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Authors: Ralph Compton

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BOOK: Autumn of the Gun
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“Except for saloons,” said Nathan, “he'll go where I go. We'll get supper and then go from there.”
They had supper at a cafe where Nathan had eaten before, where the cook fed Empty in the kitchen.
“After supper,” said Nathan, “let's find a billiard parlor. I'm a mite tired of saloons. I always end up shootin' my way out.”
“Suits me,” Harley said, “but most billiard parlors are saloons with a billiard table or two in the back.”
Being a Wednesday night, the town was at low ebb. Nathan and Harley, after a few games of billiards, gave it up and returned to the railroad bunkhouse. The crew for the morning's eastbound was there, none of them men Nathan knew. Nathan and Harley chose adjoining bunks and Empty curled up on the floor between them.
“Empty's already spooked,” Nathan said. “He knows, when we go to a depot, we'll be boardin' a train, and he hates that.”
Harley laughed. “You don't need a woman to cater to,'cause you got that hound.”
“He's never got me in near as much trouble as women have,” said Nathan.
 
Nathan and Harley arose at four o'clock the following morning, had breakfast, and were ready when the eastbound left at six. The train rattled across the plains, bound for Dodge City, five hours away.
“How are things with the railroad?” Nathan asked.
“Better than usual,” said Harley. “We haven't had a train robbery since I came back.”
“Is Foster Hagerman still in the saddle at Dodge?”
“So far as the railroad's concerned,” Harley said, “but he quit the town council. That affair with Wyatt Earp as policeman did it.”
“Earp, two of his brothers, and Doc Holliday started a shootout at Tombstone, Arizona, back in October,” said Nathan. “They killed three men.”
“I read about that,” Harley said. “It made the papers in Kansas City. Sounds like the Earps and Holliday finally done somethin' right.”
“Not unless you favor gunning down unarmed men,” said Nathan. “I was there and I saw it happen.”
“The Earps and Holliday must be leadin' charmed lives,” Harley said. “Four days after the shooting, there was a coroner's inquest and nobody was charged.”
“I'm not surprised,” said Nathan. “I left town before they could rope me into going to court and testifying.”
Dodge City, Kansas November 24, 1881
The first person they saw after stepping off the train was Foster Hagerman.
“It's good to see you again,” he said, taking Nathan's hand. “I have a message for you from Byron Silver. He wants you to telegraph him in care of the dispatcher in Kansas City.”
“I've come all the way here to meet him,” Nathan said. “I hope that hasn't changed.”
“Let's telegraph him and find out,” said Hagerman. Hagerman sat down at the instrument, requested and received permission, and sent a short message:
Stone in Dodge awaiting your reply.
“Why don't you go on to the Dodge House,” Hagerman said. “I'll meet you tonight at six, and we'll eat at Delmonico's. They'll likely have to track Silver down, and you may not get an answer today.”
“Come on,” said Harley, “and hang around Dodge for a while. I'm off for the rest of the week, and I don't aim to sleep through it all.”
Nathan checked into the Dodge House, and a few minutes before six, he and Harley left for Delmonico's. Empty bounded on ahead, for the cooks remembered him from the days Nathan had worked for the railroad.
“Well,” said Hagerman, when he arrived, “for the first time in my life I was wrong. You got an answer to your telegram. Silver's in Kansas City and you're to meet him there as soon as you can. He'll leave word with the dispatcher as to where you can find him.”
“If my memory serves me right,” Nathan said, “there won't be another eastbound until eleven o'clock tomorrow.”
“Right,” said Hagerman, “so let's settle down, have us a steak, with plenty of onions, potatoes, coffee, and apple pie.”
When they were down to final cups of coffee, Nathan spoke.
“There'll come a time when I may have to ask one of you to do a favor for me, and I'd like your promise that, should it become necessary, you'll do it.”
“You've got my promise,” said Hagerman.
“And mine,” Harley added.
“My friends are scattered all over,” said Nathan, “and when I've ridden that last trail, I want them to know I've cashed in, gone west.”
“Hell,” Hagerman said, “you're still a young man.”
“A slug has no respect for youth,” said Nathan. “I only want you to send telegrams, and there's just two words you'll have to remember. Omega Three.”
“Omega's the last word in the Greek alphabet,” said Hagerman, “but why the three?”
“That's a location,” Nathan said. “If it happens around here, I'll want you to send the message to Silver in Washington, to Barnabas McQueen in New Orleans, and to a girl—Molly Horrell—in El Paso. Before the need arises, all of them will be given the same message I'm giving you. Then if I take the fall far away from here, you'll have someone who can tell you what became of me. If you receive a message that reads
Omega
One, you'll know to contact McQueen in New Orleans. If it reads
Omega
Two, you'll know to contact Molly Horrell in El Paso. Either of you will be
Omega Three,
while Silver is
Omega Four.”
“My God, Nathan,” said Harley, “it sounds like you know something we don't.”
“No,” Nathan replied, “I'm just accepting something you don't want to accept. I aim to hold Silver to this same promise because I never know when I'll cash in, running some errand for him. I don't want my bones bleaching on some lonesome trail, without my few friends knowing where I am and what became of me.”
“He has another of those errands waiting for you,” said Hagerman. “That's why you'll be meeting him in Kansas City. You're the only man I know who works for nothing, for the government.”
“I'm not working for the government,” Nathan said. “I'm doing a favor for a friend.”
The evening ended on a somber note, and Nathan and Harley returned to their rooms at the Dodge House.
“I'll join you for breakfast,” said Harley.
“Do that,” Nathan replied. “I'm counting on it.”
“One thing more,” said Harley. “How do you aim to get your message to McQueen? I was just bully-raggin' you about Vivian forgetting you. She hasn't, and if you tell her and the McQueens what you just told Hagerman and me, Vivian will come looking for you.”
“I've considered that,” Nathan replied. “I aim to send Barnabas a letter, swearing him to silence where Vivian is concerned. She has no business with me, and if I live to be a hundred, I'll still feel better about her being with the McQueens.”
“You're a thoughtful, generous man, Nathan,” said Harley, “and it's a damn shame that you're passing through this world with so few men knowing you. I'm glad our trails crossed, if only for a little while. Goodnight.”
Nathan's eyes clouded and a lump rose in his throat. Empty following, he went on down the hall to his room.
 
When Nathan and Harley reached Delmonico's for breakfast, Foster Hagerman was already there, drinking coffee.
“It's not often I get to eat in such good company,” said Hagerman, “so I'm taking full advantage of it.”
“Nathan,” Harley said when they were seated, “in your travels, have you come across a young hombre name of Wesley Tremayne? The kid can't be a day over sixteen, if he's that, and he's chain lightning with a Colt.”
“I haven't seen him,” said Nathan. “It's an unusual name that I've heard only once, and that was long ago. What does he mean to you?”
“He was kind of special to us both,” Hagerman said. “He rode a freight in here, green as grass, with nothing but the clothes on his back. Vic Irwin hired him as swamper at the Alhambra Saloon. Harley met him there and talked me into hiring him as a baggage clerk. Harley also taught him Morse code and how to use a gun, and I promoted him to railroad security. He killed some hombres that needed killing, including a pair that held up a train, and people started hounding him, testing his fast gun. Newspaper men started meeting the trains, hoping to see him shoot somebody. The kid had a horse and had learned to ride, and one night he just rode away, and we haven't seen him since.”
“I kind of know how he felt,” said Nathan. “I've had to shoot men I've never laid eyes on before, just to keep them from shooting me. There are men all over the frontier who'd give five years of their lives for a shot at me. In the back, if necessary.”
“I hope you'll meet him one day,” Harley said. “I saw him kill a man—his first—on the street, here in Dodge, and he reminded me of you. He wasn't the last bit afraid, and his eyes, my God! They looked for the world like blue ice.”
“If we ever meet,” said Nathan uneasily, “I hope it's on friendly terms. I have more than enough hombres gunning for me.”
Nathan and Empty were at the depot when the eleven o'clock eastbound rolled in, and Nathan watched as the locomotive backed onto the side track, coupling on the boxcar with Nathan's horse.
“Come on, Empty,” Nathan said. “I know this is against your religion, but if you're goin' with me, there's no other way.”
Nathan climbed the steps into the passenger car, and with a look of resignation in his eyes Empty followed.
Kansas City, Missouri November 25, 1881
Nathan called on the dispatcher and the message he was given was brief. It said:
Kansas City Hotel nine.
Nathan led his horse out of the boxcar and, with Empty following, rode to the hotel. Having no idea how long he would be with Silver, he stabled the horse at a livery across the street.
“Stay with the horse, Empty,” he commanded.
Reaching the door to Room 9, he knocked twice, waited a moment, then knocked a third time.
“Identify yourself,” said a voice from within.
“Nathan Stone, you old
paisano.”
The door was opened and Nathan stepped inside. Silver closed and bolted the door.
“You must have something almighty important cooking,” Nathan said. “I told you I'd be in Dodge December first.”
Silver laughed. “I know, but I counted on you being curious enough to get there a week early, which you did. I decided there was no point in me going to Dodge when you could just as easily come here. Anyway, I'd like you to do some investigating, and it will take you into Missouri. I suppose you're familiar with Jesse James?”
“I should be,” said Nathan. “Jesse threatened to shoot me if we ever met again.”
39
“You never told me about that,” Silver said.
“I didn't want you lying awake nights, worrying about me,” said Nathan. “I kind of got in the way, back in Nevada, Missouri, during a bank robbery. Frank and Jesse ended up without a dollar and with a posse on their trail.”
Silver laughed. “I can see how that might have upset them. With Jesse threatening to shoot you, what I am about to say may sound a bit strange. I'd like you to help us track him down and, if possible, take him alive.”
“Tarnation,” said Nathan, “why can't you ever come up with somethin' easy, such as turning lead into gold ingots? How can you expect to take Jesse James alive when there's a ten-thousand-dollar bounty on him, dead or alive?”
“The reward is being offered by Governor Thomas Crittenden, and that is a problem. While the State of Missouri only wants him out of circulation by any means, the Treasury of the United States would like him taken alive. Much of the money he's taken from train robberies was intended for government outposts, military payrolls, and such. The Treasury believes Jesse has most of this money squirreled away somewhere, and that if he is taken alive, they might plea bargain for its return.”
“And just how the hell am I supposed to take Jesse James alive?”
“You're not expected to do that,” Silver said. “We know he's holed up somewhere in Missouri, and all we want you to do is tell us where. Governor Crittenden is cooperating with us, but not to the extent he's willing to back off on the reward. There'll be a hundred men ready to ride when we hear from you.”
“How much time do I have?”
“We don't know,” said Silver. “Almost daily, there are telegrams seeking to claim the reward, from people who are willing to produce a dead body. Ten thousand dollars could tempt a man's own family. Judas sold out for thirty pieces of silver.”
“I trailed the James gang once,” Nathan said, “but that was after they'd robbed a bank and I had a trail to follow. When was their most recent robbery?”
“Four months ago,” said Silver. “On July 15, they boarded a Chicago, Rock Island & Pacific train at a stop just out of Kansas City. They killed two men, including a conductor, forced their way into the express car, and pistol-whipped the messenger. They took his key, emptied the safe, and disappeared into the darkness.”
“No more recent robberies?”
“None that we know of,” Silver said. “In fact, this is the only robbery attributed to Frank and Jesse since the shootout at Northfield, where they got nothing and three of the Youngers were captured.”
“So they could be anywhere,” said Nathan. “Not just in Missouri.”
“Yes,” Silver agreed, “but they have friends in Missouri. There are literally thousands of God-fearing people who would hide Frank and Jesse and would consider it an honor. I realize what I'm asking will be difficult, if not impossible. I'm only asking that you try.”
BOOK: Autumn of the Gun
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