On the hour-and-a-half drive from Coffeyville to Joplin, Emmett and Jimmy discussed the robbery they’d just pulled. The two of them were like enthusiastic schoolchildren as they recounted it all.
“I didn’t even have to tell the bank manager what to do,” said Emmett. “He already knew.”
Jimmy sat, smoking his pipe. “Sorry bastard didn’t wanna join that security guard. Yeah, he knew what to do. That’s the thing with these little banks in the Midwest; they been hit so many times most of ‘em won’t even put up a fight. They just hand the money over. The Barrows Gang and all them other robbers just made our job a little bit easier.”
“Hell, even robbing banks has changed,” observed Emmett. “I ain’t never seen a bank manager just go for the vault without being asked. Back in the day, those bank
