Australian Heist

JAMES PHELPS

‘You know Thomas, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘Thomas Richards? The lemonade seller from Forbes?’ Gardiner studied the man. ‘He is stopping here a few nights,’ McGuire said. ‘We have a little business to do.’ Gardiner put down his book, his fortune apparently foretold. ‘Well, I have some business of my own to do here tonight,’ he said, ‘so you better be back off to your room, Mr Richards.’ Looking at the kitchen table, at the guns and gin, Thomas turned back to the man he knew as ‘Darkie’ and did not argue. ‘Goodnight it is then,’ he said. He turned and left the room. And then Ben Hall walked in, handsome and tall. ‘Here he is,’ Gardiner said. ‘The man of the moment. Free. And he is no outlaw.’ Gardiner threw his book to the floor and walked over to embrace Hall. ‘Not guilty in the eyes of the law, at least,’ Hall said. Hall laughed. Gardiner laughed harder. ‘But did they ever catch that Gardiner,’ Frank asked, ‘the bloke you just happened to bump into at the time he was bailing them up?’ ‘Gardiner?’ Hall echoed. ‘Name doesn’t ring a bell …’ Gardiner released Hall from his embrace and turned to the

men who had walked in behind him. ‘Lads,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a drink.’

John O’Meally went straight to the table and poured himself a gin while Dan Charters stood back. Alexander Fordyce, a local barman, and an ex-convict named Henry Manns completed the kitchen crew. Gardiner walked around the room. Book

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