Chapter 8

There was a series of bank robberies where some federal money was stolen. I could tell that Judge McAllister was pissed off with the robberies, and he was just waiting for an excuse to put federal deputy marshals on the case. Alan and I were just happy for the new assignment; we were ready for any case, as long as we worked together.

The robberies seemed to be concentrated between Eagle Pass and Laredo. These counties had been hit hard by the latest money panic and were slow to recover, so the bank robberies were playing hell with the economic health of the area. The latest robbery, and the one which had finally let us intervene, had taken place in Eagle Pass, so that was where we started our investigation. This time, we left the Oldsmobile at home, since we might have to be traveling cross country much of the time.

We took the train to Eagle Pass. I dressed in my man's disguise so that the bankers would take me more seriously. It also let me ride a horse with less trouble, and I could go into places like saloons without attracting unwelcome attention. I wore my Schofield .44 tied to my thigh as a distraction away from the Savage 9 mm worn under my vest. Alan was wearing the same weapon ensemble, so we were ready for any sort of action up close. We had our Winchesters with us, too.

It took six days to get from Austin to Eagle Pass by train, and we could have gotten there just as fast by my Oldsmobile, but I just sighed and otherwise kept my mouth shut. Our first stop was at the town marshal's office. It was purely a courtesy call to let him know that we were in town. The town marshal was an ex-Ranger and knew his business, so Alan and I were hopeful if we had to call on him for assistance.

Our next stop was at the bank where the robbery had taken place. As expected, the banker was an elderly fussbudget, and we got about as much help from him as we expected. As it turned out, we had to talk to the tellers to get anything like useful information.

The four bank robbers had worn the usual uniform of the breed: black hat and duster. Each one had been masked, but one item struck me as very peculiar: the apparent leader had worn a bright yellow bandana as a mask. That was the first time I had ever heard of a yellow bandana, and I had never seen one. I couldn't help wondering why someone would wear so striking a piece of clothing to a robbery.

The one with the yellow bandana was described as being unusually tall and had a "funny" accent. The other members of the gang were about normal height and sounded like locals when they talked—they used the typical Texas drawl. That was all we could get for descriptions, but the yellow bandana might be helpful.

Alan and I thanked the tellers for their help, and we left the bank. We went to the nearest saloon for a beer while we discussed what we had learned. We both took a Mexican beer and sat down in a couple of chairs next to the wall. My tolerance for beer was getting stronger; I could actually drink a whole beer without getting a hangover, and I enjoyed it. My grandmothers would have been scandalized!

We talked about the situation for a while, and decided that we really didn't have enough to go on. We needed to talk to some more of the people in the robbed banks to get a better handle on the bandits. The next bank was twenty-three miles south of Eagle Pass, so we figured on going there tomorrow.

The next morning, we rented a couple of horses and headed for Moccasin Toe, Texas. This was about as nothing a town as one could hope to find in the Texas boondocks. It was so small, it had only one livery stable and one saloon. Why there was a bank in town was beyond me, but it was there, and it had been robbed. There was no town marshal, so we went directly to the bank and talked to the employees. As usual, the bank manager didn't have much useful to say, but the teller (yes, there was only one) gave us reasonably good descriptions of the bandits, including the tall one with the funny accent and the yellow bandanna.

It was getting late in the day, and we had no place to stay. Furthermore, there was no restaurant in the town to go with the lack of a hotel. We wound up eating a tough beef sandwich at the saloon, but the Mexican beer was good enough to get us by. We wound up sleeping on piles of hay in the livery stable and paying the same rate for us as for our horses!

The next morning, when I woke up, I was steaming mad. We didn't have any coffee, and rats had gotten to our supplies, so we had a disgusting breakfast from what the rats didn't want. That did it! Either I went home to fetch my Oldsmobile so that we could have some decent transportation, or else I was going to resign from the Secret Service and all of this other folderol and go home, anyway.

Alan managed to calm me down, but he did admit that he agreed with me. Therefore, we returned to Eagle Pass, turned in our rented horses, and caught the train for home. This time it only took five days to get home, and I have to say to my shame that I pouted almost all of the way!

When we got home, Juanita was happy to see us and fixed us our first decent meal since we had left home. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with this crap! Dammit, on top of everything else, my language is going to hell!

The next day, we prepared the Oldsmobile and left for Eagle Pass. It only took us four days to get there, but we did push our luck on occasion by driving too fast. Well ... I was the one who drove too fast, but Alan drove at a more reasonable speed when it was his turn to drive. We stayed in a decent hotel in Eagle Pass and left for Huntingdon, about 45 miles away, the next morning. Travel time was only about 90 minutes (OK, so I pushed it), and we got to the bank shortly after it had opened.

We interviewed the employees and got the same story that we had before. We had time to eat lunch—Huntingdon had a restaurant. The next place was only 19 miles away, so we made it before the bank closed for the day. An interview with the employees gave us the same descriptions as before, except that we learned that the galoot with the yellow bandana rode a gray horse with a black stocking on his left front leg. Now, that was a useful bit of information!

Well, we worked our way all the way to Laredo without getting any more useful information, but the trip had, at least, been considerably more comfortable than it would have been by horseback. It also took about one-third the time it would have taken us on horseback. I was getting more and more sure that the automobile was going to be a great boon to law enforcement.

We spent a couple of days in Laredo, calling on the Rangers and the local Marshal and giving them what information we had. The yellow bandana and the gray horse with the black stocking were both news to them, so our trip was worthwhile, even if we didn't accomplish anything else. Neither one of them had anything to add to our information, so, on a hunch, we headed back toward Eagle Pass.

We were passing through the little town of Hard Nut on our way north when we happened to spot a gray horse with a black stocking on his left front leg. I was driving at the time, and I practically screeched the brakes when I saw the horse tied up in front of a saloon. Shit, we had to check this out.

I parked our automobile where it didn't block the watering trough, and we went into the saloon. It was a Sunday afternoon, so the saloon was crowded. If we did find our quarry in the saloon, we didn't want to start a lot of shooting for fear of wounding innocent bystanders. We went up to the bar and ordered Mexican beer. I didn't expect to drink much of it, since I was driving, but I wanted the appearance of normality.

We walked around the saloon looking for a yellow bandana. Nobody was wearing one around his neck, but we did eventually see one galoot pull a yellow bandana out of a pocket and wipe the sweat off his forehead with it. That must be our man, but we couldn't arrest somebody just for having a yellow bandana. All we could do was hang around to see if he did something that we could arrest him for.