“Don’t say that around Dewey,” Dolly teased. “You never know but what he might take you up on it.”
Those close enough to overhear laughed.
Billy looked at Dolly. “Will you be here when I come back?”
“Honey, in case you ain’t noticed it, you’ve done got my comb red,” Dolly said. “I’ll be here waitin’ for you, just anytime you’re ready.”
Dolly’s directness caused Billy to take a quick breath.
“On second thought, Pa—uh, Tom, why don’t you go on over there without me?” Billy suggested.
“I thought you were so all-fired ready to have supper?” Jesse said.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got somethin’ else in mind right now.”
“All right. I guess I can eat by myself.”
“You don’t have to eat by yourself, Tom,” Sheila said. “I was about to go over to Gimlin’s for supper my own self, and I would be glad to go with you. That is, unless you don’t want company.”
Jesse smiled. “Well now, how can I turn down an offer like that? I’ll even buy your supper, if you will allow me.”
“Well, that’s just real sweet of you, Tom. Now you see why I prefer more mature men.”
Billy watched the interplay between Sheila and his father, then he turned his attention back to Dolly. “So, what do we do now?” he asked.
“I’m sure something will . . .”—Dolly paused and looked pointedly at the front of his pants—“come up,” she said, emphasizing the last two words.
Billy laughed. “I’m sure it will.”
Dolly turned and started walking away, glancing back over her shoulder to let Billy know that she intended for him to follow her. They went up the stairs and along the second-floor hallway.
“Sheila, I believe you said something about supper,” Jesse said, turning his attention back to the young woman beside him.
“I did, indeed,” she said.
Jesse offered her his arm.
The china, silver, and crystal gleamed softly in the reflected light of more than a dozen lanterns. Gimlin’s Restaurant was an oasis of light in the darkness that had descended over the little town. Jesse led Sheila to a quiet table in the corner.
“What do people do for a living around here?” Jesse asked. “When I rode in I didn’t see any cattle or anything under cultivation.”
“You didn’t see it, because there isn’t any,” Sheila said, and Jesse thought he detected some bitterness in her voice.
“Why is that?”
“Marcus Daniel Culpepper.”
“Culpepper? You mean like the name of the town?”
“This town wasn’t always called Culpepper. When I was growing up, it was called Red Bluff. Isn’t that a pretty name?”
“Why Red Bluff? I didn’t see anything that looks like a red bluff.”
“You wouldn’t. Culpepper took that down long ago, with his coal mining. After he got control of everything, including the mayor and the city council, he decided to change the name of the town to Culpepper.”
“You sound like you don’t like Culpepper.”
“How can I like him? His coal mine has poisoned the streams so there is no water for the livestock, and the ranchers can’t make a living. I know this, because I grew up on Trailback Ranch.”
“So your father is a rancher?”
“He was a rancher and so was my grandfather before him. When Culpepper took over Trailback, he got a ranch that had been thriving since Texas was part of Mexico.”
“I don’t understand. If the ranch was doing that well, why did your father sell out to Culpepper?”
Sheila looked up sharply. “My father didn’t sell Trailback,” she said. “He had it taken from him.”
“How was that?”
“Culpepper got Trailback the same way he got all the other ranches and farms. He started a bank and gave crop and stock loans to the farmers and ranchers, just as they had taken out every year from other banks. Only they were so proud that Red Bluff had a bank, they wanted to keep the business in their hometown.
“What they didn’t realize is that the coal mine was going to kill all the farming and ranching, and when the notes came due, Culpepper foreclosed on them. After my father lost his ranch he was a broken man. I . . .” Sheila stopped talking for a moment and her eyes filled with tears.
“We had no way of making a living, so I took this job. But my father couldn’t face what had happened to us and he . . . he put a gun to his head and he . . .” Again, Sheila paused in midsentence.
Jesse reached across the table and put his hand on hers. “You don’t have to go on,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Sheila said. She forced a smile through her tears. “Here I was supposed to be pleasant company for you while you ate.”
“While we eat,” Jesse said, and at that moment the food was delivered to the table.
“So,” he said a few minutes later, “Culpepper owns the bank, does he?”
“Yes. There was an investigation a while back, something about how he was using the bank to finance improvements in the mine, making loans to the mine, then collecting on the interest. It’s all very confusing, but it eventually came to nothing. And as far as improvements on the mine, the miners who come into the Wet Mouse are always talking about how dangerous it is, because he cuts corners on safety.”
“And the law does nothing about it?”
“Are you kidding?” Sheila said. “Marcus Culpepper is the law.”
Jesse and Sheila had just finished eating and were about to leave the restaurant, when Billy came in.
“So, how was supper?” Billy asked. His words were jaunty and his mood was ebullient.
“Well now . . . Joe,” Jesse had to pause for a moment to remember what name Billy had used, “you sure look all full of vinegar.”
“Do I? Well, a little lady named Dolly might have something to do with that.”
“So it appears. I’m glad to see that you decided to take the time to eat,” Jesse teased.
“Believe me, after what I’ve just been through, I need to eat,” he said. “I have to get my strength back.”
Sheila laughed, and Billy suddenly realized that he was being a bit ribald. He smiled, sheepishly, and put his hand to the brim of his hat. “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said. “I sure don’t mean to say anything out of line, I mean, being as you are a lady ’n all.”
“For heaven’s sake, Joe, you certainly don’t have to apologize to me,” Sheila said. “From what I have heard, Dolly can be a most energetic woman.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll vouch for that,” Billy said. Then, to Jesse he asked, “Are you leaving?”
“Yes, I’m going to walk Sheila back, then I’ll get us a room at the hotel.”
“How will I know which room? Or, are you goin’ to wait in the lobby?”
“Just ask for Tom Howard,” Jesse said. It had to be over twenty years since he last used that name, so he was sure it was safe to use now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“If there was ever a bank that needed to be robbed, it’s this one,” Jesse said to Billy that night, after he told him the story Sheila had recounted over supper.
“How are we going to do it?”
“We’re just going to go in there and ask, politely, that they give us the money.”
“We’re going to ask politely?”
“Well, as politely as you can ask, when you are holding a gun in your hand,” Jesse said.
Billy laughed.
“Whoever chose the location for the bank wasn’t very smart,” Jesse said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Think about it, Billy. It’s the last building at the edge of town. Most of the time, they are right in the middle of town.”
“What difference does that—” Billy started, then stopped midsentence and smiled. “If it’s at the end of town, we can make our getaway easier.”
“You’re beginning to catch on,” Jesse said.
“Good
mornin’,” the stable hand said the next morning when Jesse and Billy retrieved their horses. It was the same white-haired man who had taken their horses the day before.
“You’re here awfully early,” Jesse said pleasantly. “You must have slept here.”
“Yes, sir, as a matter of fact, I did. One of the things Mr. Culpepper does is he lets me sleep in one of the empty stalls.”
“Culpepper owns this livery?”
The old man chuckled. “Mister, Culpepper owns ever’thing you see in this town.”
“Culpepper must be quite a man.”
For just a moment there was a flash of something in the man’s eyes, an expression that Jesse couldn’t quite make out. He didn’t think it was an expression of admiration.
“Yes, sir, I reckon you could say that,” the old man said. He led them back to the two adjacent stalls where the horses were, then reached for one of the saddles.
“No need for you to do that, we can saddle them. You go on back up front in case you get another customer.”
“All right, thank you, I will.”
“Billy,” Jesse said quietly after the stable man left. “Check your saddlebags.”
Even as Jesse was speaking to Billy, he was checking his own. He moved his spare shirt aside and saw the money from the train robbery exactly as he had left it.
“It’s all here, Pa,” Billy said.
A few minutes later they said good-bye to the stable hand and led their horses across the street and tied them off in front of Gimlin’s Restaurant, then went inside for breakfast.
“Where are all your customers, Mr. Gimlin?” Jesse asked.
“They’re all down in the mine, working.”
“Already? It’s not even eight o’clock yet.”
“The first mine shift starts at five a.m. and goes to five p.m. The second shift goes from five p.m. to five a.m.”
“You mean they have to work all night?” Billy asked.
Gimlin chuckled. “Sonny, night or day, it’s all the same down in the mine.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be,” Jesse said. “Are there many who work in the mine?”
“Almost everyone in town,” Gimlin replied. “I made fresh biscuits this morning.”
“Sounds good. Could we have that with bacon and eggs?”
“You got it,” Gimlin replied.
After breakfast Jesse and Billy stepped out front to untie their horses.
“You think the bank is open yet, Pa?”
“I looked at the clock inside the restaurant; it said ten minutes until eight. I expect the bank will be open by then. What do you say we take a ride up and down the street first, just to get our bearings.”
“All right. What are we looking for?”
“You take the left side. Count everybody you see carrying a gun. I’ll take the right.”
The two men rode slowly down the entire length of the town, then they turned their horses and rode back.
“I saw three that was wearin’ guns,” Billy said.
“I only seen one on my side,” Jesse added.
“Any of them look like they knew how to use them? More important, did anyone look like they would use them?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Billy answered. “They didn’t any of ’em look like they knew much more’n which end of the gun the bullet come out.”
“It looked pretty clear on my side as well,” Jesse said. “All right, I expect the bank is open by now. Let’s ride on down there.”
The two rode down to the bank, which, as Jesse had pointed out the night before, was at the far end of the town. Not only was this bank different from most, in that it was at the far end of town, it also wasn’t of brick construction. Instead, it was a rather flimsy-looking building, thrown together from rip-sawed lumber and leaning so that it looked as if a good, stiff wind would knock it over. Billy chuckled when he saw it.
“Hell, we don’t have to rob this bank, Pa. We can just kick it down,” he said.
“Keep your attention on the job,” Jesse said.
“All right, Pa, I’m ready.”
As soon as Jesse and Billy were inside, they pulled their pistols.
“This is a holdup!” Jesse shouted. “You, teller, empty out your bank drawer and put all the money in a bag!”
Nervously, the teller began to reply, emptying his drawer in just a few seconds.
“How much is there?” Jesse asked.
“Fifteen hundred dollars,” the teller replied nervously.
“Fifteen hundred dollars? You expect me to believe you are operating a bank on just fifteen hundred dollars?”
“That’s all there is,” the teller insisted. “Mr. Culpepper will never let me have more than that at any given time. If I need more money, I’m supposed to call him, and he will bring me some from the mine office.”
“What about the safe?” Jesse asked.
The teller pointed to the safe. “As you can see, it’s standing wide open. I just got all the money out a few minutes ago. That’s why I knew exactly how much there was.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Billy asked.
“I believe it,” Jesse said. “Based on what I’ve heard about Culpepper, he is the kind of son of a bitch who would do something just like that.”
At that moment a customer stepped in through the front door of the bank, and, seeing two men with drawn pistols, turned and ran back outside.
“The bank!” he shouted. “They’re robbin’ the bank!”
“Let’s go,” Jesse said.
Clutching the bank bag in his hand, Jesse, along with Billy, started out of the bank. Just before they left, Jesse turned and fired shots at all the windows of the bank, bringing them all down with a crash.
“Let’s go!” Jesse shouted as he and Billy swung into the saddle. They rode south, out of town, holding their horses at a gallop for at least two miles before they slowed them to a walk.
“How long do you think before they’ll be comin’ after us?” Billy asked.
“It’ll take them at least ten more minutes to get a posse put together. Maybe longer,” Jesse said. “Then they’ll be coming south after us, but we won’t be here. We’re going to circle back around north, then be on our way.”
“Where are we going?” Billy asked.
“Missouri.”
“Missouri? I’ve never been to Missouri. What’s it like?”
“It’s like Missouri,” Jesse said.
The cabin on the Brazos—March 2, 1942
“You didn’t take long putting into action some of what you had taught Billy, did you?” Faust asked.
“What’s the sense of teaching him all that, if we weren’t going to put it to use?” Jesse replied.
“Yes, well, I guess you have a point there. It’s funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“I’ve written about this, I mean, train robberies, bank robberies, and the like. In my books and in my short stories, I’ve probably robbed a dozen trains, a dozen banks, and as many stagecoaches. But I’ve only written about it. Now, I’m writing about it again, but this time I’m writing about it from the perspective of someone who has actually done it, many times. It’s just a rather unreal feeling, that’s all. Tell me, Jesse, what is it like?”
“What do you mean what is it like? Damn, Fred, haven’t I been telling you what it’s like?”
“No, not really. Oh, don’t get me wrong, you’ve given me some very vivid detail, detail that I hope I’m doing justice to, as far as enabling my readers to visualize the scene.
“But I want to know what it feels like here, and here.” Faust put his hand first to his head, then over his heart.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “All right, I guess I can see what you mean. I’ll try and tell you, but I’m not sure that I can.
Jesse thought a moment. “First, you are scared.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that. I mean, you’re the one holding the gun; you are the one dictating what’s going to happe
n. Why would you be scared?”
“Because you don’t always know what’s going to happen,” Jesse replied. “The disaster, and that’s the only way I can refer to it, the disaster at Northfield is a perfect example of you not knowing what’s going to happen. I mean, who would have thought that the entire town would turn out with every kind of gun you can imagine, pistols, rifles, and shotguns like they did?”
“Yes, but Northfield was an anomaly, wasn’t it?”
“A what?”
“It was unusual. They didn’t normally happen like that.”
“No, the robberies weren’t normally like that, but there was always a chance that something like that could happen again. And you are always at a disadvantage when you are pulling a robbery.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If some citizen is killed, even if you didn’t intend to do it, you are guilty of murder. But if some citizen kills you, he is a hero.”
“I see what you mean.”
“I never let on to Frank, or to anyone else, and I especially never let on to Billy, how I felt. But the truth was, that before every job, I could feel my heart pounding a mile a minute. My mouth would get so dry I couldn’t even work up a spit, and it was all I could do to keep my hands from shaking. If any of the people I was stealing from ever knew what I was really going through, it could have been all over right then.”
“Do you think everyone feels like that? I mean, people who are about to rob a bank, or a train, or something?”
“I really don’t know. This isn’t anything I ever shared with anyone.” Jesse chuckled. “Never until this moment, that is. And I don’t expect the average person would have shared it with me.
“There are some people, though, I knew them during the war, who actually enjoyed doing things like this. Hell, Anderson enjoyed killing. Why do you think they called him Bloody Bill Anderson?”
“Thanks,” Faust said. “I always try and put myself into the mind-set and point of view of my characters when I write a book or a short story, or even when I work on a screenplay. But most of the time I can do that by recalling situations I have been through that are very similar. But having never committed a holdup, that has been very hard for me to do. This may give me some insight.
Shot in the Back Page 12
