by Paul Green
Gunter hauled himself to his feet and aimed a kick at Bill’s head. It was an unwise move and he completely lost his balance as the younger man caught his foot and jerked hard. The killer tumbled into space, arms flailing as the wind plucked a cry of alarm from his lips. Bill watched Gunter vault backwards off the roof of the train and down a ravine, his body growing smaller before disappearing in to the torrent of a fast flowing river.
‘Well, that’s the end of you’ he muttered as he eased his aching limbs back through the window of the carriage. Simpson was just coming around and looked startled when he saw him. Bill realised that he must look a sight with his face blackened by steam and his clothes torn. Nevertheless, he had never felt happier to be alive.
‘Where’s Gunter?’ asked the guard nervously.
‘He was thrown off for travelling without a ticket.’
‘Is he dead?’
Bill shrugged. ‘He fell from a fast moving train into a river. I guess he must be.’
When he returned to the president’s carriage, it was to be greeted as a hero but Bill brushed aside the profuse thanks of Hayes and his wife.
‘I had a score to settle with that guy, anyway and he just got what was coming to him. If it hadn’t been me it would have been somebody else.’
‘Well, Mr Douglas, it wasn’t somebody else and I, for one, am profoundly grateful to you for what you’ve done today.’
‘I’m just glad it’s over Mr President’ said Bill as he turned to look out of the window.
Brad Gunter gasped for breath when he finally broke the surface of the water. His uniform was weighing him down and he struggled against the current as he swam desperately toward the edge of the river, every sinew straining to reach it. At last, he hauled himself up a muddy bank and lay there, breathing heavily for several minutes. Then, stumbling to his feet, he climbed up until he reached the edge of a field. In the distance stood a farmhouse, a plume of smoke rising from its chimney. Shivering in his sodden clothes, he made his way toward it.
As he came closer, he saw the stables to the right of the building. Chickens pecked in the yard, then scattered when he knocked loudly at the wooden door. It creaked open a moment later and a lanky individual with stubble on his chin appeared.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you sir. I’m Major Fleming, United States army. My horse threw me when I was crossing the river back there and I’d be very grateful for somewhere to dry off.’
The man opened the door more widely. ‘You’d best come in, soldier.’ Gunter followed the farmer inside. A dowdy looking woman appeared, presumably his wife.
‘Put some coffee on the stove, Helen. I’ll fetch dry clothes for our guest.’
Within a few minutes Gunter’s uniform was drying in front of the fire and he was dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, sipping his coffee.
‘We don’t usually see soldiers in these parts’ remarked his host.
‘I’m on furlough, heading towards Neosho Falls for the fair.’
‘It would have been easier to go by train’ said the farmer’s wife as she brought him a generous helping of apple pie. ‘I’ve just been baking’ she added by way of explanation.
‘I’m in the cavalry and there’s usually nothing I like better than riding the big open country. Unfortunately, I was given a new horse and he turned out to be a mite temperamental. I don’t suppose you’ve got one for sale, have you?’
The farmer shook his head. ‘I need all my stock to run this place but I’m taking some crops to the fair by wagon. You’re welcome to come along seein’ as that’s where you’re headed.’
This was not the answer Gunter had been hoping for. He could use the wagon and the opportunity it provided to disguise his purpose but not a potential witness. He was going to Neosho Falls to kill the president and no two bit dirt farmer would be allowed to get in the way. It was then that he noticed the rifle hanging above the fire.
‘That’s a fine weapon you’ve got there’ remarked Gunter.
‘It sure is. There’s nothing better than a Spencer repeating rifle if you ask me. I used this one plenty during the war and I always keep it loaded, just in case.’
‘Mind if I take a look?’
The farmer fetched the gun down and handed it to him. Gunter stroked the barrel admiringly and then looked up at his host.
‘I guess you must have killed a lot of rebs with this thing.’
‘Yeah, I did my share, I reckon.’
‘That’s good because now I feel a whole lot better about what I’m about to do.’ The shot echoed like an explosion in the tiny room. The woman ran in from the kitchen and stared with horror at the blood pooling beneath her husband’s body but her scream was cut off as Gunter fired once more and she slumped to the floor. After dumping the bodies in the cellar, he helped himself to some more coffee and another slice of apple pie. Upon searching the house, he found five hundred dollars hidden under a mattress in the bedroom, a Remington revolver, a bible and a suit of clothes the farmer presumably wore for weddings and funerals. Gunter took these items and then made his way to the stables where he hitched four horses up to the wagon. There was no time to lose if he was to be in Neosho Falls the next morning.
President Hayes continued his journey to Neosho Falls the next morning by train following a brief visit to Parsons City. Neosho Falls was a small but picturesque town and its wide gravelled streets were lined by maple and elm trees. The red painted station buildings were festooned with flags and bunting while crowds stretched along the mile long route from the station to the fair. Two marshals curvetted on horseback in their distinctive crimson sashes and the band struck up a resounding march to accompany the military escort’s quick step as Hayes and his party climbed aboard an open carriage.
Bill and Calvert made their own way to the fair on foot, ahead of the others. They passed scattered houses and industrial buildings of wood and stone before reaching the narrow iron bridge across the river which brought them to a park. To the north lay farms and orchards while the road which led to the fair forked south past an old stone watermill. The arch which covered the entrance to the fair was hung with baskets of fruit and covered by sheaves of wheat, oats and ears of corn. The word Welcome was spelled out in seeds and grains on a background of Kansas blue. A young girl stood and waited patiently, dressed as the Goddess of Liberty. They passed underneath the arch and saw livestock on display before coming to the huge barn-like building which housed agricultural exhibits including fruits of all kinds, flowers and embroidered cloths. The speaker’s platform stood under a vast walnut tree and it was there that President Hayes would make his opening speech.
‘Something about this place doesn’t feel right’ said Bill, looking around him.
‘You should relax. We have all the money back, Gunter’s been taken care of and everybody’s happy.’
‘I saw Gunter fall into a river. I didn’t see him get drowned.’
‘Could he really have survived?’ asked Calvert.
‘A doctor dug four bullets out of me, remember?’
‘Yeah but even if Gunter did make it alive out of that river, how could he get here? He didn’t have a horse or a gun.’
‘Don’t you think a man like him could lay his hands on those things?’
‘Well, I guess it can’t hurt to take a look around’ conceded Calvert.
The sound of the marching band grew louder as the procession reached the bridge. The two men poked around inside the hall and looked at the refreshment booths but the only people they could see were smartly dressed townsfolk looking after the exhibits. They walked back toward the arch where the young girl stood waiting patiently in her costume, the procession now within sight.
‘Have you seen any strangers around here today apart from us?’ asked Bill. She turned and pointed in the direction of the watermill.
‘I saw a man driving a wagon this morning. He went over there.’
Both men scanned the building but saw nothing. Then Calvert noticed a direct l
ine between the speaker’s platform under the walnut tree and the mill.
‘Did he take the wagon behind that building?’ asked the marshal.
The girl hesitated. ‘I don’t know but I didn’t see him again.’
‘Come on, let’s go check it out!’ shouted Bill as the cheering of the crowd and the music grew louder.
The two men ran across the wooded parkland which separated them from the building, then stopped by a clump of trees as they drew near to it. Bill squinted at the stone walls and the sunlight reflecting on the windows.
Brad Gunter crouched behind one of them. He had heard the sound of band music and was aware that the procession had now crossed the bridge. President Hayes would soon be starting his speech, the last one he would ever make. Gunter felt strangely calm and at peace with himself, despite realising that his plans had been foiled. Douglas and Calvert would not have been on the train otherwise. Killing Hayes was bound to achieve something, though and there were plenty of people who would regard him as a hero for doing it. The man was a fake president, not even properly elected and willing to sell out his own supporters just to stay in office. Gunter was confident about getting away too, dressed now in a dark suit and with a bible to hand. What better disguise than that of a travelling preacher?
Suddenly, he noticed movement among the trees to his right. Cautiously, he opened the window and peered out. The branches moved again, autumn yellow leaves tumbling to the ground as they were disturbed. He could just make out a hat and the outline of two figures. They seemed to be hiding. Who were they? What were they doing? He briefly considered ignoring them and getting on with the job in hand but then decided against it. There was plenty of time to deal with both them and Hayes. Besides, he could not afford to risk interference and it was best to act now while the sounds of music and cheering were loud enough to muffle his shots. Gunter shattered the window pane with his rifle, poked the weapon through the opening and squinted along the barrel.
Calvert spotted the movements at the window. ‘Get down, we’re about to be fired on!’ he hissed urgently.
The first shot hit a branch just above Bill’s head, blowing it away and was quickly followed by others as the two men retreated further into the trees.
‘I’ve got an idea’ said Bill as the bullets ricocheted around them. ‘Let him keep blasting at us until he needs to re-load, then we’ll make a run for it and you try to skirt around the back of the mill.’
‘I just hope we can last that long without being hit’ said Calvert wryly as Bill explained the rest of his plan.
The shots kept coming, ripping bark off the trees as the two men lay flat on the ground and sought cover from the remaining foliage. Then the firing stopped abruptly but both men knew that Gunter would be ready again in less than a minute. Leaping to their feet, they sprinted out from the trees and veered off further to the right, still heading toward the mill. Gunter spotted them, swearing as he slammed another cartridge into the rifle and took aim once more. He leaned out of the window as the two men reached the edge of the building and let off a series of shots which blasted splinters of stone from the wall. Suddenly, Bill Douglas gave out a cry and fell to the ground. At last, he had hit one of them! Calvert had disappeared however, obviously having made it around the back. Cursing again, the assassin turned from the window and headed toward the rear entrance.
This was the moment Bill had been waiting for. He sprang to his feet and hurriedly climbed the disused waterwheel. From there, he kicked in a window on the upper story and clambered inside. He found himself in a storage area with sacks of flour stacked neatly all around him. There was a trapdoor which had been left open and below it a ladder leading to the floor beneath. He peered over the edge and saw Gunter freeze, turn and look up, having heard the sound of breaking glass. Calvert remained on the other side of the building and the killer was now wondering when he would make an entry while at the same time thinking about what had happened upstairs.
A hesitant Gunter was just what Bill wanted. He withdrew from the edge and seized the pulley that was used to lower sacks to the ground floor. Taking a firm hold of the rope with both hands, he launched himself through the trapdoor at his opponent. Gunter’s shot was directed harmlessly upwards as the rifle was knocked from his grasp when Bill crashed in to him. The two men fell in a heap to the floor and exchanged a flurry of blows but the assassin was winded when he fell and Bill had the advantage of surprise. Gunter writhed beneath him in an attempt to break free as his young adversary released his pent up fury with every punch.
‘Come on, that’s enough’ said a voice from above as Calvert loomed over them with his revolver.
‘I could have killed the bastard’ replied Bill as he rose reluctantly to his feet.
‘If he tries to escape, you’ll get another chance.’ The marshal motioned for Gunter to rise to his feet. ‘Take it slow, mister’ he warned. ‘I’m just waiting for an excuse to shoot.’
Bill drew his own revolver and quickly removed their prisoner’s gun belt. ‘We’re taking you back to Santa Fe for trial. Afterwards, I’ll ask Governor Wallace’s permission to put the rope around your neck myself.’
Gunter’s bruised features broke into a smile and he spat out a tooth. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you kid.’
Calvert manacled the captive’s wrists. ‘You’ve committed treason, robbery and murder. That’s without even mentioning your attempt to kill the President of the United States. What makes you think you’re going to get away with all that?’
‘You’ll see, Calvert. You just stay smug and I’ll stay patient. I won’t even try to run away.’
The marshal gave Gunter a shove. ‘I don’t have time for this nonsense. Come on, I want you on the next train out of here once I’ve sent a telegram to Governor Wallace.’
Bill followed behind, puzzled by his enemy’s insouciance. What did Gunter know that they did not? His bewilderment continued over the next few days as they made their journey back to Santa Fe by rail and then stagecoach. Their prisoner remained cooperative and made no attempt to escape. Not only that, he continued to show no concern about what was going to happen to him or even any resentment at his capture.
‘I don’t get it’ said Bill as the afternoon stage at last rolled into Santa Fe. ‘You’d think he was off someplace on a picnic.’ He nodded toward Gunter who sat dozing with his hat over his eyes.
‘Pretending not to be scared is sometimes the only thing left to a man like him. He’ll act up at the trial and try to achieve some sort of notoriety before he dies’ said Calvert.
Gunter opened his eyes as the stagecoach drew to a halt. He smiled at his captors but said nothing.
‘I swear if you don’t quit grinning at me like a loon I’ll shoot you here and now’ said Calvert as he prodded the prisoner with his gun. ‘Come on, you’re going straight over to the jailhouse.’
When Bill got out he was pleased to see that Rachel was waiting for him. She flung her arms around his neck and the two embraced warmly.
‘I’ll take care of laughing boy, here. You go on with your young lady’ said Calvert.
‘Thanks Troy.’ Bill made no protest or attempt to hide his feelings. ‘I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life’ he said as he turned back to look at Rachel, cradling her face in his hands.
‘I feel the same. I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back. Brad Gunter’s a very dangerous man.’
‘Not anymore he isn’t.’
‘Uncle Lew wants to talk to you about that’ she said, taking his arm and the two of them walked down the street toward the governor’s residence.
Governor Wallace gave Bill an effusive welcome when they arrived, shaking his hand warmly. He had received the marshal’s telegram, which gave Bill most of the credit for Gunter’s capture and was eager to add his own praises.
‘The United States owes you an enormous debt of gratitude, my boy, one which more than makes up for your misdeeds in the past.’
&n
bsp; ‘Thank you sir but it’s what I owe to Rachel that concerns me now.’
The governor smiled as he sat down behind his desk. ‘Well, we’ll get to that later but for now there’s something else I must discuss with you.’
‘I expect you’ll want me to give evidence at the trial.’
Wallace shook his head. ‘There will be no trial’ he said gravely. ‘You must understand that there are serious political implications here, Bill. To put Gunter on trial for what he has done would make the details of his conspiracy public. Imagine what would happen if the whole country knew how close we came to a second civil war and to the assassination of another president? The uproar alone would be enough to tear the nation apart again with people taking sides. No, we must preserve the fragile peace we have at all costs.’
‘Gunter killed a man when he robbed the bank here in Santa Fe’ protested Bill. ‘That alone is enough to hang him without charging him with treason or attempted assassination!’
Wallace sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘Gunter wouldn’t keep quiet about those things. On the contrary, he’d use the trial as a platform for his cause and become a hero to some people. In any event, the effect would be the same and that can’t be allowed to happen.’
Bill thought for a moment. ‘Then why not arrange his escape like you did mine? This time though, he could be hunted down and shot before he reached the border. I’d be more than happy to lead the posse.’
The governor smiled. ‘I’m sure you would but again, there’s a problem.’ He reached under his desk and picked up a leather bag which he then opened. Bill watched as Wallace picked up a fistful of cash and held it up.
