step back between two buildings. “Ah … tell you what, Buck,” he said gesturing southward. “I just saw somebody I know down there a ways. I really should at least go say howdy. You go on, and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Order me a sixteen-ounce steak medium well with all the trimmings.”

Buck glanced the direction Doke had pointed, seeing people moving up and down the boardwalk. “Okay. Medium well. Coffee black and steaming hot.”

“You got it.”

As Buck weaved his way between vehicles and riders on horseback toward the café, Doke stepped into the street so he could hurry toward Tag without interruption. Tag moved back into sight and waved.

When Doke reached him, he excused himself as he crossed the boardwalk in front of an elderly couple, and joined Tag between the buildings.

Smiling, Doke said, “I didn’t expect to see you, Tag.”

“I had to find out about Darryl.”

Doke felt the mask of gloom come over his face. “He—he didn’t make it, Tag. I’m sorry.”

Tag’s features slacked. “He’s dead?”

“Yeah. I talked to Buck Cummons, my driver, into letting me take Darryl’s horse and hurry him to the nearest doctor, which was in Cheyenne.”

Tag nodded silently, pain showing in his eyes.

“I asked on the street in Cheyenne which doctor I should take my wounded friend to, and they told me about a father-son practice, so I went there. The father wasn’t there, but the son, Dr. Dane Logan, was in the office. Darryl died shortly after the doctor went to work on him.”

Tag’s jaw stiffened. “You didn’t tell that doc Darryl was an outlaw, did you?”

“I had to, Tag. With that slug in his back, the doctor wanted to know how it happened. My face is known in Cheyenne from being on the stage that stops there. I didn’t dare lie about it, so I told him, explaining that I was the shotgunner on the stage, but I didn’t let on that I knew Darryl.”

Tag’s cheeks were now dead white and his eyes had turned the color of slate. “Maybe that doc let Darryl die because he was an outlaw.”

“Oh no, Tag. Darryl was almost dead when I carried him into Dr. Logan’s office. He had lost a lot of blood. The doctor was starting to dig the slug out when Darryl died.”

Tag ground his teeth, wondering if the doctor was really putting on an act by starting to go after the slug, and would have let Darryl die in order to rid the world of one more outlaw.

But he said no more.

Tag let the sadness he felt over Darryl’s death surface. “Well, thank you, Doke, for trying to save my baby brother’s life.”

Doke laid a hand on Tag’s shoulder. “May I remind you of that day when you dived into the dangerous North Platte River and risked your life to save mine?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tag’s mouth, and he nodded.

Squeezing his shoulder, Doke said, “Tag, I owe you for that. I’ll never forget it. It was for you that I tried to save Darryl’s life.”

Though Tag Moran’s two years as an outlaw had hardened him a great deal, a soft look came into his eyes. He blinked at the tears that had welled up. “Thanks again, Doke, for trying to save Darryl.”

“I’d do it again.”

Tag’s earlier thoughts concerning his desire to bring Doke into play came to mind. “I know you would. Doke, ol’ pal, I imagine you don’t approve of me and my brothers being outlaws, but you would never turn us into the law if you had a chance, would you?”

Doke chuckled dryly. “Absolutely not. My debt to you for saving my life will always be at the forefront of my mind. I would never do anything to help the law catch you.”

Tag smiled. “I believe you, ol’ pal. I was really surprised when I saw you up on the seat of that stagecoach. I had no idea you were employed as a shotgunner for Wells Fargo. I had lost all track of you. Are you married?”

“No. I live in Fort Collins and have dated some nice girls, but nothing serious has developed yet. How about you? Is there a Mrs. Tag Moran?”

“No.”

“Was Darryl married?”

“No.”

“How about your other brothers?”

“The only one that’s married is Bart. Doke, I’d like to have a talk with you. I suppose you’re in a hurry right now?”

“Well, yeah. Buck’s expecting me at the Meadowlark Café right away. The stage is supposed to leave in just under an hour.”

“Well, listen. I’d like to have you come to our hideout so we
could talk. You said you live in Fort Collins.”

“Yes.”

“Well, our hideout is in the mountains about thirty miles west of Fort Collins. It’s a large old cabin situated close to the Cache La Poudre River high in the Rockies. It’s at ten thousand five hundred feet above sea level, hidden in dense forest. If I drew you a map, would you come and see me sometime soon so we could talk?”

“Sure. I’d like that.”

Tag grinned, took a slip of paper out of a shirt pocket and a pencil out of a pants pocket. Holding the paper against the clapboard wall of the closest building, he began drawing a map. “Here’s how it works, Doke. Me and my boys make plans to hold up four or five banks somewhere in Colorado, Wyoming, or Nebraska. Of course, in a particular area. When we’ve held up the banks as planned, we head back to the hideout. We always use roundabout routes to get to the cabin to throw off the posses. Then we stay at the cabin for a few weeks to let things cool down. I’d sure like to have you come so we can have a good talk.”

Doke nodded. “I’ll do that as soon as I can get a few days off.”

Tag finished the map and held it in his hand. “I realize there’s no way to contact me to let me know just when that might be, so you’ll just have to ride on up. Even if me and the boys happen to be gone on another bank-robbing spree when you arrive, Bart’s wife, Lucinda, will be there. One of the other two that you saw when we robbed you is Gib Tully. His wife, Kathryn, will also be there. Once a month or so, Kathryn and Lucinda take the wagon into Fort Collins to buy food and supplies. No one in Fort Collins knows who they are, so they don’t know they’re outlaws’ wives. They always make the trip to Fort Collins and back within about half a day. If we’re not at the cabin when you arrive, the gals can tell you when they expect us back. Since we stay at the cabin more than we travel and hit banks, your chances of finding us there are good.”

“All right. I’ll sure come as soon as I can.”

“Let me show you the map.”

When Tag had gone over the map with Doke to make sure he understood how to find the cabin, he handed the map to him.

Doke folded the paper and placed it in his shirt pocket. “I’ll sure come as soon as I can,” he repeated. “Well, I’d better get over there to the café before Buck comes looking for me.”

Tag Moran stood at the corner of the building and watched his old friend head for the Meadowlark Café. When Doke entered the café, Tag wheeled and dashed between the buildings to the alley, where he had his horse tied. He rode south out of town and headed for the patch of forest just outside of Chugwater, where he and the gang had waited to rob the stage the day before.

In the shade of the trees at the patch of forest, Bart Moran was pacing impatiently while the others sat on the ground, their backs resting against the trees.

Jason looked up at his brother and shook his head. “Bart, you’re a worrywart. If Tag doesn’t find Doke in Wheatland, he’ll come on back and let us know.”

Bart sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s the plan. But seems to me he’s had time to make his contact and get back here. I—”

“Hey!” blurted Tony Chacone, jumping to his feet and pointing north. “Here he comes now!”