No Hiding Place

No Hiding Place

The third volume in the series Dean and Egan, the Story of Two Families. Look for these books in the future by author Olin Thompson in the Dean and Egan Families Saga series:

* The Long Ride

* Dogs of Justice

* No Hiding Place

* Edge of the Knife

* Terror and Revenge

Written by Olin Thompson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2005 by Olin Thompson

This eBook was produced in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

ISBN: 978-0-945949-34-3

Published by:

BOOKWARREN PUBLISHING SERVICES

339 Eighth Ave., Studio 1

San Diego, CA 92103

mailto:info@bookwarren.com

Website: http://www.bookwarren.com

DEDICATION

I want to thank my wife for her patience and assistance in reading and editing my work. The most influential person who urged me to test my talents and start writing was my English professor. My mother said my imagination was too vivid and kept trying to get me to think like an accountant. I just couldn't do that. I had to write.

My father was an accountant and thought that as a writer I'd never make it. He's probably right, but then, I love writing more than adding and subtracting. Who knows what a deferred accrual debit is anyhow?

PROLOGUE

The beginning of the Twentieth Century had come and gone, but the years after it would draw in the families of Deans and Egans as they begin to search for their place in the Twentieth Century.

1918

Hurry up! the man said with the end of the handkerchief stuffed in his mouth and the rest covering his face.

Percy!

Yeah? the masked man snarled a response, annoyed to be interrupted at this point in the transaction; and, the fool Harry had used his name.

They’re more customers coming, Harry said, a note of panic seemed to be in the tone of Harry’s hissing voice.

Get that go’damn’ money in the bag! Percy shouted at the teller.

I’m hurrying as fast as I can, sir, the man said, a quiver behind his mewling attitude.

The men behind the counter sat at their desks, their hands raised, and stared at Percy. They too had a note of panic about them.

Not fast enough, Percy snarled and waved his big Colt .44-40 around the narrow lobby of the bank; he made sure the three customers and one guard stayed still – disregarding their shivers and quakes – with their hands raised.

You! Percy said to one of them.

Me? the man asked. His hands were quaking and his eyes were wide. He was clearly frightened.

Get on the floor! You too ladies, Percy said harshly and once more waved the pistol. They all slid easily to the floor. The women looked as if they tried to protect their purses.

Percy smiled at them.

Not you, he barked as the guard started to comply with the order. Keep them hands where I can see ‘em.

Percy, Harry hissed harshly.

Shut up, Harry. You’re beginning to bother me, Percy growled at his partner.

They’re daggum nearly here, Harry hissed again.

That’s enough, Percy told the teller, yanked the bag marked TUCSON SAVINGS AND HOME LOAN BANK OF ARIZONA out of the teller’s hand, and motioned for him to get on the floor too.

Let’s ride, Percy said and headed for the door, walking backwards to avoid a surprise by the guard who stood with hands raised high; the two robbers had already disarmed the man, but, as Percy thought about it and told Harry, Them bastards is sneaky enough to hide a gun on ‘em someplace.

Percy told the guard, You just stand right still and we ain’t gonna hurt no one. Percy kicked the pistol on the floor at the man’s foot; the double action short barreled gun slid ten feet on the slick marble.

Yessir, the elderly man said and seemed to mean it; he bent his head to the floor and did not look up.

Open the door, Percy ordered Harry.

The breeze was welcome inside the dark and overheated bank even as overhead paddle fans blew the air around.

Damn! Harry shouted and Percy heard the first shot. What the hell!? Percy wondered, turned, and pulled the trigger at the first person he saw.

Law! Harry yelled through the cordite smoke of his second shot.

Get! Percy screamed, ran to the tie rail, and jumped on the back of his roan.

Harry grabbed the saddle pommel aboard his white face gelding and the horse with little urging plunged down the macadam topped street. Harry swung twice and then the third time he landed in the saddle bent over the neck of the streaking horse.

Godallmighty, Percy said softly and turned sharply at the third corner. The roan’s steel shod hooves clopped snappily on the hard black tar pavement. Percy noticed people streaming from stores and businesses along the street and watching as he and Harry pounded away.

Wait for me! Harry shouted.

Percy looked back and saw Harry, his hat flapping side to side, whipping his horse.

We sure screwed this thing up, Percy thought.

Chapter 1

In 1918 there was no hiding place

Damn you Harry, you done it now, the scar faced bandit said with a sharp snarl.

Let’s get outta this town, Scar, the man called Harry said and yanked on the reins pulling his horse around and pounding to the east part of the town toward the mountains.

Where the hell you goin’? Scar asked after he caught up with the boyish faced outlaw.

Percy, Harry said reverting to Scar’s real name, we gotta get. If we don’t get, them lawmen back there gonna be on us like mockin’bird on a beetle, Harry said and continued to push east. They already madder’n hell about them we done shot.

Stop and think, the marked man called Percy said and pulled around a corner just ahead of Harry. He ducked his head under a low overhanging barn-like doorway and stepped his mount inside. A wagon filled the space, but the two crowded in with it and stood quietly waiting for a posse to go past. The horses snuffled and hoofed at the straw on the ground, but otherwise they were quiet.

No one rode past for the moment.

Well?

Well what? Percy asked absently.

You said we gotta stop and think. Now tell me what you wanted me to think about.

How you figger you gonna kill a lawman, rob a bank, and get away? Scar wondered.

We couldn’ta figgered that before we done it, Harry said and a rim of sweat stood out on his upper lip, showing through the days old moustache.

The street was suddenly filled with noise from searchers who rode by on dozens of horses, in a covey of puffing rattling automobiles, and in two huffing squeaky trucks – with the flat beds full of well armed men – and disappeared down the long street heading toward the mountains.

Harry and Percy watched from their hideout in the darkened shed. Clearly, no one thought to look inside and Harry sighed. If they did, Harry thought, the two bank robbing killers could have been taken easily or shot to ribbons. And, obviously, shot to ribbons would have been preferred by some. If they were taken, well, that might have been preferred by others. Then, just after the fair trial, shot to death.

We’ll wait to dark and then we’ll get, Scar whispered and then he fingered the mar on his cheek which ran ragged from earlobe to near his nose.

Harry knew when Percy did that he was thinking and didn’t want to be disturbed.

No, Percy said simply.

No? Well then, what? The twang with which Harry spoke indicated he was not long from some mountainside in Tennessee or Arkansas.

We’ll be run down faster’n a dog a’ter a damn bar, Harry said, a nasal dysfunction caused his voice to sound as if he were eternally whining. We ain’t got a chanct out’ere.

We ain’t got none In Here neither. We ain’t got No chance at all here, Percy said with emphasis on the words; the second time he said the words softly, but with a pleading tone rather like an echo.

They is one way, Percy said and looked directly at his bandit associate.

Yeah? Hope sprang to Harry’s voice.

We go with the army, Percy said and peered out on the street after the last group of riders thundered past.

Army? Harry cried out and incredulous look crossed his face.

Damn army of the U-nited States, Percy said harshly and looked back to Harry. A smile crept on the outlaw’s face as Harry looked astonished.

Holy moly, you’re seriouser’n a dam break, aincha? Yep, Percy said and dismounted. He took the bank bag and while the last of the sun remained for them to see what they were doing he quickly divided the money evenly using the buggy bed as a table.

This here’s yours. Percy handed Harry a wad. How much was it?

Donno. I just did a one-fer divide, Scar said without guile.

Must be somethin’ like a thousand dollars in that bag, Harry said and smiled at the boodle in front of him.

Donno, Percy said. I just did a one fer you and one fer me. If it comes out, it comes out, that’s all.

Harry began to stuff the money inside his pockets and clothing in places no pockets existed.

You do what you like, but I’m goin’ to see the army. They’ll take re-cruits and we can get out of town that way. We try to ride out we’ll be hunted down and hung fer sure. Damn me if it were to be done over I’da never shot that lawman, but I didn’t have no choice, him bein’ so close and all, Percy said, but there was no real tone of remorse in his voice. He might have believed it, but it meant nothing to Percy and likely Harry knew it; he knew Percy for years, since almost birth; they’d grown up together.

I donno. Army life’s rough, ain’t it? Harry asked, more than a note of wonder in his voice.

I guess, Percy said, then he put the money he had in stacks according to the denomination and shoved them away in his pockets. Little bulges showed, but they were very nearly indistinct. He ran his hands down his body and looked as if he were nodding approvingly.

What now? Harry wondered; he squinted out the door, turned, and looked like he wanted to reach out and touch Percy for reassurance.

Find the sojers and enlist, Percy said simply with a shrug for punctuation.

They took off the black coats they wore and stuffed them into the saddle bags. Percy threw the string necktie under the wagon and then stomped on his new black hat, the round crown was crushed and discolored by the dirt. He wiped some of that dirt on his face and then in his hair. He ran his fingers through and Harry did almost the same.

Their shirts had been white when they rode in, grey at the neck where stream-side washing had been unable to remove the grime, but now the cloth was reddened with the clay soil from beneath the wagon.

Ready? Percy asked after a few more minutes of preparation.

’bout as ready as I’se likely to ever be, Harry said and made a motion with his mouth which could have been taken as a fatal moment.

Let me get out and in about a minute you wait for another one of them posses to ride by and then sorta join ‘em. When you get near the edge of town you tell someone your horse broke down. Get off and walk back. Remember, scuff your feet and kick up some dirt. You want to look like you been ridin’ and searchin’, Percy said and Harry felt as if it were a good plan.

See you in Hell, Harry said with a smile.

Yeah, Percy said and once more peeked out to see if anyone was coming. No one. He rode out and turned the corner in the direction the last posse took.

*****

There one of ‘em is! the voice rang out and Harry began to panic. He hadn’t seen the group and was surprised by their sudden appearance. His horse didn’t like the surprise any better than Harry did as he kicked the beast to run. The gelding did a quick sunfish and when it came down on its front legs the right one buckled. The loud snapping sound scared Harry as he knew this was not the plan and he wondered how he would survive without Percy. Harry jumped to the side and rolled in the dirt.

Get him! the voice screamed and a pistol shot rang out and the zing of the bullet made Harry jump up and then duck. He unlimbered his own .45 Colt and hammered a shot in the direction of the mounted men closing down on him.

Three then four and he heard no more as he jerked when he felt the impact of the bullets as they entered his body and, finally, he fell to the earth. He looked up and smiled as Percy stood over him; but when Harry saw the open maw of the big .44-40 Peacemaker he knew the plan had worked just as Percy had intended.

He never meant for me to live, Harry thought. Damn him, Harry’s mind cried and he tried to lift the pistol again, but the flame erupted in his face and that was the last he saw.

*****

Percy took the back slaps and congratulations with a wide smile and reloaded his pistol.

Good work, one man said and dragged Harry to the side of the street where a newspaper reporter ran up with a camera, set the tripod, primed the flasher, and exploded the powder over and over.

You saved us a damn trial for this bastard, he said toward Percy who nodded sheepishly, trying hard to be humble.

Get a picture with this man, he’s the one who killed the outlaw, someone said and pushed Percy forward.

Percy resisted, however, and seemed almost ashamed to be so lauded for his actions. Later someone would say the man said, Aw shucks.

Percy tugged on the reins of his horse and head down he rode away from the scene of the demise of his riding partner. The killer thought of the money he had to leave with Harry, but when Percy had counted out the division he had insured Harry would receive the singles and five dollar greenbacks while Percy’s share would be in tens and twenties. He figured he had about three quarters of the loot while Harry died with somewhat less than five hundred dollars.

Percy located a small inn with the word

POSADA

painted in white-wash on the side of the wind scoured building. The smaller words said.

50 CeNt PeR NOCHE

Scar faced Percy tied his horse to the rail behind the building and told the handler to grain and rub the animal down.

Si, senor, the youth promised.

Percy tossed the barefooted youngster a quarter and went inside. The place was nearly barren, but would serve the outlaw’s purpose.

The inn-keeper showed Percy to a room with a broken door. A bed, a thin ticked mattress, and feathered pillow tucked under a light cover abutted one wall. On another wall was a shelf with a broken lipped pitcher. A mirror, stained and with one corner chipped, hung above the cracked cantaro. A cross with Jesus attached centered the other wall.

Percy nodded and flipped the man four bits to seal the deal. Percy completed registration in the book at the counter with a fictitious name, went to his room, and fell on the bed nearly asleep before his head hit the uncomfortable looking pillow. A half hour later he woke and began to prepare for the next part of his plan.

He shaved off the ten day growth of beard, trimmed his hair in back as best he could with the razor, and cut his side burns near to the top of his ears. He changed his clothing to ranch hand wear purchased from a nearby MeRCaDO The plaid shirt and oversized blue denims were a real change from the almost skin tight black trousers and white shirt. He rolled the old clothing in a bundle and put them in the oil drum on the side of the building. The flame scars on the container indicated someone burned trash and debris in it and that would hopefully consume his former identity for him. He dropped a match on top of the well worn clothes and waited a moment to be sure they caught fire. When they did he walked away whistling a hearty tune.

Percy continued to think about the army. There was no real escape from the territory; he knew a dead lawman made it almost impossible for anyone to evade capture. If he tried to leave on horseback, train, or even hitch a ride on one of the freight trucks heading either east or west, he would surely be caught. However, no one would ever expect a trainload of soldiers to harbor a killer like Percy Bookman.

He thought he could escape from the troop train as soon as it left the territory and get away from the army easily.

If they was so smart would they be in the army? he muttered to himself and then smiled in the mirror. He noted the red spot on his forehead and wished the pimple away, but then thought better about it. Squeezing it would make a mess and he had a use for it. The reflected smile turned to admiration, except for the forehead blemish, then he made a grotesque face as he inspected his teeth and noted a piece of something from earlier in the day stuck there. He took out his pocket knife and ripped a long sliver from the edge of the bed post and picked at the material between his teeth until it dislodged. He spit it across the room.

Nightfall found him sucking on tequila with three other men in the tiny bar aside the posada. The men sang and talked loudly about all sorts of things. Percy bit into the lime, licked the salt, and tasted the fiery liquid. He figured mostly the Spanish songs were about women these men loved and lost; or honored their masculinity.

He minded his own business and merely touched the tequila. One man began to talk to Percy in Spanish, however, since he didn’t speak enough of the language to know what the man asked, the killer shrugged, smiled, and turned away. The last thing he needed was any sort of disruption of the peace which would bring lawmen. The Mexican insisted, however, so Percy licked the salt, sucked the last of the lime to the rind, and tossed off the bottom of the glass of clear fire. He shivered once, then again, and walked out. He went to his room and lay down with his clothes on. He went blank almost instantly.

*****

How old are you? the army Sergeant, resplendent in