John dragged me out of my thoughts as he hauled out of the way by me sleeve. We watched Lyle and the first shipment rumble and bounce into the darkness. Five minutes later, the other set of trucks rolled out and headed in the opposite direction. Time passed, I wasn't sure how much. Everything was quiet, except for a few birds you could hear flitting about up in the rafters. I didn't know for sure anything was wrong, or if I could do anything if there was, but what the hell. I'd come this far, might as well see it through. Besides, John kept poking me with the gun - to see if I slept standing up, I guess - and I was getting a little tired of it.
"You know one of your guys slipped out before the trucks left, right?" John ignored me. "he probably went to clue his buddies in."
"Be quiet. You're just making up nonsense."
"Your pals are gonna be in dutch. Don't you think you oughta warn 'em?"
John jabbed the gun into my side a little harder and said, "Mister, I've had about enough of your hash, now shut yer yap before - "
Funny thing. The padlock I picked off the Charlane's gate was still in my coat pocket. I'd just wanted to keep the gate open for a return visit, but it came in handy for clocking John Boy here. Not sporting, but effective. His head whipped around and the rest of him followed in a graceful downward spiral. Like a pigeon taken out of the sky with a slingshot. He was gonna need some dental work, but judging from his breath, he was overdue. I pocketed the padlock and headed for my car.
She wasn't in a cooperative mood. I checked under the hood, on the off chance someone had the bright idea to disable her. No such luck. Then I heard gunfire, to the west. they fell for the decoy. Good for whoever the guns were headed to, bad for for the guys in the trucks. I'd hoped this wouldn't happen, since most of the thefts had been quiet heists, a little smash and grab. I guess when Charlane upped the stakes with more armed guards, the thieves did, too. I tried the key one more time, pleading under my breath with her to start for me, sugar. The engine coughed, rattled the whole car, but at least it was running. I headed west, the same direction the whole neighborhood was gawking at from their lawns.
As I drove, I realized I couldn't do much with a padlock, if there was even anything to do. I reached across the car, careful to keep an eye on the road. never know when a cow will go for a stroll. In the glove box was my revolver, a well-oiled but beat up .38. I keep it in good working condition just in case, but letting it bounce around in the glove compartment doesn't do the outside any good. I don't like guns. I'm good with them, and in the past I've leaned too heavily on them. Not using them makes solving some problems harder, but also prevents others from cropping up entirely. Besides, I keep forgetting to renew my permit.
Turns out I didn't need it. The whole thing was over by the time I got there, though I didn't have any time to find out much. Thompson and his deputies were already there. Thompson was livid, his language would have lit up the sky if the burning trucks weren't doing a fine job already. He wasn't likely to be happy to see me at any point, but certainly not now, and he harangued his deputies to get me out of there. I was just able to confirm no one died, though plenty were injured, and a couple might be touch and go, as they hustled me away. Good news was Bill wasn't one of the injured, and he filled me and the other fellas in over breakfast the next morning.
It's hard to say how much he embellished the story, but the attack came at a sharp turn, with thieves using hay bales as a temporary roadblock, and others in the fields for cover. The roadblock only had to hold long enough to let them shoot out tires. Nobody was sure how many thieves there were, with the dark clothes and masks, but Hill assured us they were all giants, heavily armed (that part I figure for half-true). The first few guys who returned fire got shot down pretty quick, and then some of the ammo in one of the trucks went up and the rest of Charlane's men bailed out. At that point, with no cover of their own, the guys gave up the fight. Smart move. A few shadows moved in to start unloading crates, and turns out Charlane lied to me. The shipment that went west wasn't the decoy. All the workers knew that before I ever showed up. I guess Charlane was betting I'd escape, which made me feel a little better about hitting John. Bill swears John is the type to hold grudges, though, but hell, who isn't?
I mulled things over in the park while breakfast settled. Another shipment taken. They'd left behind another Raccoon mark, real elaborate the way Bill described it. Not just the track, but a mask, little nose, even whiskers. Someone fancied themselves an artist, and was also a little too cute for their own good. This is much too loud for the Raccoons. There were only two people in town I'd bet had the manpower to pull this off: Charlie or Maggie. I've been told the local ladies for Liberty are tough enough, but they only number a half-dozen.
I wanted to dismiss Charlie. He'd always liked how the Raccoons handled things, and this was too loud, too flashy. Making a deal with the sheriff so he could run illegal gaming, that was more his style. Crooked, but with enough respectability people don't object. He didn't announce himself, just let how well he ran things speak for itself.
Of course, if he was going to try something like this, the sheriff was a good person to be partners with. But that didn't jibe, either. Thompson couldn't want this level of trouble. The buzz had been growing that state troopers were about to get involved, and Thompson didn't want them investigating. If Charlie brought that heat down, it'd be the end of their partnership.
Which left Maggie and her army of boys, but where would she hide the guns? I had a good guess, but I'd need to make some plans. I rose, looking at the clouds to the northwest as I walked back to the boarding house. My car didn't give me any grief today, and rolled smooth as could be onto Main Street as we headed east.
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