by R. W. Stone
“Don’t judge by the grip, Major. I’ve had a problem with my right side since childhood. Learned to deal with it a long time ago, though. Got through the war with it all right.”
“So they tell me,” he replied. “Have a seat.” He indicated one of the two chairs located in front of his desk. Returning to his side of his desk, he sat down and arranged some paperwork. I suspect this was either a stall to impress me or perhaps was simply a means of creating enough time to gather his thoughts.
The major cleared his throat and looked up at me. “Let me make this brief. A little over a week ago, a train was robbed out in the territory, northeast of here. A gang of about fifteen men attacked the train with military precision. They hog-tied the engineers when the train stopped at a water tower and robbed the passengers. They also killed two men who tried to resist and made off with the payroll. To make matters worse, there were several young ladies on board, and they made off with them.”
“Hostages?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” he replied, shaking his head. “There hasn’t been a ransom request, and our patrols haven’t recovered any bodies.”
“Do you know how many women were taken exactly?”
“Four,” he replied sadly.
At that point there was another knock on the door.
“Proceed,” Major Parks said firmly.
A captain in his mid-thirties entered and saluted. Looking me over, he addressed the major. “This him, sir? Is this the tracker?”
“Yes, I am,” I answered before the major could reply. I never did like being spoken about as if I weren’t even in the room.
“Well, are you going after them or not? If so, I want in,” the captain informed me.
“Whoa, hang on a second,” I said, raising my voice. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet. I still haven’t even heard all the particulars.”
The captain looked frustrated and the major annoyed.
“We’ve had this discussion before, Captain Boyle,” the major replied sternly. “The new Posse Comitatus Act specifically prohibits military personnel from acting in a law enforcement capacity while on US soil.”
“What?” I asked, confused. “Whose posse is that? What do you need me for if you already have a posse out there?”
The major shook his head and held up a hand. “Bear with me a minute. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, but Posse Comitatus is the name of a new act passed by Congress. I have it around here somewhere.” He shuffled some papers on his desk while Captain Boyle paced nervously.
“Here it is,” he said, picking up one of the papers. “Let me read … ‘Whoever, except in cases and under circumstances expressly authorized by the Constitution or Act of Congress, willfully uses any part of the army as a posse comitatus or otherwise to execute the laws shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than two years.’” Major Parks paused a moment to consider his words. “From what they tell me, it was some sort of political deal agreed upon in exchange for electoral votes in the last election. Pass this act and the government will withdraw troops from the South. Tit for tat,” he explained.
“I get it. Damned politicians again. Now the army can’t even act,” I said, shaking my head. “So, why not just let the proper authorities handle it?”
“A lot of good that’ll do,” Boyle replied angrily.
“Calm down, Captain,” the major snapped. “I understand your concerns, but calm down, anyway. Mr. Kershaw,” he said, addressing me directly, “several of the officers on this post have a personal interest in seeing this resolved successfully. You see, three of them are engaged to women from the train, and at least two other soldiers are related to them.” The major paused before adding: “Not to mention the payroll our enlisted men were counting on.” He quickly held up a hand, the gesture clearly meant for the captain. “And before you say anything that you’ll regret, please realize that I do not mean to imply for a moment that the money is anywhere near as important as getting those ladies back.” Then he addressed me again directly. “That is where you come in.”
I shook my head. “Actually, I was sort of expecting merely to offer some advice or maybe help with directions to the army and then get back home. This sort of thing could take quite a while and might not have an outcome all that good. Again, why not just let the local authorities handle it?”
“Out of the question,” the major declared. “We don’t have a lot of time. Not with women involved.” He shook his head. “Also, the territorial marshal in charge of this area recently took a fall from his horse and broke his neck. Apparently a rattler startled his horse and bucked him off. Died right there where he fell. Furthermore, most of the local town’s lawmen are claiming they’ve got no jurisdiction.” He paused to consider his words. “Look, I don’t know a lot about you, Mr. Kershaw, but I trust Colonel Benjamin Grierson implicitly. When I cabled him about his niece, his immediate response was to instruct me to send for you. Apparently he has the same sort of trust and confidence in you that I have in him.”
“I’d do anything for the colonel, too. But a gang of fifteen men or more … I don’t know about this.”
Captain Boyle spoke up, addressing Major Parks and seemingly ignoring me. “Sir, there are several of us willing to go undercover to help this man. If necessary we’ll resign our commissions.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said before the major had a chance to reply. “If I decide to do this job, I’ll do it alone.”
The captain became agitated. “Against a large, well-armed gang of hard cases? I think not,” he said angrily.
“I can only imagine how worried you are, Captain, but I have my reasons.”
“And those might be?” Major Parks asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.
I considered my answer carefully. “First of all, I don’t want someone so emotionally attached coming with me on this. Anger and worry clouds your judgment too much, and that might get me killed. I don’t cotton much to me getting killed.”
“Can’t fault you there,” said the major. “What else?”
I waited for a moment before explaining further. I was sure it would be a sore spot. “Then there’s all that cavalry training. You go charging in there with sabers flashing and likely as not they will kill the hostages.”
The major cleared his throat while Captain Boyle glared at me. “Go on,” the major said calmly.
“I know how I work but don’t know anything about the captain. The last thing I need is someone unfamiliar with this sort of work getting in my way.”
“I am a career army officer,” the captain protested.
“Right, and the last time I checked, the cavalry doesn’t do much of a job teaching things like stalking silently on foot, reading sign, fitting in with outlaws, and, if necessary, killing someone with your bare hands. Where I’m going, we won’t be doing any saluting or parade drills. No offense.”
“But I understood you were in the army once,” the major offered.
“Yes, sir, I was, and I learned a lot. But not about bounty hunting. That I picked up on my own over the years.”
The captain rolled his eyes. “Great, a professional bounty killer.”
“Don’t like that term, Captain. If it’s all the same with you, I prefer the term bounty man, or if you prefer, bounty hunter. I don’t kill for the bounty. I only kill as a last resort and only in self-defense. You want some goody-two-shoes to go after these killers, fine, but count me out. Oh, and if you do, I’d start by putting up a few headstones ahead of time for them girls.” I was hot under the collar and getting hotter by the minute.
“That’ll be enough of that, Mr. Kershaw. As I explained previously, if Colonel Grierson trusts you, well then, that’s good enough for me.” He turned to Captain Boyle. “And remember, Captain, the colonel is personally involved as much as any of us are. They took his niece, too, remember?”<
br />
“Sorry, sir,” the rebuked captain replied.
“Look, Captain,” I said, “this is a job for a whole troop or for one man. Trust me, anything else will end badly. And the major already explained why we can’t use your troops.” I turned to Major Parks. “I assume the railroad authorities are already working on this?”
The major nodded. “They covered the whole area as soon as they could, but so far they’ve come up empty-handed. It’s as if the gang disappeared into thin air.”
“More likely the outlaws know the territory better, already had an escape route planned, and covered their tracks well.”
“So what do you aim to do that the rest can’t?” the captain asked anxiously.
“First of all, I’m going to face facts. If there has been no note or ransom by now, then I expect they didn’t kidnap the women for profit. They’d surely know that there’s more money to be made from family and friends than if they sold them as slaves.”
Major Parks looked at Captain Boyle uncomfortably before asking the expected question. “So they would have killed them?”
I shook my head. “Not necessarily. More likely they are thinking along the lines of … shall we say, personal entertainment. Kinda lonely out in the territory.”
“You bastard, that’s my fiancé, Suzanne, you’re talking about,” muttered the captain.
“Makes sense, though,” I explained, shrugging. “All this time, and the local lawmen haven’t found any bodies. No ransom demands. Gang of hardened killers. Only logical conclusion. You willing to accept that possibility?” I asked the captain.
Boyle stared at me and then looked out the window for a while. “I don’t care. I just want her back.” He was almost moved to tears. That one response actually helped improve my opinion of him.
“So where does that get us?” the major interrupted.
“Every pursuit has a track of its own. We, or I should say I, start by crossing that track. Now, if it is a gang that big and they plan on keeping these women, then they have to have some place to keep them. The trick is to find that place.”
“And how do you intend to do that?” Boyle asked.
“First, I need to know if any of the people on the train are still around. Then, I need to have a talk with them before I decide if I’ll do this or not.”
“We already interviewed them and came up with nothing,” the major explained.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Depends on the questions and on who’s doing the asking. Sometimes witnesses exaggerate, sometimes they are still afraid or timid, and sometimes they simply won’t say anything to an authority figure in uniform. Occasionally you got to read between the lines.”
“And what about supplies?” Major Parks asked.
“I pack my own, but I would appreciate a place to stay tonight while I talk to the survivors. I’m not promising anything, mind you, but if I do decide to go, I’ll be leaving in the morning.”
The captain looked at me and frowned. “And I suppose you’ll be negotiating the price first?”
“That’s uncalled for, Boyle,” the major cautioned.
“But a fair enough question, Major,” I agreed angrily. “Normally I would be … what’d you call it? … negotiating, but seeing as how it’s for Colonel Grierson, I don’t care.” I got up to leave the room, but before I reached the door, I turned to the captain. “’Course, if there is any paper out on these men, I’ll take whatever reward is thrown my way just to make you happy. Good enough, Captain?” I didn’t wait to hear his reply and closed the door, hard, after me.
Chapter Eighteen
Just as the two officers had indicated, some of the people who had been robbed on the train were now at the fort. I spent the better part of the afternoon talking to as many as I could. As I could have predicted, much of what the witnesses had to offer was of little value.
“Many riders, big guns, evil eyes,” were some of the vague and mostly worthless descriptions they gave. “One man was clean-shaven and wore two guns cross-draw style.” Another heard someone call one of the leaders Hank. The number of riders varied according to one witness or another from “exactly fifteen” to “thirty or more.”
A couple of people offered more specific information such as, “One had a big round Stetson with a studded hatband on it,” or “Another wore chaps with white leather stitching.” All in all it was about as I expected, but often it’s more about what is not said than what is. Over the years I’d learned to put multiple descriptions together and then sift out the silt. The leftovers could often be of value.
What I was eventually able to piece together was that there appeared to be two men in their late forties or early fifties who seemed to be in charge. The heavier of the two was the one who did the shooting, and that apparently had been touched off when a male passenger grabbed at the outlaw and tore off his bandanna. The overall attack seemed well coordinated, so it stood to reason that in all likelihood the gang had done this sort of thing before.
Nobody saw any pack animals, so I figured they must have ridden off with what they needed in their saddlebags. That, in turn, indicated to me that they didn’t plan on riding very far without either restocking or holing up somewhere.
I knew they wouldn’t head for a well-settled town, at least not with women prisoners in tow. No decent Western town would put up with that. No decent town … That got me thinking. For years there had been stories of a town without law. A town where the inhabitants were all on the lam. It was supposed to be a hellhole of a place where the rules were all reversed.
I also knew from experience that lawmen often spoke of a pass near Johnson County. Supposedly, going back to the early 1860s, no posse had ever successfully penetrated the pass when pursuing fugitives. Rumor had it there were various hideouts or camps in the valleys on the other side where criminals took refuge and found safety in numbers. It made sense that if that outlaw town were anywhere to be found, it would be on the other side of Hole-in-the-Wall pass, in the Bighorns.
I studied one of the fort’s maps. It was not too much of a stretch to imagine riding from where the robbery occurred over to that pass in the mountains. I knew that local lawmen would comb all the other known hiding places. Whenever a woman was mishandled, the entire West would take up arms. One or more of the railroad posses would be combing the territory as well. If they hadn’t found anything by now then it stood to reason I’d have to do something different. Go where they wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.
I didn’t like it, but it seemed there was only one course of action that made any sense to me. I had gathered all the information I could at the fort for now, so I decided I deserved a break. I walked over to the base’s sutler store to get myself a drink.
Along the way I picked up Corporal Daniels and made sure my animals had been well cared for. I asked the base farrier to check the horse and mule for me and made sure Lobo was tied up safely near the Appaloosa. He looked too much like a wolf to be allowed to run loose around a military base full of armed and itchy recruits.
Once inside the store, I ordered two beers and handed one to the corporal.
“Sure I can’t go with you on this? Won’t you change your mind and take me along?”
I shook my head and once again explained the reasons why. It was at that moment that a group of officers and noncoms entered the store and approached us. I counted a first and second lieutenant, two sergeants, and a corporal. Any time I see a group purposely heading my way, I instinctively get worried. You never can predict what a mob will do, and it doesn’t always end up with a parade down Main Street with you held up on the crowd’s shoulders. I switched the beer to my left hand while my right dropped slowly down to my holster.
“Can I help you boys?” I asked quietly.
The men shifted around for a moment as one of the sergeants reached into his pocket. He seemed to be sizing me up, which was understandable, bu
t made no threatening gestures.
“Go ahead, Sergeant,” the first lieutenant ordered.
“You the one they call the Badger?” he asked.
“That’ll do.” I nodded my head.
“The word is you are going out after the women what was took from the train. That true?”
I put the mug of beer down before answering. “Yep. It is now. I’ve decided to go. Leaving at first light.”
He nodded and handed me the picture he’d retrieved from his blouse pocket. “This here’s my sister. Name’s Eileen. Since our folks died, she’s all I have in the world.” He looked around. “Exceptin’ fer these men, here. I need to know if you can do this. If you can fetch her back.”
The first lieutenant added: “I am engaged to her, sir, and I want to make sure no harm comes to her. The other men here all have similar interests with the other women.”
I nodded slowly. “Lieutenant, would it help to know I did a hitch with the Sixth Illinois before I got into this line of work? Got out a corporal.”
The men all seemed to relax some. One of the other sergeants smiled. “Had a brother who served with the Seventh. You in on that big raid of Grierson’s?”
I nodded back. “Rode point all the way. That’s mostly why I’m doing this. Grierson got me back alive, and I intend to do the same for his niece.”
The second lieutenant asked: “Pardon me, but you ever done anything like this before? Rescue work, I mean.”
“Sort of.” I was being truthful. “First, you have to track and find them. No one better at that than I am, and that’s a fact, not a boast. Then, you have to size up the competition and figure out a plan. That’s the hard part, ’cause no two outlaws act the same. Going on fourteen years now, and I’m still in one piece. A lot of bad men aren’t. But the truth is, once a man on the run is found, it all depends on circumstance and, of course, a lot of luck.” I paused. “You asked, so I’m telling.”
The men considered my remarks. “Is there any way we can help?” the first lieutenant asked.
