What You Trust In

Down the quiet streets of Cattle Creek sauntered Edgaroni Stonewyck and two jolly kiddies in infant-cowboy state.

Adjusting his vest with a tug, Edgaroni raised his bandana up to his eyes and motioned to his two companions to follow him down a damp and dirty alley. His topcoat felt heavy in the hot humid air, but his gait was as free and confident as ever. He was so eager he barely even moderated his outrageous stride enough for the two youngsters beside him to keep up.

So much so that Little Buckley had to break off his whistling to catch his breath, and Chani’s legs hardly ever touched the floor for two seconds together as they tripped after Edgaroni.

Rays of golden sunlight glittered off of the hitch racks, casting long shadows on the road as the sun fell behind the horizon. From the verandah of the Flying Queens pretty Pam Dora nodded and smiled to the three as they tramped by.

“What a pretentious pair of sweet-looking infants,” sighed Pam Dora picking up her broom again, and laughing at their funny imitation of a cowboy’s gait as she watched their faded forms melt into the distance.

The alley narrowed and the sky darkened as they walked along, until it became hard even to see a foot ahead. But the path was well-known to Stonewyck. Many a time had he traced it in preparation for this day. As for his two companions, why, they had spent their whole lives in Cattle Creek and knew every inch of it like the back of their hands.

From up the alley came slight stomping sounds of a horse’s hoofs and the rolling of heavy carriage wheels. Startled, Buckley gazed up at Stonewyck’s face, but he saw no surprise written on Edgaroni’s countenance.

Wagons, gigs, and all such were infrequent in those parts, and it was rarer still to hear them out this late.

As they rounded the corner they came into view of two dim lights, one belonged to the hooded gig they had heard, and the other to the old Town Bank.

Tilting his hat lower, Edgaroni Stonewyck held a private conversation with the driver, who took the lamp that was hanging on the cab, jumped down, and fastened the horse to the Bank’s balustrade. Stonewyck and the children watched him walk off and then, turning towards the Bank, Edgaroni said with a thick yet quick drawl, “‘Kay kiddiwinkles. We’re makin’ millions tonight.”

“To the raid, cowboys!” cried Buck, pulling out his pistol as he dashed toward the door.

“Hold on!” began the girl, grabbing Stonewyck’s arm before he could follow Buckley. “The poor horse is starving, ain’t you goin’ to feed him?”

“He ain’t staving,” replied Stonewyck, shaking her off. “Now hold your wobblin’ jaw and follow yer brother.”

“But he’s hot and pantin’,” said Chani, lingering. “At least get him some water!”

“There ain’t no water for a mile around, so quit your caterwaulin’ and follow me,” he retorted, dragging her with him.

Meanwhile, Buck had pounded on the door, and getting no answer, he had turned to a window.

Rushing up with Chani trailing on his foot, Stonewyck beckoned to him and showed him how to break the door lock. Carefully they all walked in. Stonewyck’s fingers twitched over his gun as he looked around.

Little Buckley whistled loudly in his excitement – always a favored vent for such emotions – and Chani assayed to jump straight over the counter, crying as she unsuccessfully fell onto the ground. Then she dried her tears and walked around to the other side and announced, “Here. I’m the banker, Buck!”

“Then I’m goin’ to shot ya,” cried Buck, aiming his pistol at her.

“Woah chaps!” cried Stonewyck in a loud whisper. “Buckley, put that there gun away. Carry this over to the safe, my boy,” he added, unslinging his pack as he passed it to Buckley and examining the room before them carefully.

There was the banker’s desk, with all his accounts cast up neatly in booklets. Over to the right was the long counter where the teller would stand, upon which Chani was pounding while screaming outrage upon the robbers, with many threats of gruesome hangings, just as she had read in the Wild West Weekly.

Stonewyck put his finger before Chani’s face and shaking it violently said, “I’m goin’ to have to make quick work of this safe, or I’ll have every cowboy in town here to see what yer yapping about.”

Bending over, Edgaroni tucked his trousers firmly into his boots and jumping the counter, neatly landed beside Chani.

“You can’t come back here!” cried Chani. “You’ve gotta point yer gun at me and ask me to fill yer bag full of money,” she added, seizing his holster.

“I would if you had the key sissy,” said Edgaroni, hauling her with him over to the safe where Buck had dumped out the contents of Stonewyck’s bag.

“How do ya use these?” asked Buckley, clanging together an old spanner and crowbar.

Stonewyck looked at him severely and said, “young fella, if you’re lookin’ for trouble I’ll accommodate ya. If not quit yer barkin’ and hand me that there spanner.”

Pouting, Buck handed it to him.

Adjusting her belt clasp, Chani plopped down next to the counter and leaned her head drowsily against it. She unrolled her sleeves and propped herself comfortably against her hand.

Edgaroni worked on in silence, only the sound of metal grinding against metal meeting his ears, as he cracked the cash box open. For even Buckley had quieted down, his eyelids beginning to droop and his head to nod. Slowly Buck bent forward and slumped languorously over Edgaroni’s lap.

Instinctively Edgaroni began to shove him off, but thinking better of it, he maneuvered around him as best he could.

Suddenly there was a stir outside. Stonewyck started, waking Buckley up. His hands fumbled nervously with the safe, lost their grasp and let the lid fall clanging to the ground.

The sound of it reverberated off the walls.

“The earth’s fallin’ in!” cried Buck, tumbling over Edgaroni’s sack.

Edgaroni jumped to his feet, yanking out his gun.

“Who’s there?” he cried. His breath was taut. His eyes darted from door to window.

“Why, it’s only the horse,” said Chani, bestirring herself. “I can just make out the noise of his poor restless feet kicking back and forth, just waitin’ for someone to feed him – unless you mean that awful bang ya made with that there safe.”

“Come on kids, let’s get out of here,” said Edgaroni, ignoring Chani.

Swinging the bags of bank notes over his shoulder, he pulled Buckley up and vaulted over the counter.

“Wait! Don’t ya want yer tools?” asked Buckley.

“Yer a bright one, Buck. Grab ‘em and let’s go,” said Stonewyck, glancing over his shoulder to watch the boy go back to fill the tool bag.

Chani toppled over a chair as she stumbled up to Stonewyck.

“Will we feed the horse now?” she asked. “Please,” she added, tugging at one of the bags.

“I don’t got no food,” said Edgaroni dourly, jerking her off.

Chani slumped down angrily. She hadn’t let go of the sack, and a piece of it was left in her hand. As she looked at it a small “oops,” escaped her that wasn’t lost on Stonewyck’s sharp ears.

He flashed around and stared at her.

“What in thunderaton have ya done!” he cried, swinging the bags around.

There was a sizable slit in one, where the old fabric had ripped in Chani’s hand.

Fearfully Chani looked up at Stonewyck’s face. “I love ya, Edgaroni,” she smiled timorously.

Edgaroni clenched his fists and glared at her for a second, but he couldn’t stand her sweet eyes.

“You’re a plumb little pussy,” he said grudgingly. “Well, come on, we gotta get out of here lickity split or we’ll have the Sheriff all over us,” he added, and sweeping his greatcoat over Chani and Buck, he crawled across the yard to the hitching rack where the horse stood pawing the ground.

Stonewyck quickly untethered the horse.

Clapping her hands, Chani jumped up the front of the buggy. Stonewyck helped Buckley up and throwing the three sacks of rare, mint banknotes into the gig, he scrambled up himself.

His foot slid off the dewy step and he fell forcibly to the ground. The damp mist lifted a little and a dim light shone forth as Chani lit a lantern and hung it up on the gig.

Edgaroni grunted and collected himself. He saw by the light of Chani’s swinging lantern a banknote floating gently to the ground from the buggy. As he bent over to pick it up his eyes flashed across the words written on it.

“In God we trust,” read the banknote.

Like a tree hit by a lightning bolt, Stonewyck stood petrified. He peered anxiously down the alley. Sweat gathered thickly on his brow.

Buckley stuck his head and tongue out at Edgaroni and started whistling his favorite jig. Springing up, Edgaroni clapped his hand over Buckley’s mouth and leapt into the box.

“Hush!” cried Stonewyck, tossing the reins to Chani.

“Get a wiggle on, girl,” he said to Chani, tossing her the reins. “Anywhere,” he added anticipating her question. Behind them the clouds parted and the moon lit the road as bright as day. A feathery bird flew up in front of them.

“Kids, do ya see anyone?” Edgaroni whispered to the children, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Shadows flickered around them as the carriage wheels began to unwillingly to turn.

Chani shook her head and Buckley tried to say something, but Stonewyck’s hand was still pressed firmly over his mouth. Edgaroni trembled and pulled his bandana back up over his face from where it had fallen.

“Come Buck,” said Edgaroni. “Join me in the back and keep yer potato trapper closed,” he added, pulling Buck into the back of the gig with him.

Stonewyck’s thoughts disturbed him. His eyes feasted on the money scattered all over the inside of the carriage from the broken sack.

How was it so easy to get away with stealing so much money? How was it that there was no one to stop him? Stonewyck held his breath and gazed at the sacks in disbelief.

Many a time had he robbed a stagecoach and committed other crimes, yet never had he felt so nervous. It wasn’t the crime. It wasn’t the place. It wasn’t even the kids.

Rather it was that message on the back of the money. “In God we trust.” Why? Who? Who was it that trusted in God, and not in the money?

Resolutely controlling himself, Edgaroni picked up the notes lying on the floor and seat. Each one screamed at him, “In God we trust!” Half driven mad he ripped opened the other sacks and looked over every single bank note that he had stolen.

All the bank notes stared back at him saying, “In God we trust.”

“Buckley, can ya read?” Edgaroni demanded, tossing the bills toward him.

“Sometimes,” answered Buck with a sanguine grin.

“What does this say?” asked Stonewyck, holding a note up by the light.

“In God… wa… I mean we trus’,” read Buckley. “That’s true,” he added, nodding emphatically. “God is mosty powerful, mama said so.”

“Maybe you do,” Stonewyck replied, thinking only of the first part of Buckley’s speech. “But I don’t,” he added bitterly, looking hopelessly at Buckley, and anxiously clasping his hands together.

Buckley stared wide-eyed at Edgaroni, something like confused pity slowly appearing on his face.

“We’re home,” cried Chani, sticking her head in. “Come on Buck! Mother will be wondering where we are.”

Down they both climbed, waving to Edgaroni as they sauntered off to their cabin. But Edgaroni was completely engrossed in his thoughts, and pulling his hat well over his eyes, he picked up the reins and galloped away in a terrific hurry.

Afore the cock had crowed the next morning, the people came scuttering together as they heard the news of the robbery of the old Town Bank. Even plain maid Molly was shocked at such outrage being done in Cattle Creek. The gossip flew down the streets, until every soul had heard of the burglary at the Bank, and a vast many other things as well, which had not happened.

Maid Molly had but just whispered the tragic news, with a great deal of prodigious exaggeration, when Edgaroni Stonewyck strolled up to the Bank.

His night had been miserable, and the morning had brought little comfort. Questions pestered him, and it was to answer them that he returned so recklessly to the old Town Bank.

Dressing himself up like a city slicker in his best bib and tucker, Edgaroni slipped into the Bank.

The Bank was crowded with many inquisitive cowboys.

Swaggering up to the teller, Edgaroni drawled, “In whom do ya trust?” Forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be a city boy.

The steel-eyed Sheriff turned toward the newcomer and rested his hand on his hip. The teller looked at Stonewyck strangely, but did not answer.

Edgaroni was obliged to repeat himself, and he said a bit louder, “Who do ya trust in?” Every eye turned on the teller now, looking inquiringly at the two men.

The teller stared vapidly at Stonewyck.

Everything was so easy to get, thought Edgaroni to himself.

He could hear his own thoughts so loudly he sensed that everyone else must be hearing them too.

Perspiration poured down his hair. He felt horribly worried that there was something he hadn’t taken into account… what was going to happen to him, if God was real?

Allen, the owner of the Bank ambled up to Stonewyck. “I don’t know,” he answered heavily. “I’m a ruined man, what is there for me now?”

“The thief has hidden himself so well, and gotten away so fast,” whined the teller nervously.

“Why didn’t you have the money better protected?” asked Stonewyck.

“It’s a quiet town,” cried the owner, Allen Hinckley. “The Sheriff lives close by. No one has ever dared to break through before.”

“You trusted in the Sheriff?” asked Edgaroni in disbelief.

“What about you?” he demanded, turning to the Sheriff, “what do you trust in?”

The Sheriff dug for his gun threateningly.

“What ya barkin’ at a knot fer?” asked the Sheriff, hovering his hand over his gun and tapping it lovingly.

Edgaroni only turned from him in disgust.

“What about you?” asked Edgaroni. “And you and you?” He asked, swirling around at the people.

Yet not one mentioned God to him. The crowd only laughed at his question and shrugged.

The owner of the Bank sank heavily to his knees. “I’m a dead man,” he cried. “I owe everyman here and haven’t got a penny – what matters it who we trust?”

“Yer all down but nine,” sighed Stonewyck, shaking his head. “Why that’s the very thing that matters most – but ya don’t see it,” he added, as the owner stared blankly at him.

The Sheriff pushed away the folds of his long coat, letting his hand just touch the handle of his revolver.

“I’m plumb tuckered out. I can’t even take care of my family. It’s the end for me, boys,” moaned the owner, scarcely audibly, burying his face in his rough hands.

Edgaroni Stonewyck broke, and cried with utter recklessness, “Well maybe ye don’t think it is a problem that you don’t trust in God, but I do!”

“My wife and children,” replied the owner heavily. “They’re goin’ to starve, we’re ruined… how am I supposed to trust God now?”

Behind him tripped up two bright little children, who half grinned and half scowled in the sweetest sort of way at Edgaroni.

“Papa don’t cry!” said Chani, jumping over to sooth him.

“Why papa,” cried Buck, a little surprised at seeing his father so distraught. “Ya haven’t lost nothing. God’s taking care of us all the same. See, Edgaroni will give all the money back – he didn’t really steal it. It was only in play. We asked him if we mightn’t be Bank Robbers with him – for he looked like such a bandit when we met him on the road,” said Buckley grinning impertinently.

Down in the dusty jail of Cattle Creek, sat a lone fellow grinning dryly at Chani and Buckley who hung about on the other side of the bars.

Edgaroni stared at the two kids, smiling at them in amusement at their clever treachery. “Well now,” he drawled, “I know who to trust. Not in you… and not in myself… and not in money.”

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