Hands Up!

Jack Shea tells one time about being held up. It was in Colorado, and he’s travelin’ on a coach.  There’s five passengers, and one of them is a middle-aged woman. There’s been a lot of stick-up men on this road, and this old lady is worried. She’s got fifty dollars, and she’s tryin’ to get to her daughter somewhere up North. This fifty is all she’s got, and if she loses it she’s on the rocks.

“There’s an old man in the bunch that’s got all the earmarks of a cowman,” says Shea. “He tells her to stick her roll under the cushions, and slips her a couple of dollars, sayin’ that it will pacify these road robbers.

“We ain’t gone five mile when the coach stops sudden and a gent outside says, ‘Step out folks, an’ keep your hands up while you’re doin’ it.’ We all know what we’re up against and ain’t slow getting’ out. There’s one gent at the leaders, got the diver and the outside passenger covered; another that’s waitin’ for us. They’re both wearin’ blinds and heeled till they look nasty. This stick-up seems to know the old cowman and speaks to him. The old man steps out of line and whispers something to him. None of us get any of his talk, but when the hold-up gets through trimmin’ us he reaches into the coach, flips the cushion, and grabs the old lady’s roll. Then we all return to our seats and the hold-up gives the driver his orders and the coach pulls out.

“We’re all trimmed; the old lady’s cryin’, and the rest of us ain’t sayin’ much, but we’re doin’ lots of thinkin’. From what we get, it looks like the old cowman stands in with the holdups’. He’s tellin’ the lady not to take it so hard. When one of the passengers wants to know the low talk is between him and the stick-up, the cowman don’t turn a hair but tells us all he doubled-crossed the lady; that he tells this hold-up the twenty dollars is his bank roll, but if he’ll pass him up he knows where there’s fifty. The hold-up agrees, and he tips off the old lady’s cash to protect himself. He tells it like he ain’t ashamed, and finishes, sayin’, ‘If you don’t take care of yourself, nobody else will’. 

“This talk makes the whole bunch wolfy. The passenger that’s doin’ the talkin’ is for stoppin’ the coach, and if there’s a rope there’ll be a hangin’. ‘We don’t need no rope; what’s the matter with a lead rein? If he’s as light in pounds as he is in principle, we’ll slip a boulder in his pants to give him weight. This skunk is dirtier than airy hold-up on the road, and the sooner we pull this party, the better it suits me’. 

“We’re gettin’ worked up on all this talk when the cowman that ain’t turned a hair, says, ‘If you gentlemen will let me play my hand out you’d find out who wins, but if you’re bound to, go through with this hangin’. 

“By this time the old lady’s beggin’ for the cowman. She don’t want to see him strung up, but thinks jail is strong enough. But these passengers are frothin’ at the mouth, and it sure looks like the cowman’s end is near. The driver has heard the story and stopped.

“‘Well’, says the old man, ‘if you’re bound to hang me –’ and he don’t scare worth a dam’ – ‘I’ll slip my boots. I’ve been a gambler all my life’, says he, draggin’ off his right boot, ‘but none of you shorthorns ever was; you never played nothin’ but solitaire. This lady stakes me to ‘fifty’, says he, ‘and I always split my winnin’s in the middle with them that stakes me’. And takin’ a thousand dollars he’s got tucked in his sock, he counts off five one-hundred-dollar bills, and hands them to the lady. ‘That’s yours’, says he.’

“Nobody says nothin’. The old lady’s shakin’ hands, and, between sobs, thankin’ this old cross-roader. Somebody tells the driver to drive on, and we’re just pullin’ into town when the man that’s strong for hangin’ pulls a pint from his hip and says, ‘To show you there’s no hard feelin’s, we’ll all take a drink – barrin’ the lady’. When the bottle comes back to its owner, it’s near dry, but before he empties it, he says, ‘Here’s to the gambler that pays his stakes!’ Then he empties her and throws her out the window, and we all shake hands.”