Deputy Camano almost tripped up the veranda steps in his hurry to reach Sheriff Jones who was reclining in a chair as though the World were at complete rest. "God dam it, sheriff!" Camano gritted. "Carter is acting awkward today."

     "Why is he doing that, Amos?"

     Amos knew what Jones' reaction would be and took care to get things right. "We go into the bar; Deputy Raynes politely orders two soft drinks from Lucy - and Carter yells that he don't serve blacks."

     Jones stiffened in his chair and eyed Deputy Raynes. "Is that right, Ganford?"

     Raynes, looking relaxed and untroubled, nodded. "Correct, sheriff. But him refusing to serve me because of my colour bothers me none."

     Jones shoved himself upright from the chair, hitched his gun belt and adjusted his Stetson. "Well, it bothers me, Ganford. I ain't having colour prejudice in this town. No sir. Come, Ganford, if we don't get an apology from Carter then I will stoke hot coals up his ass!"

     "It doesn't matter, sheriff," said Raynes.

     Jones moved to the veranda head. "Ganford, there are times when you put your own feelings aside. This is one of those times. You will come with me and we will see Carter." He glanced at Camano. "And you, Amos, you discuss sweet nothing with Lennox until I get back. Is that clear?"


Lucy Scanlon was feeling downtrodden. Not being allowed to serve Deputy Raynes had upset her open-minded temperament. Carter had seen this and had lectured her not to serve 'undesirables'. He was expressing his views with two friends when the bar door swung open. Sheriff Jones came in with Ganford Raynes following him.

     Jones strutted to the bar. "Hello, my little Lucy."

     "Howdy, sheriff."

     Jones indicated Raynes. "This gentleman is my new deputy. He is staying for a few days and there are times when he is mindful of a glass of orange juice. I am sure you will serve him."

     "We don't serve blacks here," Carter called out.

     Jones swung towards him. "Did I ask you to open your big mouth, Rick? Did I ask your opinion?"

     "We don't serve blacks, sheriff. Look at the sign above the door. It says we reserve the right to refuse service if necessary."

     Jones glanced at the sign. "I can see what it implies, Rick. But if you don't serve Deputy Raynes with two soft drinks then I will take down your sign and stick it in your ear. Now get your ass round the back of this bar and serve my deputy."

     Carter grumbled something aside to his friends. "Lucy," he called. "Serve Deputy Raynes."

     "No - not Lucy, Rick," said Jones. "You do the service. If you refuse, I'll close down your business - and fast. Now which is it to be? Service or closure?"

     Carter served two glasses of orange juice and dropped the change of a five-dollar bill into Raynes' hand.

     Jones smiled. "That didn't hurt did it, Rick?" Carter, facial warts glowing, went back to his pals. Jones led Raynes to a table. They sat down, facing each other.

     Raynes took off his Stetson and dropped it on the chair next him. "That was unnecessary, sheriff."

     Jone drank half his own orange juice. "You're wrong, Ganford. Carter is trouble. Can't keep his fingers off the girl who runs the bar. His wife is ill and he seldom helps her situation. He runs the bar late  and I'm sure drugs are involved. I intent nailing the bastard, but I have become so fond of doing nothing in my last few years that catching him is not easy."

     "You could go back to Allenby, sheriff."

     Jones blinked. "I wouldn't return there if they made me State Governor. But why do you bring up Allenby, Ganford? Think I was born yesterday? I'm supposing that Webster has sent you here for more than just learning your job as deputy sheriff." Jones drank more juice. Stared Raynes full in the face. "I reckon you're checking on the Allenby bank heist. Experience tells me that you and Lennox are linked. But I don't know exactly how. Am I right?"

     Raynes nodded. "You are right. Although I never met Lennox until I came to Allenby. Apparently, Jim so much resembles the bank robber, Billy Radford, that Sheriff Webster asked him to pose as Billy and to check on you and on Amos."

     Jones finished his juice and placed the glass in the centre of a table mat. "You know what, Ganford? You are the first guy I have met in years who has talked straight. I take it you know that Lennox is a New York cop?"

     "I know that, sheriff. Actually, Lennox is looking for a missing couple..."

     "Yeah, I know about them. Lennox has photos. Keeps prodding for information. I've told him we know nothing, except they turned up in Allenby in '59, left after two or three hours, and never came back."

     "When Lennox has finished here, we are heading for the accident scene where Radford went down the mountain side."

     Jones tensed. "Is that so? Why should you go there? You won't find anything."

     "Maybe not, but afterwards we are visiting the Caravan Kingdom."

     Jones chuckled. "You'll get nothing from those people. You know what? The State has tried moving them for more than twenty years and got as far as Nowhere. Visiting them will be a waste of your time."

     Raynes shrugged his shoulders. "Another dig might uncover something new."

                                                      *   *   *

Jim Lennox waited until Sheriff Jones and Deputy Raynes had entered Rick's Bar then he brought up the Amy and Johnny question again. Camano cursed, muttered to himself and retired to his office desk. Lennox followed him and said:

     "I'm visiting the scene where Radford went over the edge on the High Cut."

     Camano saw a ray of light. "So you're not Radford?"

     "No - I'm Lennox."

     "A New York cop?"

     "That's right."

     "So why this baloney about you being Radford?"

     "You and Sheriff Jones were suspected of taking the bank roll money after Radford crashed. You both went before a judge. You were found innocent of the charge. But the Law Authorities still believe that you and Sheriff Jones are involved - somehow."

     Camano could feel a severe headache coming on. This god damned New York cop would not stop burrowing for the truth. Camano shuddered. The truth must not come out. Not ever. "The money was never found," he rasped. "We had nothing to do with it. It went down the mountain with the auto and with Radford...." He could feel his nerves twisting.

     "And the search crews found only the auto?"

     "Yeah, you're not going to miss finding an auto, are you?"

     "I believe the Kingdom boys helped with the search."

     Camano's eyes closed slightly as agonising pain dug at the back of his neck. "Yeah, they helped. They know those mountains better than anyone else does."

     "They helped because they saw what happened?"

     "They helped because they were there, for Christ sake!"

     "They found the money before Webster arrived and they and you shared it."

     Camano shook his head. "That never happened." He was glad to hear Sheriff Jones and Deputy Raynes coming up the veranda steps. Jones looked into the office.

     "Come out here both of you," Jones said. "I got some balling out to do."

     The quartet arranged themselves in a close group round a table, each seated on a solid oak chair. Jones sat next Camano. "Okay," he said to Lennox and to Raynes. "Let's get this clear. Deputy Camano and I know that you boys are Webster's men sent to check on the Allenby 1960 bank heist. We are still suspected of handling the stolen money. We had nothing to do with that."


                                                     *   *   *

Tommy Wade drove rapidly along the trail. "Julienne is just ahead, Frank. What do you want I should do?"

     Rickard shoved shells into the Colt 44 and into the 9mm Smith and Wesson. He could barely handle the weapons. "Stop at the end of Main Street. That fat sheriff is probably on the office veranda with his boots on the rail." He edged himself to the left-hand rear side window and wound it down. The effort brought torture to his injured shoulder. "Drive quick past the veranda, Tommy, and when I see that fat bastard, I'll gun him."

     "Maybe we should..." Wade began.

     Rickard held the Colt to the back of Wade's neck. "Shut up, Tommy, and drive, huh?"