Trail of Blood

by Paul Green

  She withdrew from him and responded with a coolly appraising look. ‘What about all the other people who lost their money? Are you going to pay them back too? The bank will probably have to close now.’

  ‘I don’t owe them anything but you’ve helped me, despite having every reason to hate me for what I did. I don’t care about those other people, or that stinking bank. It was a bank that foreclosed the mortgage on my parents’ farm and left me with nothing.’

  Rachel gathered up her things and rose to her feet. ‘So that’s what all this is about. You’re angry at the world and want to hit back, not caring who you hurt in the process. Listen Bill, even if you manage to escape, track down this other man, kill him and get back the money you stole, you’ll probably end up getting re-captured or shot by some bounty hunter. Is that what you want?’

  ‘I won’t get caught’ he insisted.

  Rachel shook her head. ‘Marshal Calvert’s been hunting this man for the past year. Do yourself a favour and tell him what he wants to know.’ Then, before Bill could think of an answer, she was gone.

  Over the next few days, he gradually regained more of his strength. It was the doctor who came to tend his wounds, however and he was disappointed not to see Rachel again. The Sheriff of Santa Fe, a taciturn man with a drooping moustache, came to question him but he told him nothing.

  ‘You’re a darn fool, young fella’ responded the sheriff, as he strode huffily out of the jail and back to his office. Finally, he had another visit from Calvert.

  ‘The governor wants to see you’ he announced, unlocking the cell door. The marshal then stepped inside and proceeded to clamp a pair of manacles around Bill’s wrists. The lawman then bent down to attach another, larger pair to the prisoner’s ankles and the younger man seized his chance, raising his arms to club Calvert over the head with his metal bonds.

  The seasoned lawman sensed what was happening and moved aside as Bill lunged. The two of them fell in a grappling heap to the stone floor, Calvert squirming beneath him as Bill locked his chained wrists around the older man’s throat. If he could just apply enough pressure to make the marshal lose consciousness, he could make his escape. Calvert suddenly went limp and Bill staggered to his feet, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

  ‘Nice try, but I know every trick in the book. Now, back up against that wall and then turn around.’

  Bill did as he was told as Calvert rubbed his throat. ‘Most men would have held on a lot longer’ said the marshal as he attached the leg irons with one hand while holding a gun against Bill’s ribs with the other.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to kill you, just make my escape.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I figured. If you ever start to see things straight, you might turn out okay after all.’

  Bill turned around slowly, his hands raised, as Calvert stepped back and gestured with the revolver. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  ‘What does the governor want?’

  ‘He’ll tell you himself. No more funny stuff or you’ll get another bullet hole. Is that understood?’

  Bill nodded and moved towards the door, his chains clanking together. The sheriff emerged from his office as they were leaving.

  ‘Is he giving you any trouble, Troy?’

  Calvert grinned. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

  As Bill stepped outside, his eyes were stung by the glare of sunshine and he raised his hands to shield them, stopping for a moment.

  ‘Come on, keep moving’ said the marshal, giving him a shove from behind.

  Passersby stared at him, whispering to each other about the dangerous prisoner in their midst. Bill ignored them, keeping his head down, until at last they reached the governor’s residence. A liveried servant answered when Calvert pulled the bell cord and he glanced at Bill’s chains with obvious distaste before admitting them to the house.

  ‘Governor Wallace is expecting you. Follow me please.’

  Chapter Two

  They were shown into an elegantly furnished study where a dapper man in a frock coat sat behind a large desk littered with papers. He rose to greet them as they entered and Bill noticed that his dark beard was neatly trimmed, matching his hair. Only the lines around the eyes above his chiselled features suggested that the governor was a man in his fifties.

  ‘I am Governor Lew Wallace. You must be the young man I’ve heard so much about.’

  ‘Yes sir. I’m Bill Douglas.’

  The governor glanced questioningly at Calvert. ‘Is it really necessary for him to be chained like that? Binding his hands ought to be sufficient.’

  ‘He’s tried to escape once already this morning. I’m not taking any chances.’

  Wallace frowned thoughtfully. ‘Very well, you can wait outside Marshal. I’ll call you if I need you.’

  Calvert gave his prisoner a warning look, shrugged in reluctant agreement and then left the room.

  ‘It seems that you’re a rather hot headed and obstinate young man, Douglas but a young lady whose opinion I value happens to see some good in you. For her sake, at least, I’m prepared to offer you a second chance.’

  ‘Has Rachel spoken to you about me?’ asked Bill.

  The governor nodded. ‘Rachel Adams is my ward. Her father was an officer under my command at Shiloh and we became good friends after the war. He was one of the few people to support me when I was blamed for that particular tragedy and upon his death I became his daughter’s legal guardian until she reaches the age of twenty one next year.’

  Bill said nothing in reply. He knew that Wallace was held responsible by most people for the huge loss of life at Shiloh. Apparently, he had not followed General Grant’s orders correctly. The general had gone on to become president while, until his election as governor, Wallace had lived his life under a cloud.

  ‘Anyway, Rachel tells me that you were quite remorseful about the way your actions have affected her, that you’ve never done anything like this before and that you were misled by your accomplice following the loss of your farm. Is all this true?’

  ‘I guess so but I’m not making excuses for myself. It was a bank that took my farm and the robbery seemed like a chance to get even.’

  Wallace picked up a document from the papers on his desk and held it up. ‘This is a pardon for all offences committed in the territory of New Mexico by you. All I have to do is sign it.’

  ‘What do I have to do?’ asked Bill, warily.

  Wallace leaned forward and spoke more urgently. ‘You must tell me what you have refused to tell Marshal Calvert. You can redeem yourself by helping to catch this man and bring him to justice.’

  There was a tense silence while Bill wrestled with the governor’s proposal. The idea of wiping the slate clean was certainly appealing and his heart had leaped when Wallace described how Rachel had spoken up for him. Then rage overcame him once more, the overwhelming desire to empty a pistol into Brad Gunter and watch him die before relieving him of his ill-gotten gains.

  ‘I appreciate your offer Governor, I really do but somehow I just can’t accept it. I have to fix this my own way. If I do what you ask, it means letting other people deal with it and I’ll never see a cent of that money.’

  To his surprise, Wallace did not become angry but nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’ve been humiliated which causes anger and resentment, fuelling a desire for revenge that will bring you no happiness.’

  ‘How do you know?’ demanded Bill, resenting this attempt to look in to his soul.

  The governor sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘I was once blamed for something that wasn’t my fault. My name was dragged through the mud in the newspapers and men who’d never fought a battle in their lives saw fit to judge me.’

  ‘You’re talking about what happened at Shiloh’ commented Bill.

  ‘That’s right. General Grant ordered me to bring up the reserve battalions to support General Sherman’s unit. There were two paths along that route and he didn’t specify which one to use so I took the upper on
e as it was quite well maintained. By the time I got there, Sherman’s men had move on and the battle was nearly over. When the newspapers complained about the heavy casualties, Grant said it was due to my incompetence in not having taken the right path. I asked him to set the record straight many times but he refused.’

  ‘I guess you must have been very angry.’

  ‘Oh I was, especially when Grant became president. God forgive me but how I hated that man! I wanted more than anything to damage his reputation as he had ruined mine. I spent years talking to newspaper editors, soldiers, politicians and anyone else who would listen about my version of events but in the end I decided to let it go.’

  Bill shook his head. ‘You should keep fighting. Don’t let him get away with it!’

  Wallace smiled sadly. ‘I thought you’d say that.’ Then he picked up a bundle of papers from his desk. ‘I’m writing a story that probably illustrates my point a little better. Would you care to hear it?’

  Bill held up his chained wrists. ‘Well, I’m not going any place.’

  ‘It’s the story of a young prince, Judah Ben Hur, who is born on the same day as Christ. His best friend is a Roman boy, Messala but the two become divided by politics as adults and Judah is betrayed and sent to the galleys by his friend. His mother and sister are imprisoned but he eventually returns from slavery after being adopted and freed by the Roman commander whose life he has saved. Vowing revenge, he defeats Messala in a chariot race, leaving his enemy crippled and financially ruined. Then he discovers that his mother and sister are still alive but banished as lepers. The taste of revenge turns bitter in Judah’s mouth.’ The governor paused while Bill waited impatiently for the story to continue.

  ‘Well, what happens next?’

  Wallace smiled. ‘The story hasn’t been finished yet so it’s rather like your own. Now, like Judah Ben Hur, you’re choosing revenge over the possibility of redemption. If you should change your mind, my offer still stands.’

  The governor rose from behind his desk, signalling that the interview was at an end. Calvert was summoned to take his prisoner back to the county jail. He hauled Bill to his feet, shaking his head sadly at Wallace.

  ‘I knew you’d have no luck with him’ said the marshal gruffly.

  ‘As I said, the story’s not over yet’ replied the governor and he smiled enigmatically.

  Bill’s trial took place a few days later at the courthouse in Santa Fe. He pleaded guilty, the evidence against him being overwhelming but still refused to name his accomplice. The judge, an elderly man with a white beard, looked at him sternly.

  ‘Your obstinacy does you little credit young man. You will serve a sentence of thirty years.’ Then he brought his gavel down sharply as a gasp ran through the courtroom. It was a much harsher sentence than anyone had expected. Bill stood stunned in the dock for a moment before Calvert tugged at his arm and led him away. As they stepped outside into the sunshine, however, Bill was guided towards the post office rather than back to his cell.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘The stage will take us two hundred miles to Trinidad, Colorado. Then we continue by train to Nebraska. We’ve no territorial prison in New Mexico, it was abandoned after being half built years ago so we farm convicts out to the state penitentiary there.’

  ‘What’s it like?’ asked Bill nervously.

  Calvert grimaced in response. ‘You’ll be breaking rocks all day and picking maggots out of your food. Forget any ideas about escaping, the place is impregnable.’

  The marshal’s words caused him to make his mind up immediately. Somehow, he would have to get away before boarding that train. Bill had been allowed a bath and a change of clothes for his trial while Calvert had not used leg irons but merely handcuffed his prisoner’s wrists in front of him.

  They were joined by other passengers as they waited for the stage. A middle aged couple in smart clothes cast disapproving looks in Bill’s direction while a fat man who looked like a commercial traveller held on tightly to his large case. Then, still dressed in black, Rachel Adams turned up. Bill opened his mouth to thank her for trying to help him but she turned sharply away from him as their eyes met, making it clear that she did not wish to hear anything he had to say. Rachel was clearly hurt and angered by his rejection of the governor’s offer which only added to his wretchedness and sense of desperation.

  At last the stage arrived and the six passengers squeezed inside. Bill ended up sitting opposite Rachel just by the door and she pointedly looked out of the window as the vehicle set off in a cloud of dust. He turned his thoughts to escape as the stage picked up speed once they had left the town. The idea of simply opening the door and jumping out occurred to him but there was a good chance he would injure himself. Moreover, without a gun, on foot and in handcuffs, he would probably be captured in no time at all. What Bill really needed was a diversion of some kind.

  They had travelled about ten miles when the stage was jolted violently as one of the front wheels struck a boulder and splintered. The driver fought to control the rearing horses as the man riding shotgun was flung to the ground and the passengers inside tumbled against each other. The damaged vehicle finally slowed to a halt and Bill seized his unexpected chance. Calvert must have hit his head and appeared momentarily stunned. The pistol was whipped from his holster before he had time to recover and thrust under his chin.

  The middle aged woman screamed but Bill ignored her. He met Rachel’s cold gaze and calmly asked her to find the key in Calvert’s pocket that would free his hands.

  ‘Don’t do anything to make me nervous or I might blow his head off’ he added.

  She nodded silently and quickly found the key which she held up in front of him. Bill then asked her to unlock the handcuffs which she did. Then, keeping the gun under Calvert’s chin with his right hand, he opened the door with his left and pulled the marshal out of the carriage. Using the lawman as a shield, he moved around to stand beside the horses. The driver sat with his hands held high while his companion lay unconscious on the ground.

  ‘Cut those horses loose and bring one of them over to me’ Bill told him.

  ‘You’ll never get away with this, Douglas. Give it up!’ Calvert urged him.

  ‘I’m facing thirty years of hell. I’d rather take my chances, even if it means getting killed’ said Bill, hissing the words into his prisoner’s ear.

  ‘You’d better make that two horses’ said a voice behind him. Bill turned, still holding Calvert at gunpoint to see that Rachel had left the carriage and had picked up the shotgun from the ground.

  ‘Are you crazy? You can’t get mixed up in this!’

  ‘You’re going after that money and ten thousand of it belongs to me. Now I’ve got a gun and I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ said the driver.

  Rachel turned and pointed the rifle at him. ‘Give us a horse each and set the others loose.’

  ‘Miss Adams, I must warn you that you’re committing a serious crime. By becoming Bill Douglas’s accomplice you...’

  ‘I suggest you be quiet now or I might just blow your head off, even if Bill doesn’t’ she told him coolly.

  A moment later they were both in the saddle, riding away from the stranded coach and its hapless passengers.

  ‘It will take hours for somebody to walk back into town and raise the alarm. That should give us a head start’ Rachel told him.

  ‘This is madness. Go back now, before it’s too late’ Bill urged her.

  She galloped beside him, her red hair streaming loose in the wind. ‘No way, I want my money back and you’re going to get it for me. Now, who are we looking for and where will we find him?’

  ‘His name is Brad Gunter and all I know is he meant to lose the posse in the mountains before doubling back to head for someplace called Johnston.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘I hadn’t either. It’s not
far from El Paso and Gunter told me it’s named after some confederate general who got killed during the war.’

  ‘Well, we can reach Albuquerque in three days and a stage line runs down to San Antonio from there. El Paso is one of the stops on the way.’

  Bill shook his head. ‘That sounds risky. I’m a wanted man, don’t forget and you’ll be in trouble too. We should avoid being seen in places where wanted posters might turn up.’

  To his surprise she smiled knowingly and patted the travel bag attached to her saddle. ‘You’ll look a lot different in a pair of spectacles and a new suit of clothes, courtesy of my cousin in Kansas.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  She laughed at his puzzled expression. ‘Dean left them behind when he visited last spring. I was going to return them when I went out to see him but you’ll put them to better use.’

  ‘Lucky for me you were on that coach. Still, we’ve a long way to go yet and there’ll be folks coming after us.’

  They kept up a steady pace then, anxious to put as much distance as they could between them and any pursuers but without wearing out the horses. As noon approached, however and the heat grew more oppressive, they stopped for a short while and Rachel went behind some rocks with her bag. She emerged a few minutes later, having changed into a jacket, shirt and pants with her hair tucked under a straw hat.

  ‘It was rather uncomfortable riding in that dress and I figured it would look conspicuous if anyone saw us.’

  Bill looked around at the arid landscape of the Pecos wilderness. ‘The only people I expect to see are the posse coming after us.’

  ‘You worry too much’ she told him, leaping nimbly back into the saddle.

  Back in Santa Fe, Troy Calvert brushed the dust off his clothes as he was shown in to the governor’s office. Wallace looked up sharply as the marshal entered.

  ‘Well, what happened?’

  Calvert quickly related the morning’s events while the politician listened intently.

  ‘So Douglas got away and nobody was harmed. What about Rachel?’

  ‘She seemed more than willing to go with him. He didn’t force her in any way.’ The marshal met Wallace’s gaze. ‘She’s a headstrong girl, that young ward of yours. I wouldn’t want her in my charge.’