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what you’d think a big company man to be like in a place like this, I suppose.”
    Elwood scratched beneath his hat.  He’d sweated through the brim and his throat felt dry enough to close up permanently.
    “Let’s get ourselves a drink.  I’m thinking Roach and Johnny have already started without us.”
    Owen’s face broke into another one of those tobacco juice grins.
    “I could use a sip myself, brother.”
    “Kid,” Stubbs said, roping him against his chest with one broad arm, “I think you better stick to coffee from here on out.”
    Owen’s vexed eyes went to Elwood, who kept his expression flat. 
    “Robbing the Dennison Mining Company is no drinking game.”  Elwood reached into his coat and pulled out a .38 revolver.  “You remember how to shoot?”
    Owen took the revolver and pointed it across the street, looking down its sight with one eye closed.
    “Been awhile, but I can recall.” 
    “That’s good.  Now tuck it away until you need it.”
    “This a Remington, ain’t it?”
    “Don’t matter what it is.  Shoots bullets well enough.  Just don’t shoot yourself or any of us.”
    “Thank you, brother.  I will strive to remember that.”
    Elwood Hayes, like the other men in his gang, wore his pistol in a holster strapped to the small of his back.  He believed it did no good to show your gun to the world, reckoned that it only made you a bigger target, both to the law and to hot-tempered drunkards.  Also, he liked the look bank tellers and rich folk got in their eyes when you pulled your gun on them like a magic trick.  Folks always underestimated a man with empty hands and that alone could give you an opening, if you knew where to look for it.  The other men had taken awhile to see the wisdom of this, but Elwood had made it a rule if they wanted to ride with him, a known man in Colorado with three successful holdups already under his belt.  Folks said you lost time reaching back for your revolver, which was true, but if you got used to drawing that way it was only a moment and you could overcome that and more through surprise.
    Elwood allowed his younger brother to take the lead and show them to the Runoff Saloon, figuring the town without acting too obvious about it.  He picked out the accountant’s house straight off, seeing as it was the only building in Red Earth that looked permanent, two-stories tall with stone walls, a proper chimney, and small, narrow windows only a cat could pass through. 
    “I can feel them,” Stubbs grumbled beside Hayes.  “I can feel their eyes at this very moment, feeling me out.”
    Elwood opened his mouth, about to ask who exactly Stubbs thought was watching them, but then he saw the girls gathered on the front porch of the saloon, fanning themselves as they sat in the shade, their bare arms glowing.  Elwood closed his mouth and swallowed, abruptly aware of the sweat rising along the brim of his hat and the smell of horse upon his skin. 
    Stubbs crossed himself. 
    “May the Good Lord preserve me from temptation and deliver me…”
    Clem Stubbs was married, somehow, and always started up like this when they ran into women.  The prayers must not have been as feverish or pure as the Good Lord wanted, however, since Stubbs usually gave into temptation around his third drink.
    Owen glanced back at them and grinned.
    “Don’t worry about the doves, gentlemen.  They do like to flutter around this particular area.”
    Elwood nodded to the ladies as they climbed the porch steps and passed through, his hand on Stubbs’ shoulder to help him along.  The ladies flicked their fans like peacock tails, giggling (as he knew they would) while their perfume lifted sweetly off their powdered skin and into the summer air.  Elwood and Clem Stubbs stopped just inside the saloon as Owen continued on, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dimness.  On Elwood’s left were several round tables, all of them empty except one near the saloon’s front windows,