CHAPTER SIX
‘We’d set to casing the bank for more than two weeks. A big deposit was coming in from the railroad, mostly gold transported to government storehouses. None of us knew how much, but Bernie Seagrams, our boss, if you wanna call him such, he’d caught a whiff of it from some drunkard over in Amarillo over a card game. He said it was somewhere in the region of fifty to a hundred thousand dollars. Life-changing. The thought of it made us determined to see it through.
‘Bethlehem is a smallish town, past its best, but it is on the main railroad line from Chicago. We rode in two at a time, and Pete Mullins and me got ourselves a room in a two-bit hotel near the end of the main street. The plan was for us to wander around, keeping ourselves as inconspicuous as possible, whilst noting
