by Jake Logan
“Just you and me, Slocum. The others will be along presently. I want to have a word with you.”
Slocum and the outlaw rode south from Encantado, heading in the direction of Santa Fe. He took a quick look behind and saw Frank James and several others following but making no effort to overtake them. Any hope he had of finishing off Jesse and just riding away was dashed. But then, Slocum still had the hope of learning where Jesse’s gold was hidden. While he might turn the outlaw over to Audrey so she could claim a reward—Slocum knew the hell that would raise if he tried turning the outlaw in for the reward himself—there didn’t seem a good chance of doing that. What was a paltry few hundred dollars anyway, compared to the hoard Jesse had stashed in some cave in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains? Slocum could certainly do without the infamy of being the one to bring Jesse James to justice. He didn’t hanker on spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, waiting for somebody to shoot him in the back.
Getting revenge or gaining notoriety as the man who killed the man who had brought in Jesse James didn’t matter. Dead was dead.
“You don’t seem to be taking to the plan the way the others are, Slocum. There a reason?”
“Occupying Encantado doesn’t mean anything to me,” Slocum said.
“You want to be part of the bigger plan, don’t you? Don’t deny it. I knew right away the sort of gent you were. You think big, like me. You have big ambitions.”
“Not as big as yours, Jesse, nowhere near as big,” Slocum said. That elicited a chuckle from the outlaw.
“You’re right as rain about that. I want to be the king of a whole damned country—and I will. I can feel it getting closer by the day.”
“Where are we heading?”
“I want you along for a meeting with a merchant from Santa Fe. He’s not too inclined toward the current alcalde and wants to move up in the world,” Jesse said. “Since I figure you’re the one to be running Santa Fe for me, it’ll be a good thing for you to see what your competition is like.”
“Why give me Santa Fe when all you gave Dennison was Encantado?”
“Me and you, Slocum, we have a history. I know what you can do. You’re always thinking. I like that. It keeps me on my toes staying ahead of you, and you’re the kind of man I need for a bigger town. When you move up—I can see you as governor of an entire state, as I been telling all the boys—then maybe Charlie will be ready for running Santa Fe.”
“You want me to whip it into shape for him,” Slocum said, not trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice. If Jesse heard it, he paid no attention.
“That’s the kind of thinking I want from you,” he said. “You are going to make a fine mayor.”
“What do you want from me when you put me in as mayor?”
“See? Dennison would never ask a question like that. He’s always thinking only about himself. Well, sir, I want twenty-five percent of all the tax money you rake in. I want you to let me know about train schedules and what’s being shipped.” Jesse held up his hand to forestall Slocum’s comment. “I know, I know, why worry about robbing trains when I have an entire country at my beck and call. You see, the AT&SF will be coming in from Union country.”
“You need to be sure the Army’s not sending in reinforcements?”
“Reinforcements?” Jesse laughed. “I’ll own the army in New Mexico Territory. I want to be sure they’re not sending in an invasion force.”
Slocum rode along as Jesse detailed how he thought the United States would try to retake his country. Slocum had to interrupt him.
“What are you calling it?”
“How’s that?”
“Your country. What are you going to call your country?”
Jesse looked perplexed for a moment, then shook his head in wonderment.
“That’s another reason I want you sharing the power, Slocum. Dennison would never ask a question like that. Hell, nobody till now has. I’ve been so busy making my plans, the thought never occurred to me that I’d need a name.”
Slocum started to tell him he didn’t need to but Jesse halted suddenly and pointed ahead.
“Up there’s where we’re meeting Stringfellow.”
“The merchant?”
“He’s in the dry goods business and is worth a fortune. Now hush up and let me do the talking. He’s a right skittish fellow.” Jesse laughed. “You might call him a skittish Stringfellow.”
Slocum didn’t appreciate the joke all that much but Jesse didn’t notice. He was too consumed by his own thoughts of wealth and conquest. A quick look at the back trail showed Frank and two others still followed not a hundred yards away.
“You just watch and see how this goes. You can do the same with other merchants you’ll need to bring into the flock.” Jesse waved to the merchant.
Slocum saw how nervous Stringfellow looked meeting the notorious outlaw. He dismounted and stood to one side so he could listen to whatever was being discussed.
“Who’s that?” Stringfellow said, looking at Slocum.
“Don’t worry about him. I need to know you’re behind me when this happens.”
“You’re going to take over the whole town? How?”
“I’ll have an army behind me.”
“Why do you need me?”
“There’ll be people not liking the change in power. What would the town marshal do?”
“He’d fight. He was a sergeant in the Union Army,” Stringfellow said. He turned and partially hid himself from Slocum, but Slocum’s sharp ears overheard the question. “Is he one of us? A Knight of the Golden Circle?”
Slocum didn’t hear Jesse James’s answer but it satisfied the merchant.
“Who else in town wouldn’t take kindly to someone other than the Federals calling the shots?” Jesse asked.
“There are several prominent merchants,” Stringfellow said. Slocum saw the flash of greed on the man’s face and knew he was getting ready to condemn business rivals. “You burn them out and the rest would come around fast.”
“This is the kind of information I need,” Jesse said. “It’s the kind of information I pay for.” He fumbled in his saddlebags and pulled out a heavy leather bag and tossed it to Stringfellow, who dropped it. When it hit the ground, it spilled out gleaming gold coins.
The merchant pounced on it like a dog on a bone, scooping up the coins and stuffing them into the bag. He looked up at Jesse. Slocum thought he was going to swear allegiance then and there to his new ruler but Stringfellow stood, the bag clutched in both hands.
“I’ll let you know if anybody so much as grumbles about it when you take over, Mr. James.”
“That’s the kind of cooperation I reward,” Jesse said. He slapped Stringfellow on the back, put his arm around his shoulder, and steered him away so he could speak confidentially. Slocum made no effort to overhear now. There wasn’t anything Jesse could say that could add to everything that had happened.
The two Knights of the Golden Circle spoke, exchanged odd signs and an awkward handshake. Stringfellow left, head bobbing up and down. He climbed into a buggy and drove back toward Santa Fe. Jesse watched him until he was out of sight, then returned to Slocum.
“See how easy it is? All you have to do is drop a few gold coins in front of those pigs and they’ll be your oinkers as long as you want.”
“Do you really need a spy in Santa Fe?”
“I got more ’n Stringfellow rooting around for me in town,” Jesse said. “He’s not even the one getting the most money. We’re going to have trouble with the law in town. I thought I had a deputy willing to throw in with us, but the marshal caught wind of it and fired him. Ran him out of town. Last I heard, the deputy was down in Albuquerque staying drunk at the White Elephant Saloon and shooting off his mouth about how the marshal was going to pay for running him out of town.”
“You afraid he’ll alert the cavalry about your plans?”
“Nope.” That was all Jesse said, and Slocum knew one of the gang had already been disp
atched to permanently close the deputy’s mouth.
“What do you intend doing with the list Stringfellow gives you?”
“Might be necessary for you to sneak into town before we stake out claim and remove a few of them. That’ll get rid of a passel of problems. We don’t want to take too long taking over any one town. We need to grab as many as we can as fast as we can to make it harder for the Army to know where to hit us.”
“It could be they’ll have to send a telegraph back to Washington asking what to do.” Slocum watched Jesse closely. The slight flicker in the man’s eyes told him Jesse had already bought the services of the telegraph operators in the places where it would be most beneficial. The mayors or marshals or Army officers might send requests for reinforcements and the telegram would never be sent. Slocum had to hand it to Jesse. The outlaw was acting as if this were a true invasion of a foreign country and took care of what details he could before the actual occupation.
“Where’d the gold come from?” Slocum asked.
“There’s more when I need it.” Jesse turned brusque. “I got other business. You mosey on into Santa Fe and watch after Stringfellow, see what he does, who he talks to. If he’s an honest crook, he’ll stay bought.”
“But since he could be bought in the first place, he’s likely to sell out to anyone offering more,” Slocum finished.
“You do think on these things real good, Slocum. The marshal might just trump a bag of gold with threatening to put a bullet in that son of a bitch’s head. Never trust a man who can be bought so cheap.” Jesse James mounted and rode due east. Over his shoulder he shouted, “Let me know if Stringfellow is inclined to get liquored up and shoot off his mouth. I don’t want any of this getting out to the authorities before it’s time to move on into town.”
Slocum stepped up into the saddle and watched the outlaw join Frank and the others from the gang. All of them rode fast out onto the high desert, in a hurry to get somewhere.
Slocum looked down the road where Stringfellow had gone and considered how he was more interested in finding where Jesse rode than who the merchant talked to in town.
He turned his horse eastward and started after Jesse, traveling slower to keep from being spotted. Jesse—or Frank—would be watching their back trail to be certain no one tracked them.
That made Slocum all the more curious where they went and who they were so eager to meet.
12
Slocum had little difficulty tracking Jesse and the others from his gang. They made no effort to conceal where they rode, making him think Jesse was in a big hurry. He certainly had no reason to think the Army was after him. Slocum wondered how long Berglund would take to get his share of gold. Jesse seemed oblivious to the sergeant’s intent to double-cross him whenever he got the payoff.
That made him wonder what Jesse’s real game was. The man had carefully thought through the plot to break off this section of New Mexico and claim it for his own. Everything he had done so far had worked, and the number of members in the Knights of the Golden Circle made it possible the scheme might succeed. Stringfellow had been able to exchange secret signs and handshakes. Others in Santa Fe likely were sympathetic, if not in outright alliance with the idea of secession—again.
What happened mattered less to Slocum than raking in some of the gold. That Jesse had it was proved by handing over so much to Stringfellow. If he had given this to Slocum, there’d have been nothing but dust to mark where he’d gone. Slocum had no reason to help the bluecoats keep the civil order anywhere in the territory. If Jesse succeeded in creating a new country, that would only make travel more difficult. Otherwise, it didn’t affect Slocum that much.
But the gold. If he could snatch a significant amount of it, a lot of problems would be solved. Jesse wouldn’t be able to bribe men like Stringfellow, Berglund would be out the gold and unable to recruit soldiers at Fort Union to join the revolt—and Slocum would be a damned sight richer than he was right now.
Even as he considered how much gold he could make off with, his thoughts wandered to Audrey Underwood. He had no idea where she fit it. The woman seemed like she had no idea what she wanted out of life when she talked of being a reporter and a bounty hunter in the same breath, but something of the treasure hunter lit up her lovely face when she talked about the James Gang’s hidden gold. Whatever happened, Slocum had to be cautious around her. She might have told the truth about showing the sheriff a wanted poster on one of Jesse’s gang, but it had sounded as if she talked about him.
John Slocum knew there were lawmen all over the West itching to throw him in prison—or worse.
He pulled his bandanna away as sweat caused his neck to itch. That dampness could turn to the scratchy scrape of a hangman’s noose if Audrey was lying about what wanted poster she had shown Sheriff Narvaiz.
When he spotted two men on the horizon about a mile ahead, Slocum urged his horse down into an arroyo. He pulled his field glasses from his saddlebags and made his way to the far side of the dry riverbed. Cautious about outlining himself against the horizon as the two riders had, he crept forward, found a rocky rise, and peered over it. A bit of fiddling got the two riders into focus. Both were in Jesse’s gang.
From the way they looked away from him, he guessed they watched something happening not far off. He panned back and forth hunting for some idea what might be going on and then stared hard at a dust cloud rising to the north. It moved slowly toward the spot where he estimated Jesse, Frank, and the handful of others that had ridden with him were gathered.
He jerked about when a cloud of dust rose from the south. Another wagon approached the meeting spot. Or was it? Frowning, he studied the way this dust moved and decided that more than one rider was causing it. He counted no fewer than four separated clouds. Whoever Jesse was meeting not only didn’t drive a wagon, but didn’t ride in formation either.
Slocum began hiking, watchful that the two sentries might turn and look at their back trail. Ten minutes later, he was within a couple hundred yards and the men had not turned. Their full attention remained on the meeting. More than this, both had their rifles ready and laying across the saddles in front of them.
Finding a ravine that angled in the direction of the wagon, Slocum kept low and worked his way along it until he found a break in the bank that allowed him to look out onto a flat area where the wagon was parked. Zeke sat in the driver’s box with Jesse and Frank flanking the wagon. The other two with them were some distance to the east. All of them stared at the approaching riders. From the way Zeke fidgeted, he wasn’t comfortable being there, in spite of having six of the meanest outlaws, the deadliest shots, and the most vicious guerrilla fighters to survive the war at his side.
Then Slocum saw the reason for the young outlaw’s uneasiness. The riders meeting Jesse were Comanche braves decked out in war paint.
The war chief raised a coup stick and shook it at Jesse, who responded by lifting his rifle and shaking it in the air. This went on for almost a minute, then at some unseen signal both rode forward and met halfway between their respective bodyguards.
Slocum couldn’t hear what was being said but the Indian wasn’t happy. Jesse raised his voice so Slocum overheard part of the argument.
“. . . agreed on the price. You don’t get one damned rifle if you don’t give us everything we asked.”
The Comanche chief argued some more, then pointed his coup stick at Jesse. The feathers dangling from the shaft shook in the hot wind blowing across the plains. Then the Indian grunted and motioned to four of his warriors. They wheeled about and galloped off. Slocum watched them until they were lost in dust from their horses’ hooves.
Jesse and the Comanche sat silently, glowering at each other. Slocum swung his field glasses around to see if anyone at the meeting had twigged to being spied upon. All of Jesse’s men stared hard at the Indians, who watched only the outlaws. The men might have been chiseled out of marble for all the movement.
After ten minutes Slocum spie
d another cloud of dust down south. Then the Indians who had left returned with a packhorse struggling under its load.
Jesse hopped to the ground, ignored the Comanche chief’s angry outburst, and cut open the canvas over the burden. The chief rode over to the wagon and lifted a tarp with the end of his coup stick. Zeke shifted uneasily, his hand hovering over the butt of his six-gun. Slocum held his breath. If the youngster made a move to throw down on the chief, there’d be blood by the bucket soaking into the sand. Zeke relaxed when the chief let out a whoop and began riding around the wagon, waving his stick in the air.
The Comanche rode to the packhorse, reached down, and cut the rope, freeing the load that thudded to the ground. Slocum caught his breath. He knew where Jesse was getting some of his gold. He was selling rifles to the Indians.
Jesse motioned and his two henchmen came over and hefted the parcels, staggering with them to the wagon. There, they pulled two cases of rifles out and dropped them to the ground amid a puff of dust. Zeke swung around, pushed another case to them. Ammunition. Two cases of rifles and one of ammunition had changed hands in exchange for however much gold the Indians had paid.
The outlaws got the gold into the back of the wagon. Jesse waved to Zeke, and the young outlaw turned the wagon and headed back in the direction he had come. Jesse waited as the Comanches opened the cases and loaded the rifles, shooting off a few rounds.
Jesse and the chief spoke more amicably, then stepped back and went their separate ways. The rifles and ammunition had been secured to the packhorse, and Zeke was already out of sight with the wagon holding the gold.
Slocum wondered what a couple cases of rifles and the ammo went for. Whatever it was, he would be happy spending it. That it took two men to load into the wagon made Slocum consider ways of getting it away from wherever Zeke took it without using a wagon. He’d have to travel light and fast when he stole it from Jesse James.
