CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
"Hank, I'm so sorry, I have guests," Myra said, her cheeks flushing. "The ladies from church visit for a while each week. We take turns at hosting."
"Don't matter. I shoulda sent a wire from Denver rather than just turn up," he said, too pleased by the smile on her face to feel much disappointment.
"I could..." She hesitated a moment, her eyes slipping away from his. "I could meet you for lunch tomorrow after work if you like. My hours are a little longer now, I finish at one o'clock."
Hank agreed at once. "I'll meet ya outside the bank," he said.
"Are you staying at the Oaktree again?"
"No." Hank snorted and shook his head. "I upset them last time. Broke a coupla things." Including the manager's nose, he thought, but didn't add that. Myra stifled a giggle.
"I'm at the St Louis Guest House, kinda boardin' house," he told her.
"Oh, yes, I know it," Myra nodded.
"Mama?" Samantha appeared suddenly, trotting to Myra's side and grabbing a handful of her skirt.
"I won't be long, honey," Myra said, resting a hand on her blonde head.
"She got big," said Hank.
"She'll be three in just a few months. How's Zack? Are you seeing him for Christmas?"
"Already did, just came from there," Hank told her. "He's doin' great. Almost as tall as me already. Look, I'll get outta yer hair." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Yer ladies'll be impatient to discuss the weather."
Myra smothered a laugh behind her hand. "I'll see you tomorrow, one o'clock," she said and withdrew slowly, closing the door with a quiet click.
Hank headed back into the city, encouraged by the brief but positive meeting. She had seemed much more pleased to see him than he expected and he let himself begin to hope again that there might be some chance for them to be together eventually.
The rest of the day seemed incredibly long, but at last it came to an end. Despite the excitement Hank managed to sleep well at the guest house, simply from exhaustion. There were three other guests staying and in the morning the four of them gathered in the dining room while Mrs Claybourne served a large cooked breakfast.
Hank lingered over a second cup of coffee after the other three had gone. It was only eight-thirty and he still had over four hours to kill before he went to meet Myra. A few minutes later he heard the doorbell ring and Mrs Claybourne went to answer it, then came into the dining room.
"Mr Lawson?"
"Yeah?"
"There's a Mrs Bing here to see you. I showed her into the lounge."
"Oh!" Hank put his cup down none too gently and got to his feet. "Thanks." As he made his way to the other room, he couldn't help thinking something must be wrong. Why would she turn up so early? Or turn up at all after they agreed to meet for lunch.
He found her sitting on the sofa, Samantha on her lap, her face pale and worried.
"Myra, what's wrong?" He perched on the edge of the chair opposite her.
"Sorry to disturb you so early," she began.
"You ain't disturbin' me, I was wonderin' what to do with the rest of the mornin'. Y'alright?"
"I feel a bit awkward..."
"This is me, Myra, nothin's awkward, 'less ya want me to get back on the train and go home."
"No! I was going to ask you a favour. I don't know what else to do. Mrs Withers died yesterday. I only just found out from her housekeeper."
Hank frowned. The name sounded vaguely familiar.
"Mrs Withers watches Samantha while I'm working," Myra reminded him. "She had a heart attack I think."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I. And with Suzannah away..."
"She ain't here?" interrupted Hank.
"No, her husband took her and the children to Chicago for the holidays to visit his parents."
"So ya need somebody to watch Samantha?"
Myra nodded, her cheeks turning from white to pink. "Any other day I'd ask for time off work to find someone else, but the proprietor is calling in for a meeting, I have to be there."
"Lucky I'm here, then," Hank said at once.
"You don't mind?"
"'Course I don't mind. Ain't nothin' else to do, 'cept spoil a little girl all mornin'." He grinned now and Myra relaxed visibly.
"Thank you, Hank," she said.
"She'll be fine, ya got nothin' to worry about," he added.
"I know that." Myra stood up now, lowering Samantha to her feet on the floor. "You won't remember Uncle Hank, but he helped me look after you once or twice when you were really little. He's going to watch you this morning, alright?"
"Yes, Mama." Samantha stepped shyly towards Hank. "Your hair is real long," she said, gazing up at him with round eyes.
Hank grinned. "Yeah, I should get it cut. A bit. How'd ya like to spend the mornin' with me while yer ma goes to work? Maybe get some icecream or somethin'?"
"Yes, please!" Her little face split into a wide smile and she let go of Myra's hand now, grabbing Hank's instead as he reached out to her.
"See? We'll be fine," he said, getting to his feet now. "Go to work."
Myra bent to give Samantha a kiss and a minute later she was gone. Hank grabbed his coat, picked up the little girl and headed outside. The morning, which he had expected to drag, now flew by as he entertained Samantha, treating her to a dish of strawberry flavoured icecream followed by a walk in the park where they watched two boys playing with a ball and a rather mangy looking dog. Then they made a brief stop in a toy store on the way to meet Myra at the bank after Samantha spotted a pink stuffed rabbit in the window.
"Ya like pink, huh?" Hank smiled. "Just like yer ma." He bought her the rabbit, then hurried on towards the bank as the church clock struck one.
Myra had just emerged when they reached the door and she reached out to take Samantha. The little girl wrapped her arm fiercely around Hank's neck and hung on.
"Want Uncle Hank to carry me," she pouted.
"Looks like you had fun this morning," Myra said, eyeing the rabbit. "She's got you wrapped around her little finger already."
'So has her ma', Hank thought to himself. "Where're we goin' for lunch?" he asked. "That cafe again?"
"Alright." Myra tucked her hand through his arm as they walked around the corner to the Juniper Cafe. They took a table for two and Samantha sat on Hank's lap while they ate fancy little sandwiches and cakes.
"Thanks so much for watching her," Myra said for about the third time as they finished the lunch with coffee, Samantha carefully sipping milk from a small cup.
"It's no problem, I had as much fun as she did. What're ya gonna do about care for her in the future?"
"I know a few people who might take her, I'll have to go and speak to them this afternoon."
"Well, if yer stuck tomorrow, just drop her by the guest house again," Hank said at once.
Myra smiled. "Just don't let her keep asking you to buy her things."
"I don't mind. So, ya reckon there's much chance of one o' these people watchin' her one evenin' so we could have dinner?" he asked. If she said no to dinner again, he would have to accept they would only ever be friends.
"I'm not sure, I can ask. It's a shame Suzannah's away. She's not expected back until the New Year."
"So yer on yer own for Christmas?"
"I won't be really, I'm going to help with the church's Christmas dinner. The Reverend organises one for the poor."
Hank frowned slightly, wishing he could spend Christmas with Myra and Samantha himself, but that was almost two weeks away and it would certainly be too pushy to invite himself. At least she had more or less agreed to go for dinner, assuming she could find someone to watch Samantha.
He spent another hour with the two of them after lunch, during which Samantha fell asleep nestled against his shoulder as they strolled around, her thumb in her mouth and her free hand fastened tightly around the pink rabbit's neck. Then Myra took the little girl from him and went to see some of the people whom she hoped would be able to help care for her, at least in the short term.
Hank found a bar where he spent the evening drinking whiskey and joining in a few games of poker. When he returned to the guest house later on and went to bed, he lay awake for a while, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, feeling a little happiness for the first time in years. In seemed that at last, after so long, Myra might actually consider something developing between them.
The next morning, Myra and Samantha arrived again just as he was finishing breakfast. Samantha was clutching the pink rabbit as if her life depended on it and Myra said that she had refused to part with it even when she went to bed. She told him now that she had found someone who was happy to watch the child, but she couldn't start until the following day due to a prior commitment, so Uncle Hank was needed once again.
"The lady offered to let her stay over with her own daughter tomorrow night too," added Myra.
"That mean we can have dinner?" Hank said with a grin.
"I'd like that."
"Me too." He turned his attention to Samantha. "So what does Miss Samantha wanna do this mornin'?" he asked.
"Eat icecream!" she exclaimed.
"I guess we can do that."
"I'll see you later," Myra said with a smile. "Thank you, Hank."
Hank took Samantha to the icecream parlour again and then the park until it was time to go and meet Myra. They were a few minutes early and he decided to wait outside until she came out. However, as they headed up the street towards the building something seemed to be going on. Perhaps a dozen people were hovering in the street a little way from the bank, talking in low voices. Frowning, Hank approached a middle-aged couple.
"What's goin' on?" he asked them.
"Looks like a robbery," said the man. "We only just arrived. I heard someone say there are men in there with guns."
"What? How many?" demanded Hank, his guts clenching.
"I don't know."
He turned to a couple of younger men and asked what they knew. They seemed to think there were two bank robbers, armed and with scarves around their faces.
"Anyone send for the sheriff?" Hank demanded loudly.
Several people turned towards him and either shrugged or shook their heads.
"What's wrong with you folks?" he muttered, looking back at the older couple. "Will ya watch the kid?" he asked, lowering Samantha to her feet. The lady grasped her hand immediately.
"What are you going to do?" she said.
"Get in there and make sure no one gets hurt."
"You can't do that," the man protested. "They have guns."
"So do I." Hank pulled the Colt out of the back of his pants where he kept it out of sight while in the city. Gasping, the couple took a small step back.
"Isn't this Myra Bing's little girl?" the woman asked then.
"Yeah. So keep her safe while I go get her ma." He looked at the rest of the group now. "You fellas sure there's only two of 'em?"
"Not sure, no, but it looks like it."
"There a way in 'round the back?"
"Yes, there's another door," someone replied.
"I think you should wait for the sheriff," another man put in.
"Maybe I would if someone bothered to tell him!" Hank retorted.
"I'll do that now," another voice spoke up and a man hurried off down the street.
Hank approached the building and cautiously sidled up to the door, peering through the glass. He immediately saw Myra and four other people huddled in a corner, a man holding them there at gunpoint, his back to the door. There was no sign of anyone else and he assumed the other thief must be in another room getting the money. He ducked back out of sight and made his way around the side of the building. Several horses stood there, two loose and a few tied to a post. It looked as if the two with their reins trailing belonged to the robbers.
He stepped past them now and walked quietly to the rear door of the bank. There were no windows in this part of the building so he was unable to check what was going on before bursting in. Instead, he pushed the door open an inch at a time, the barrel of his gun entering first.
The room beyond the door was empty, but sounds came from an adjoining room. He looked in and discovered another masked man facing the other way, training his gun on a terrified looking bank employee who was stuffing money into a sack. Without hesitation Hank brought the butt of his gun down on the back of the man's head, catching him as he began to fall and lowering him down slowly so that his body didn't make a noise as it hit the floor.
"Ssshhh," he hissed quietly at the frightened young man in front of him. "Ya got any rope?"
The response was a slight shake of the head.
"Give me yer belt," whispered Hank. "Hurry up!"
Hands shaking, the bank teller unfastened his belt and handed it over. Hank used it to secure the robber's hands behind his back, then picked up his gun, taking it as a second weapon for himself.
"How many more are there?" he asked now.
"One or two, I'm not sure. I only saw this one but I heard at least one other voice."
"Stay here." Hank made his way slowly down the corridor towards the main part of the bank, a gun in each hand, his heart thumping. He was confident he could disarm the other man easily enough, but with his gun aimed at the group of people before him, there was a chance Myra may get hurt.
"Shut yer mouth!" the gunman was shouting at one person who had dared to request he be released, given that he didn't work in the bank. "Yer a hostage! If we don't get what we come for, ya'll pay!" He pulled the hammer back on his gun, finger hovering over the trigger.
Hank hesitated, wondering whether to simply shoot the guy or charge in and tell him to put the gun down. Either way he might pull the trigger in reflex. He stepped forward.
"Drop the gun," he said. "Put it down slow and turn around."
The faces of the people in the corner turned to look at him as one. He glanced briefly at Myra, noticing her expression showing a mixture of alarm and relief. The robber lowered his arm until his gun aimed at the floor and looked over his shoulder. Then slowly he turned around. Hank shoved the gun in his left hand into his pants and walked forward to take the other man's weapon. Then suddenly Myra cried out.
"Behind you!"
He had no idea where the third man had come from. There had been no one around the back of the building or in either of the rear rooms, but he had appeared from somewhere. Hank's first instinct was to drop down on one knee in an effort to avoid being shot in the back, but as he did so the man in front of him raised his gun again. Hank fired automatically, hitting the man in the stomach. He dropped his weapon instantly, clutching himself, falling to the ground yelling in pain.
On his knees Hank turned, looking for the third man behind him, but he knew even before he saw him that it was too late. He fired before Hank even got him in sight, the bullet hitting him in the back of the right shoulder. It felt like a hard punch at first, stunning him and knocking him forwards onto his left hand. His right arm fell and the gun dropped from his hand.
"Hank!" Myra screamed and dodged around the writhing man on the ground in front of her to run to him. He ignored her and looked up again, yanking the gun in his pants free with his left hand, even as he slumped to the ground on his side.
"Everyone hold still!" a new voice called now from the front door. One of the other bank employees still in the corner muttered something, one word being 'sheriff.'
Hank ignored him. The man who had shot him still had a chance of going free and was even now facing the sheriff, his gun still raised, refusing to back down. His eyes were on the officer at the door, apparently forgetting Hank on the ground. Hank lifted his left hand slowly and fired. The bullet took the thief in the chest, throwing him back against the wall, which he subsequently slid down until he lay still on the floor.
"I said hold still!" shouted the sheriff. "Put the gun down!"
Hank relaxed his fingers and the gun slid onto the floor. He realised he was lying on his back, Myra bending over him. She was wearing that smart dove grey costume, but there was blood on the sleeves and part of the bodice.
"Yer bleedin'," he whispered.
"It's not me, Hank, it's you, he shot you," she cried, lifting his head up now and lowering it onto her lap. "Someone send for the doctor!"
"I'm alright," Hank said. "Myra, Sam's outside, I gave her to a woman, said she knew ya."
"She'll be fine. What were you doing? You could have been killed. Oh my God," Myra was saying.
"I'm alright," Hank said again softly. "I'm just cold." He felt almost as cold as that time he had been caught in the blizzard and the Jewish family had helped him. He felt as if he couldn't move; his whole body felt numb and heavy, even his eyes wouldn't stay open any more.
"Hank! Oh my Lord! Somebody help!" Myra screamed. It was the last thing he heard her say.