Rockford, Illinois
Kelly began collecting the tickets as soon as the train left the station in Rockford. One of the men handed him an ace of spades along with his ticket.
“You’re too late,” Kelly said. “Didn’t you notice that Gillespie’s private car is no longer attached?”
“That’s not why I’m here,” the passenger said.
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m here to settle up with you and Mr. Calhoun.”
“Settle up?”
“Yes. Apparently you are still owed something.”
“Yes,” Kelly said. He wondered if Conroy had forgotten that he had already given him the entire five hundred dollars in advance. “Yes, I’m owed five hundred dollars. And I’m sure Julius is owed some money as well.”
“Is there someplace we can go to meet in private? I don’t want to do business here in this car.”
“Yes, we can go to the baggage car,” Kelly said.
Five minutes later, Kelly and Calhoun were meeting with the passenger in the baggage car.
“I’m glad Conroy understands that it wasn’t my fault that Gillespie left the train before the job could be completed,” Kelly said.
“Oh, Conroy is no longer around,” the passenger said.
“What do mean he is no longer around?”
“He was hired to do something, and he failed, so he was killed.”
“What?”
“You two failed as well.”
“Now, hold on there,” Kelly said. “I didn’t fail! All I was supposed to do was . . .”
The sound of two gunshots filled the baggage car. Then, with Kelly and Calhoun lying on the floor, the passenger slid open the door, and dragging the two bodies to the door, pushed both of them off the train.
After that, he returned to his seat.
Davenport, Iowa
John Gillespie’s private car was backed onto a sidetrack at the Davenport depot where they had arranged to spend the night. John and Mary Beth were sleeping in their private rooms, and Matt slept in one of the comfortable chairs. He slept well enough, though he was awakened several times during the night by the arrival and departure of all the trains.
Early the next morning, a shrill whistle awakened him and he yawned and stretched, then got up and stared out into the darkness, wondering what time it was. His internal clock told him it was probably about five, but he couldn’t be sure. When the door to Mary Beth’s roomette opened, he looked over toward her.
“Oh, my, it’s still dark outside. What time is it?”
“I think it is about five o’clock,” Matt said.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever been up this early. Or if so, I certainly don’t remember it.”
“This is my favorite time of day,” Matt said.
Mary Beth laughed. “Yes, you strike me as someone who would be an early riser. Oh, would you like me to make a pot of coffee?”
“That would be most welcome, yes, thank you,” Matt said.
Within a few minutes, the car was permeated by the rich aroma of coffee. Mary Beth poured two cups and brought one over to Matt.
“Thanks,” Matt said as he accepted the cup.
Mary Beth sat on the couch with her legs folded under her, the position causing her knees to make little tents in her skirt. Lifting the cup to her lips, she smiled at Matt.
“Tell me, Matt, why is it that you have never married?”
“How do you know that I haven’t?”
“Oh?” Mary Beth’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t know.”
Matt laughed. “I’ve never been married, because the life I live doesn’t support being married.”
“You can’t support it? But I know my father has paid you very well to be our bodyguard for this trip.”
“I wasn’t talking about money. I mean I’ve never settled down in any one place. One month I’ll be working as a railroad detective, the next I’ll be deputy sheriff in one place, and a month later a deputy U.S. Marshal somewhere else. I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a very good husband.”
“Oh, I think if you found the right woman, she would be happy to take you, any way you are.”
“What’s all the talking out here?” John said, coming from his roomette then. “How is a man supposed to get any sleep?”
“It’s just that some of us don’t intend to sleep until noon,” Mary Beth replied, teasing her father.
“What time is it, anyway?” John asked. He examined the watch that he had pulled from his pocket. “Good heavens, it’s only five thirty. No wonder it’s still dark outside.”
John bent down to look through the window. “It’s not only dark, it is also very foggy,” he said.
“I made coffee,” Mary Beth said.
“Yes, it smells good. It’s too early for breakfast, but I think a cup of coffee would be very welcome.”
The three talked until sunup, with Matt finding humorous ways to be self-deprecating in the stories he told.
“Papa, tell Matt how you met Mama,” Mary Beth said. “I think that was so romantic.”
“I saw a man berating her in Central Park, I stepped in between them, told him if he struck her, I would beat him to within an inch of his life.”
“Ah . . . then you became her hero,” Matt said.
“Not immediately. Turns out he was her fiancé, and for him to be berated like that in front of her was more than he could take. He broke off the engagement.” John laughed. “After that, I felt that the only gentlemanly thing for me to do was to step up and propose to her.”
“You mean, right there, right then?” Matt asked.
“Yes.”
“And she accepted your proposal?”
“Not right away. But over the next two weeks I was persistent enough until finally she did. She was a beautiful woman, and it was a wonderful marriage.”
John was quiet for a moment, and he bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I miss her more than I can say.”
“Oh, Papa, I’m so sorry I brought up a painful memory,” Mary Beth said.
John looked up at his daughter with a sad smile. “Nonsense, my dear,” he said. “No memory of your mother is painful.”
There was a knock on door then, and cautiously, Matt got up to answer it. It was the engineer for the leased locomotive.
“Could I speak to Mr. Gillespie?” the engineer asked.
“Yes, Mr. Sharp, what can I do for you?” John asked, stepping up to the door then.
“I just thought I should tell you that we won’t be able to leave until one o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Since we aren’t on the regular schedule we’ll have to take our turn at getting track clearance.”
“All right. Assuming we can leave by one, what time would that put us into Assumption?”
“Well, that’s another problem. We’re going to have to spend tomorrow night in Peoria. The way they have us scheduled now, we won’t get to Assumption until seven o’clock on the eighth.”
“My speech is to be given on Friday the eleventh. You have no doubt but that you will be able to get me there in time, do you?”
“No, these delays are because I didn’t try and get the track scheduled far enough in advance. But I’ll start getting us clearance into Chicago as soon as we get to Assumption. I don’t figure we’ll have any trouble with it at all.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Sharp.”
Assumption, Illinois
Muley Sullivan read the telegram that had just been delivered to him.
JOHN GILLESPIE AND DAUGHTER TO ARRIVE IN ASSUMPTION ON A PRIVATE CAR ATTACHED TO A LEASED LOCOMOTIVE STOP PLEASE REINSTATE PLAN AS DISCUSSED WITH YOU IN A PREVIOUS MEETING BETWEEN US STOP FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS HAS BEEN WIRED TO COVER EXPENSES
Muley smiled at the news. The plan mentioned in the telegram was to kill John Gillespie and his daughter, but after the coal miners’ strike was settled, the plan was dropped. Then, the offer had been two hundred and fifty dollars. Now, it was five hundred.
&n
bsp; With the telegram tightly clutched in his hand, Muley went to the Western Union office to see if the money had actually been wired.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Sullivan, the money has been transferred,” the telegrapher said when Muley inquired. “All you have to do is sign this receipt. That’s a lot of money. What do you have to do for this, kill someone?”
The telegrapher laughed at his own joke.
“That’s enough to kill for, ain’t it?” Muley replied, laughing as well.
September 8, 8:15 p.m.
It was dark when the train rolled into Assumption, and as had been done in Davenport, the car was backed onto a sidetrack. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the car door.
“Mr. Gillespie, it’s me, Sharp, the engineer.”
John opened the door. “Yes, Mr. Sharp, what can I do for you?”
“I was just wonderin’ if you got ’ny idea when you’ll be wantin’ to leave here? Reason I ask is, I’ll need to get started right away on settin’ up the track schedule.”
“Oh, I’d say Thursday afternoon sometime,” John replied.
“Good, that gives me two days. That’s plenty of time. But if you don’t need me ’n Benny now, we’re goin’ to go over to the Track House to get us some supper and a bed for the night.”
“You go right ahead. We’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Yes, sir, good night, Mr. Gillespie. Good night, ma’am, and sir,” Sharp said.
“Good night,” the three replied.
“Papa, you’ve been here before,” Mary Beth said after Sharp left. “Do you know any good restaurants?”
“I know a French restaurant that’s pretty good,” John said. “Would you like to have dinner there?”
“Yes,” Mary Beth said. “That is, if you don’t mind, Matt. You might not like French food.”
Matt laughed. “So far I haven’t discovered any food that I don’t like.”
Chapter Thirty
Ned Stone and Ruben Harrell had watched the abbreviated train arrive, a locomotive pulling a single car. Through the lighted windows they could see three people in the car, and they knew that because the car was brightly lit inside, and it was dark and foggy outside, that the people in the car would not be able to see them. And that was just the way they wanted it.
“You think that’s them?” Ruben asked.
“How many trains has come in here today with there bein’ just one car attached to it?” Ned replied.
“Far as I know this here ’n is the only one,” Ruben said. “Onliest thang is, they’s three people in that car, and we was only told about two people.”
“More’n likely this here is the one, on account of we was told it would be only one car attached ’n it would be comin’ in tonight. It don’t make no nevermind to me whether it has two people or three. We was told there’d be a man ’n a woman in it, and there’s a man ’n a woman, which you can plainly see through the winder lights.”
“I expect you’re right.”
“Who is it you reckon that wants ’em dead?” Ruben asked.
“It’s Muley Sullivan that’s payin’ us to do the job. But I don’t think he’s the one what actual wants it done, I think he’s just arrangin’ it. Anyhow, what difference does it make? The money spends just as good no matter who it is that wants it done, don’t it?” Ned said
Ruben laughed. “Yeah, you got that right. The money spends just as good, no matter where you get it. Do you think he’ll really pay us?” Ruben asked.
“Sure he will. We’ve done things for him before ’n he’s always paid. What makes you think he won’t pay this time?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that he ain’t never offered to pay us this much before.”
“He’ll pay. Shh! Here they come.”
“Where we goin’ to do it?”
“I don’t know yet. We’ll follow ’em until we figure out the best place.”
When Matt, John, and Mary Beth took a table in the restaurant, none of them noticed the two men who came in right behind them. Ned and Ruben sat on the opposite side of the room. They chose a table that was far enough away so as not to be noticed, but one that was positioned so as to allow them to keep an eye on their prey.
“Oh, good,” Mary Beth said as she picked up the menu. “I’m going to get an opportunity to try my French.”
“How is the lamb?” she asked when the waiter approached their table.
“It is quite good, Madam.”
“Then I think I will have agneau aux petits pois à la crème,” Mary Beth said.
“Excellent choice, madam,” the waiter said. “The creamed peas are excellent today. And you, sir?” he asked John.
“Roti de boeuf avec pommes de terre,” John said.
“You will enjoy it, sir. Our beef is superb. And you, sir?”
Matt looked at the menu and saw the words saumon au four. He assumed that was salmon, though he wasn’t sure how it was being prepared. He knew for sure that he wasn’t going to try and pronounce it.
“I’ll have the salmon,” he said.
“Au four?”
Matt had no idea what au four meant, and he looked up at the waiter.
“Baked?” the waiter asked.
“Yes.”
“I would like to go see Morris tomorrow,” John said as they waited for their meal. “As I knew when I spoke with Mitchell, I believe I will know when I see him, whether or not he is the one who is trying to kill me.”
“If he isn’t the one, who would that leave?” Matt asked.
“Well, I don’t want to be tooting my own horn, but Gillespie Enterprises is one of the largest enterprises in America . . . if not in the world. I have well over one thousand employees, it could be any one of them, I suppose. And it could also be someone who isn’t a part of the company at all, but feels that I might be competing unfairly with them, in some way.”
“But you chose Morris, Keaton, and Mitchell as your primary suspects,” Matt said.
“Yes. Well, I didn’t, Drew did. But I think he was quite justified in making those choices.”
The conversation grew more casual until the waiter returned, pushing a cart that held their meals, each plate under a silver dome.
Across the room from Matt and the others, Ned and Ruben were eating their own supper, all the while keeping an eye on the three they had seen leave the private car.
“They’re fixin’ to leave,” Ruben said after a while.
“Wait until they are out of the restaurant before we get up,” Ned suggested.
The darkness and the fog made it very difficult to see more than just a few feet.
“Oh, I hope we don’t get lost,” Mary Beth said.
“We won’t get lost. This is the way we came,” Matt said. “All we have to do is walk back this way, and when we get close enough to the depot, there will be enough lights to guide us the rest of the way.”
“This is a very spooky night,” Mary Beth said. “If I were by myself, I would be scared to death.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth before two men suddenly jumped out in front of them. Both men were holding pistols.
“Oh!” Mary Beth gasped.
“Are you planning on robbing us?” John asked. “I have to tell you, I never carry much money on my person. I think you might find robbing us could get you into more trouble than it is worth.”
“Robbin’ you?” one of the men said. “Well, I hadn’t thought none about that. What do you think, Ruben? Think we should rob ’em after we kill ’em?”
“Kill us?” Mary Beth asked in a frightened voice.
“Why do you want to kill us?” John asked.
“We’re gettin’ paid to. That’s why.”
“Who is payin’ you? Morris?”
“No, it ain’t Morris.”
“Hey, Ned, it could be. You said that Muley was gettin’ paid by someone else to have these folks kilt, didn’t you?” Ruben asked.
“Yeah, that’s right, Muley did sa
y that,” Ned replied.
He looked back toward Matt, John, and Mary Beth. “I don’t know whether Morris is the one that paid Muley or not, but it sure as hell ain’t goin’ to make no difference to you nohow.”
“Why won’t it make any difference to us?” Matt asked.
“On account of ’cause you’re all three goin’ to be dead.”
“I don’t think so,” Matt said.
“What do you mean, you don’t think so? Are you crazy?” Ned asked. He held his gun up. “Do you see this gun?”
In a move that was so fast that it left Ned gasping in shock, Matt reached out and snatched the gun from his hand. “Do you mean do I see this gun?” he asked.
Cocking the pistol, he pointed it toward Ruben.
“Drop that gun,” he said.
“Are you crazy, mister? Can’t you see that I’m pointing this gun right at this feller?” Ruben said.
“Yes, and that’s where you have made your big mistake. You see, you’re pointing your gun at him, instead of me, while I’m pointing this gun right at you.”
“Matt, if he kills me, I want you to kill him,” John said.
“Oh, I will, you can count on that. In fact, I will kill both of them.”
“I mean it. I will kill him,” Ruben said.
“Oh, I’m sure you do mean it. Go ahead and do it, but just understand that if you shoot him, I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill your friend here. So is it worth you dying, just to see my friend killed? You and your friend can live, or you can both die. Now, which will it be?”
Ruben held the gun for a moment longer, licking his lips nervously.
“For God’s sake, Ruben, drop the damn gun!” Ned shouted.
Ruben dropped the gun, and Matt bent down to pick it up. Then he threw Ruben’s gun and the gun he was holding into the storm drain. That done, he drew his own gun and pointed it at the two men.
“Now, Ned, Ruben, that’s your names?”
“Yeah,” Ruben said, the reply little more than a growl. “That’s our names.”
The Great Train Massacre Page 22