Shot in the Back (18 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: Shot in the Back
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Jim, do you have a wife or kids to worry about?” Jesse asked after Cummins agreed to be a part of Jesse's new gang.
“No, I ain't got nobody dependin' on me but this team of mules. But I can sell them and buy a horse.”
“You don't need a horse,” Jesse said. He pointed to the Oldsmobile. “We've got ten horses,” he said with a smile.
“How many men do you have?” Cummins asked.
“For now, just the three of us.”
“Do you want anyone else?”
“Only if it's someone dependable. Why, do you have a suggestion?”
“I do. He rode with Billy the Kid for a while, but he's a Missouri boy, like us. Right now he lives in Texarkana.”
“What's his name?”
Cummins chuckled. “You'll like this. His name is Jesse. Jesse Evans.”
It took them two days to reach Texarkana.
“Stop here,” Cummins said, leaning over the seat to point to a building that had a large mug of beer painted on one of the front windows. “Jesse works here, only there don't nobody know him by that name. Here, he is called John Tucker.”
“How is it that you know him?” Jesse asked.
“Me 'n him done a few things together,” Cummins replied without being more specific.
“You think you can get him to come talk to us? Without telling him who I am, I mean.”
“Well if we are goin' to work together, don't you think he ought to at least know who you are? I mean, I done told you who he is.”
“If you tell him who I am, I'll have to kill both of you,” Jesse said, and the almost nonchalant way he spoke the words had a more chilling effect than if he had said them more menacingly.
“I won't say a word,” Cummins promised.
 
 
“Frank, this here is John Tucker,” Cummins said. “He's workin' as a bartender down at the Arktex Saloon.”
Jesse extended his hand. “It's good to meet you, John. This is my boy, Billy.” Jesse glanced over at Cummins. “Does John know why I wanted to talk to him?”
“He knows. When I asked him if he might be interested in something a bit more excitin', and something that might pay a little more, he said he was ready to listen.”
“This is more than just talk, ain't it?” Evans asked. “I mean, I got me a job now, so I'm not interested in just talk.”
“How much do you make a week?”
“Fifteen dollars.”
Jesse reached into a sack and drew out two hundred dollars. “Here's a hundred dollars for each of you,” he said. “If you throw in with me, there will be a lot more where that came from. Are you in?”
The two men smiled as they took the money.
“Yeah,” Evans said. “You can count me in.”
“This is our plan,” Jesse said. He showed them a newspaper, tapping an ad.
 
HATHAWAY RANCH
Linden, Texas
 
Angus Cattle for Sale
Cattle Dealers Welcome
 
“We're goin' to steal cattle?” Evans asked. “I've done that, and to tell the truth, stealin' cattle is almost like workin'. You got to drive the critters somewhere to sell after you get 'em stoled. Then you don't hardly get nothin' for 'em, 'cause most of the time whoever you're sellin' 'em to knows they was stoled.”
“We're not going to steal cattle. That is just our excuse for being there,” Jesse said. “What we're going to do is rob a bank.”
“All right!” Evans said with a big smile. “Now, that's more like it.”
“When are we goin' to do it?” Cummins asked.
“Not until the end of the month,” Jesse said. “The bank will have more money then because all the ranchers and businesses will be paying their workers.”
“What do we do until then?”
Jesse indicated the money he had just given them. “Well, you've got enough money not to have to do anything if you don't want to.”
“Where will you be?” Jim asked.
“Billy and I will stay here in the hotel until the time comes. We'll meet here for breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth, then we'll take the automobile down to Daingerfield.”
“Daingerfield? I thought we was goin' to Linden.”
“We are. We just aren't going to go all the way in the auto.”
 
 
“Hey, Pa,” Billy said later that afternoon. “What are we goin' to do while we're waitin' here?”
“I hadn't thought much beyond just waiting,” Jesse said. “Why do you ask?”
“I want to go to a moving picture show.”
“What? Why would you want to do something like that?”
“Listen to this,” he said, reading from the newspaper.
“‘
The Great Train Robbery
is a moving picture show that is a faithful duplication of the genuine holdups made famous by various outlaw bands in the far West. This motion picture is based upon a true event, that being the robbery that occurred on August twenty-nine, 1900, when four members of Butch Cassidy's Hole in the Wall gang halted the Number three train on the Union Pacific Railroad tracks toward Table Rock, Wyoming. The bandits forced the conductor to uncouple the passenger cars from the rest of the train and then blew up the safe in the mail car to escape with about five thousand dollars in cash.'”
“
You actually want to see that?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah, Pa.” Billy chuckled. “You could call it professional curiosity. If we watch how other people do it, we might learn a thing or two.”
“Son, every train robbery there's ever been was copied from me,” Jesse said. “But if you want to go see it, we will.”
The cabin on the Brazos—March 5, 1942
“So, did you go see the movie?” Faust asked.
“Yes, we did.” Jesse chuckled. “It wasn't like the movies today. I don't mean just because it doesn't have sound. It was only about ten minutes long.”
“I know, but I owe much of my career to Mr. Porter.”
“Who?”
“Edwin Porter. He's the one who wrote the story to
The Great Train Robbery
. It was not only the first Western movie; it was the first film that actually told a story. I've made a good living working on films, not only my own but others as well. And people like Gary Cooper, Tom Mix, John Wayne, Roy Rogers, all of us owe a debt of thanks, not only to Edwin Porter, but also to ‘Broncho Billy' Anderson, who starred in that picture, at a time when the actors' names were never even mentioned.”
“Tyrone Power,” Jesse said.
“Yes, him, too.”
“Especially Tyrone Power. He played me in the movies.”
“That's right, he did, didn't he?”
“He's not the only one who ever played me in a movie. I've got a story I'll tell you about the movies when I come to it,” Jesse said. “But the only way I can tell a story is from the beginning to the end, so if you don't mind, I'll just keep on the way I'm going.”
“I don't mind at all,” Faust said. “I believe you said you were going to rob a bank.”
“I said I was goin' to, and that's just what I did,” Jesse said, continuing with the story.
Daingerfield, Texas
The drive from Texarkana to Daingerfield took less than an hour. Although automobiles were not all that common, neither were they so rare as to cause a great deal of attention anymore. And some towns and cities even had special parking lots for them. Daingerfield was such a place.
“You wait here with the auto,” Jesse said to Billy. “The rest of us will go into Linden and take care of business. When that's done, we'll come back here. That way nobody in Linden will be able to connect us to this machine.”
“Pa, why does anyone have to stay with the car?” Billy asked. “Wouldn't it be better if we all went to Linden together?”
“There is no way I am going to leave this thing with nobody to watch over it,” Jesse said. “They draw too much curiosity. There's no telling what might happen to it if we just left it here.”
“I don't like it that I don't get to do anything,” Billy complained.
“You are doing something. You are making sure that when we come back with the money, we have a way out of here.”
“All right, all right, I'll watch over the damn automobile.”
“Good,” Jesse said. “John, Jim, we've got a stagecoach to catch.”
 
 
When Jesse, Evans, and Cummins stepped down from the stagecoach in Linden, they walked from the coach depot to the livery stable. There was, about the stable, a familiar odor of horseflesh, hay, and, though it was kept relatively clean, even horse droppings. Jesse found something comfortable about the smell for it was an aroma that had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember.
“Yes, sir, something I can do for you folks?” The question came from a boy of about fourteen.
“Yes, my associates and I just arrived on the morning stagecoach,” Jesse said. “We are cattle buyers, and we need to go out to the Hathaway Ranch to look over his stock. We'll need to rent some horses to ride out there.”
“I'll have to get Mr. Heckemeyer,” the boy said. “He owns the stable, 'n he's the only one that can rent out horses.”
Heckemeyer came out to greet Jesse a moment later. He was a big man, baldheaded, with a round face and full cheeks. “So, you're goin' out to Irv Hathaway's place, are you?”
“Yes. I've been told that he has fine cattle for sale. Is that true? Or will we just be wasting our time riding out there?”
“No sir, you won't be wasting your time at all, and you won't be disappointed,” Heckemeyer said. “If you ask me, Irv has some of the best stock in the entire state of Texas. The boy said you wanted to rent some horses, but wouldn't you rather rent a surrey? I think it would be a lot more comfortable for refined businessmen like you three.”
“No, thank you. We're all three quite comfortable in the saddle, and if we're going to go out to look at the herd, I think it would be better to be mounted.”
“I guess you do have a point there. How long will you be a' wantin' 'em?”
“Just long enough to ride out to the ranch, look over Mr. Hathaway's stock, then ride back. What time will you close this afternoon?”
“I'll be here until six,” Heckemeyer said.
“Oh, I'm sure we'll have your mounts returned by then.”
“That'll be fine. Come far, did you?”
“Far enough. We're from Bowling Green, Kentucky,” Jesse said.
“Oh, my, that is a long way. Well, come on out back and we can pick out the horses for you.”
Half an hour later Heckemeyer walked back out front with the three men, each of whom was leading a saddled horse.
“Now, which way would we go to find the Hathaway place?” Jesse asked.
Heckemeyer laughed. “Yes, sir, I guess you would be needin' to know that, wouldn't you? Well, it's straight west down that road, for about six miles. Irv's got hisself a big fancy arched gate just over the drive and it has his name, Hathaway, wrote out in steel letters. You can't miss it.”
“You've been very helpful Mr. Heckemeyer. I appreciate it,” Jesse said.
“Yes, sir, well, it's always good doin' business with gentlemen,” Heckemeyer replied. “You good folks take care now and you tell Irv that Tony Heckemeyer said hello.”
“We'll do that, Mr. Heckemeyer.”
The three men rode out of town, heading west. Not until they were around a curve, and hidden from observation by anyone in the town, did they leave the road. Then they made a wide loop back around town, coming in this time from the north. They rode up the alley, then dismounted behind the furniture store that was next door to the bank.
Evans stayed with the horses, while Jesse and Cummins walked down the end of the block to Graham Street, then back up Main Street, entering the bank through the front door.
There was one teller behind the window and another man behind the desk over to one side. At the moment, there were no customers in the bank.
“Are you the bank president?” Jesse asked.
“I am Joel Dempster. I own this bank,” the man replied with a rather smug smile. “I suppose that makes me anything I want to be.”
“I suppose it does,” Jesse agreed. “This is for you.” Jesse handed him a folded over sheet of paper.
“What is this?” Dempster asked.
“I guess you'll just have to read it to find out.”
Dempster unfolded the paper and read it.
This is a bank robbery. Go to the vault and empty it of all paper money. Do not give an alarm, for if you do, you will be shot dead.
“You can't be serious, sir!”
“Oh, I'm quite serious,” Jesse said, pointing his pistol. “Mr. Jones, would you pull down the shades, then put the little clock sign out that says the bank will reopen,” Jesse glanced up at the clock, “at ten fifteen? Then lock the front door, if you would, please,” he said to Cummins.
“Yes, Mr. Smith, I will.”
“You can't do that. The bank is supposed to be open now,” Dempster said. “When the people see that they can't do their business, they will be suspicious.”
“Not too suspicious,” Jesse said. “Banks often close in the middle of the day when they have some special business to attend to. And I know you have some payrolls to get ready.”
Dempster gasped. “How did you know that?”
Jesse smiled. Dempster had just verified what he had suspected.
“Who are you people?”
“I'm Mr. Jones, and he is Mr. Smith,” Jesse said.
“You called him Jones, and he called you Smith.”
“Well, sometimes we get each other mixed up. Now, open the vault and take out the money, like I told you to.”
Nervously, the bank president started toward the vault, which was behind the counter. Jesse went with him.
“Mister, you can't come back here; you have to stay on the other side of the counter,” the teller said.
“Tell him it's all right, Mr. Dempster,” Jesse said.
“It's all right, Homer, he's with me,” Dempster said.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Dempster, why are the shades pulled? Have we closed the bank?”
“Just for a few minutes, Homer,” Jesse said. “My associate and I are bank examiners.”
It was obvious by Homer's expression and demeanor that he didn't believe Jesse.
“Mr. Jones, perhaps you had better keep an eye on the teller,” Jesse suggested.
“Bank teller, would you come out here on this side of the counter, please?” Cummins ordered.
“I see no reason why I should do so,” the bank teller said.
Cummins raised his pistol, pointed it toward the teller, and pulled the hammer back.
“Is this reason enough?”
“Oh, my God! Are you men robbing the bank?” the teller asked.
“Well now, he ain't quite as dumb as he looks, is he, Mr. Smith?” Cummins asked with a little chuckle.

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