Shot in the Back (20 page)

Faust chuckled. “Three cars in town, and two of you run into each other.”

“Ah but there were four cars, counting us,” Jesse said.

“Four cars? Why, there must have been a veritable traffic jam. So, you took the train to Saint Louis. Did you buy a new car there?”

“No. From there, we took a train to Chicago, and from Chicago we went to New York. It was the first time I'd ever been in either one of those places, and the only time I ever went.” Jesse made a dismissive wave with his hand. “You can keep them both. They're too damn big for me. Why, there are so many people there I don't know how a person can even get his breath.”

“I guess a big city like that can be a little intimidating.”

“You might say that,” Jesse said.

Jesse thought that riding on the elevated train in New York must be a little like flying. The train whizzed down the track at breakneck speed, and looking out of the car he could see that he was level with the second-, and sometimes the third-story windows of the adjacent buildings. Looking down to the street below, he saw the much slower pace of traffic, electric trolleys, horse-drawn carriages, freight wagons, and a very large number of automobiles. But even the automobiles appeared to be crawling, limited as they were by law to a speed of no more than ten miles per hour. By contrast, the elevated train was moving at a very rapid clip of thirty miles per hour.

“Wow, this is something, isn't it?” Billy said, his eyes wide with excitement.

At that moment the car started around a curve, the centrifugal force throwing Jesse and Billy to one side.

“We seem to be going awfully fast to be taking this curve,” Jesse said.

“You worry too much, Pa,” Billy said. “Why, I'll bet the engineer of this train takes this curve ten times a day. I'm sure he knows how fast he can—”

Billy was interrupted in midsentence when the brakes were applied and they were thrown forward. Then there was a sickening lurch, and the front of the car shot off the track.

The women in the car screamed, and several of the men shouted as the car fell, front first, to the street below. It hit the ground hard, and when it did, everyone in the car was thrown to the front. The roof of the car was torn off, and it was standing on the front end, while the back end was still on the track.

The car behind it didn't leave the track, but its front truck did, and the heavy steel wheels came crashing down on the people who were all piled together.
⁸

Jesse had been tossed through the window, and Billy had grabbed hold of the back of the seat, so that neither of them were caught up in the cluster of people who had been thrown to the front of the car.

The back of the car was across the third rail, which began emitting electrical sparks. That caused a fire to start.

Jesse reached back in to the window to grab Billy and pull him through to the outside.

“Billy, are you hurt?” Jesse asked anxiously.

“No, I'm all right. I'm not hurt.”

“Help me get these people out before they burn to death.”

Jesse and Billy worked to get the passengers out of the car, helping those who, though hurt, could still walk, and carrying those who couldn't. They worked alone for the first few minutes until others came to help. The whistles of policemen, and the clanging bell of approaching police and ambulance automobiles, soon added to the cacophony of the scene.

Finally all the dead were removed from the wreckage and laid out on the ground, covered quickly by tarpaulins, and the more seriously injured were put in ambulances and hauled away. The train motorman, who was in shock, walked away from the wreckage and sat down to lean against the brick front of the apartment building; he hung his head in shock and shame.

Jesse and Billy, now no longer needed, also sat down on the sidewalk and leaned against the wall, partly because they were tired from the effort expended, and partly because they, like the others, were in a condition of shock over what had just happened.

“There they are!” a woman said, pointing to Jesse and Billy. “It was those two!”

A uniformed police officer was with the woman, and he started to Jesse and Billy.

“Pa, what's this about?” Billy asked, his concern evident by the tone of his voice.

“Don't get all nervous on me, now,” Jesse said. “We haven't done anything up here to be worried about.”

There was a stern look on the policeman's face as he approached the two.

“Sure 'n 'twas a terrible thing what happened here,” the police officer said in a thick, Irish brogue.

“Yes, it was,” Jesse said as he started to stand.

“Here now, you two stay right where you are,” the policeman said, holding his hand out. “This lady, and some of the others, too, told me what all you two did here. If there is anyone who deserves to sit and rest for a spell, it's you two. Some of the ladies in these apartments have made some cool lemonade. Would you two be for enjoying a glass?”

“Yes, sir, that would be mighty welcome,” Jesse said.

The policeman turned, but he didn't have to say anything because two women, each carrying a large glass of iced lemonade, were coming toward them.

“Thank you, ma'am,” Billy said as he accepted the glass.

“'Tis thankful the city is for what you two did this morning,” the policeman said. “You were both heroes, that's for certain. Sure 'n it wouldn't be for surprising me if his honor Mayor McClellan hisself didn't want to personally come and thank you. Ah, 'n there he is. His pa was a general durin' the Civil War, you know.”

“I remember General McClellan,” Jesse said.

“Sure 'n you are of the age to have served with him, too, I'm thinkin'.”

Jesse smiled. “Let's just say that we were in the same war.”

A rather short, clean-shaven man, who looked too young to hold down such an important job as mayor of New York, came toward them, smiling. By now Jesse and Billy were standing.

“I understand we owe you two gentlemen our thanks for what you did here this morning.”

“Anyone would have done it, Mayor,” Jesse said.

“But nobody else did. At least, not in the beginning.” The mayor handed Jesse a card. “If you would, please come to my office this afternoon. I want to thank you officially. And I'll have the newspapers there as well. Show this card to the receptionist; he will personally escort you to my office.”

“We will, thanks,” Jesse said.

“Mr. Mayor, could you come here for a moment, please?” someone called. “We've got a little problem.”

“Pa, are we going to the mayor's office this afternoon?” Billy asked.

“With newspapers there? No. We aren't known up here now, and I have no intention of us being known. Come on, we're going back to the hotel, getting our things, then we're going to the depot and catch a train.”

“Where are we going?”

“California,” Jesse said. “I've always wanted to go there.”

Jesse had grown tired and asked if they could take a few days off from working on the book.

“How would you like to go into town to see a movie?” Faust asked. He smiled. “There's one playing in town that you might like. It's based on one of my books,
Destry Rides Again
. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, I would. It's a Western?”

“It is.”

“I'll tell you what I think about it, after we've seen it.”

 

 

“I liked it,” Jesse said as they drove back to his cabin on the river. “I like that actor, Jimmy Stewart.”

“Jimmy Stewart is in the army air corps, you know,” Faust said.

“Really? No, I didn't know that.”

“He got a commission in January. The thing is, he already knew how to fly. We've known about his flying bug out in Hollywood for a long time now.”

“Damn, everybody is getting into this war,” Jesse said. “If they ever make another picture about me, I would like to see him in the role.”

“You didn't like Tyrone Power?”

“Yeah, he did a good job. I don't have any complaints. I told you before that I had a story I'll tell you about the movies when I come to it; well, this seems as good a time as any. My son, Jesse, played me in two movies. Both were silent films.”

“Yes, I'm aware of that,” Faust said. “When Oran first told me about you, I started doing some research.”

“You didn't contact him, did you?” Jesse asked anxiously.

“No, I didn't. And I take it that you've never contacted him, either.”

“No. I think my brother Frank was right when he said it would be better if nobody knew.”

“Like I said before, Jesse, when this book comes out, he's going to know. Either that, or he won't believe you and he'll sue you. He is a practicing attorney back in Los Angeles, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I reckon I'll just cross that bridge when I come to it.”

 

 

The next morning, the two men resumed working.

“Let's see,” Faust said, checking his notes. “When we left off last week, you were about to leave New York and go to California. Did you go?”

“Oh, yes, we went. I met Wyatt Earp out there. Ha, him being the big lawman that he was, I wonder what he would have thought if he had known who I really was.”

“What did you think of California?”

Jesse was quiet for a moment. “Like I told you, we were going to move there,” he said. “If things had worked out the way I wanted. We were going to leave Missouri and go to California where nobody had ever heard of me.”

Faust chuckled. “Jesse, they knew about you in California. You were one of the most famous people in America. There wasn't anyone between the age of ten and ninety, anywhere in the country, who hadn't heard of you.”

“Well, they might have heard of me. But nobody actually knew me. That is, nobody knew me well enough that they could identify me.”

“That's probably true, or you would have been recognized when you moved to Wild Horse,” Faust said. “Why didn't you go?”

“We didn't have enough money. The last job I pulled, the train robbery at Blue Cut, barely gave us enough money to get along. I wanted to do one more, big job. But Zee, she wouldn't hear of it. She wanted me to quit, like Frank did right after the Blue Cut job.

“I was already thinking we could move to California with enough money that we could buy a house, and perhaps a little business, or, maybe even a farm.”

“Like you ended up doing with Molly,” Faust said.

“Yeah, like I did with Molly.”

“Did you ever think about that?” Faust asked. “I mean, while you were with Molly, did you ever think that you could have done that same thing with Zee that you did with her?”

“I have to confess that from time to time I did think about it. But, don't get me wrong, Fred. The truth is, I loved Molly. I reckon I loved her as much as I did Zee. I guess that's hard for some folks to understand, how a man can love two women just the same, but I did.”

“That's not hard to understand at all,” Faust said. After a quiet moment, he asked, “Were you active during that time?”

“By active, do you mean did we pull any more jobs?”

“Yes.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, we did.”

“In California?”

Jesse shook his head. “Before we got to California.”

Jesse and Billy left the train in Emporia.

“How long are we going to stay here?” Billy asked.

“I don't know. A few days, a week maybe. Truth is, Billy, I'm just damn tired of riding that train.”

The two, with their share of money from the bank job they had done in Texas stuck down behind the liners of the valises they were both carrying, checked in to a hotel. They had a little over ten thousand dollars apiece remaining from the bank robbery they had pulled in Texas.

They spent two weeks in Emporia, spending little, and keeping a low profile. Then, midway through the second week, Jesse saw an article in the
Emporia Gazette
.

“How would you like to pull another job, just to keep our hand in it?” Jesse asked.

“Sure. What do you want to do?”

“I want to hold up this coach,” Jesse said. “But we're going to need to buy a couple of horses and saddles.”

 

 

On Thursday, Jesse, wearing boots, jeans, and a stained white shirt, bought a ticket on the stagecoach that was bound for Matfield. He was pleased to see that there was only the driver, and no shotgun guard.

There were two other passengers on board; one, a rather small man, was wearing a three-piece suit, tie, bowler hat, and
pince nez
glasses. Jesse would guess his age to be about forty. He was holding a cardboard accordion file on his lap, gripping it tightly with both hands. The file was secured by tied string.

The other passenger was dressed pretty much the same way as Jesse, with dirty boots, old jeans with holes in the knees, and a torn shirt. He was even older than Jesse, probably in his late sixties.

Those two men were sitting together on the seat directly across from Jesse's seat. Shortly after the coach left Emporia, Jesse smiled and stuck his hand out.

“Well, since we are going to be riding together, it seems to me like we should get acquainted,” he said. “My name is Peacock. Alexander Peacock. Who might you boys be?”

The older man smiled and extended his hand. Jesse noticed, when he shook it, that the hand was heavily calloused, the result of a lifetime of hard work.

“Crawford is the name, Mr. Peacock. Roy Crawford.”

“Call me Lexy, Roy,” Jesse said, falling easily into the name by which he had often addressed Frank. “All my friends do. I hope you don't mind my callin' you Roy.”

“No sir, not at all. I don't ever turn down the opportunity to be friendly with other folk.”

“And, what might your handle be?” Jesse asked the well-dressed passenger who had not taken either hand away from the accordion file.

“I see no need to exchange names with people I'll never see again,” he said rather primly.

Jesse smiled. Barnes was making it so easy.

“Well then, I'll just call you Mr. Pinch Nose, I mean, seeing as you've got those glasses pinched up on your nose like that.”

Crawford laughed. “Pinch Nose, that's a good one, that is.”

“What have you got in that package you're holdin' on to so tight?” Jesse asked. “It must be somethin' awful important if you can't even let go of it long enough to shake mine and Roy's hands. I mean, seein' as we're fellow passengers 'n all.”

“It is nothing important,” Barnes said.

“Oh? Then why won't you shake hands with us?”

“As I said, circumstances have placed us in this coach together. But it is circumstances only that have brought us together. I would never have anything to do with either one of you, I assure you of that.”

“Well then, Mr. Pinch Nose, I'll just not have anything to do with you, either,” Jesse said, and turned to Crawford. “Roy, you live in Matfield, do you?”

“No, sir, I'll be going on to Thurman,” Crawford said. “I used to work for a rancher there, and I'm sort of hoping he'll put me on for the winter. I don't know that he will, and if he won't, truth is, I'm not sure where I'll be heading next. Someplace where I can get some work.”

“You look like a man who's worked hard all your life.”

“Yes, sir, I reckon I have. About the only time I ever had it easy was durin' the war. Not that the war was all that easy, but I pretty much knew where my next meal was goin' to come from, 'n where I was goin' to lay my head that night.” He chuckled. “Sure, many was the night I lay my head under the stars, but at least I wasn't alone then. I tried to join up again, whenever we fought ag'in the Spanish, but they wouldn't take me, 'cause they said I was too old.”

“You'll excuse me for sayin' this, Roy, but you look too old for the hard life of a ranch hand.”

“Well, sir, that may be so. But I'm tryin' to save me up five hunnert dollars. See, if I had five hunnert dollars, I know where there's a little café I could buy. I've cooked near 'bout as much as I've punched cows. I think I could make me a good livin' for the rest of my life if I could buy that café.”

“Why don't you go to a bank and borrow the money?” Jesse asked.

“I've tried. The bank says I've got to have somethin' they call collateral, an' I ain't got none of that.”

“I guess banks can be sort of coldhearted that way.”

“Hmmph,” Barnes said. “Banks are here to help productive people finance their businesses. Banks aren't for charity.”

“I reckon not,” Crawford said. “Anyhow, it ain't somethin' I like to talk about. What about you, Lexy? You look 'most as old as me. Was you in the war?”

“Yes, sir, I was.”

“I won't even ask you which side it was you fought for. When you think about it now, it don't really make all that much difference who fought on which side. I reckon we all, Johnny Reb and Billy Yank, went through about the same thing.”

“You've got that right, Roy. Yes, sir, you've got that right,” Jesse agreed.

“If you two old soldiers want to regale each other with war stories, please do it more quietly,” Barnes said. “I don't care to listen to exaggerated tales of glory all the way to Matfield.”

“Well then, Mr. Pinch Nose, we'll keep quiet, just for you,” Jesse said.

They spoke little for the next half hour, then the coach came to an unexpected stop.

“Driver why are you stopping?” Barnes shouted, sticking his head out the window. “I must get to Matfield on time.”

“It won't make any difference,” Jesse said.

“What do you mean it won't make any—” Barnes started to say, but he stopped in midsentence when he saw that Jesse was holding a gun on him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, Mr. Pinch Nose, this is a robbery,” Jesse said. “I would appreciate it if you would hand me that package that you've been holding on to so tight.”

“I will not!” Barnes said.

“Billy, is the driver sitting on the right side of the box?” Jesse called through the window.

“Yes, he is.”

“Tell him to move over to the left side, will you? I'm about to shoot this banker in here, and he's such a scrawny little fella that the bullet is likely to go all the way through him. And there's no need in the driver getting hurt.”

“No, no! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!” Barnes said. “Here, here, take the money!” He thrust the package over to Jesse.

Jesse smiled, because until that moment, he had only his intuition that there was money in the package.

“Thank you. I'll be getting out here, and so will you, Roy.”

“Me? Why am I gettin' out here? I don't have any money.”

“No, but you're going to make certain that my partner and I get away.”

“How is that?”

“We're going to hold you hostage for a while,” Jesse said.

“Damn!” Crawford said. “And here, I thought you was a nice guy.”

“Get out now.”

Crawford climbed down from the coach, with Jesse behind him. Billy was mounted, still holding the pistol he had used to stop the driver of the stagecoach. He was holding the reins to Jesse's horse.

“Driver,” Jesse called up to the box. “You keep on goin' all the way to Matfield. If you see anyone along the way, don't say a word about what happened here. I'm goin' to hold on to one of your passengers. If anyone comes after us in the next twenty-four hours, we're going to kill Mr. Crawford here. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir. What about when we get to Matfield? You know that banker's goin' to talk.”

“I figure we'll be far enough away by then, that it won't matter none,” Jesse said. “Now, get.”

“Hyeah!” the driver shouted to his team, and with the reins slapping against the backs of the horses, they bolted forward. The coach started so quickly it jerked up and down.

“Ha! I hope that jarred the glasses off that little feller,” Jesse said.

“What's goin' to happen now?” Crawford asked. “I don't have a horse. If you two ride off, I sure can't keep up with you.”

“Wait,” Jesse said, holding up his hand. “Wait till the coach goes around that bend up there so that it's out of sight.”

“Pa, what was you talkin' about, holdin' this man hostage?” Billy asked. “We're not really goin' to do that, are we?”

“Nah,” Jesse answered. “Roy, how much money did you say you needed to start that café you're wantin' to start?”

“Five hundred dollars,” Crawford replied. “Why?”

Jesse opened the accordion file and looked down inside. “Because you just took out a loan from the bank, and you don't have to pay it back,” he said. Reaching down inside, he came up with a bound packet of twenty-dollar bills, then counted out twenty-five of them. “Here's your money.”

“What?”

“I couldn't very well have given it to you in the coach now, could I? Old Pinch Nose would have seen it, told the sheriff, and you'd have to give it back. This way, they think I took you as hostage.”

“Damn, Mr. Peacock, I don't know what to say?”

“You just sit here and wait, and someone will be along soon. When they do, you tell them which way we went.”

Crawford smiled. “You mean tell them the opposite of which way you went, don't you?”

“No, if you do that, they'll see the tracks and know that you lied. You tell them exactly which way we went. Only, you'd better find some way to hide that money before anyone gets here.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Peacock. Yes, sir. Oh, and Lexy?”

“Yes?”

“I can tell from your accent that you most likely fought for the South durin' the war, while I fought for the North. But it's like I said. It sure don't make no never mind anymore, since we both had to go through the same kind of hell, even if we was seein' it from different sides. I want to wish you and your boy lots of luck. I don't want to be readin' whereas you two got caught.”

“We'll try not to,” Jesse said, swinging into the saddle.

“Good-bye!” Crawford called as the two galloped away. “Good-bye!”

“Did Mr. Crawford buy his café?” Faust asked.

“I don't know, I never came back to check. I'd like to think so, and I'd be willing to bet that he did.”

“How much money was there in that file the banker was carrying? I know there was at least five hundred dollars, because you gave that much to Crawford.”

“There was an even ten thousand dollars,” Jesse said.

“So, you had just over ten thousand when you left New York—”

“Ten thousand apiece,” Jesse interrupted.

“And you added another five thousand. You know, Jesse, in 1905, the average yearly income was about six hundred dollars. That means that you and Billy each had twenty-five years of income there. Did that hold you for a while? Or did you start spending it wildly and living the high life?”

Jesse chuckled. “We spent it wildly, but it didn't have anything to do with living the high life.”

“I don't understand. If you spent it wildly, and it had nothing to do with the high life, what did you spend it on?”

“Ostriches.”

“
Ostriches?”

“Yeah, ostriches.”

“What in heaven's name were you doing spending it on ostriches?”

“I'll tell you that when we come to it,” Jesse said. “You're getting me a little ahead of the story.”

“I suppose I am,” Faust said. “You'll have to excuse me, but I'm so taken by the story that I can hardly wait for what comes next. I'll tell you this, Jesse James, or J. Frank Alexander. If what you are telling me isn't true, then the world has been denied one hell of a Western novelist, because that yarn you're spinning is right up there with anything Zane Grey, Owen Wister, Clarence Mulford, or I could possibly come up with.”

“Yeah, well, it's easy enough for me to tell, 'cause all I have to do is remember what happened,” Jesse said.

“When I interrupted the story, you and Billy were riding away from Roy Crawford, who you left standing along the side of the road. Where did you go?”

“Well, for a few days, we just kept ridin',” Jesse said. “We stayed off the main roads, and we didn't go into any of the little towns, just in case old Pinch Nose gave a good enough description that someone might recognize us.”