The Great Train Massacre

by William W. Johnstone

  He had been told from the beginning that the biggest problem might well be Matt Jensen, and as Conroy examined all the failures, except for the one when the cut tongue pin hadn’t done the job, they were all directly attributable to interference from Matt Jensen.

  Conroy had invested some time and money into researching Matt Jensen, and he recalled now some of the things he had learned about him.

  “It is said that he killed his first man when he was nine years old,” the private detective told him.

  “Nine years old?” Conroy replied, surprised at the statement.

  “Yes. A band of outlaws slaughtered his family, and he killed them all, killing the first one right there where it happened.”

  “So what did he do? Strap on a pistol and become a gunman, right away?”

  “No. He spent some time in an orphanage, ran away, and was rescued by Smoke Jensen.”

  “Smoke Jensen? The Smoke Jensen?”

  “One and the same. It is said that Smoke Jensen taught the kid everything he ever knew, and now there are many who think that Matt Jensen may even be faster than Smoke.”

  “So now he sells his gun to the highest bidder, does he?”

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

  “How much is he being paid to guard Gillespie and his daughter?”

  “Five thousand dollars.”

  Conroy whistled quietly. “That’s a lot of money. If he sells his gun to the highest bidder, do you think I could buy him for seventy-five hundred dollars?”

  “No.”

  “Suppose I double the amount he is being paid to guard the Gillespies?”

  The private detective shook his head. “I don’t know what you want him for, but if you ask him to do something that he doesn’t think is right, you couldn’t buy him for two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. All right, Mr. Pollard, I thank you for the information.”

  As Conroy recalled that conversation, he drummed his fingers on the table for a moment or two while he contemplated the situation. Then, he pulled out a piece of paper and began making notes.

  1. It is highly unlikely that I will be able to find anyone who can go face-to-face with Matt Jensen and beat him in a gunfight.

  2. He is superior in gun handling to anyone I have ever heard of, so good that he has bested multiple gunfighters in the same confrontation.

  3. The only way I’m going to be able to take care of this situation is to find someone who isn’t in it to make a name for himself by killing Jensen in a fair fight, but someone who is more interested in money than the notoriety.

  After studying the notes he had made, Conroy took a ledger from the middle drawer of his desk. Here, he kept a list of people that he had worked with before, people he could buy favors from in exchange, not only for a little money, but also the promise of reciprocating a future service.

  The man he could depend on in Lincoln, Nebraska, for such a favor was Vernon Spence. He sent Spence a telegram and within half an hour had a reply.

  WILL LOCATE JENSEN AND DEAL WITH PROBLEM STOP PAY TO BE IN ACCORDANCE WITH YOUR SATISFACTION

  When Conroy went to bed that night, he slept easily. Vernon Spence had the reputation of getting the job done. And that is exactly what Conroy needed now. He needed someone who would not let him down.

  Lincoln, Nebraska

  Matt was sound asleep when he was awakened by a woman’s scream. And it wasn’t just any woman’s scream, it was Mary Beth’s scream.

  Grabbing his pistol from the holster he leaped out of bed, and without regard to the fact that he was wearing only his underwear, he opened the door to his room, just as he saw a man coming from Mary Beth’s room.

  “Mary Beth!”

  “I’m all right!” Mary Beth called back.

  Matt chased the man to the top of the stairs.

  “Stop!” Matt shouted, running toward him.

  A door opened right at the head of the stairs, and one of the hotel guests, an older woman who had been made curious by the noise, stuck her head out to see what was going on.

  “No, get back in your room!” Matt called, but it was too late.

  The intruder grabbed the old woman and pulled her in front of him. He held a knife against the old woman’s throat.

  “Put your gun down!” the intruder said.

  Matt hesitated for a moment.

  “Now! Put your gun now, or I will cut this woman’s throat!”

  “Please!” the old woman begged. “Please, do what he says!”

  Reluctantly, Matt put his pistol on the floor.

  “All right, the gun is down,” he said. Matt stepped closer.

  “Stay where you are!” the man with the knife shouted angrily.

  Matt saw someone sneaking up very quietly behind the man with the knife. The stalker was carrying a water vase in his hand, so Matt began talking to keep the knife-wielder distracted.

  “Why don’t you let the lady go?” Matt said. “You know she’s not the one you came to kill. I’m the one you want, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. I’m the one you want.”

  “What if you are?”

  “Well, you can see that I’ve put my gun down. You have a knife, I’m unarmed. You’ll never get a better chance than now.” Matt held both his hands out to show that he was unarmed.

  The man with the knife smiled.

  “Yeah,” he said. He shoved the woman aside. “Yeah, I’ll never . . .”

  That was as far as he got before the man brought the water vase crashing down on the knife-wielder’s head. The vase shattered and water came pouring down as the knife-wielder stumbled back, then flipped over the railing and fell to the lobby below. Matt ran to the railing and looked down. The assailant was lying still and in a distorted position on the floor, and Matt could tell that he was dead.

  By then doors were open all up and down the hallway, and Matt, realizing that he was standing there totally exposed in his underwear, retrieved his pistol, then hurried back to his room. He saw that both Mary Beth and John were peering out through partially open doors.

  “Are you all right, Matt?” John asked.

  “Yes, except for being a little embarrassed for standing out here in my long johns,” Matt replied.

  “Ha. What have you got to be embarrassed about?” Mary Beth asked, as she shared a secret smile with Matt.

  Matt realized at once what she was talking about, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I’d better get dressed and go downstairs,” he said. “I expect they’ll have a few policemen here soon, and they’ll be wanting to talk to someone.”

  “What are you going to tell them?” John asked.

  “I’m going to tell them that as far as I know, he was nothing but a prowler.”

  By the time Matt got dressed and hurried downstairs, there was a policeman in the lobby, wearing a blue uniform and a high-crowned custodian helmet. In addition to the policeman, there was the desk clerk, a couple of bellboys, half a dozen hotel guests, the woman who for a moment had been held hostage, and the man who had ended the crisis with a full water vase.

  “That’s him,” the man said, pointing to Matt. “He was the other one in the hall.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rodenberger,” the policeman said.

  The policeman turned to Matt. “May I ask your name, sir?”

  “Jensen. Matt Jensen.”

  “And, Mr. Jensen, if you don’t mind telling me, what was the reason for the altercation between you and Spence?”

  “Spence?”

  The policeman pointed to the body. “That is Vernon Spence.”

  “The reason Spence and I were confronting each other is because I heard the lady in the room next to me scream, and when I got out of bed to see what it was, I saw Spence with a knife. I imagine he had gone in there to see what he could steal.”

  “Was the lady hurt?”

  “No. Apparently you
know this man?”

  “I know of him,” the policeman said. “He’s sort of a shady figure, but he’s not a thief. He always seems to have money, but the money doesn’t come from any known source. He’s been tried twice for murder, but he beat both charges. Some of the other police officers and I have always thought that he might be a . . .” the policeman stopped in midsentence. “Ah, never mind, it was probably just us talking.”

  “Thought what?” Matt asked.

  “Well, given that he always seemed to have money, and nobody knew where it came from, we’ve sort of thought that he might be someone who kills for money. The two murder trials I mentioned? One of the victims was a banker and the other was a lawyer. Neither one of them were very popular, and I don’t mind telling you that there weren’t that many people who were sorry to see them killed.

  “That’s when we got the idea that someone may have paid Spence to do it. But like I said, he beat both charges.”

  “Officer, you aren’t going to charge me with anything, are you?” Rodenberger asked. “I mean, I didn’t intend to kill ’im, I was just tryin’ to make him drop the knife, so he wouldn’t hurt Mrs. Kern. I didn’t know he was going to fall over the bannister.”

  “Mr. Rodenberger is telling the truth,” Matt said. “He probably saved the lady’s life and mine as well.”

  “Yes, that’s what Mrs. Kern said. No, Mr. Rodenberger, there will be no charges.”

  “That’s good to know. Don’t know how the missus back in Kansas City would take it if I told her I was being held for murder.”

  By then two men arrived carrying a stretcher.

  “Can we move the body now, officer?”

  “Yes,” the policeman said. He turned to the rather substantial group of people who had gathered in the lobby. “Folks, you can break it up now. There’s nothin’ left here for you to see. Go on back to your rooms.”

  “Mr. Rodenberger, I thank you again, sir,” Matt said.

  A wide smile spread across Rodenberger’s face. “Whoowee, this is something for a salesman to get involved in. I can’t wait to get home to tell my wife what happened. Why, it’s almost like I’m a hero, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed you are, sir,” Matt agreed.

  “Probably not to Grace. Besides which, I’m not even sure she’ll believe me.”

  When Matt returned to his room, he thought about what the policeman had told him about Spence always having money but without any known source of his income. The officer had also said that he and his fellow policemen were speculating as to whether or not Spence could have been a paid killer.

  Matt could have told him that their speculation was correct. From the moment he heard Mary Beth scream, he was certain that it was another attempt on the life of Mary Beth and her father.

  The next morning, Matt was awakened by a totally different concert of sound than that which he had heard last night. Gone was the laughter, the boisterous conversation, and the piano music.

  In its place were the sounds of a town at commerce, the ringing of a smithy shaping iron at his forge, the scratching sound of a shopkeeper sweeping his front porch, a carpenter sawing wood, and the squeaking wheel of a freight wagon rolling down the street.

  As he washed his face and hands, he looked at the pitcher that held the water. This was exactly like the pitcher that Rodenberger had used on Vernon Spence during the middle of the night, and hefting it, he could see how, especially filled with water as it was, it would be able to do the job.

  Matt was hungry, and for a moment he considered going down to breakfast now, rather than waiting for John and Mary Beth to awaken. He put that thought aside quickly, though. It would not be wise to leave them unguarded, even for no longer than it would take to have breakfast. Last night had proven that.

  As it turned out, though, he didn’t have to wait long at all, because as he was drying his hands, he heard a knock at his door.

  “Matt, are you up yet? Papa and I want to go have breakfast.”

  Smiling, Matt crossed the room in a few quick steps, then he jerked the door open.

  “Good idea,” he said.

  When they reached the dining room, Matt saw the salesman, Rodenberger, sitting at the table with Mrs. Kern.

  “I’ve someone I want you to meet,” he said, leading John and Mary Beth over to the table.

  “Mr. Gillespie, Miss Gillespie, this is Mr. Rodenbeger and Mrs. Kern.”

  Rodenberger started to stand, but Matt put his hand out.

  “No need for you to stand,” he said. “John, this gentleman saved my life last night.”

  “And mine too,” Mrs. Kern said.

  “Well, I thank you very much for that, Mr. Rodenberger,” John said. “Matt is a very good friend of mine. And if you will allow me, I would like to pay for breakfast for you and Mrs. Kern and pay for your rooms as well.”

  “Mister, you don’t have to do that,” Rodenberger said. “I wouldn’t want to have to put you out that money.”

  “Let him do it, Mr. Rodenberger,” Mary Beth said. She lay her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. “It will make him feel good.”

  Rodenberger returned the smile. “Well then, yes, sir, by all means. I mean, if it’ll make you feel good.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  After they had breakfast, John checked with Western Union to see if he had received a reply from Drew.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Gillespie, I’ve got it right here for you,” the telegrapher said.

  BELIEVE YOU MAY BE RIGHT ABOUT KEATON STOP WILL INFORM SHERIFF IN CHEYENNE TO INVESTIGATE STOP THINK YOU MIGHT NOW BE OUT OF DANGER

  “I don’t think you are out of danger yet,” Matt said when John showed him the telegram.

  “You mean because of the thief who tried to sneak into Mary Beth’s room?” John asked.

  “He wasn’t just a thief.” Matt told them what he had learned from the policeman about Vernon Spence.

  “So, what you are suggesting is that whoever it is that’s wanting me killed paid this man to do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But how would they know we were staying in the hotel? For that matter, how would they even know that the train spent the night here?”

  “I told you before that I thought there might be someone traveling with us whose sole purpose is to keep an eye on you and to report back. Now, I’m sure of it.”

  “Who would that be, do you think? Do you have any ideas?”

  “Yes, I have an idea. I think it might be the conductor.”

  “Mr. Kelly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, let’s go to the railroad and have him replaced. I’m sure I have enough influence to get that done,” John suggested.

  “No, not yet,” Matt replied. “Let’s leave him where he is. Better the devil you know, than the one you don’t know. I intend to stay alert until we reach Chicago.”

  “Oh, I appreciate that, believe me I do,” John said, “especially as the attempt last night started with my daughter.”

  “That’s another thing I’ve been wondering about,” Matt said. “I can see where you might have made some enemies in all your business dealings. But why would they want to kill Mary Beth? What has she done to make her a target?”

  “I don’t know that they have specifically included her,” John replied. “I think it’s just that she has been with me every time an attempt has been made.”

  “Perhaps that is so,” Matt replied. “But at any rate, I do intend to stay with you all the way to Chicago and back.”

  “Have you ever been to Chicago, Matt?” Mary Beth asked.

  “Yes. I once helped a friend of mine deliver some horses to Chicago.”2

  “Good, then you know how much fun Chicago can be. Papa, perhaps Matt and I can attend the theater while we are there.”

  “Well, that would be up to Matt, wouldn’t it?” John asked.

  Matt chuckled. “I can’t think of anything that would give me more pleasure than to go to the theater with a beautif
ul young woman.”

  “Then that’s what we will do. And afterward we can have a very expensive dinner, all on Papa’s money.”

  John laughed out loud.

  “You can find more ways to spend my money than anyone could possibly imagine.”

  “Well, what difference does it make, Papa, whether I spend it now, or I spend it later? It will all be mine someday anyway. You told me so yourself.”

  “So I did, darlin’, so I did,” John said. “Matt, I do hope you enjoy your time in Chicago with my daughter.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  It will all be mine someday, anyway. Matt didn’t say anything about Mary Beth’s remark, but he did make a mental note of it.

  “Mr. Kelly, I have a telegram for you. It just arrived about fifteen minutes ago,” the Western Union operator said when he saw Kelly walking through the depot.

  USING HOTEL INFORMATION SUPPLIED BY YOU STOP I HIRED SOMEONE LAST NIGHT STOP WAS JOB ACCOMPLISHED

  LC

  “Have you seen Mr. Gillespie this morning?” Kelly asked the telegrapher.

  “Yes, sir, he stopped in to pick up a telegraph message no more than half an hour ago.”

  “What did the message say?”

  “Well now, Mr. Kelly, you know I can’t tell you what a private telegram says.”

  Kelly gave the telegrapher a five-dollar bill, and after looking around to make certain he wasn’t being watched, the telegrapher gave Kelly the pad on which he took the original message.

  Believe you may be right about Keaton stop Will inform sheriff in Cheyenne to investigate stop Think you might be out of danger now stop

  Kelly had no idea who the telegram was from, but he was pleased that Gillespie might think the danger is over. He thought about the telegram he had just received from Conroy. Was there another attempt made on Gillespie last night? If so, the attempt failed, and in so doing may have also alerted Gillespie to the fact that he was still in danger.