The Dawn of Fury (77 page)

“Of course not,” she said, not looking at him. “I'm thankful you'll be among friends who can help you. It's just that ... I'm afraid this won't work, and if it doesn't . . .”

“Then I'll be riding into Indian Territory,” he finished.

“Yes,” she said, “if you have to go alone.”

For the first two weeks in January 1872, Nathan's band of armed men rode with every train to and from Hays, without any attempts to stop the trains. On January seventeenth, to everybody's surprise, the bank at Abilene was robbed just at closing time. That same night—Wednesday—Nathan received a telegram at Hays, through the Kansas-Pacific dispatcher there. On the return run to Kansas City on Thursday, Nathan had the train stopped at Abilene long enough for him to question the marshal and people at the bank. He was totally unimpressed by the new marshal, James A. Gauthie. It was he who had been instrumental in getting Hickok fired, and had then accepted the appointment as town marshal for fifty dollars a month.

“Of course I investigated,” said Gauthie defensively. “There was tracks of eleven horses. Five men went into the bank, and when they left, they rode south, toward Wichita.”

“You didn't mount a posse and ride after them?”

“There was no use. It would have been dark before we even got started. Besides, this is the off-season for the herds. It's hard to find enough men for a four-handed game of stud.”

Nathan turned away in disgust. He was only a little more successful when he spoke to the head cashier at the bank. While the robbers had concealed their faces with bandannas, the apparent leader had fit the description of El Gato, including the Mexican sombrero and bandolier of shells over the shoulder. With nothing more to be done in Abilene, Nathan got aboard the train and it continued on to Kansas City. There he met with Joel Netherton, for he felt an obligation to inform the railroad that the outlaws were still in the area.

“They're likely expecting us to relax our guard,” Nathan said.

“I suppose they've gotten word of the rewards and the execution warrants, too,” said Netherton.

“By God, that's exactly what might have scared them off,” Nathan said. “What damn fool allowed that to leak out?”

Netherton laughed. “It didn't leak out. Governor Harvey released it to the press to counter some of the criticism by Kansas-Pacific stockholders. It's important to him that the public—and especially KP stock holders—know he's using every resource at his command to capture these train robbers.”

“Then maybe I'll just leave it to him,” said Nathan angrily, “and let him lead a posse into Indian Territory after the varmints.”

But the outlaws changed their method of operation. On January twenty-ninth, two of the renegades boarded the train on the fly, forcing it to stop by holding guns on the fireman and engineer. Nathan and his fighting men in the boxcar were prepared for anything except what happened. All were in position with their rifles, but there was nobody at which to shoot. Suddenly from beneath the boxcar came a booming voice.

“Hombres, this is El Gato. The locomotive's fireman and engineer are under the gun. A wrong move from any of you and they will die.”

“Damn it,” said Fin Warren, “he's under the car. Him an' God knows how many more. Now what?”

“We wait for them to ride out and then we follow,” Nathan said.

But El Gato added insult to injury. Before the outlaws rode away, they shot and killed the engineer and fireman. For a long moment, the men stared at the dead bodies. The guard in the baggage coach and the brakeman in the caboose had been knocked unconscious.

“The rest of you start after them,” said Nathan. “I'll have to telegraph Kansas City and report this. I'll catch up to you.”

Nathan still had the telegraph key that had belonged to Benton Valentine, and he climbed a pole to make the connection. At least the outlaws had not cut the telegraph line, and he was able to reach the dispatcher. He also left a message to be sent to Mary, knowing how she would feel when she learned he was on his way to Indian Territory. He then returned the telegraph key to his saddlebag and rode to catch up to his companions.

The trail was clear enough to have been followed by starlight, and that was just about what they would be doing, Nathan thought grimly. The flaw he had mentioned to Joel Netherton came into play when darkness caught them sixty miles south of the railroad and sixty or more miles shy of Indian Territory.

“Well, gents,” Dil Odom observed, “we can keep ridin' due south, hopin' they won't veer to east or west, or we can wait for daylight and keep to the trail. What's it gonna be?”

“We'll rest the horses and keep riding,” Nathan said. “I look for them to cut away southeast or southwest, if only to delay us. At first light, we'll have to split up until we find their trail again.”

But riding all night gained them nothing, for with the dawn came an alarming discovery. The gang had split up, and every rider they followed had disappeared, hiding his trail beneath the murky waters of the Cimarron River.

Nathan and his weary companions rode to Wichita, had a hot meal and continued on to Kansas City, arriving there on Sunday, February fourth.

“Where do we go from here?” Nate Sanderson asked. “Do we ride the train to Hays tomorrow?”

“I don't know,” said Nathan. “All of you stay close to home tonight and tomorrow night. I'll talk to Netherton and see where we're going from here.”

Nathan knew where Joel Netherton lived, but he went first to the Kansas—Pacific railroad yard. Netherton was there, and in about the frame of mind Nathan had expected. He explained how the outlaws had taken advantage of the darkness to get far ahead and how they had split up, covering their trails so that an Indian couldn't have tracked them.

“I'm tired,” Netherton said gloomily. “Tired of trying to talk to board members who are so busy shouting at me they can't hear what I'm trying to say. Hell, I'm ready to resign and take a job with a section crew. Let them find another dog to kick.”

“We're not beaten yet,” said Nathan. “Can you hold off on payroll shipments for another week or two?”

“Do I have any choice? What kind of madman takes the money and murders two unarmed men? As things stand, I don't have a fireman-engineer team that's willing to risk their lives on a run involving a payroll.”

“The only way to nail this bunch is to trap them before they can scatter into Indian Territory,” Nathan said. “I have another plan, but I'll need more men.”

“I can get you the men,” said Netherton, “but I can't promise you a payroll for bait.”

“I can't ask you to risk one,” Nathan replied, “but we must lure this gang out of hiding. Suppose we posted two men with rifles in the cab. Would that make your engineers and firemen feel better?”

“I don't know,” said Netherton. “I'll admit they took us all by surprise, boarding the train. I suppose if we could prevent that, the engineers and firemen wouldn't feel threatened.”

“This bunch of renegades can't very well use that trick again,” Nathan said. “They buffaloed us into holding back for the sake of the trainmen, and then murdered them. They can't count on that working again.”

“Just for the sake of my own curiosity,” said Netherton, “go ahead and lay out your other plan. I have to tell the board something.”

“Suppose we had armed men less than an hour's ride from the Territory,” Nathan said, “and suppose they could be contacted immediately after El Gato and his bunch commits a robbery and rides south?”

“That might be the answer,” said Netherton. “Go on.”

“You would send an armed guard with the train, as usual,” Nathan said, “but not me and my riders. We would be waiting at Fort Dodge, and everything would depend on two factors. First, somebody from the train would have to get off a telegram to you, or one to the dispatcher at Hays. In either case, that message would have to reach me at Fort Dodge. Second, and every bit as important, nobody is to be told you have men at Fort Dodge. Nobody, by God. Especially Governor Harvey.”

“Let me see what I can do,” said Netherton. “I'll send word as soon as I can present this and get it approved.”

Nathan got his horse from the livery and rode out to Eppie Bolivar's place. While he knew Mary was glad to see him, he sensed a change in her and was unsure as to just what it was. He hoped it was just the news of his failure to run down El Gato and his band that had upset her.

“I reckon you heard the news,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “You've been given full responsibility. The newspapers are calling the Kansas—Pacific El Gato's Santa Claus.”

“Let them,” said Nathan. “I have one more hand to play.”

Suddenly she buried her face in her hands, and big silent tears spilled through her fingers. He knelt beside her, uncertain, and she wept all the harder. She spoke little the rest of the evening, ate almost nothing at the evening meal, and virtually ignored Eppie's attempts to cheer her up. Early next morning, an hour before dawn, she was violently ill.

“I think it's time you had a visit with the doc,” he said.

Despite all her protests, Nathan took her to Dr. Pendleton, recommended by Eppie Bolivar. Pendleton was in his sixties, a no-nonsense little man who didn't mince words. He spent about ten minutes with Mary, and leaving her in his consultation study, came back and spoke to Nathan.

“Nothing wrong with her she won't get over, if she takes care of herself,” Pendleton said. “Come July, she's going to have a child.”

“What?” Nathan shouted. “Are you sure?”

“I've been wrong a few times,” said Pendleton, “but never on that.”

Nathan had driven Eppie Bolivar's buckboard, and without a word, he helped Mary up on to the seat. He seated himself beside her, and she wouldn't look at him. He spoke as kindly as he could.

“You knew, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?”

“I ... I was afraid. I promised ... not to ask anything of you. I've felt so ... alone. It's such a burden for ... one to bear ...”

“It's not yours alone,” he said. “You didn't get into this by yourself. It's still early in the day, so why don't we look around and fix you up with a ring?”

“A ring?”

“It's fittin' and proper for a woman to have a ring on her marrying day,” Nathan said. “It's up to you to set the date. We'll have a preacher read from the book.”

Kansas City had grown to the extent that there was a jewelry store, and that's where Nathan and Mary went. Despite all Nathan had on his mind, he thoroughly enjoyed the girl's excitement as the proprietor of the store laid out a tray of rings.