by Clyde Barker
Because Secretary for War Edwin Stanton was such a taciturn and uncommunicative man, having few spoken words to spare even for his friends and none at all for his many enemies, it had not yet been noticed that his mind was disturbed and that he was suffering from a subtle and hard-to-detect kind of madness. This manifested itself not in the afflicted man raving or throwing off his clothes and dancing under the moon, but rather in his embarking upon a course of action that no rational and sane individual would for a moment contemplate. This was the only explanation possible for the fact that the very man charged with the guarding of the government and protection of the Union from enemies had taken it into his head to participate in a treasonable conspiracy whose aim was nothing less than the destruction of the United States of America.
A few days before the terrible War Between the States ground to its inevitable close, with the victory of the Union army, the man in overall charge of the federal forces, under the president of course, received word from a reliable source that an attempt was to be made on Mr Lincoln’s life. The information was that not only the president was to be assassinated, but also Vice President Johnson and the Secretary of State. Although Lincoln had entrusted Stanton largely with the conduct of the war, the two men had never really cared over-much for each other. By 1865 Stanton had decided that his own ambitions lay in running the country, but he had now turned fifty and knew that he was not a popular figure. It would be impossible for him to command enough support to stand for president, at least with Lincoln blocking his path. However, if Lincoln, Johnson and Secretary of State Seward were all to be removed, then Stanton would be in a position to declare martial law and take over the running of the country, de facto if not strictly speaking de jure.
In the event, only Lincoln had died that fateful April night. Before he knew that the assassins had bungled their business, Stanton had called out the army and was in a fair way to assume power in Washington. He had it in mind to declare a state of emergency the following day and then to suspend the constitution, but of course that wretch Johnson had upset the apple cart by turning up unharmed and having himself proclaimed president, which was constitutionally quite correct.
Fifteen months later, Stanton sat brooding in his Washington home, as Brent Clancy, Frank Mason and President Johnson were all making their way to Illinois, and the Secretary of War felt that power was now within his grasp. He had had dealings, at arm’s length as you might say, with some southerners who wished only for the end of military rule in the conquered states of the south. They had promised to remain in the Union and to live peaceably under the nominal rule of Washington. Stanton for his part wanted all the troops he could muster, for when he made his play for power.
Of course, neither side in this Devil’s bargain trusted the other. For his part, Edwin Stanton was already thinking that once he was established as undisputed leader of the Union, backed by the army, then there would be nothing to hinder him from sending his army south again if the mood took him. For their part, the southerners who had given such solemn assurance of fidelity to the Union were in private considering how long they would have to leave it after the military withdrawal before they were able to secede once more from the Union. For the time being though, Stanton and the leaders of the Klan needed each other and it was in the interests of both parties that President Johnson died violently as speedily as could be neatly arranged.
‘You’re a rascal!’ said the old woman sitting opposite Brent Clancy. He looked up in surprise, uncertain what reply to make. The woman chuckled and continued, ‘You think I didn’t see you fleeing those fellows? You buy a ticket for this here train before you boarded it?’
‘You going to lay an information against me to the guard?’
‘It’s no affair of mine. See you sitting there though, like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth! What happened to your horse, you leave him behind?’
‘I was in somewhat of a hurry. It couldn’t be helped.’
The old woman laughed again and said, ‘Somewhat of a hurry? I should just about say you were. I saw those fellows chasing after you! Where you headed, son?’
‘Illinois. Town called Terra Nova. You hear of it?’
‘Sure. You’ll need to leave this train when we reach the junction in a few hours. Then get another train heading east. Take you right to Terra Nova. You in trouble?’
For some reason, Clancy thought that he could trust this woman and he said honestly, ‘I reckon so, yes.’
‘You’re powerful young. You don’t look like a regular villain neither. Got anybody waiting for you in Illinois?’
‘My brother’s the sheriff there.’
‘You think he’ll welcome you? He know you’re coming?’
So shrewd was the old woman that Clancy suddenly smiled for the first time since holding up the stage. He said, ‘My brother and me, we haven’t had too much to do with each other in recent years.’
‘Well,’ said the woman, as the train began braking, preparatory to coming to a halt, ‘I got to leave here. You just remember that family is all you got. All you can depend upon when the chips are down. Good luck to you, young man.’ She stood up and then, to Clancy’s surprise, leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head.
The encounter with the pleasant old woman was strangely cheering to Clancy and his good humour lasted all the way to Terra Nova. He changed trains where the woman had indicated he should and this time paid for a ticket right through to his destination. It was a mercy that Clancy was accustomed to keeping cash-money on his person, rather than in his saddle-bag, and he had enough from the robbery to tide him over for a little while yet. He had lost two of the watches he had lifted, which had been in the saddle-bag, but had with him the most important one; the one with the Klan insignia on it. He’d an idea that he would need all the evidence he could produce if he was going to persuade his brother that he was in earnest.
For all that he’d been reading about Terra Nova for the last year or more, the reality of the town took Clancy a little by surprise. He’d seen where the place was hoping to apply for a charter to become a city in the next year or so, which had led him to suppose that it was a large and bustling town. It certainly didn’t strike him that way when the train pulled into the depot. All he saw when he stepped down from the train and left the depot was a typical little town of the kind with which he was perfectly familiar. The main street was perhaps a little smarter than most and the wooden buildings were giving way to those built of brick and stone, but otherwise there appeared to Clancy to be nothing especially noteworthy about Terra Nova.
What made Terra Nova so important and had set it on its path to cityhood was that the head of the councilmen had instituted strict zoning regulations to control the growth of industry in and around the town. Those wishing to set up manufactories had received every encouragement and incentive to do so, bringing splendid opportunities for employment to those living in the surrounding countryside. New houses were being constantly thrown up for such newcomers to inhabit, but there were strict rules, which were rigorously enforced, to maintain pleasant, residential areas and keep them separate from the foundries and factories that belched out their noisome fumes three miles away on the very edge of the town’s limits. Attracting industry to Terra Nova had been a right smart move and, although he didn’t yet know it, Brent Clancy’s brother Grant had been instrumental in the policy that had made the town such an up and coming place. It was little wonder that President Johnson had chosen to make the first speech of his campaign here, because this Illinois town symbolised the future of the United States as an industrial power.
As he strolled along Main Street, keeping a watchful eye out for the sheriff’s office, Clancy began to notice one or two differences between this town and others that he had visited since the war ended. Everything here was a good deal cleaner and neater than usual. Even the people looked smart and well turned out; like they were on their way to church or something. This was a place where the citizens made a
particular effort to keep up appearances. There were no drunks about nor, as far as he could see, any loafers or drifters. Most of the storefronts were shiny clean and many looked as though they had just lately been painted. Clancy caught a few odd looks from those he passed and realized that with his dusty and bloodstained clothes, to say nothing of the bloody scab marking his cheek, he must present an unwelcome contrast to most of the other passers-by.
The sheriff’s office was only a half mile or so from the depot and, when he reached it, Clancy glanced down the street and, sure enough, saw that there was a saloon called the Seven of Diamonds just across the way. There was little purpose in delaying what was likely to prove a trying and disagreeable encounter and so he didn’t pause, but just opened the door and walked right into the office.
Although he hadn’t seen him in a good, long while, Brent Clancy recognized his brother immediately. He could have picked out that smug and self-satisfied visage under any circumstances. He greeted his brother cheerfully, saying, ‘How’s it going, brother?’
Grant Clancy didn’t reply for a moment. He was too busy in running his eyes over his younger brother’s appearance and, from the look on his face, forming an unfavourable impression of the same. This was confirmed when the sheriff, who was alone in the office and seated at a perfectly tidy and well-ordered desk, said, ‘You surely look a disgrace. What brings you here?’
Brent was tempted to make a sharp response to this, but felt that it would hardly make matters better. Instead, he said slowly, ‘I have evidence of what looks to me like some kind of plot. Involves this town and so I thought I ought to warn you of it.’
Sheriff Clancy did not unbend, but continued to stare disapprovingly at his brother. He said, ‘This plot, as you call it, you looking for reward money or aught of that kind?’
‘You going to invite me to sit down, so I can set out the case for you? I’ve an idea that we don’t have a heap of time.’
‘There’s no “we”. I don’t know what you’re about, but I tell you now if this is some scheme to make a profit at my expense . . . well it had better not be, that’s all.’
After the trying time that he had had over the last few days, Brent Clancy had had enough of this. He walked over and sat down opposite his brother, saying as he did so, ‘Same self-righteous son of a bitch as ever you were, I’m sorry to observe. Well, it can’t be remedied, I guess.’
Chapter 5
There was a deadly silence in the office and the tension and hostility between the two brothers lent the atmosphere an electric feel, as one sometimes feels before a thunderstorm. Neither seemed inclined to speak for a few seconds, just staring one at the other. At last, Brent Clancy said wearily, ‘This is nothing to the purpose. I’ll show what I have and you make of it what you will.’ He reached into his jacket and pulled out the morocco-bound vanity case, opened it and then handed the papers within to his brother, saying, ‘This looks like a sketch map of this street.’
Grant Clancy went through the various papers thoroughly; scrutinising the map and then reading the description of the explosion and effects of the fortified nitro. After a few minutes, he said, ‘Anything else?’
Without speaking, his brother took out the heavy, gold watch and opened the little charm on the chain. Having done this, he handed it to Grant, saying, ‘By the look of it, this is tied in with the Klan.’
After examining the enamelled disc, the sheriff looked up and said, ‘Where did you get this?’
‘Took it off a man.’ Replied his brother coolly.
‘Stole, I suppose you mean.’
‘I didn’t have to come here, you know. Soon as I found this was about Terra Nova, I came straight here to warn you. Well, I done so and I reckon that’s it.’ He began to rise.
‘You know our mother’s dead?’
Although he’d not seen her in the better part of a year and they had not parted on cordial terms, the news still came as a shock. Grant Clancy said, ‘She wanted to see you at the end, but we didn’t know where you was to be found.’
‘How long since?’
‘Two months. A little more.’
‘Did she suffer?’
‘Pain, you mean?’ asked Grant Clancy, ‘Sure she did. It was a cancer, woman’s thing. Ate her up ’til she was screaming in agony. Nothing the doctor did could help.’
They sat there without speaking, this time not in hostility, but a shared grief. Brent said, ‘What about Pa?’
‘You know how he depended upon here. He’s a broken man. Sits there all day, doing nothing but grieving for her.’
‘You think as I should go by the house to visit?’
Sheriff Clancy shrugged and for the briefest moment, it looked as though a smile might be about to flicker at the corner of his lips. He said, ‘It’s a good long while since you asked any advice of me, Brent.’
‘What do you make of this here? There’s more.’ He gave a short account of being ambushed on the way to Abbot’s place. ‘I thought it might be connected with this business. I’d take oath I saw the man whose watch and papers these are among them as attacked me and killed my friends.’
Grant Clancy sighed and said, ‘Like I don’t have enough to occupy me, what with this visit from the president and all. Still, you’re right. There’s something here needs to be looked into. You got somewhere to stay in town?’
‘Not hardly. I come here straight from the depot.’
‘You can’t walk around town looking like some kind of scarecrow. You’re all over blood as well, you know that? What happened to your face?’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘We’re still about the same size, I guess. I reckon you can borrow some o’ my clothes. But you listen to me good, Brent. I’ve worked hard to bring this town up to scratch. I aim to run it one day as mayor, God willing. Long as you’re here, you’ll behave like a normal person, you hear what I say?’ Grant shook his head and said, ‘I guess I’ll have to own you as my brother to others. Try not to be a reproach to me, hey?’
Johnny West had been vastly impressed by the demolition of the old mission station. Just ten gallons of that oily sludge had wrought more destruction than he would ever have dreamed possible. All that was now necessary was for Johnny to escort to Terra Nova the fellow who would mix up the nitroglycerine that they would need to take out the president and his entourage.
Nitroglycerine is really nothing more than a mixture of nitric and sulphuric acid, combined with a little glycerine. The ingredients can be obtained at any drugstore, but getting them to combine in the right proportions, without blowing up in your face, is the Devil’s own job. You need ice to cool it down, a perfectly clean laboratory and the steadiest nerve in the world. Once you have your basic nitro, it is possible to add black powder to it, to boost the power of the explosion. This sort of preparation was sometimes marketed under the proprietary brand name of ‘Black Hercules’.
A few months earlier, on 21 April to be precise, a large barrel of nitro had been shipped to the Wells Fargo office in San Francisco. It had begun leaking and then, because it is such an unstable and hazardous material, the whole lot went up in a devastating explosion that took out most the city block upon which the Wells Fargo office was situated. This disaster had prompted new laws to be rushed through in every state in the Union, forbidding the transportation of nitroglycerine on railroads and ships and also setting severe restrictions upon where it could be manufactured or used. This was particularly unfortunate for the men planning to assassinate President Johnson as it meant that they would either have to buy it from some shady customer who might then betray them, for a price, to the federal government, or to find somebody who could make it for them where it would be used. This man’s life would be worth less than nothing when once he had accomplished his purpose and supplied the Klansmen with the ten gallons that they required.
Johnny West was not at all keen on the little man whom he had to bring to Terra Nova. For one thing, the fellow was a drunk, who had the sh
akes each morning until he had had a shot or two of whiskey. He had been previously employed by the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad as an engineer in charge of preparing and using nitro to blast a pass though some mountainous terrain, but his drinking had got so bad that there was a general fear that it was only a matter of time before he bungled his work and blew the whole camp to kingdom come. He had been discharged and then recruited by Frank Mason to come and do a little private work for some southern gentlemen.
West and Jed Taylor, the one-time railroad engineer, were seated opposite each other in a passenger coach of a railroad train that was now only an hour or so from Terra Nova. Johnny West noticed to his disgust and alarm that although it was not yet evening Taylor was already three parts intoxicated. It was West’s given job to supervise this hopeless drunk in manufacturing the nitro needed to destroy the civic hall that stood opposite the Seven of Diamonds. Just how he was going to achieve this end, Johnny West had little idea. It would be a mercy if they were not all blown to atoms before President Johnson even showed his face in Terra Nova. For about the fiftieth time since they had boarded the train, Taylor began fidgeting and twitching, as though somebody had dropped a scorpion down his neck. He was, thought Johnny West, displaying all the signs of an inveterate inebriate deprived of access to intoxicating liquor. He stared coldly at the wriggling man and said in a low voice, ‘What ails you, man? Stop jiggling about, you’re making an exhibition o’ yourself.’
‘I can’t help it,’ muttered the wretched man, ‘I always get this way, less’n I have a little something in the morning to get me started.’
‘Lord a mercy, you best have a steady hand over the next few days, you hear what I tell you?’ exclaimed Johnny West irritably. Then, recollecting that it would not do to draw any attention to themselves, he said in a lower voice, ‘Soon as we get to Terra Nova, you can have a “little something” to steady your nerves, all right?’ He looked at the pitiful wreck sitting opposite him and thought what a dreadful curse liquor could be to some. Jed Taylor could scarcely have been above forty years of age, but looked like a wizened and shrivelled up old man. Then he suddenly felt sorrow for anybody capable of doing such a dreadful thing to his own self and said to the shivering man, ‘Don’t take on so. We’ll be in Terra Nova soon and you can get to a saloon or something. Long as you’re ready to set to work tomorrow, mind.’
