Cole Younger snorted and spat a wad of dark juice near a spittoon not far away. “I’m figurin’ the law’ll be followin’ us as we leave, too, so’s my brothers’n I, we’re not too keen on the whole situation. Jim and John’r gettin’ supplies together so we can light out of here quick as you please, soon as you two stop yer dancin’. “
Jesse picked up his whiskey with the faint ring of metal on glass and knocked back the rest of the amber liquid inside. “You an’ yer brothers’ve been lookin’ for an excuse to get outa KC since we got here, Cole. Don’t play like you ain’t been holdin’ the same hand since the beginnin’.”
“I don’ see you rushin’ out California-way, eager to hang a hat in that ratty little camp where your father coughed out his last breath, eh Jesse?” Bob Younger, his face pale, leaned towards the outlaw leader, his elbow resting on his knee. “Our daddy was done for in this very town, not half a mile from where you’re sittin’ there grinnin’. Gunned down by a rat bastard group o’ Billy Yanks as he was walkin’ in the street!”
The young man stood and sneered down at Jesse, whose eyes were focused entirely on his own brother. “So yeah, if we’re not gonna shed no tears over those uppity Zu-Zus over in Missouri City, don’t expect us to be throwin’ you a parade, with you getting’ all promiscuous with the tech and violence, neither. My brothers’n me, we ain’t comfortable here in the city where they killed our pa, and no mistake. But we stuck with you, and we won’t leave ‘till it’s time.” He reached down for his glass and kicked back the contents with a jerky motion. “An’ thanks to you and those shavetails you brought with you, I think I hear a clock tickin’ while we sit here bendin’ our elbows and catchin’ flies.”
The glass came down on the table with a crack and the young man stormed off, pushing past several people on his way to the door.
Frank and Jesse were completely still, eyes locked on each other as if there were not another soul for miles. Cole Younger sat back for a few moments pushing the tobacco around his mouth, then stood up, shaking his head.
“You two are a hoot, you know that?” He knocked his own glass over with the slow, deliberate motion of a single finger and then grinned at the two brothers. “When you two’re done dancin’, we might wanna think about ponying up and headin’ west, maybe?” He chuckled once and moved towards the door. As he came up to the doorway he stopped, gesturing grandly for an attractive brunette to enter. As she swept past he looked over to see Jesse James watching out of the corner of his eye. Cole’s grin widened, he waggled his eyebrows meaningfully with a jerk of his head towards the new comer, and slipped out the door, pushing past a large, finely-dressed man trying to enter at the same time.
“I’m sorry, Jesse, but you and those greenhorns have knocked this whole caper into a cocked hat, and no mistake.” He leaned towards his brother again, his voice low and earnest. “ You gotta see we can’t stick around here. We gotta not be here when the law gets around to doin’ its job again, Jesse, and there just ain’t two ways about that.”
Jesse sighed with a mixture of anger and resignation. “I din’t mean for any of that to happen down river, Frank, you know that. We was just gonna rough ‘em up a bit, ruin their day, you know?” He shook his head. “But those damned yahoos, they never know when to quit! Next thing you know, the bolts ‘r flyin’, we got folks droppin’ on both sides, and everyone’s got their blood up somethin’ fierce. An’ then, when Ty let fly with his Gatlings, and I wasn’t even there to see.”
“Ty, he the young local scrub, convinced you it’d be an easy mark in the first place?”
Jesse nodded, but his eyes were now tracking something across the room, moving behind Frank and into the region of gaming tables in the corner. “Yeah. Nice enough kid, for all that’s the freshest fish you ever met in your life.”
Frank looked skeptical. “Fresh fish? To hear Chase ‘r Harding tell it, he’s the coldest soaplock who never sucked an ice chip.”
Jesse shook his head, his eyes still looking past his brother’s shoulder. “Naw, he’s a quiet kid, didn’t know what he was getting’ into. Just went a little salty in the moment, is all.”
A shadow passed over the younger man’s face. Jesse looked back down at his arms for a moment, turning the hands over against the table. “’N Frank… my arms… “
Frank cocked his head. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”
Jesse shook his head tapped a rapid staccato rhythm on the table, his eyes drifting back over his brother’s shoulder. “Nah, never mind. It was nothin’.”
Frank nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Whatever you say, brother. They’re your arms, after all. Or at least, they are now.” He leaned back a little bit, watching his brother speculatively for a moment before asking, “Jesse, you gonna tell me what you’re lookin’ at, that’s got your eyes just about ready to pop from your skull? I ain’t got one of them metal marshals comin’ up on me or nothin’ have I?”
Jesse shook his head and gestured with his chin as he sat back. “No, just some swell, all dressed up in widow’s tackle. Looks like he’s got a right pretty friend, though.”
Frank shrugged and turned his head just enough to get a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, there was a man in a very expensive-looking suit sitting down to one of the gaming tables. The man’s face was hard, the stub of a cigar hanging from one side of his mouth, nodding to the other players as he took a seat at the table.
Behind the man in the fancy gear stood a stunning brunette in a fancy dress that revealed almost as much as it concealed. Her fine features were distant and uncaring as she scanned the room, as if she could not find a single item of interest within sight. Her smile was radiant as she nodded to the men around the table, however, obviously having been introduced by her companion, leaning down to allow each man to take her hand in turn, and laughing at some remark one of the men must have made.
“Damned dirty dude trick, that.” Jesse snarled.
Frank turned back from assessing the newcomers and shot his brother a questioning look. “Trick?”
Jesse nodded and gestured back towards the gaming tables with a flip of one mechanical hand. “Card sharp like that comes in with a looker on his arm, and she’s all smiles and light from word one? Yeah. She’s there to distract the other players, scoop ‘em into throwin’ their money away, and the fella cuttin’ a swell there, he’ll pick it all up.” He shook his head again. “Damned dirty trick.”
Frank muscled his chair around so he could get a better view, and then settled back as if he were watching a wrestling match or a horseshoe tournament. He stretched out his long legs, crossing them casually at the ankles, and folded his arms across his chest with an appreciative smile.
“Well, if I ain’t got no coin ridin’ on it, guess I can just enjoy the view, eh?” Frank’s grin widened even more.
Jesse watched as the cards were dealt around the table in the corner, the men settling back, fanning their hands and watching their opponents. He noticed the eyes constantly flicking towards the tall beauty standing behind the fancy-pants, and watched as she smiled and winked at each man as if he were the only one in the room.
“Damn, but I’d be forkin’ over every cent in my pocket before the first hand was up.” Jesse shook his head. “Frank, I’m goin’ to get a beer before we head on over to the Occidental. You want one?”
Frank’s face soured. “The Occidental? What’re we doin’, headin’ over to the Occidental? Your lil’ bed warmer dancin’ tonight? I seen about enough o’ her as I need to see, thank’ee.” He grinned again and indicated the woman in the corner with his chin. “’Sides, your poor Misty don’t hold a candle to that sweet thing over yonder. And I ain’t getting’ any closer to either one’o them, so’s I might as well stay right here and enjoy the view.”
Jesse scowled as he stood. “You’re a right bastard and no mistake. You want a beer, or don’tcha?”
Frank smiled benignly up at his younger brother and nodded smoothly. “Why I
do believe I would, brother, thank’ee kindly.”
Jesse was muttering under his breath as he worked his way through the tables to the bar along the back of the saloon. He flashed two fingers at the harried looking bartender and then set his elbows against the wood with a hard thump. His head sank down towards his crossed wrists and slowly rocked back and forth in vague puzzlement.
“Those are some fancy pieces of jewelry you got there, mister.” The voice was a soft contralto that sent a shiver up his spine, and Jesse snapped upright, turning quickly around.
The woman who had come in with the card sharp was standing behind him, her full lips pursed in a mischievous smile. Her deep brown eyes flickered down to his mechanical arms again and then back up into his, one delicate eyebrow arched questioningly.
Jesse felt his old grin sweep across his face without conscious thought and brought his hands up between them, turning them back and forth, looking down as if seeing them for the first time.
“You talkin’ about my arms, darlin’?” He smiled even wider as he looked back into her eyes. “Most advanced tech you’re goin’ to find in the territories, little lady. Ain’t nothin’ these arms can’t do, and that is a verifiable fact.”
Jesse plucked a silver dollar from a pocket and held in up in front of the woman. The coin popped up onto his knuckles as if it was alive, and then began to dance back and forth across them as the fingers beneath rippled back and forth like waves on a burnished steel ocean. The coin bounced towards his thumb, which flashed out, sending it springing up into the air where the other hand swooped across, catching it with a faint click.
Jesse cocked an eyebrow at the woman as he slipped the silver dollar back into his pocket. “Did I tell ya? Ain’t nothin’ these arms can’t do.”
The woman smiled slyly at him, tilting her head down slightly and pushing her bare shoulder towards him in a faint mockery of self-defense. “Maybe you’ll get a chance to show me just what those arms can do sometime?”
Jesse’s smile widened immensely, threatening to reach right around and meet on the back of his head. In a moment, however, his look became tinged with doubt. His head moved back a bit, cocked to one side, and the intensity of his smile lowered slightly, but a deeper appreciation dawned in his eyes.
“Damn, but you’re good, missy.” He shook his head at her and leaned back against the bar, his elbows striking with a muffled thump. His entire demeanor was more relaxed, and his smile was easy.
The woman, too, seemed to sense a shift in the mood, and smiled more openly, mischief still glittering in her eyes. “Whatever are you about, Mr. James?”
Genuine pleasure washed over Jesse. “So, you know me, then?”
She reached out with one small hand and rested it on his shoulder. “Oh, please, Mr. James. As far as I’ve heard tell, there is only one singular pair of arms in the entire world like your own. And after that bravura performance with the coin, I could, of course, have no doubt!”
Jesse nodded, casting his gaze over the crowded room affecting a vague indifference. “Well, you’ve got me dead to rights, miss.”
The woman gracefully slipped into a bar stool beside the famous outlaw, her hand never moving from his shoulder. “From what I hear, sir, that does not happen very often.”
Jesse snorted, turning to face her. “You’d be surprised. Here, you’ve got me at somethin’ of a disadvantage, miss. You know me, but I don’t know you at all. Please tell me a girl as pretty as you’s got a name just as handsome?”
She smiled again, her eyes never wavering from his. “My friends call me Lucy, Mr. James.”
“Lucy… yeah, that’d do it.” He nodded to the bartender as the man placed two glasses beside him, and pushed the silver dollar across the bar. “Oh, where are my manners! Would you like something, Miss Lucy?”
She smiled wider, but there was a canny edge, as if she’d caught him at some game. “No, thank you, Mr. James. I’ve my own means.” She leaned across the bar and snapped a quick order that Jesse could not quite make out. When she turned back to him, she was smiling openly again. “Where were we, Mr. James?”
“Please, call me Jesse. Mr. James passed on a long time ago, and I don’t have any thoughts o’ followin’ him for a long time to come.”
Lucy looked concerned, her hand drifting from his shoulder to the back of one metal hand. “Oh, I’m sorry… Jesse.”
He looked down at her hand for a moment, then shrugged. “No, it ain’t nothin’. He passed on a long time ago. Plenty of time to recover from that particular heart ache.”
“There have been others?” She leaned closer to him, giving him her complete, undivided attention.
Jesse retreated slightly from her. “Well, sure. You ain’t livin’ if you ain’t bleedin’, as they say.”
She frowned slightly. “That strikes me as rather a dark way to live, Mr. James – I mean Jesse. Aren’t there any other times you feel alive than when you’re bleeding?”
He shook his head. “There’s plenty of times I’m happy I’m not bleedin’, Miss Lucy, but there been lots of folks through the years taught me real good that those times don’t last, an’ I’ll be bleedin’ again soon.”
It seemed as if all pretense had fallen from Lucy’s face, and she looked at him with clear eyes. “So you live every moment expecting violence to engulf your world? That seems like a very sad way to move through life.”
Jesse barked a short laugh, shaking her head. “Lady, if you’d seen half of what I’d seen, you’d know there ain’t no other way. I was sixteen when I was wounded in the war—“
She held up one smooth finger. “Wait, you fought in the war? The war between the states? I would never have thought you were old enough!”
His smile faltered and began to fade as he continued speaking. “Well, I’m aging well, let’s say. And I was young. Joined up with the raiders when I was younger’n I was supposed to be. Got myself shot towards the end, spent the last few months of the war laid up in a bed recuperating from the wound. Eventually, I went home. I’d seen the flyers, promises of amnesty and forgiveness if you’d just give your word to the degenerate turncoats that had inherited the late great state of Missouri. On my way to give my parole, the bastards shot me, again, and left me for dead.”
A warm concern wrinkled her brow and she leaned towards him again. “Shot you right where you stood? Without a warning?”
“Well, I was sittin’ on a horse, but yeah, shot me without a warnin’.” His grin came back, causing years to drop from his face. “’Course, I been a right thorn in the Union’s side ever since, and no mistake. Next time one of them blue-bellies gets the drop on me, you can be sure they ain’t goin’ to half ass the job, neither!”
There was venom in his voice as he finished, and a crease appeared between Lucy’s beautiful eyes. “You hate them.”
“Northerners? Hell, miss, I ain’t alone in hating those high-brow Yanks, not even in a burg as ignorant as this one is. There’s plenty of folks holdin’ a torch for those old northern states, waitin’ for the day.”
Lucy sat back in her stool, regarding him calmly, but with no warmth. “You truly hate them.”
Jesse turned fully around to face her, taking both of her hands in his metallic grasp. “Let’s not beat the devil around the stump, miss. I hate them. I hate everythin’ the Yanks stand for. I hate what they done to my family, I hate what they done to my friends, and I hate what they done to my home and my way o’ life.” His voice got lower and lower, more of a growl than a speech, and his eyes bore into her own with an intensity that seemed to rattle her.
“I hate their high-handed way of dealin’ with folks they don’t agree with, an’ I hate the way they’ll stomp all over anyone who gets in their way.”
Lucy put up a hand to stall his diatribe. “But that’s the government, the military. Surely you can’t blame the men and women of –“
“They vote up there in the north, Miss Lucy?” His face was twisted with loathing.
&
nbsp; “I beg your pardon?” The apparent shift in topic had caught her flat footed.
“They vote up there, in those states we’re talkin’ about, right? Vote for their mayors, an’ for their governors, for their senators an’ for their dog catchers? They vote for their president, Miss Lucy?” The anger was building again.
“Well, to answer that last question, no, Mr. James, they do not vote for their presidents. As any school child knows, there hasn’t been a presidential election since the assassination of… President Lincoln. President Johnson’s held the post ever since. Congress declared a state of emergency over a decade ago, imposing martial law and all the rest… “
Jesse waved her response away. “I know all that, but you get my point. Those folks that sit in their little log cabins, those folks who you say are innocent? They’re the ones voted in the men who sent those other men after me on that road all those years ago, shot me in the chest and left me for dead. Robbed my family of their means of support and left us to fend for ourselves. Gunned down my friends’ pa in the streets of this very city. So no, Miss Lucy, I am sorry to say I do not hold out any warm feelin’s for the innocent civilians of the northern states.”
She stared at him for a moment before responding, “that’s why you rob banks and such? For revenge?”
He laughed once again, and again the darkness fled before the humor and good-nature in his eyes, as if the cold killer staring out from them had never been. “Well, I rob banks ‘cause I like money, and I got a right nasty aversion to honest work, Miss Lucy, to be honest. But do I take special pleasure in hitting a republican when I can? You better believe it!”
She shook her head sadly. “And does that bring you peace, Jesse? Attacking and stealing from men and women who had nothing to do with what was done to you?”
His own demeanor turned cold. “M’am, ain’t nothin’ brings me peace, but yeah, knockin’ a mudsill republican on the head every now and then, yeah, that brings a smile to my face.”
The Jessie James Archives Page 10