The Jessie James Archives

by Craig Gallant

  “Could you get a light, darlin’? I’m still a might jumpy.” He unwound the sheet and settled it in a more comfortable position. Misty reached up to the lamp and turned the key, bringing the element up to a warm glow.

  The illumination revealed a pretty face framed by wild honey brown hair falling in ringlets over her shoulders. She turned back to look at him with wide green eyes, and he tried not to notice the edge of fear that remained there, coloring the concern for him just enough that he could not ignore it.

  “Baby, you were makin’ the worst noises, an’ your hands were smashin’ against each other like you was workin’ a forge right there in the bed!” Her gaze flickered down to the mechanical arms and the ember of fear burned a little brighter. “You sure you’re okay?”

  Jesse looked at her a moment, sheet pulled up tight beneath her chin despite the little garret’s oppressive heat. He wanted to reach out and pull her into a hug, but he had no idea how she would react, given her fixation on his arms. With a frustrated sigh he spun his legs off the bed and reached down for the pair of denim pants he’d dropped there the night before.

  “I’m fine. Just a dream is all. You twitch when you’re sleepin’, don’cha?” he looked over his shoulder at her while he fastened the pants. When she nodded, he nodded back.

  “Well, this was the same thing. ‘Cept my arms’re tougher than yours, and harder, and make a lot more noise. Wasn’t nothin’.” He threw a shirt over his head as he rose and moved away from the bed.

  “Jesse, I din’t mean nothin’ by it. I was just scared.” She was scuttling down the bed now to sit at the foot, legs dangling over, eyes wide. “I din’t mean to say nothin’ ‘bout your arms—“

  Jesse felt the frustration and annoyance rising, and wanted to cut her off before she had his head spinning too fast for him to stop. He turned and held out the gleaming metal hands for her to get a good look.

  “You mean these arms, Misty? Nothin’ to worry ‘bout, with these arms! Best tech money can buy, from anyone!” He gestured broadly with both arms as he danced towards her, a wide grin blossoming across his sharp features. As he moved the myriad gears, pistons, and counterweights moved with him, causing the various red lights to flash or dim with each movement.

  “You know what these arms are capable of, honey.” His smile turned a little sly. “You seen ‘em drawin’ a gun faster’n lightning, you seen ‘em flippin’ pasteboards at the gaming tables an’ shootin’ billiards to beat the band, and you din’t seem to have any complaints about ‘em last night, now, did you?”

  He folded his arms in front of him, noting the play of pistons and gears beneath the bands of armor. The movement within was smooth and seamless, but he could not forget the sensations of the dream, or the waking nightmare of the two arms fighting against each other.

  “Maybe I oughta go visit the doc though… “ His words were soft, hesitation struggling against concern. “Just in case. Payson’s a bit of a trek, but our gear’s getting’ worn anyway. ‘Bout time we headed west for a bit.”

  “You gotta go to the doctor’s baby?” She took a step towards him, and he smiled slightly at her concern. “We got doctors right here in Kansas City, you know.”

  “Nah. Talkin’ about Carpathian; the ghoul who fixed me up with these arms. You ain’t got no doctors like him ‘round here, trust me. You’d know it from the smell.” A shadow passed over his eyes and his nose twitched as if he had sensed something foul. He shook his head quickly and threw the dancer a wide smile.

  Jesse swooped Misty up in the powerful arms and swung her around the room in a passable imitation of one of the moves he’d seen her perform with the other showgirls plenty of times before. She whooped in surprise as he picked her up and spun her around, a giggle escaping as her feet left the floor, kicking a little before they came to rest again. She held tightly to him after he had stopped spinning, and he tightened his grip, thankful that the episode seemed to be over.

  “You got fine arms, Jesse, and no mistake. Ain’t none of the local girls ain’t jealous o’ me, an’ you know that.” She spoke into the rough spun fabric of his shirt, arms tightening even further as if afraid he would disappear.

  Jesse gently disentangled himself from the girl’s arms with a grin and a laugh, but he turned away before she could get a good look at his face. Something about her sudden surrender bothered him, and he could not have said what it was. A moment ago he had been desperate to reinforce her affection for him, to distract her from her doubts and fears. And now that he had done just that, he could not shake a rising feeling of guilt.

  Jesse moved to the bed and took his gun belt from the bedpost where he had hung it the night before. With quick, practiced motions he whipped the belt around his waist and fastened the buckle, leaning down to tie the leather thongs that would hold each holster in place. Out of habit he drew the hyper-velocity pistol riding on his left hip. His iron hand spun the weapon first forwards, then backwards, and then around in a flat horizontal spin around his trigger finger. The metal of the trigger guard clicked rhythmically against the metal of his finely articulated fingers.

  Jesse stopped the gyrations of the pistol with a sharp clack as the pistol grip slapped into the feedback pad of his armored palm. He inspected the weapon quickly. The dull metal of the long, angular barrel thrust out from the cylinder of the RJ-1027 power core, which gleamed with the subdued crimson radiance of its constant standby setting. The enrichment cartridge, feeding from beneath the barrel, was fit snuggly in place, indicator light winking its own ruby reassurance.

  Jesse flipped the weapon back into its holster with one studied motion. He would check the other later. He moved to the small window opposite the bed and pulled back a curtain to peer out at the street below.

  Misty pouted. “You got yer smile, now yer just ridin’ off, are you?” She did not try to hide the frustration rising in her voice.

  Jesse kept looking out the window, giving no sign at all that he had heard her until he suddenly turned back into the room, his grin back in place, and shook his head.

  “You gotta know, Misty, I ain’t one to go givin’ up what I taken off anyone.” He swooped in for a quick kiss and then moved back to the bed, grabbing his heavy boots and dropping to the old mattress with a grunt.

  “Where you goin? She wrapped the sheet tighter about herself and sat beside him. “It ain’t barely light out yet! Ain’t like no one’s gonna be open for business at this hour.”

  Jesse gave a mighty pull with both of his mechanical hands and his foot slid smoothly into his boot. “Well, firstly, darlin’, ain’t like I much care what some shopkeeper’s posted hours are, is it?” He grinned sideways at her before moving to slide on the other boot. “And secondly, ain’t like I can go back to sleep now, that damned nightmare still rattlin’ around in my skull. Frank an’ Cole an’ the gang’re supposed to be comin’ back in today, and I got an idea fer a job I wanna have lined up fer when they land.”

  Jesse rose once the other boot was on, planted a quick kiss on Misty’s forehead, and moved back to the window.

  “Frank don’t like me.” Her voice took on a sulking tone that set Jesse’s eyes to rolling. “He don’t!” she repeated, as if she could see through his head.

  “That’s just Frank. He’s quiet, and smarter’n everybody in the room, an’ no one knows it better ‘n him.” Jesse bent down to get a good view of the street. Misty was not wrong: it was too early for most civilized men to be up and about. The buildings lining the street were tall for the west, but then again, Kansas City was right on the edges of the territories. Not many lights twinkled in those windows, though, and the street itself would have been heavily shadowed if it were not for the lampposts rising out of the wooden sidewalks at regular intervals. The base of each was wide and fat, the glowing crimson telltales of RJ-1027 generators gleaming around them.

  “Misty, you ever miss the ole’ days?” Jesse’s voice was soft for a moment, as his eyes focused on the winking red lights
far below.

  “What?” Her voice was muffled. “What ol’ days?”

  “You know,” he gestured vaguely with his robotic arm at the street below. “Before RJ-1027 an’ all this tech stuff. When a man on the road just had a normal gun by his side, and he knew the other guy only carried a gun the same kind. None o’ these Gatling cannons, or rocket pods, or Heavy Rails or Carpathian’s monsters… Just seems sometimes like the world was a lot simpler back then.”

  “Well, I don’ know about none o’ them guns, an’ I only ever heard o’ Carpathian’s craziness, but I don’t remember ever playin’ a house that didn’t have RJ-1027 lights, or ridden in a horse-drawn cart instead of an auto-wagon run by one of them big motors. I reckon, for most of us, the world’s a sight better with RJ-1027 than it used to be.”

  Jesse grunted. “How old you think I am, Misty?”

  “I don’t know, ‘bout my age, prob’ly?” He gave a single harsh grunt of a laugh and her voice was tart as she continued. “You’re changin’ the subject. I know Frank’s older’n you, an’ I know he reckons he’s smart, but that ain’t it. He don’t like me. Thinks I’m trouble.” She was moving around behind him, most likely getting her own clothes on now that it was clear he was up for the day.

  Jesse smiled and turned enough to watch her admiringly. “Well, you are trouble, ain’t you, girl?”

  She threw a small shoe at him and turned around to adjust her dress. “You got a lot of girls. I know that, Jesse, I ain’t dumb. But your brother, he’s thinkin’ you been around KC too long, and he’s blamin’ me. I can tell.”

  Jesse was looking out the window again. The sky in the east was taking on a rough, almost burlap texture as rays of light reached into the west. The light gleamed off the massive glass and steel dome of the Heavy Rail station rising up above the buildings across the street. He imagined what sorts of technological treasures the trains pulling through that station were carrying west nearly every day and felt the feedback pads on his palms twitch.

  “Misty,” he turned and looked into her deep green eyes. “Frank and me, and the other guys too, I reckon, we seen a lot of people come and go. We seen a lot of friends die, or move on, or even get sick of our bilk and try to turn us in. This life we’re leadin’? It’s not always a happy one. Frank ain’t tryin’ to protect me from you, darlin’, he’s tryin’ to protect you from all of us.”

  Jesse walked to the girl, now in a tight-fitting blue bodice and flowing yellow skirts, and hugged her to him once again. “An’ when I’m not bein’ selfish, I gotta say, I agree with him. There’s paths that’ll end much happier for the both of us, ain’t got you an’ me together on ‘em, Misty.” He kissed the top of her hair. “You deserve better’n I can give you, more security, and more o’ my time. I just gotta grow up enough to let you go.”

  He held her out at arms’ length, the mechanisms of the limbs whirring and clicking as he moved. His grin was back in full force. “But I ain’t grown up yet, and I’ve had more opportunity than you’d guess from lookin’ at me. So I’m thinkin’, till I do grow up, you’re stuck with me, whatever Frank says, or thinks, or feels.”

  She smiled up shyly at him and kissed him quickly. He ended the kiss first, pulling away from her before she had begun to loosen her own grip.

  “I’m goin’ over to the station, see what’s comin’ through over the next few days, an’ see what I can hear ‘round town. I reckon I’ll be back downstairs in time for dinner.” He moved towards the door, pulling his hat and coat off a hook on the wall. “You girls still playin’ the Occidental?”

  Misty nodded at his retreating back. “Yeah.”

  Jesse stopped in the doorway and flashed his gleaming teeth one more time. “Well, maybe, if Frank and Cole get back in, we’ll swing by there, an’ we’ll see if we can’t get Frank to loosen up a bit, eh?” With one last wink he let the door close behind him.

  Jesse’s heels snapped down the old, dry wood of the narrow hallway towards the steep stairs leading up from the saloon. As he walked he looked down at his arms, flexing the fingers and rotating the wrists. They seemed perfectly fine, but he could not throw off the memory of the two limbs struggling against each other in his dream. Or when he had awakened, he realized.

  Jesse shook his head and tramped down the stairs, one hand lightly sliding along the old splintered rail, the feedback pads registering every nick and gnarl.

  *****

  Across the street two figures stood together in the darkness of a cheap room, the only illumination leaking in from the lighted window in the back of the Arcadia Saloon. They peered out at the window, watching carefully for any further sign of movement. A moment ago they had seen a shape look out the window, but there had been no movement since then, and they waited to see what would happen next.

  “It’s him?” A harsh voice with a northern accent asked.

  “Yes. They were quite explicit. The arms and everything. It’s him, and some woman.” This voice was much higher than the man’s, but still strong and heavy. A dusky contralto that matched well with the surroundings.

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about that damned gold shipment. They think he can lead us to the doctor?” There was doubt in the harsher voice, and the creaking of wooden furniture as the speaker sat down.

  “Nothing else has worked, so they think this is at least worth a chance.” The lighter voice moved off into the darkness. “And if it turns out he’s got the stamped gold, we can pick him up on that, all the better.” There was a pause, then a yawn. “I’m going to try to get a little some sleep. Wake me if anything interesting happens.”

  The heavy voice snorted. “Yeah, I’ll do that. I just hope he doesn’t do something stupid before we can see what he knows.”

  Across the street the light continued to burn softly, but nothing in the room moved.

  Chapter 4

  Jesse focused on the dusty road as it swept beneath the heavy weight of his Iron Horse. Scrub brush flew past on either side of the narrow track, and occasionally he could see the glittering surface of the Missouri River through the tracery of leaves off to his left. It felt good to be out on the trail again, away from the tall buildings and crowded streets of Kansas City.

  The outlaw shot a glance to either side, nodding to the men riding there, their Iron Horses rumbling along beside his. He hid his clinging annoyance at Frank’s refusal to participate in this latest job behind his ready grin. Frank had been mad enough to bite, and had not bothered to hide the fact from any of the other men. Cole Younger and his brothers had followed Frank’s lead, as they usually did; leaving Jesse to ride out for the first time in months without any of the old gang beside him. It bothered him more than he was willing to admit, but he knew he could never show that to the men who had agreed to go with him.

  Frank was angry, and Jesse knew he had had a good point. They had enough coin laid up in town; they did not need more right now. They had a good thing going in Kansas City, with most of the local law dogs fawning over them and everything the city had to offer laid out before them every night. Frank was also concerned that one of the damned marshals was eventually going to twig to their presence, and the whole lot of them would be on the run again. Frank was no slick city man, but he liked his comforts sure enough. He would not want to leave Kansas City until absolutely necessary.

  Jesse had never been a creature of the city; he felt the call of no-man’s land too strongly. He was most at home in the wild places, where a man defended himself, took what he wanted, and kept what he could. He felt the pull back into Missouri, to their old stomping grounds, and he had known he would not be able to deny himself that satisfaction much longer. And so he found himself roaring down an empty road accompanied by a posse he barely knew, but every one of which was desperate to earn himself a place in the legend of Jesse James. That brought a more natural gleam to the smile, and he settled back in his saddle, comfortable with his position, his decisions, and his life.

  Frank had been upset when J
esse told him about the plan to take out the bank in Missouri City, a few miles down the river to the east. Missouri City had been a favorite target of theirs during the war, and most of the folks who had reestablished their businesses and their lives were still the same damned republicans that had been trying to lord over his family since before the first shots were fired. Although the coin would be welcome, this little trip was more about sweet revenge than anything else. When the young local back in Kansas City had mentioned the new bank going in down the river, it had seemed too perfect. When he had offered to lead Jesse James there, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

  Who needed Frank anyway? Or Cole and his damned family? These boys seemed plenty sturdy, and besides, it had been too long since he had tested himself under fire. If a man did not push himself every now and then, he went soft. And if a man went soft, someday someone would be coming up behind him when he least expected it, and that would be the end of that. And besides, since when did he ever need an excuse to take a chunk from some hayseed republican?

  “Hey, Jesse!” The local boy, riding a borrowed Iron Horse at the rear of the group, called out over the growl of the engines. “You think we could stop for a bit?”

  The boy had been getting steadier on his mount all day, although things had gotten off to a shaky start in the morning when he had almost knocked Harding off his feet. He was still swaying a bit from side to side like most new riders, getting used to balancing on the cushion of thickened air that the vehicles rode on, but he was doing alright.