There was nothing but hard, corn biscuits to eat, but they made a feast of it, relishing every mouthful, washing it all down with the last of their coffee.
“There is a bank in the town of Paradise,” said Shapiro as he gulped down his final morsel. “It holds money from the railroad company. Every Thursday, armed men come to collect cash to pay the railroad workers’ wages. One of my g**g, a man called Arkan Lomas, worked as one of the guards. He told me of this. My hope was we could raid the bank on that day, take the money and head for Mexico. Cole put paid to all of that.” He held up his hand, rotating it to reveal the livid scar running across the back of the wrist. “He shot my g*n out of my hand. I’ve never known shooting like it.”
Pursing his lips, Nolan nodded. “I saw him go up again
