“Sean, this is Deputy US Marshal John Pope. He is investigating a plot to shoot the president. His investigation has implicated these two, who I think you will recognize as Marxist conspirators. They are two of the three men involved. My men and I came to assist by identifying them.
“When the marshal attempted to take them into custody, they pulled guns. He pulled faster and killed them both. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never.
“Sean, it was as clean a shoot as anyone could imagine. You write it up and the marshal will come downtown in the morning and give you his statement. Then, he has to get back to Washington and report all clear to the attorney general.
“Marshal, please give the sergeant one of your unfired rounds so the coroner can compare calibers. Sean, you will see it’s a .44-40. Not something you will see around the city. It’s a Wild West cartridge carried by a Wild West lawman.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Conkling. Marshal Pope, report to Detective Fusco at headquarters tomorrow morning after nine. I will make sure he is expecting you and will get you in and out real fast,” the sergeant said.
The four men walked slowly away from the scene. Pope reloaded his Smith & Wesson as he walked.
A woman with glossy black hair and blue eyes joined them after a block. Taking everyone but Pope by surprise.
“Mr. Conkling, this is my partner, Wells Fargo Detective Sarah Watson Pope,” Pope said.
“An honor, Mrs. Pope. How is your old employer, Allan Pinkerton doing? I’ve known him for years, but lost contact,” Conkling replied.
Was there anything or anyone this man didn’t know, Pope thought, saying nothing.
Sarah did not miss a beat.
“I am afraid Allan is doing poorly. He had a stroke last year and seems to be on his last legs. I have not mentioned it to John yet, but I need to stop in Chicago on the way back West and see him. Probably for the last time.”
“Please give him this card and express my best wishes for a good recovery.”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
“Mr. Conkling, thank you for your help on this. The president will be made fully aware you were instrumental in breaking up this cabal.”
Conkling gave two more cards to Pope. One for the president and one, he said, for the two detectives to keep in case they “ever needed anything in New York”.
Sarah and Pope knew Conkling’s definition of “anything” was very broad in their case.
Conkling had a carriage waiting conveniently a few blocks away from the scene. He gave them a ride to their hotel and rode off into history. A great friend, a bad enemy.
“Honey, we need to get to Washington as soon as possible. But first a telegram to Lincoln. On the outside chance we’ve missed a member of the Marxist group, we need to have Arthur covered heavily at the statue event. I cannot leave until I sign a statement with this Detective Fusco person.”
They checked out of their hotel. Pope met with Fusco quickly and made the southbound train to Washington just after the one Sarah had taken just in case he was delayed. He arrived well before the dedication of the new monument.
The telegram to the secretary of war preceded them by hours. They had time to stop by the house and clean up. Pope found a saw with May’s help and sawed the butt off Sarah’s shotgun, leaving only the pistol grip. The result was a powerful weapon which would fit in her largest purse. She took it to the dedication when they left to scan the area hours before any dignitaries arrived.
The Washington police officers were putting up rope barricades. One stopped Pope, who showed him the deputy marshal badge and explained his presence.
Pope and Sarah identified several windows which would offer good shooting points for a sniper with a target rifle.
They entered the buildings, one commercial, one residential, and interviewed residents. The asked the commercial building to lock off the floor with the offending windows once they found the floor was storage only.
The several residential windows were in the apartment of an elderly couple Pope and Sarah did not feel offered a threat.
They checked trash receptacles and around the monument itself for any type of explosives, such as dynamite. Nothing was found. They were being careful though Nelson said the plan was for all three to shoot Arthur at the same time.
The two detectives remained on station until the dignitaries arrived. Pope was glad to see his President’s House security team escorting the president.
There was one protestor with a sign. It said, “Share the wealth,” which the two detectives thought might have been a subtle socialist or communist saying. He was a fairly well-dressed man of about forty with wild hair.
Sarah walked over to him and flashed her gold Wells Fargo badge so fast he could not read it. She then stood beside him.
“You have the right to protest. But the president has the right to speak without you interrupting. Do so and you will suffer dire consequences,” she told the man.
In case he was a decoy for a real shooter, Pope stood back and studied the crowd. He saw Lincoln and Brewster. Neither would have usually attended a statue dedication. This was special though as the original site of the threat. They saw Pope in the crowd and Sarah next to the sign carrier.
Chester Arthur gave a short speech and looked into the crowd. He saw the sign and the woman standing next to the man holding it. He recognized Sarah instantly and beamed at her.
I might have to shoot him myself, Pope thought.
Lincoln and Brewster had advised the president of the threat and who had investigated and mitigated it prior to their departing for the monument.
He was stunned but appreciative to them, the Popes, and his old friend Conkling.
Arthur was not dismayed the Popes took permanent action against his would-be assassins. He had his secretary begin to do a complete dossier on the two out of curiosity. Especially about Sarah. He had no idea what dangerous ground he was treading.
After the dedication and ribbon cutting and the usual butt kissing which follows such an appearance, the president mentioned to Brewster he would like to have him, Lincoln, and the Popes join him for lunch. Brewster, suspicious of motives, immediately said, “Mr. President, I believe the Popes are leaving directly for San Francisco. I’m afraid it may be too late to catch them.”
He was an observant man. He saw Arthur looking at Sarah. And, more importantly, Pope’s cold stare back at him in return. He did not know exactly what Pope was thinking, but he hit pretty close.
Pope and Sarah had virtually no packing to do at the house in Washington. They spoke with May.
“How would you like to come back West with us? We are not sure where we will end up, but you are welcome to have a job and home for life,” Sarah offered.
“Oh, Sarah. You two are so sweet. What you don’t know is I already do. The owner of this house is my nephew. I am his only kin. He has willed it to me in the tragic event he dies abroad with the military. But he is a confirmed bachelor and needs me to take care of him like the mother I have been for the rest of either of our days. Otherwise, I would jump at the chance to go with you and John. You feel like family and have treated me like a family member instead of a housekeeper or employee.
“Do you know where you are going with Wells Fargo?” May asked.
“May, we have not got a clue,” Pope said in true detective fashion. It was a bit worrisome to him. He did not want to get too far from his grandfather as Israel aged. Sarah only had several surviving family members and did not speak often or fondly of any of them.
Before leaving Washington, Pope went to a jeweler with one of Sarah’s rings and bought another ring to quietly hold for her.
Both stopped at the secretary of war’s office late in the afternoon.
“Is there anything else you need from us? Further report elaboration?” Pope asked.
“No, John. I think the case is closed thanks to the two of you. The president wanted you two, Ben and me to join him for lunch this week. Ben feared he might have an
ulterior motive and said you had already left. Hope you concur with Ben’s gut reaction.”
“I certainly do, Robert,” Pope said. Sarah nodded.
“Our train leaves in the morning. I’d like to say goodbye to my team at the President’s House, but just as soon avoid bumping into Arthur. So, I will write to them.”
“As will I to my little friend at the Library of Congress, such as it is,” Sarah said.
“What’s on the agenda for you two now?” Lincoln asked.
“We honestly have no idea. If you would, telegraph Lloyd Tevis and copy James Hume at Wells Fargo and tell him we fulfilled what you needed and are on the way back.”
“Of course. Your investigation was thorough and brought to a permanent conclusion. More than Ben and I could have asked. As a bonus, I am keeping you on the payroll for another three months but releasing you at your leisure.”
“Thank you, Robert. It’s most generous of you. Here is your provost marshal badge. And here is the deputy US marshal badge to give to Ben,” Pope said.
“Ben already addressed the matter of his badge. He would like for you to stay sworn and keep it. It will be good as long—or short—as he is attorney general.”
“Please thank him. It has been a pleasure working for both of you.”
Both detectives shook with Abraham Lincoln’s son and departed.
Not trusting Arthur’s probable amorous attempts, Pope suggested they find a hotel near the train depot for an early start. Sarah knew exactly what he was doing but said nothing. He suggested she start her night in the new little shift. She did not require more urging than a mere suggestion. Soon, it was in a pile at the foot of the bed.
The next morning, their sojourn in the East ended. They were steaming towards the west coast and totally unaware of what turn their careers might take.
6
The trip certainly had not sped up since they went from California to Washington. Both enjoyed train rides. Though Pope loved to be on the trail with Caesar, trains were better than his trusty horse for crossing vast expanses.
They talked a lot about life. At least as much as they could not knowing where Wells Fargo would send them.
“Sarah, I think we should get married. We could tell the general world we want to go back and have a church wedding. People could make their own assumptions.
If we took this approach, we could have Grandpa and Millie, Hume, Thatcher, Morse, maybe the Kanes if they wanted to travel so far, and whoever from your family outside of Chicago you want.”
“Is this a proposal, John?”
“You have an open proposal. This is just the next discussion about it. I figure if we don’t do something, we will miss a perfect opportunity.”
“So, a business decision?” she asked. He was not sure whether it was in jest or serious.
“No. It is a plausibly deniable opportunity to speed up what we both want,” he said.
She thought about this for a few minutes as the train rumbled across the southern part of Illinois.
“I think you are right. I love you totally. Do you have a question to ask?”
“Sarah, will you marry me?” he asked.
“Yes, I will happily marry you.”
Then, he shocked her with a diamond ring set. She was speechless. Something he would gloat on for years. He had finally made her speechless.
“John, it’s beautiful. I love it! It fits perfectly.”
“Of course, it does. I took one of your left hand rings with me,” he admitted.
“Handsome and brilliant. And still the fastest gun in America, if not the world. Do they have fast guns outside of the US?” she asked.
“Maybe. I doubt it.”
“Where would we have this wedding?” Sarah asked.
“San Francisco? Wherever you want.”
“What denomination church should we use?”
“Any church whose pastor or priest or whatever will marry us,” Pope said. “But we should, as a current couple, know where we are going to live and buy a house first. Even if it’s not in San Francisco,” he added.
“You know, John, Wells Fargo has a horrible reputation of moving its employees around the country.”
“Yes, it has been worrying me. A lot, actually.”
“What could we do?”
“One option is to take over Grandpa’s ranch. He and Millie seem to like the cabin in the woods in Marin County better. Maybe I could run for sheriff and you could run the ranch. Along with me, of course.”
“So, you think we are destined to leave Wells Fargo?” she asked.
“I fear so, honey.”
“John, what do you think of the ranch?” she asked.
“Well, I grew up there. But I am tied to Israel Pope, not the land. If I were to have land and raise anything, I would prefer it be a little more remote. Alameda is growing way too fast for me.”
“Let’s keep considering options. We will plan the wedding in San Francisco. There is nobody in my family I care about coming to it. We will see what Hume offers us and take it or not. Probably not. We will see what Israel wants to do about the ranch. He might want to sell it and split the money with you. Or he may want to sell it and buy a big piece of land adjacent to his Marin cabin. We could put a cabin on it. One day, you will get his land anyway. I think we should ask his advice. He’s pretty wise and several of our alternatives depend on what he does anyway,” Sarah said.
“You sold me,” her partner responded. “I really do like where Grandpa is across the Bay. I don’t know what their sheriff situation is. I may still be a Deputy US Marshal, but even if Arthur had me appointed the US marshal for the district, I’d have to work in San Francisco. And my job would disappear as soon as another party took the presidency.”
7
A day later, their northbound connection stopped at Chicago and they climbed down from the train. Baggage including long guns secured at the train station, they took a cab to 80 Washington Street, the headquarters of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.
They took a chance the stroke-stricken sixty-five-year-old founder was in the office.
As Sarah suspected, he was and agreed to see one of his favorites immediately.
“Sarah,” he said in his Scottish brogue. Pinkerton tried to rise from his desk but could not.
Sarah walked over to the famous detective and kissed him on the cheek. He beamed like an adolescent.
“Who is this over tall young man you have in tow, Sarah?” the short stocky Scot asked.
“My husband, Detective John Pope, Allan.”
“I have read about you, Detective Pope. You are a gunfighter detective. Killed more men than Billy the Kid or Jesse James. Both of them, thank heavens, have met their rewards. So, you won the hand of the second-best woman detective in America?”
“No, sir. I won the hand of the first best.”
“Well, you are right. Kate Warne was the best and saved Abraham Lincoln. She’s gone now, God rest her soul. So, Sarah is, as you say, number one.
“What brings you two to the Windy City?” he asked.
“Just to see you, Allan. We were so close.”
“Aye, I’m glad you came. Time is running out for me, Sarah.”
“Oh, Allan. You will outlive all of us. You are far too mean to ever die.”
“Ha! I wish. Were you back east?” he asked.
“We were, sir,” Pope said.
“We were requested by the secretary of war and the attorney general to be transferred to the government. There had been a threat against President Arthur, and we were asked to mitigate it.”
“An awfully big word for a young man schooled by a mountain man,” Pinkerton said, proving he knew more than he seemed upon meeting Pope.
“He was a very well-read mountain man, Mr. Pinkerton,” Pope replied calmly, not showing a whit of the anger he felt at the contemptuous older man.
“Robert’s father would have contacted me. I guess the apple fell a ways from the tree. He will neve
r be the man his father was,” Pinkerton said.
“I suspect few could be the man your dear friend and admirer, Abe was, Allan,” Sarah said softening the subject.
“So, what lies ahead for the two of you?” he asked, turning to Sarah and effectively dismissing Pope.
“We will find out in several days, Allan. Right now, we have no idea whatsoever,” Sarah said.
“Well, tell Hume I said look after you, Sarah. Tell him when I go, he might be the number one detective. Him or Morse. It would be a big jump for either.”
“I trust he will. He has always been fair to John and me both.”
Seeing just these few minutes were tiring the great detective, Sarah bid her adieus and the two left.
“Is it the stroke, or has he always been an ass?” Pope asked.
“He always was a bit of an ass, but today he was ruder and more argumentative than I have ever seen him. He was not even a gracious host. I am sorry I subjected you to him,” Sarah said.
“I have dealt with far worse. Sad, though,” he said almost pensively. “I have read all of his books. He was always a bit of a hero to me. No longer, I’m afraid.”
“John, he did not save Lincoln like we saved Arthur. He did not get Jesse James. He lost a lot of credibility when Pinkertons became a strike breaker and beat or shot American workers. I suspect he looks back on his life as a failure. Kate Warne was very special to him. She died young and he buried her in his plot. He will probably be buried next to her. Something which did not thrill his wife and sons, I’m sure. Seeing him like this breaks my heart, John.”
He nodded to her and squeezed her hand as they walked back towards the Northwestern Depot. He held her left hand up and the diamond sparkled in the sun. She smiled at him, momentarily getting past the sorrow over the decline of her old friend and boss.
Several days later, they pulled into San Francisco. A quick ride to their rooming house found the adjacent rooms safe, but musty from weeks without ventilation.
They aired the rooms out, took clothes to the Chinese laundry down the street and prepared to see Hume the following morning.
Shooting For Justice Page 14