One More Sunrise (26 page)

Tag quickly counted three customers at the tellers’ windows, but before he could announce loudly that they were there to hold up the bank, he froze in place when eight lawmen rose up promptly from behind desks and tables on every side and cocked guns pointed at him and his men. One tall, dark-haired lawman said, “Drop your guns and get those hands in the air!”

Sweat beaded on Tag’s brow as he looked at his gang members. “Give it up, boys. We don’t have a chance.”

The others followed suit as Tag dropped his revolver and it
clattered on the hardwood floor. Dismay was on their faces as they raised their hands above their heads.

“I’m Chief United States Marshal John Brockman!” boomed the dark-haired man. “Tag Moran, you and your henchmen are under arrest.”

The gang members stood mute as the lawmen closed in, picked up their guns, and began handcuffing them with their hands behind their backs.

As the handcuffs made their clicking sounds, Tag looked at Brockman, his face twisted. “How do you know who I am? Ain’t no lawmen got a picture of me.”

“No photographs, Moran, but plenty of artists’ sketches. That’s how we know it was you who killed that bank employee in Vernal and the bank customer in Evanston.”

Tag’s face blanched and he licked his lips nervously.

“You and your cohorts are going to be locked up in Sheriff Randall’s jail for right now,” Brockman said levelly. “Bank robbery is a federal offense, as I’m sure you know. The closest federal judge is in Rawlins. My deputies and I will take you there tomorrow to face Judge George Yeager. It’ll be quite convenient that way, since the Wyoming Territorial Prison is at Rawlins.”

Tag drew a grating breath. A coldness washed over him that made his flesh crawl. He stared at Brockman, but his lips stayed pressed together in a thin line.

Sheriff Randall said, “Chief, I’ll have Deputy Ross Allen drive one of our wagons. He will drive you, your deputies, and your prisoners to Rawlins. You can take your rented horses back to the stable.”

Brockman smiled. “Thanks, Mike. If you’ll have your deputies feed Tag and his bunch some supper, my boys and I will take you to one of Rock Springs’ cafés and feed you.”

Randall nodded. “It’s a deal, Chief.”

“Since it’s a hundred miles from here to Rawlins, we’ll head out right after supper, okay?”

“Sure,” said Randall, looking at Deputy Ross Allen. “Okay with you, Ross?”

“Sure,” said Allen. “The quicker we can get these low-down outlaws to Judge Yeager, the better.”

In the Sweetwater County Jail, the Moran gang was split up into two adjacent cells. Tag and his two brothers were in one cell, and Gib and Tony were in the other.

When supper was brought to them by Deputies Corey Rapp and Rick Lampton, none of them had much appetite. The deputies left, and the gang members sat on their bunks and picked at their food.

After a while, Tag gave up on eating and laid his plate and coffee cup aside.

Bart did the same. “Tag, we should have listened to Kathryn. She was right. We should’ve taken what we had and gone to California. Now look at us.”

Tag sat on his bunk, his face resting in his hands, and stared at the floor.

In the adjacent cell, Gib nodded, looking through the bars. “You’re right, Bart. We should’ve followed my sweet wife’s advice. Now we’re gonna be locked up for years in that prison at Rawlins.”

Jason’s features were almost as pallid as those of his oldest brother. “What’s bothering me is what that judge will do to Tag. He’ll sentence him to hang as sure as anything for killing those men in Vernal and Evanston.”

Tony peered through the bars at the sick-looking Tag Moran. “I wish there was some way we could break out of here.”

Tag raised his head and set dismal eyes on him. “Me too, Tony, but there isn’t. The best time would be when we’re riding in that wagon toward Rawlins. But with Brockman and his three deputies escorting us, we ain’t got a chance. It’s thirty or forty years for you guys in that stinking prison, and the hangman’s rope for me.”

At nine-thirty the next morning Deputy Ross Allen pulled rein in front of the Carbon County courthouse in Rawlins, Wyoming. Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman was on the seat next to Allen. The three federal deputies were in the bed of the wagon with the outlaws, who had their hands handcuffed behind their backs. All five faces were pictures of total gloom.

Brockman turned around on the seat and looked at his deputies. “I’ll go in first and talk to Judge Yeager. Be back as soon as I can.”

Judge George Yeager had met the chief U.S. marshal on a couple of occasions in years gone by, and warmly welcomed him into his office when his secretary, Millie Warner, ushered him in. When Yeager heard how Brockman and his deputies had apprehended the Moran gang, he was elated. Yeager told Brockman he already knew about the recent robberies of the banks in Vernal, Evanston, and Green River, and was aware that Tag Moran had been identified as the one who killed the bank employee in Vernal and the bank customer in Evanston.

Yeager smiled from ear to ear. “Good work, John! Those no-goods have run rampant all over this part of the country. I guess you know they also robbed a stagecoach here in Wyoming not long ago. Got fifty thousand dollars.”

“Yes. I know about it. I want you to know that Sheriff Mike Randall and his men found the money in the Moran gang’s saddlebags that they had taken from the banks in Vernal, Evanston, and Green River. The money will be returned to the banks.”

Yeager was a beefy man with a round face. He smiled again. “Great! I’m glad to hear it.” He paused, then said, “John, I have court cases booked today, and through next Wednesday. I can have the trial for the Moran gang next Thursday, October 21.”

Brockman nodded.

“Until then, I’ll have the sheriff keep Tag and his bunch in jail here in town.”

Brockman nodded again.

The judge then looked toward the open door that led to his secretary’s office. “Millie! Would you come in here for a moment, please?”

Millie quickly appeared at the door. “Yes, your honor?”

“I need you to go across the street to the town’s photographer and tell him I want him to go to the county jail yet today and take pictures of each man in the Moran gang. We’ve never had photographs of those outlaws, and we should have them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Millie?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Will you go first to the
Rawlins Herald
office and have them send one of their reporters over here right away? I want to alert the paper of the Moran gang’s capture and upcoming trial. I’ll have the people at the
Herald
wire the news to newspapers all over Wyoming, Colorado, and Nebraska, and send them copies of the photographs by train and stagecoach. They should have those photographs so they can publish them in their papers along with this story and let people see exactly what each gang member looks like.”

When Millie was gone on her errands, Yeager said, “John, I’m positive the gang members will be convicted in their trial. And I’m also positive that since Tag Moran killed those men in Vernal and Evanston during the robberies, he will get the death sentence. And because those other gang members were in on the robberies when people were killed, they will all be sentenced to life in prison.”

“I have no doubt of it, Judge,” said John, rising to his feet. “My men and I will go ahead and take the prisoners over to the jail so the sheriff can lock them up.”

“All right,” said Yeager, also standing up.

“Once we’ve got them behind bars, my men and I will head for the railroad station and catch the first train to Cheyenne, then we’ll head for Denver on the next train south.”

Yeager moved around his desk and shook Brockman’s hand. “That was excellent work, John—trapping the Moran gang right there in the bank. And just think! The banks in Wyoming, Colorado, and Nebraska won’t have to fear them any longer. You and your deputies will be heroes when this story hits the newspapers!”

Dr. Dane Logan was sitting in a coach on the afternoon train from Cheyenne to Denver. He was alone on the seat, and while looking through the window at the magnificent Rocky Mountains in the distance to the west, he let his mind wander back to the moment at the Cheyenne railroad station some thirty minutes ago when he went through the difficulty of saying good-bye to his parents. They were so special in his life. Because of them his dream of becoming a physician and surgeon had come to fruition.

“Bless them, Lord,” he said in a whisper. “As I look back, I know in my heart that once I was released from prison, I would have eventually become a doctor. But knowing I had their love and support, not to mention the financial aid they gave me, made the road a lot easier and much more pleasant.

“Lord, thank You that Dad already has a new partner. That will make my new venture a lot more enjoyable. I must always make time for my parents, Lord, even though we’ll be living some distance apart. Help me never to neglect writing to them and help me to make time to go see them as often as I can.”

Dane’s mind then jumped ahead to the future.

He smiled to himself.
My own practice. Wow! Who would ever have believed that a homeless street waif from New York City could achieve this in his life? Once again my heavenly Father has proven
Himself faithful
. “I promise You, Lord, that I will do my very best in Central City to please You in all I do. I ask You to give me wisdom, and help me to use the skills with which You have blessed me.”

Dr. Dane’s line of sight focused once again on the beautiful Rockies as they gleamed in the autumn sunshine; then he took out his pocket watch. He glanced down at it, noted the time, and realized he would soon be in Denver.

His heartbeat quickened as he pictured Tharyn in his mind and knew he would see her soon.
Something is definitely happening in my heart
, he thought as a grin crossed his face. “Lord, have You really kept Tharyn and me for each other?”

The very thought made him catch his breath.
I think I’m beginning to feel more for her than just brotherly love
.

Dane felt elation at the thought.

Tharyn Tabor and Breanna Brockman were standing in front of the counter at the nurses’ station in the surgical ward, talking, when Breanna looked down the corridor past Tharyn. “Here he comes!”

Tharyn pivoted around and let a smile light up her face. Dane smiled back. When he drew near, Tharyn was so glad to see him that she forgot there were people around and dashed to him.

Dane held her close and said, “Sorry I’m a couple days past a week, but it took longer to wrap things up than I thought. Certain patients needing my care after surgery, and that kind of thing.”

“I understand, big brother. I got your wire.”

“I had to wire Dr. Fraser too,” he said as they let go of each other and Dane found himself looking at Breanna.

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Dane,” said Breanna. “So are you heading for Central City immediately?”

“When I wired Dr. Fraser that it would be a little longer than
a week before I could leave Cheyenne, I told him I thought I’d reach Denver today—Friday the fifteenth. I told him I would stay over in Denver, go to church with Tharyn on Sunday, then buy a horse on Monday and ride to Central City.”

Tharyn sprang up and down on her tiptoes. “Oh, Dane, that’s great! You’ll love our pastor, his wife, and the church. There is especially one person at church that I want you to see. It’s somebody you know.”

Dane’s brow furrowed. “Somebody I know? Who?”

Tharyn giggled, shaking her head. “I’m not telling. You’ll find out on Sunday.”

He laughed. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”

She took hold of his hand. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ll be here over the weekend.”

“Well, I wish I could stay longer, but I really need to get settled in my new home at the boardinghouse and get started in my new practice.”

“I understand. It’s just going to be so good to have you so close.”

“Oh yes. I’ll be back and forth between Central City and Denver a lot. Not only to bring patients here, but to see my little sis. The only thing that might slow me down will be heavy snows this winter.”

A bright light showed in Dane’s eyes. Tharyn and Breanna smiled at each other, seeing his happiness at finding his niche.

“Dr. Dane, my husband has been away with some of his deputies, chasing down a gang of bank robbers, but I got a wire telling me they had caught the gang and left them in jail in Rawlins where they will stand trial before a federal judge. John and his deputies were delayed a little in Cheyenne, but they will be home on the early train from Cheyenne tomorrow morning. He’s been wanting to meet you. He’ll get to do that at church on Sunday.”

“I’ll look forward to meeting him, ma’am.”

Breanna smiled. “Well, I’d better get to work, or I’ll get fired.”

Tharyn laughed. “I can just see you getting fired, Breanna!”

Breanna gave her a quick hug, then hurried away.

Tharyn looked at the clock on the wall behind the counter. “It’s almost time for shift change, Dane. Will you ride home with Papa and me and have supper at our house?”