by Paul Green
‘She went out to Ezra’s place to see how Robinson’s wounds are healing. This is no place for a lady’ said Calvert, looking around at the gaudily painted walls and gilt edged furniture. ‘It looks more like a damn bordello than a saloon!’
‘I don’t like her being alone in town. It could be dangerous.’
Calvert shrugged. ‘Relax. Rachel can take care of herself. Besides, folks around here might be pretty mean but they’ve seen what you’re capable of so they’re hardly likely to mess with your girl are they?’
‘I never said she was my girl.’
Calvert grinned in response. ‘You didn’t have to.’ Then he drained his glass. ‘Okay, seeing as you’re so worried, we’ll go catch up with her.’
Robinson winced as Rachel applied ointment and fresh bandages to the wounds on his back.
‘Those cuts were quite deep. I’m afraid you’ll be left with scars’ she told him.
The journalist gingerly eased his shirt back on. ‘It’s the scars on the inside a man has to worry about, making sure that he doesn’t just turn to bitterness and hate. I’ll get justice for the people of this town if it’s the last thing I do.’
Ezra shook his head. ‘Since the troops left, it’s been like slavery days all over again. We’re supposed to be free yet we can’t even vote or get proper schoolin’ for our young ‘uns. I don’t see that changin’ any time soon.’
‘Not in other places, maybe but we can do something here. Gunter’s planning some kind of uprising. If we get the right people to listen, he can be stopped.’
‘Them Mexicans are on guard at the front and back of town. They ain’t lettin’ nobody out they can’t trust. That includes you and me’ replied Ezra gloomily.
‘If only I could get word out to one of the papers in New York. Printing a story about what’s going on here it might blow the whole thing wide open. The government would place the army on alert and there’d be troops back here in no time.’
‘You’d need to get to El Paso and send a telegram for that to happen’ said Ezra.
‘Maybe word’s got out already. For all we know help could be on its way right now’ suggested Rachel.
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Robinson.
Before she had time to reply, there was a knock at the door. Mabel opened it to see Bill standing with Calvert on the threshold and she invited them inside.
‘We just came to see how the patient’s doing’ said Bill.
‘I’ll survive. Thanks again for what you did’ Robinson told him. Then he noticed the tin star pinned to Bill’s shirt. ‘Hey, what the hell’s this?’
It was Calvert who answered. ‘Times like these call for some strange tactics. We figured the best way to find out what’s going on is from the inside’ and he proceeded to tell them what he and Bill had learned.
‘Gunter needs what’s in that safe to carry out his plans. I reckon our best chance is to break in to it once he leaves for Kansas and then try to shoot our way out of here’ added Bill.
‘I’m with you on that one’ said Ezra.
Robinson looked up at them both. ‘You can count me in too. I’ll be ready to fight in a couple of days.’
‘Well’ said Rachel. ‘Let’s just hope some help arrives so you don’t have to do it alone.’
Now that Bill had established his authority, things remained quiet in Johnston and even the renegade Mexicans kept out of his way. Their leader, whom he learned was Captain Montoya, addressed him with respectful courtesy, rather than the disdain which had been evident on their first meeting. It seemed best to just relax for a couple of days, at least until Robinson was well enough to travel.
Bill’s plans were thrown into confusion, however, when he awoke at dawn to the sounds of shouting and gunfire. He leaped from his bed and ran to the window, gun in hand. Half dressed Mexicans were running out into the street, buckling on gun belts while others had climbed on to rooftops, armed with rifles. Suddenly, Montoya burst into his room.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Bill demanded.
‘The cavalry are here!’ shouted the Mexican in a state of panic.
‘Well, you wanted to fight our boys, didn’t you?’ he responded with a smile.
‘You’re with them!’ cried Montoya as the realisation of Bill’s true purpose dawned upon him. He uttered an oath in Spanish as he reached for his gun but a bullet entered his heart before his hand touched the holster.
Leaping over the dead man, Bill hurried out of the room and down the stairs. Two Mexicans climbed towards him, presumably aiming to shoot at the troops from the upper windows. He fired at them and both men tumbled back down to lie in a heap at the bottom. Once outside, he saw that the cavalry were now riding along Johnston’s main street and were engaged in a battle with the renegade Mexicans who had been joined in the fight by some of the town’s inhabitants.
Suddenly, Calvert was at his side and both men fired into the melee, picking off as many Mexicans as they could.
‘Well, this is a stroke of luck!’ declared the marshal, his voice barely audible above the sound of gunfire.
‘It might be a little more than that!’ replied Bill as he pointed in astonishment at the figure clad in a general’s uniform who was leading the attack. It was none other than Governor Lew Wallace.
‘Well, what in damnation is he doing here?’ cried Calvert as Wallace laid about him with his cavalry sword.
‘I think we’re about to find out.’ Bill observed that the Mexicans, outgunned and taken by surprise, were clearly losing the battle. At last, there were only five of them left and they surrendered. The governor sheathed his sword and dismounted, just as Rachel ran towards him and threw herself into his arms.
‘Oh, Uncle Lew, I knew you’d come!’ she cried.
‘Of course I came, my dear. That was the arrangement wasn’t it? I wouldn’t leave you in danger for anything in this world!’
Bill exchanged puzzled looks with Calvert. ‘Would someone mind telling me what all this is about?’ he asked.
‘Ah, there you are, young man’ said Wallace cheerfully as he strode towards them. ‘And you too, of course, Marshal Calvert. I knew you wouldn’t let me down any more than Rachel would.’
The governor smiled in response to their confused expressions before beginning his explanation. ‘Gentlemen, were it not for the invention of the telegram, I might not be here. Rachel had the foresight to send one from El Paso telling me that the three of you were heading for Johnston, that Brad Gunter was the man I was looking for and that he could be found here. Naturally, I anticipated trouble and came as soon as I could arrange the necessary assistance. These men are from the fort at El Paso and I’m sure you’ll agree they’ve acquitted themselves well today.’
‘Wait a minute. If Rachel’s been in contact with you, then that must mean my escape was a set up. She intended me to lead you to Gunter and the money all along!’ Bill shot her an accusing look and she looked down, biting her lip.
‘If that’s true, then you deceived me too, Governor!’ protested Calvert.
Wallace raised his hands in a mollifying gesture. ‘I admit the deception but it was all for the best, I assure you. I knew that Bill would go after his accomplice and the money if he was given a chance to escape so that was the only option left. Besides, Rachel convinced me that he would redeem himself in the end which of course he has done.’
‘No wonder you wouldn’t let me go after him with a posse’ grumbled Calvert. ‘Couldn’t you at least have told me the truth?’
Wallace shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t have agreed to my plan, Marshal and it worked better with you in earnest pursuit. Besides, there’s a lot more at stake here than just stolen money, as I’m sure you’ll have realised by now. I’m a politician, don’t forget and I always suspected that there was some political aim behind this, perhaps even a threat to the union itself.’
‘I’m sorry I had to lie, Bill but it was the only way to save you from yourself, to help Uncle Lew and to
do what was right.’ Rachel was looking straight at him as she said these words and his anger melted away when he saw the sincerity in her eyes. The governor was right. It had all been for the best.
‘Come on, I’ll lead you to the money’ he told Wallace.
Calvert continued to grumble about the irregularity of what had gone on as the governor followed them up to the top floor of the hotel. It took some time for his men to break into the safe and when they succeeded, most of the stolen money was still inside.
‘I guess all we have to do now is sit and wait for Gunter to get back from Kansas’ said Bill.
‘I’m puzzled by that’ said Wallace, frowning. ‘Why has he gone there?’
They began searching for clues and it was not long before Bill pulled a map out of one of the desk drawers. ‘Hey, come and look at this’ he told them.
They studied it carefully, discussing the significance of the places marked on it and the sets of figures that had been written down.
‘This is clearly a plan for a military campaign’ said Wallace. ‘These are all strategic locations in the south west and the figures relate to numbers of men and supplies.’
‘That makes sense’ replied Bill. ‘Those Mexicans were here for an attack on the fort at El Paso and I remember Gunter saying that there would be a similar attack on Fort Brownsville at the same time.’
Suddenly, Wallace paled visibly and pointed a trembling figure at the map. ‘Look at that, Fort Scott at Kansas has got a cross marked against it and a date.’
Calvert shrugged. ‘What’s so special about that? This map is covered with marks against towns and forts.’
‘You don’t understand. The date is 24th September. President Hayes is on a tour of the mid west and he’ll be at Fort Scott in Kansas on that day.’
‘Gunter must be in Kansas to kill the president!’ declared Bill.
‘What better way to start an uprising than to throw everything into confusion? He won’t know that we’ve got the money and advance warning of all the attacks so the assassination will just go ahead’ said Wallace as he sank into a chair. ‘We must get a telegram to Fort Scott as soon as possible!’
‘That won’t be enough to stop Gunter’ said Bill. ‘He’s very resourceful and my guess is that he’s been planning this for a long time.’
The governor looked up and stared at him. ‘Get after him, Bill. Get after him straight away.’
‘I’m coming along too. You’re still my prisoner, remember?’ added Calvert.
‘Not anymore’ said Wallace as he withdrew a document from inside his tunic. ‘This is your pardon, Bill. I’ve signed it now and you’re a free man but a free man has the duties of a citizen and I’d still like you to go after Gunter. This time, it won’t be to settle any scores but to prevent a tragedy from befalling our country.’
‘I’ll catch up with him in time, don’t you worry but I’d like to take the marshal along with me just the same. He’s a good man to have on your side.’
Wallace smiled and squeezed Bill’s arm. ‘Good thinking, young man. By the way, do you remember that story I was telling you about?’
‘Oh, Ben Hur, wasn’t it?’
‘I think I know how it ends now.’
Chapter Seven
Brad Gunter stepped off the train in Chicago. Dressed in a dark suit, derby hat and rimless spectacles, he looked like any other commercial traveller and no-one paid him any attention as he wound his way through the crowded streets until he found the address he was looking for. The bell above the door rang as he entered the gunsmith’s shop and the owner looked up from his workbench.
‘Ah, now, don’t tell me...Mr Stevens isn’t it? You’re the gentleman who came in several months back with a most interesting request.’
Gunter smiled faintly. ‘You have a good memory Mr Rawlinson.’
‘Well, it’s not every day someone orders such an unusual weapon. Less than one hundred of the Wesson large frame pocket rifles have been made and you specified one with the longest barrel.’
‘Which you assured me you would obtain’ added Gunter.
‘Oh, indeed I have Mr Stevens’ said the gunsmith with evident pride. ‘Just wait there a moment and I’ll go get it for you.’
The elderly Rawlinson then eased himself down from his stool and shuffled into the back of the shop. Gunter moved swiftly over to the window where he drew down the blind after putting up the closed sign and then returned to his place. The old man came back and laid the pocket rifle on the counter between them, pointing out the detachable skeleton stock which made the weapon more compact and easier to carry. Rawlinson then pulled out a carpetbag from underneath the counter.
‘I’ve stitched gun compartments inside as you requested although the rifle does come with its own carrying case. That will be two hundred dollars altogether but I could have got you the short frame version more easily at a much lower price.’
‘It doesn’t have the barrel length and range I need.’
The gunsmith looked up at him quizzically. ‘The sportsman’s jewel, as it’s called, is generally considered quite adequate in that respect. Still, I suppose it all depends on what you’re aiming at.’
‘I guess it does’ replied his customer noncommittally.
‘Well, I’ll certainly have a story to tell now that I’ve sold such a rare weapon and with a special bag to carry it in too.’
Gunter removed his spectacles and the older man frowned as a pair of cold blue eyes bore into his.
‘Is anything wrong, Mr Stevens?’ he asked nervously.
‘You’re a very observant man, Mr Rawlinson which is a good thing. Unfortunately, you also like to talk a lot and that’s bad, very bad for you in particular.’
Gunter was loading the pocket rifle as he spoke and pressed it against the gunsmith’s chest. Rawlinson opened his mouth to utter a cry of alarm as the blast sent him flying across the room. His body crashed into a row of shelves along the back wall and boxes of ammunition emptied their contents over his crumpled form. Gunter glanced down at the scorched hole in the dead man’s chest and nodded his approval. He then detached the shoulder stock and packed the pocket rifle away in the carpet bag before leaving the shop by a back entrance. Within an hour, he had boarded the next train to Fort Scott.
By the following day, Bill and Calvert were heading for the same destination on a steam locomotive that wound its way through the Rocky Mountains out toward the mid west.
‘I don’t know why you should risk your lives to save that damn fool president’s ass’ Ezra had told them bluntly before their departure. His attitude was understandable since it was President Rutherford Hayes who had withdrawn the federal troops from the South, allowing so many of the gains of reconstruction to be lost. The bitterly contested election of 1876 had produced an indecisive result and the situation was only resolved by the votes of an electoral commission. It was rumoured that the ending of military occupation had been the price Hayes had to pay in order to take office instead of his democrat rival, thus sacrificing the interests of black citizens on the altar of political expediency.
‘I know what you’re thinking’ said Calvert as he stuffed tobacco into his pipe. ‘I’m not too fond of Hayes myself but things will get much worse if he’s assassinated, mark my words.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If a confederate plot to kill the president succeeds, there will be chaos, panic and recriminations. All the old wounds from the civil war are going to re-open and there could even be another conflict. The union might not survive this time.’
‘I guess that’s why we have to stop Gunter’ conceded Bill.
‘Yeah, stop him at any price.’
President Rutherford Hayes was attending a reception in Sedalia when General Sherman, who had been travelling with the presidential party, approached him bearing a telegram. The old soldier watched as the president tore it open and scanned its contents quickly.
‘I think you should consider cancelling the visit t
o Fort Scott, Mr President. Governor Wallace assures us that the threat to your life is a serious one.’
‘I fought all through the war, General and dodged enough bullets in my time. With all the protection I have around me, I’m sure I’ll manage to dodge this one.’
‘With respect, Mr President, this Gunter is apparently a very resourceful man and has been at the head of a complex conspiracy for some time.’
‘I understand that this conspiracy has now been foiled. Am I right?’
Sherman nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes but Gunter doesn’t know that and he’s still at large, no doubt determined to carry out his plan.’
Hayes stroked his brown beard thoughtfully. ‘General, I know that many people regard me as venal and corrupt. They don’t understand that I’ve done the things I have in an effort to preserve the union because as long as we can do that there’s hope for all our citizens. One thing I’ve never been accused of though, is cowardice and I’m going to continue to perform my duties as planned.’
‘I’m sure that’s very commendable, Mr President but...’
Hayes held up a hand to silence General Sherman’s protest. ‘Your commander- in- chief has made his decision. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’d like to go and dance with my wife.’
The General sighed after the President’s retreating back. Rutherford B Hayes was undoubtedly the most stubborn man he had ever met in his entire life.
Martha Ingram proudly showed her new guest the spacious room on the top floor of the boarding house. After drawing back the curtains, she threw open the window and gestured at the view below.
‘It overlooks the railway depot, I’m afraid but at least you’ll be able to see President Hayes when he gets off the train tomorrow afternoon. Are you planning to watch his arrival, Mr Stevens?’
‘Oh yes, Ma’am. I’ll be watching.’
‘What line of business did you say you were in?’ the elderly widow asked casually.
‘I deal in cotton’ he told her.
Mrs Ingram surveyed her guest’s neatly pressed black suit, the carpet bag he carried along with his luggage and the blue eyes behind his rimless spectacles.
