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BY POPULAR REQUEST (Really, thanks again, folks!) 

THE LEGEND OF KATIE DOLLAR  Part 3 

  They spent the next two weeks camped in a secluded spot hidden among a rocky outcrop within sight of the road to the mine. At night, if they needed supplies, Jake would drive off to return before daylight; usually with a different car in addition to the groceries and water, and a newspaper. Stories about the notorious Katie Dollar gang moved steadily toward the front page, helped along by Jake's anonymous tips to reporters and law enforcement officials.

   During the day, one of them was always awake to watch the road, and watch out for any rattlers that might come looking for shade. Katie killed ten of the heartless reptilian murderers, throwing the carcasses out for the buzzards, before the rest of the rattlesnake population in the area got the message that the shady rocks were strictly off limits for now.

   In the two weeks they were there, Jake sneaked up the road and hid out in the hills several times. He watched two shipments leave the mine and head off to wherever they took the gold and turned it into money, and the shipments took place at night. The routine was the same both times, so he guessed it probably didn't change much between shipments.

   Three unmarked vehicles would move slowly down the canyon. The first and last were large Chrysler touring cars packed with guards, and in the middle was an enclosed panel truck with beefed-up suspension and four-wheel drive capability.

   He had no idea how to calculate the amount of gold in the truck, but conservatively figuring, say, a hundred pounds of gold - sixteen hundred ounces - at thirty five dollars an ounce would mean the truck was carrying about fifty-six thousand dollars. If there was more gold, the total would go up. Less, and, of course, it would go down. But he didn't think it would be less. An operation this size generated enormous operating costs, he guessed, and the profits would have to be significant enough to make it all worth doing.

   He generously decided that no matter how much more gold was there, he and Katie would only make off with a hundred pounds of it.

   Mustn't get greedy.

   But how to get it? And even more importantly; how to get it without killing anyone? Jake had committed more than his share of both petty and not so petty crimes in his life. But he never hurt or killed anyone before, and he had no intentions of doing so on this heist. And besides, a halfbreed Indian going to prison for killing a white man wouldn't live out the first night. This job would need to be planned very carefully.

   Sitting at the top of one of the cliffs, where he could look down and see the dirt road for miles in both directions, Jake considered the options.

   He could rob the convoy when it stopped for gas. It was a long way to any facility that could actually receive the raw gold, and the vehicles had to refuel somewhere.

   But that would possibly involve innocent bystanders. Maybe they'd help the guards? No. There had to be a better way.

   Hmmm.

   If, say, the convoy came across a fresh wreck in which a car ran into a big roadside rock, and where a beautiful woman was writhing in pain beside the...burning? sure, why not? car, they'd have to put her in the panel truck where she could lie completely down. Or would they just put some of the gun hands into the panel truck and the woman into a car? No. They'd put her in the truck if she tearfully insisted. Once there, out of sight of the other armed guards, she could pull a gun on the driver and shotgun guard.

   But would they see through it? Hell, cars weren't supposed to be on this private road at all. Even if they didn't figure it out, was Katie strong enough to do all that alone?

   No. Bad idea. Forget it.

   And how would he separate the gold truck from the cars afterwards?

   Forget it, dammit!

   What else was there?

   He could try a direct assault, but he'd still have to get the panel truck alone somehow. He could cut off the last car easy enough by dynamiting one of the canyon walls and blocking the road. The others would either run for it or stop and wait for the roadway to be cleared before going on, so he'd have to make sure they went on.

   If the driver of the lead car saw another car ahead of it in the canyon, he should rightly assume that the other car was in on the robbery attempt, and give chase. Surely Katie could drive the decoy car.

   Farther down the canyon, more dynamite could separate the panel truck from the lead car. Then, a little farther, another dynamite blast would separate the lead car from the decoy.

   Three carefully placed charges of dynamite a long way apart?

   He shook his head.

   Complicated. Too complicated.

   And it still didn't address how he'd get the gold out of the doubtlessly guarded panel truck, or how he'd get away from the dynamite-blocked canyon.

   Damn! Jake absently tossed a fist-sized rock over the cliff and into the canyon below. This was a lot harder than robbing a gas station.

   A gas station.

   A gas station?

   Dammit, those vehicles did have to refuel somewhere! He hadn't seen any gasoline trucks hauling the stuff into the mine area, so there must be some special filling station somewhere nearby that they used whenever there was a shipment. So what if there might be a couple of grease monkeys on hand when the convoy stopped for gas? He should be able to surprise them and get them safely out of sight before the convoy showed up. Of course, there'd still be the problem of manpower. Katie alone would have to keep all those armed guards covered while he emptied the gold from the panel truck, and he wasn't sure she could-

   A booming sound like gunfire below startled Jake out of his thoughts, and sent him scrambling backwards from the edge and behind a nearby boulder. What sounded like answering fire came from several directions at once. Then it was all over.

   He peeked over the rim and didn't see anyone moving on the road or anywhere on the opposite cliff, but he didn't move for more than fifteen minutes. Finally, he hefted another rock and slithered to the edge to drop it into the canyon. A few seconds later, the same gunfire noise came from the chasm again. Jake smiled sheepishly and sat up. The rocks must've hit the walls several times on the way down, causing echoes that multiplied in both volume and intensity in the narrow canyon. Looking over the edge, he saw a cloud of dust still rising from the spot where the second rock finally hit the road.

   Hmmm.

   Would the guards packed into three vehicles on the dirt road below believe they were hearing gunfire in the darkness, given the same set of circumstances? And if so, would they speed up, causing the blinding road dust to rise up and engulf them?

   "Let's just figure they would," Jake mumbled out loud.

   But no matter how many angles Jake considered the situation from, the conclusion was always the same: with just himself and Katie to depend on, and he didn't know how dependable she'd be, they didn't have enough hands to do all the necessary chores it would take to rob the gold shipment by force. Even a road as dusty as this wouldn't help all that much.

   The best idea was to hit the gold shipment at a gas station, and it left him with the original manpower problem. He'd have to bring someone else in on the job. But who could he get, and where would he get them?

   Walking back to camp, he heard the sudden manic buzzing of a rattler from the shade of a boulder a few feet away. He shied away from the sound at first, then looked closer into the gloom under the edge of the rock. Jake smiled, realizing he'd found all the help he needed. Climbing off the mesa, he happily let the strategy unroll itself in his mind.

   Later, he explained that part of his plan to Katie.

   "You want to what?" she shrieked.

   "Rattlesnakes aren't afraid of gunfire, and they don't even have to bite a man to get his mind off what he's supposed to be paying attention to." Jake grinned slyly. "Now, all I need to do is find out where they gas up that shipment. That, and round up a few really big rattlers."

   Jake told her his idea.

   "That's just crazy," she said when he was finished. "We're going to throw live rattlesnakes into the vehicles, then pull guns on them when they're fighting off the snakes? Jake, how can just the two of us do any of that with three carloads of armed guards on the scene?"

   "I don't know yet," he said. "I'm still working on it. But I do know it can be done, and I'm going to do it. We're going to do it."

   "But Jake, what if-"

   "Dammit!" Jake shot to his feet and took her shoulders in his hands. "Katie, sometimes a man has got to take chances in this world! Say what you will about your dead husband, but he tried. He was trying clear to the end. The man who never amounts to nothing - the man who doesn't matter - is the man who never stood up and tried. I'm tired of amounting to nothing!"

   She reached up to touch his cheek.

   "You matter to me," she said softly. A tear suddenly appeared in the corner of her eye. "And you matter to someone else, too."

   "And just who the hell would that be?"

   She took his hand in hers and moved it to her belly.

   "Your child," she whispered.

   "My...my what?"

   Katie moved away and turned her back to him.

   "I-I didn't want to tell you before because I wasn't sure," she said over her shoulder. "But now I am."

   A faint smile played at the edges of Jake's lips, and he dropped onto a rock he liked to use as a chair.

   "I'll be damned," he said. Then his face hardened. "That's just another reason this robbery has to work," he said softly. "I intend to leave my child better off than my daddy left me."

   "But you can." Katie said, sitting beside him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "We, you and me, can leave this place now and go somewhere to start over. Someplace where they won't come looking for us. The Katie Dollar name is just a name. So far, all the crimes we've done are pretty small potatoes. If we stop now, we're not worth anyone's taking the time to look for us. You said so yourself."

   "But if we stop now, Katie, we won't have anything to give to...to our child." Jake's shoulders sagged. "And I won't have anything to give to...well, to you."

   Katie moved to stand close to him. "You've already given me life," she said, wiping at her eyes. "I was dead when you found me. As good as dead, at least. And now, you've given me a reason to go on living." She rubbed at her belly. "Please Jake, forget about robbing that gold shipment and come away with me somewhere. Now. Somewhere cool. Somewhere clean, where we can do what's right for our baby."

   Jake gazed into the western sky, watching the way the setting sun lit the clouds afire from below for a long time before answering.

   "What's right is for that baby to have it better than either of us ever did," he finally sighed. "And that's what I intend to do. It's the only thing that makes any sense."  

   Katie didn't try to stop the tears from suddenly flowing down her cheeks.

   "Then you'll have to do it alone," she said softly. "Following along with a man's idea of what's sensible has already cost me one child. I won't lose another because of it."

   Jake's eyes hardened and his jaw clenched in stubborn resolve.

   "Then I'll do it alone, Katie Dollar," he said.

   Watching from the dusty window of the cramped, grimy gas station office, Jake swallowed deeply when the headlights of the three approaching vehicles rounded the bend and came fully into view.

   ‘Bout time, he thought.

   Capturing the two men who ran the place had been easy, but his conscience still bothered him over tying them up in the sun-battered toilet out back. The place stunk something fierce. He hoped the way he'd showed them a gun and emphasized how angry the Katie Dollar Gang would be at them if they made any move to escape would keep them quiet and out of the way until after the caper was over. They shouldn't there for more than another half-hour or so, he figured.

   Jake toed at one of the dirty burlap bags at his feet. Its contents immediately started writhing and buzzing, and he moved back a step. He didn't know if the two big rattlesnakes inside could bite through the material, but he didn't want to take the chance on whether or not they could still hurt him.

   Growing up on the reservation he'd often watched how the older men carefully relieved rattlesnakes of their venom by prying the mouths open and gently squeezing the jaws to squirt out the clear liquid. The men then sold the deadly poison to drug company representatives for use in antivenom potions. He didn't know how long it took rattlers to brew up a fresh batch of kill juice, but he hoped they'd be out of ammunition for at least another hour or two. He wanted to scare the guards in the gold shipment, not -

   "Dammit," he muttered, picking up the bags and moving outside toward the pumps. "Stop letting your damn mind wander, and concentrate on the job!" He stood near the pumps for a moment before moving into the scant light from the single bulb on the rickety portico overhead.

   Glancing at where Katie sat waiting in the car a hundred yards back down the road, behind a large sign proclaiming how cold drinking water was available for free at the gas station, he dropped the bags just as the first of the three vehicles pulled up to the roofed-over pumps. The second truck, the one actually carrying the gold shipment, squeaked to a stop between the pumps and the office.

   Inside the car, Katie bit her lip and drew a deep breath. She couldn't take her eyes off Jake.

   At the pumps, he only hoped she was staying quiet and patient, as they'd planned.

   "Where's Hector and Charlie?" a voice called from the third vehicle, which had pulled in behind the gold truck.

   "They got...snake bit," Jake said, turning toward the third car and peering past the headlights to see a man standing halfway out of the rear passenger door. He had what Jake instantly recognized as a Thompson submachine gun in his hands. "Lots of rattlers around this year," he went on. "I'm filling in for a week or two. You boys want a cold drink of water? We've got it."

   "Did they tell you who we are?" Even in the near darkness, Jake could feel the guard's suspicion. He was probably the foreman of the group, Jake guessed. "What we're doing here?"

   "I reckon you're a bunch of fellows out looking to get some gas," Jake said, shrugging. "Is that right?"

   "You got a smart mouth, boy."

   Instead of getting nastier, though, the man moved back into the car and shut the door. A few seconds later, the horn sounded two short blasts and a long one. When none of the vehicles moved away, Jake glanced at the front passenger window of the leading car, where a man was pointing an impatient finger first at the gasoline pumps then at the rear bumper.

   Jake pretended he didn't understand, and in a moment the front window cracked open.

   "Fill this one up first, you damn fool Indian," the passenger snarled, wiping at his sweat-drenched forehead. "We don't have all night to waste here."

   "Yessir!"

   "And make sure there's plenty of that cold water when we get ready to pull out."

   "I will."

   Of course they'd be sweaty inside those vehicles, he realized. Even if they rode with the windows open and only closed them when they came to a stop, they'd be sweaty, uncomfortable, and just right for making mistakes. Grabbing the pump handle and levering a full five-gallon load into the glass jar on top of the machinery, he pretended to search for the gasoline cap on the big Chrysler's rear fender.

   "It's there by the back door handle, boy," the first man barked through his slightly open window. "Same as on this one."

   "Then you'll have to pull around here and take this car's place if you want me to-"

   Jake stopped when he noticed that the window was already closed. They must have been planning on swapping the positions of the cars when the first was filled anyway, he guessed, so a car was almost always shielding the side and back of the panel truck. He noticed the gasoline cap on the driver's side of the truck, where it would be easy to fill from between the vehicles, and mentally gave them credit for not being stupid.

   In fact, he realized, they were damned smart. The only time he might be able to get the snakes into the gold truck was when the cars were changing positions. And to do that, without being seen doing it, he'd have to position himself and the snakes on the passenger side of the truck. No matter how sweaty and uncomfortable they were, someone among the three vehicles was bound to notice him carrying burlap sacks away from the pumps, and wonder what was inside.

   But, dammit, he had to try.

   "Hurry up with that gas, boy," the armed man in the third vehicle suddenly shouted. "You're leaving us sitting here like big-ass targets!"

   "Sorry."

   Jake levered another full jar of gasoline and cautiously glanced around. Even with the gloom of full darkness, he could see at least a dozen eyes shining suspiciously at him in the scant glow of the lights under the overhang. Topping off the tank, he could only imagine how many others he couldn't see were staring balefully his way.

   But he had to pull this job. Katie and his unborn son were depending on him. It was his place to make sure they were as well taken care of as possible and, dammit, he was the only one who could...

   Or did he? Did he really have to pull this job?

   Maybe there was a better way after all to -

   "Hurry up, boy!"

   "Yessir."

   He no sooner had the gas cap screwed down tight when the driver in the third car sounded the horn with two more short honks. Both Chrysler engines roared to life, and the one at the pumps slowly backed off. The instant a wide enough space opened up for it, the second car eased up to the spot where the first had sat while the now full fueled car took the second vehicle's place behind the truck.

   "Fill the truck and this one at the same time," a deep voice growled from a slightly opened back window. "And do it now! We're running late."

   No, Jake decided, he did not have to pull this job. Not now. He was a fool to try without watching a couple of times to study the refueling process. Now, he'd wait until the convoy was good and gone, he figured, placing the pump nozzles into both fill spouts. With gasoline gurgling into both tanks, he decided to just take whatever cash was in the till and call it a night, and think up some other way to care for Katie and his child.

   But at least he'd tried. At least he'd -

   "Robbery!" one of the regular employees suddenly shouted, abruptly appearing at the corner of the building. "They're robbing the place! The Katie Dollar Gang is robbing the station! Stop them!"

   Damn!

   The horn on the fully fueled car sounded long and loud, and all three engines immediately fired up. Jake hit the ground beside the pumps when glass began shattering all around him and gun muzzles poked out the new openings. One of the gas hoses came loose and began spewing fuel onto the dirt between the vehicles. Some splashed onto Jake, but he ignored it.

   "Robbery!" the second employee shouted, suddenly joining the first. Ropes still hung from his wrists. "It's the Katie Dollar Gang, and they're getting away!"

   Katie saw the employees appear, and she started the car without thinking. She pulled it into gear when she heard the first machinegun rounds going off.

   Jake didn't hear the bullets whizzing by over the constant explosive chatter of what must have been at least a half-dozen Thompsons thundering away at the same time, but he knew it wouldn't be long before some of those bullets found him. Catching sight of the bag with the rattlesnakes, he reached out suddenly and grabbed it, shaking the loose knot that kept it closed. He gave it a savage fling toward the now glass-less window of the panel truck, and was gratified an instant later to hear faint cussing over the constant racket of machinegun fire.

   Muttering a quick prayer, he rolled under the truck to slither along the ground like one of the rattlesnakes he foolishly thought he could use as tools to steal the gold. He hoped to reach the relative safety of the building before the truck ran over him. From inside the tiny office, he could then duck out the back door and get gone.

   To his surprise, Jake actually made it through the office door and was just coming to his knees when the truck roared away. He was reaching for the back door when bullets struck the gasoline jars at the top of one of the pumps.

   The machinery exploded in a sun-bright fireball, bringing much of the overhang crashing down onto parts of the two gold shipment cars and blowing out every window in the office.

   The blast pounded Jake to the greasy concrete floor, knocked him senseless and caught his gasoline-soaked clothing on fire. But rolling over, he slithered along the floor, his charred skin screaming at him, toward the back door.

   At the first explosion, Katie stomped the accelerator pedal to the floor and the car surged forward. She was almost to what was left of the burning gas station when the fire ignited fumes surging up from the massive tank buried under the office, and a second, larger explosion went off.

   The notions salesman elbowed the new man at the table. "This your first meal here?" he asked.

   "Yeah," the other said, "but I've been looking forward to it for a long time. I hear no one bakes better pies than the woman who owns this place, so I thought I'd try it this trip."

   "You're right about those pies. What's your line?"

   "Ladies lotions and soaps, with some perfumes and colognes. You?"

   "Sewing supplies and accessories. Make you a hell of a deal on a new Singer."

   "Uh, no thanks." The scent salesman looked around at the other men seated and chatting quietly on both sides of the long dining table. "I take it you and I aren't the only gentlemen of the road in the place, then?"

   The other man shook his head. "Pinetop might not be much of a town, but this is the best boarding house in Arizona," the notions drummer said, idly fingering his silverware. "Most of us know about it. The food is good, the rooms are clean, and the bus connections will get you anywhere in the mountains, or back to Phoenix." He glanced longingly at the kitchen door, unconsciously licking his lips. "But mostly the food is good," he said wistfully. "This widow woman is one hell of a cook."

   The man traveling in lotions nodded knowingly, assessing the sparkling clean plate in front of him with an expert's eye. "Sounds good," he said. "I've heard she's right fastidious, too."

   "She is that," the notions man said, lowering his voice. "They say she learned to cook so good in prison, and that's where she picked up her fussy habits and rules. Some do, at least. I'm not sure I believe it because she's just too much of a lady to have ever been anywhere near such a place as a prison. She's mighty banged up though, and you tell by looking at her that she went through a fire or something some time ago."

   "As long as she can cook as good as I heard, I don't care what she looks like," the soap man said. "Any idea what's on the stove tonight?"

   The other salesman sniffed at the food-heavy odors in the dining room. Because the windows were closed against the late September chill, the cooking smells were especially concentrated.

   "Beef stew, green beans and cornbread," he finally said. "And I b'lieve that's gonna be apple pie for afters."

   "Ahhh, my favorite."

   "Which one?"

   "All of ‘em."

   Before the notions drummer could agree, the kitchen door swung open and a dark-featured boy of about fifteen walked in. He pushed a rolling cart bearing a large tray loaded with steaming bowls. The boy walked over and waited for the diners to clear a space in the center of the table. He carefully sat big tureens of still-bubbling beef stew at either half of the table, and then did the same with bowls of steamy-hot green beans. Taking the tray and the cart, he went back into the kitchen to return seconds later with a veritable mountain of cornbread squares and two crockery tubs of butter.

  "There's water, buttermilk and coffee," he said, jerking his forehead at a side table. "I'll have it out in a minute. Most of you know Ma don't like any smoking at the table." He looked pointedly at the new man. "So take it outside when you're done eating. Anyone wanna say grace?"

   No one spoke up.

   "C'mon," the teenager said, "you know Ma's rules. No one eats until it's prayed over proper."

   The new man stood and folded his hands while the others sighed, relieved. "Let us pray," he said, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "Oh Lord," he intoned, opening his eyes and looking smoothly up at the ceiling, "for what we are about to receive, help us to be truly thankful."

   Several diners mumbled a half-hearted amen.

   "That didn't hurt, now did it," a woman's voice said from the kitchen door.

   All the men at the table looked up as she limped in, leaning heavily on a cane with one hand and holding a pitcher of milk with the other.

   "Miss Katie," the notions salesman said as the others dug into the food, "supper smells better than ever this evening. And I can't hardly wait for that pie."

   "Why, thank you." She smiled, emphasizing the heartbreaking network of badly healed old burn scars on her face. She handed the pitcher to the boy. "Little Jake, please pour buttermilk for these gentlemen who want it."

   "Yes'm."

   "Thank you, Miss Katie," the new man said, smiling at her before reaching for one of the tureens.

   She smiled in return and eased her free hand into a dress pocket.

   Katie held tightly onto the familiar old silver dollar she always kept there, and watched her only son work for a few minutes. She thought again how he looked so much like the father she still missed desperately even after all these years.

   Then she turned and limped back into the kitchen to cut the pie.

Keyword: THE LEGEND OF KATIE DOLLAR Part 3

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