CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“I don’t think he’s coming back.”
Morrison was stood in the bank doorway, half-crouching, looking down the street. The developing gloom did not make picking out details any easier and he sighed with frustration. “I can’t make much out, Miss Daisy, but I think he went into your guesthouse.”
“All right,” she said, stepping up behind the bank teller. “What we can do is shut up and wait for the sheriff to return. That’s the safest thing to do.”
“And what if he does come back?”
“We bolt the door from the inside. This is a bank, Mr Morrison. It’s built to withstand an assault.”
“An assault?” The little man quaked, rushing inside. He turned up the large oil lamp on the table where Penny Minister had sat. This reminder gave Bessy the semblance of hope. “Perhaps Penny told
