by C. J. Petit
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Jack had ridden the mule hard back to North Platte, constantly looking behind him for Slow John. Even after he reached the town, he was looking for a place to hide, and was totally lost when he heard an incredible, lifesaving sound. He rode between the hardware store and the livery and when he popped out into the back, he saw a train slowing down to fill its water tanks. It was a construction train with a lot of empty flat cars for rails and ties, and two box cars for other supplies needed for building the railroad, and it was returning to Omaha. He quickly discarded the mule and as the train passed, jumped into one of the box cars, crawled to the back and pressed his back into the darkest corner, his heart pounding as he expected Slow John to appear at the open door at any second.
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John had no intention of going after Jack now. He had a mess to clean up and then there was Kate. Kate, who had survived so much pain and horror and finally was almost a happy person again was suddenly slammed back into her prison, only this time it was much worse, because this time she was in solitary.
John had gathered the six horses and had two bodies draped over them when Dennis and Patrick arrived. Without asking a question or making a comment, they picked up the last of the pistol shooters, and put him over one of the empty saddles.
John led the horses to the side of the barn and they put the four riflemen over the last empty horses before Dennis asked, “Is that all of them, John?”
John shook his head and replied, “No, I let one get away, and I’ll go after him later. It was Jack.”
He looked at his brothers and said, “I couldn’t do it. I know I should have. It had to be done, but when I saw him laid out across that mule’s neck I saw him as that fourteen-year-old rascal he was when I left. I made a mistake and I hope it doesn’t cost some other woman her life.”
Patrick asked, “What will we do with these bodies?”
“I’ll take them into North Platte and have them buried. I know they don’t have a sheriff right now, but I’ll ask to see someone in authority.”
“Want us to come along, John?”
“No, I shot them all, I’ll do it. You go and take care of your wives and children. I’ll make a trail rope and get them all there in a few minutes. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Okay, John.” Dennis replied as he laid his left hand on his big brother’s shoulder.
John smiled weakly and began working on the trail rope and then led the horses to the barn and mounted Cross. As he stepped up in the saddle, took the trail rope and began the short ride into town, and all he could think about was Kate. He felt emptier inside than he had ever felt before.
As he neared the gully, he spotted his wounded Winchester, stopped, stepped down and picked up the damaged rifle. He mounted again and continued to ride and examine the weapon. There was a hole punched through the stock. How had the bullet gone through the stock and not hit his arm? He put the Winchester into a firing position and craned his neck down to see through the hole and saw his right bicep. It was one of those ballistic mysteries he knew he’d never solve. He could get the rifle’s stock repaired or replaced, but was leaning toward leaving it as it was.
He arrived in North Platte ten minutes later, and not too inconspicuously. Before he even reached the town, he could see a small crowd already gathered in the street. He guessed that the amount of gunfire that had reached the ears of the residents had caused curiosity as much as anything else. As he drew near, he spotted Pappy Jones on the left side walking toward him.
“What happened, Slow John?”
“These six and my brother attacked the family farm about an hour ago.”
“Anybody hurt in your family?”
“No, they’re all fine. I was wondering what to do with them. You don’t have a sheriff, so who gets the report. Is there a county sheriff?”
“We are the county right now. Harvey Wright over yonder is the mayor. Let’s go and see who they are, but I’ll bet I can guess pretty good.”
Pappy walked back to the horses and began looking at the bodies and then reported back to Harvey Wright, the owner of the feed and grain store.
Harvey walked up to John and said, “Those bastards were a plague on our town. Lou Harrison was the one who killed our last sheriff. Can you bring them down to the undertaker?”
“Sure. Where is he?”
“I’m down at the end of the street on the right side.” shouted the undertaker from somewhere in the crowd.
John started the morbid parade down the street as the crowd parted to let it pass.
An hour later, John was leading six empty horses back east along the road when he spotted a lone mule walking ahead of him. He recognized the animal as the one Jack had been riding in the attack.
He quickly tied the trail rope to the nearest hitching rail and whipped Cross back to the west and trotted quickly toward the railroad depot. When he arrived, he quickly stepped down and trotted over to the station master.
“Excuse me, have you had any eastbound trains pass by here in the past hour or two.”
“Yes, Sir. We had one of our construction trains fill up their water tanks and head back to Omaha about an hour and a half ago.”
“Thanks.” he replied as he wondered how he could have not noticed a train.
John then walked quickly to the Western Union shack and went inside.
“I need to send a telegram to all stations with law enforcement all the way to Omaha. Can I do that?”
“Why?”
“A Union Pacific construction train just pulled out of here ninety minutes ago and I believe that a murderer is on the train.”
The operator shook his head. “Unless you’re a law officer, I can’t do that.”
John was frustrated, but he understood the reasoning. If anyone could walk in and send such a message, chaos would spread like dominoes down the line.
“Okay. I understand.”
He returned to Cross, climbed up and headed back to the string of horses wondering what he could do. He chastised himself for not pulling the trigger, and any harm that Jack would do from now on would be on his head.
He picked up the lead to the horses and headed back to the farm, wondering what he would do with so many horses. As he plodded along with the rhythm of twenty-eight hooves clopping onto the hard soil, he kept thinking of Kate and if there was anything he could do to bring her back. She was pregnant, so the problem that caused her departure from the real world wasn’t going away. He didn’t think she’d survive nine months in her current state. When he returned, he’d see if she was at least drinking. If she was, there was hope.
He reached the farm and turned toward the house, spotting his mother waiting on the porch. He didn’t wave because he simply wasn’t in the mood. He had killed sixteen men in the past month, which was seven more than he had killed in two years’ fighting against the Confederates and three years fighting against the warring Indian tribes, and he knew he would have to kill at least one more.
He stopped at the house, stepped down and just flipped Cross’s reins across the hitching rail and walked slowly up the stairs.
“How are you doing, Slow John?” his mother asked.
“Tired, Mom. I’m just tired. How is Kate? Is she drinking anything?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Catherine Walsh. What happened in town?”
“They were happy that all of them are gone. It seems that one of them was responsible for the last two sheriffs’ deaths and a few others that were unsolved.”
She hooked her arm through John’s and led walked with him into the house. Once inside, she let him go so he could go to Kate’s room.
John stuck his head into the room and asked, “Mrs. Walsh, how’s Kate? Is she drinking anything?”
“No, we can’t get her to take anything. I’m worried, John. We just got her back yesterday. What happened?”
John sighed. “After all she’d been through, starting with a useless marriage, then Jack’
s assault and finding herself lost in the river followed by six weeks of hell with those bastards, she was just putting it all behind her when she must have discovered she was pregnant. When I found her in her room, she had that gun pressed against her stomach, and she was already saying strange things. Then I took the gun away from her, and I think for just a moment, she realized what she was doing and that’s when the light went out of her eyes and she just looked right through me.”
“What can we do, John? I feel so helpless.” Catherine said as her eyes welled with tears.
“All we can do right now is get her to drink and then to eat.”
Catherine nodded and looked at her daughter’s staring face.
John looked down at Kate’s lifeless eyes and wondered if there was anything he could do. He finally shook his head, feeling every bit as helpless as her mother.
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Jack was so relieved, he was actually dancing around in the box car. The train had made two more water stops and he knew he was a good hundred miles from North Platte. He pulled his money out of his pocket and counted $48.22. It was enough to get by for a while, but not for long term. He wasn’t about to go back to farming. He carried a gun now. Jack was a real man.
But he suddenly stopped his dance when he recalled the only thing that still gave him a chill. It was the memory of his dead brother suddenly appearing out of the ground and killing all his new friends. That image stuck in his mind; of Slow John rising from the grave to deal death to others. He began to wonder if he really was alive at all. Maybe he was an evil spirit or an avenging angel. If he was, he could appear anywhere, even on this train in this very car!
Jack whipped around and pulled his pistol, quickly turning in a circle looking for the ghost of Slow John Flynn. He quickly ran to his corner, pressed his back tightly against the wood and pointed his pistol at the open door. He waited in that position for another watering stop and then fell asleep, the uncocked pistol falling to the boxcar floor.
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Kate finally closed her eyes when it began to get dark. But before she did, Maggie sat her up and her mother put a glass of water to her lips and she drank the entire glass. There was a great sense of relief among both families.
John had watched her drink, and felt a glimmer of hope but had no idea what, if anything, he could do to bring Kate back. What made it worse was that as many difficult things that she had talked to him about, her one greatest fear, the one that finally locked her away, she had kept to herself.
He recalled that he had almost asked her that very question in the first hour after finding her. If only he had asked, or if she had talked to him about it, he knew he could have prevented this. If she had told him last night, he would have told her that he loved her, and he would stay with her. But, she had kept that dread inside and let it fester. Why she hadn’t confessed this approaching doom still bothered him as he climbed into the loft and slid into his bedroll.
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Jack had snuck off the train when it arrived in Omaha late at night, and he had no choice but to spend a couple of dollars and stay at a hotel overnight. He felt robbed as he was only really getting a half a night’s stay.
After he went to his room, he stretched out on the bed and felt safe. Now, he needed to figure out what to do. Maybe he’d head down to Bellevue in the morning and see if any of his friends from school could help him out. He’d only been gone three years, and he had some good friends down there.
Feeling better about his whole situation, Jack kicked off his boots and went to sleep.
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The next morning, Jack washed up, but couldn’t shave without his razor, so he checked out, had a quick breakfast at an eatery, then stopped at a barber shop and got a shave, a haircut and a bath. Feeling back to his normal self after that whole Slow John affair, he began walking to Bellevue and got lucky when he managed to get a ride on a wagon heading that way.
CHAPTER 8
The next morning, John was debating about going after Jack, and was really tortured by his desire to stay with Kate and his need to prevent Jack from causing any more damage.
“What do you think, Mom, Pop?” he asked his parents as he sat at the table drinking his coffee after finishing his breakfast.
“John, you’ve already done too much. Let the law deal with your brother.” said his father.
“That’s the problem, Pop. He’s already gotten away with one rape and attempted murder, and another rape and murder. By the time the law catches up with him, if ever, he’d have done it at least once more. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that. I’m just so worried about Kate.”
“Worrying about Kate isn’t going to help, John.” his mother said softly.
“I know, but if I leave to get Jack, I won’t know.”
“You do what you think is right, John.” she said.
Before John could reply, there was a knock at the door and John could hear voices and a minute later, Patrick walked in carrying a yellow folded paper – a telegram.
“This just came for you, Slow John.”
John took the telegram and opened it, knowing it had to be from Melissa, and wondering why she just didn’t write him a letter.
He read:
John handed the telegram to his father.
“I guess this makes the decision easier. I’ll get the next train out. I’m just going to see Kate before I leave.”
His parents both nodded wondering what this was all about. With all the other stories, John hadn’t talked about Melissa. They both knew Melissa well, but why was she suddenly asking for John’s help from clear across the state? The only one beside John who knew the answer was Kate.
John reached Kate’s room, temporarily empty while Mrs. Walsh did some work at home and Maggie napped. He pulled up a chair near Kate’s bed and took her hand. It was just yesterday when she had held his hand and beamed a smile at him, her face effervescent. Why didn’t you tell me, Kate?
“Kate, I’ve got to leave on a train for a while to go back and find Jack. But I just received a telegram from Melissa and she has a problem with the other half of the bully duo, so I need to go and help her, too. I’m so sorry that I failed you, Kate. I should have shot him. I’ll make it right, Kate, and when I come back, I’ll stay with you just as I promised.”
John leaned over and kissed Kate softly on the lips before sitting back, gently placed her hand back on her lap, took a breath and left the room.
In Kate’s never world, she had felt John’s lips touch hers and was jealous of herself. Then beyond all the other, hurtful images still playing havoc with her mind, another name floated past that she remembered vaguely – Melissa. What does that name mean?
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John found that another U.P. construction train was heading back just an hour after he had ridden into North Platte, and he could buy a ticket on the train, he was told, but don’t expect any fancy treatment like seats, unless he could talk the conductor into letting him join him in the caboose. When John asked if he could just bring his horse into a boxcar, the station manager said he didn’t see why not, as long as he bought two tickets. John bought two tickets, returned to the farm and packed his saddlebags with a change of clothes, his shaving kit and not much else. He wore his less used Remington and brought along the other Winchester that used to belong to Swede Jorgensen.
He left the farm and rode into North Platte, stopping at the feed and grain store to get a half bag of oats for Cross to eat on the trip. He had two sandwiches made for him by his mother and a canteen. It was only a little over nine hours, and the construction train would be faster because they didn’t have to worry about passengers feeling uncomfortable and the company wanted the trains out and back quickly, so the engineers opened the throttles a bit more.
He took longer at the feed and grain as the mayor wanted to talk to him about the vacant sheriff’s slot. John finally told him he’d think about it and let him know when he returned.
He was waiting on the pla
tform for just six minutes before the train arrived. John didn’t even show anyone his two tickets. He just walked Cross into the box car and stepped up himself, and began unsaddling Cross. Before he even finished, there was a lurch and the train was heading east. It was just before nine o’clock in the morning.
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By the time John was getting on his train, Jack was waving goodbye to the farmer who had given him the lift and was walking the still familiar streets of Bellevue. His first stop would be to see good old Goofy Bannister. Goofy was given the nickname by his poor excuse for an older brother, Billy. It had been meant to demean his younger brother, but Joe Bannister actually liked it and began calling himself Goofy. Billy didn’t appreciate it when the insult backfired.
At Blake hardware, just a half mile east from where Jack was meeting with Goofy, Melissa was talking to her father about the sudden emergence of Elmer Garson.
“Papa, he’s scaring me. When I get home at night, I see him waiting outside smiling like he wants to come in. Wherever I go, I see him. I talked to Sheriff Everton, and he said that there was nothing he could do until Elmer actually hurts me.”
“I know, Sweetheart. But, if you like, you can always stay here in the room behind the storeroom.”
“I think that would be worse, Papa. At least I can lock my doors at the house.”
“Why won’t you move back home, Melissa. We have the room.”
“I know, Papa. I guess it’s because I want to be by myself now that Billy’s gone.”
Melissa thought she was hiding the real reason well, but everyone in her family and quite a few others knew she was hoping that Slow John Flynn would return.
Melissa hadn’t told anyone about the telegram she had sent John about Elmer Garson. It was true that he frightened her and was worried about what he might do to her, but she was much more interested about seeing John again and maybe convincing him to stay.
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“Are you serious, Goofy? Slow John killed him?” Jack asked with wide eyes.
“That’s what I think. I think they hushed it all up ‘cause nobody like Billy.”