Trail of Blood

by Paul Green

  Brad Gunter shrugged. ‘If you spend enough time down there, it’s bound to rub off on you. How much did you say the room was?’

  ‘It’s twelve dollars for the whole week, including breakfast and dinner. How long do you plan on staying?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet, it depends on business. Here’s the money for one week in advance and I’ll take my meals in my room if you don’t mind.’

  Mrs Ingram shoved the dollar bills into her the pocket of her apron. ‘That’s fine Mr Stevens. I do hope you enjoy seeing President Hayes tomorrow. Isn’t it exciting?’

  Gunter removed his spectacles and wiped them with a large handkerchief as he looked back at her. ‘Yes, Mrs Ingram. I’d say that excitement is pretty much guaranteed.’

  There was something in those cold blue eyes that made her shiver but she dismissed the sensation as she turned to leave the room. Meanwhile her guest leaned out of the window and looked down intently at the view below. Everything was going exactly according to plan.

  Bill and Calvert arrived at Fort Scott the next morning, ahead of the president’s train. They walked up and down the length of the railway depot and searched the station buildings but found only railwaymen going about their daily business, none of whom had seen a fair haired blue eyed man hanging around or anything they considered suspicious.

  ‘Maybe Gunter doesn’t plan on making his attempt at the depot’ suggested Bill.

  ‘No, I think it must be here. There’s plenty of open space and places where an assassin could hide. It will be much easier for him to make his escape afterwards.’

  There was nothing to do but watch and wait as the state dignitaries turned up, including the governor and his entourage and the crowds gathered to cheer the arrival of their president. As the whistle blew and the train finally drew into the station, Bill scanned his surroundings and then suddenly spotted an open window. He nudged his companion and pointed at it excitedly before the two men began to push their way through the throng of people, Calvert holding up his marshal’s badge as he shouted at them to make way.

  Brad Gunter had now changed into the uniform of a major in the US army. The forged papers he carried identified him as an aide to General Sherman but he thought it unlikely that he would be challenged when he made his escape in the confused aftermath of the assassination. He fitted the stock of the pocket rifle snugly against his shoulder and prepared to take aim as the train drew in to the station. At that moment there was a knock at the door followed by the entry of Martha Ingram.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, Mr Stevens but there’s no chance of seeing anything down there because it’s so crowded...’

  Gunter swung around in one agile, fluid motion. The widow barely had time to take in the sight of her tenant dressed in military uniform and holding a rifle before the bullet smashed into her forehead at point blank range and she fell backwards, the look of horror frozen on her face.

  Gunter turned back to the window, cursing as he realised that his best chance of getting a clear shot had now passed. Hayes had stepped down from the train and the crowd pressed in on him from all sides. Then there was the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs. Had someone heard the shot? What was happening? Gunter took only a second to make his decision. Dropping the rifle, he scrambled out on to the roof and leaped nimbly across to the next building before climbing down to the street below.

  His pursuers burst into the room just after Gunter had left. Calvert knelt down beside the dead woman and gently closed her eyes.

  ‘She’s still warm.’

  ‘So is the rifle’ said Bill, picking it up. He leaned out of the window but there was no sign of anyone. ‘Damn, he got away.’

  Calvert stood up. ‘Well, we’d best get back and tell President Hayes about what’s happened.’

  ‘What about Gunter?

  The marshal shrugged. ‘He’s missed his chance and probably gone into hiding. We’ll have to get a search going and pick him up later.’

  ‘Gunter’s not the type to give up easily. He may try again.’

  Calvert stood up. ‘If he does, we won’t know when or where that’s likely to be or what disguise he’ll use. Maybe our best hope of stopping him is to stick close to the president.’

  While President Hayes continued his tour of Fort Scott, Gunter headed off into the crowded streets to ensure he had not been followed. He caught sight of his reflection in a shop window and stared at it for a moment. Surely his uniform and forged papers would allow him access to the presidential train? Gunter had not considered the idea of an attack at close quarters but now began to see advantages in such a plan. The element of surprise would be even greater, there was no chance of missing a shot and he could escape simply by jumping off. His mind made up, he doubled back and headed for the rail depot.

  There was a guard on the train at all times and the one on duty that day was surprised when the officer approached and introduced himself as Major Fleming.

  ‘Can I see your ticket please?’

  Gunter handed him his papers. ‘That’s my ticket. This is an emergency and I’m acting under orders from General Sherman to ensure the protection of the president.’

  ‘It’s just that my orders are not to let anyone on board who doesn’t have a ticket for this journey.’

  Gunter nodded curtly. ‘I know that but I’ve just been drafted in. Now, we’ve received reports that President Hayes may be in danger so you’d best step aside and let me on board.’

  The guard looked at the papers he had been handed which included instructions to all civilian and military personnel to render Major Fleming every possible assistance in the performance of his duties. Then he looked up again and nervously met the officer’s unflinching gaze.

  ‘Well, in that case, you’d better come aboard, sir.’

  ‘You’re damn right I’d better. Now, what’s your name?’

  ‘I’m Simpson, sir.’

  Gunter looked down the length of the first carriage as he climbed aboard. ‘Now, it’s very important job you’ve got here, Simpson and I’m going to need your help. Do you have a guard’s compartment, somewhere I can position myself and watch what’s going on?’

  Simpson gestured ahead of him. ‘It’s this way, sir.’

  When he was shown inside, Gunter sat down and gestured for the guard to take a seat opposite him. Then he leaned forward and adopted a conspiratorial tone.

  ‘Now, I’m going to risk taking you into my confidence, Simpson. It’s very important that President Hayes is not alarmed in any way and that no-one on board acts any differently to normal because that might alert the assassin. You can help me by not mentioning my presence to anyone else on the train. Absolute secrecy is essential. Is that clear?’

  Simpson nodded. ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘You can also help by keeping me informed of where the president is on the train, what he’s doing and of anything unusual or suspicious that you see.’

  Simpson nodded again, more eagerly this time. ‘I’ll certainly do that sir.’

  Gunter smiled. ‘Good man. Now, just go about your normal business and act as if I’m not here.’

  When the guard had left, Gunter sat back with a sigh of satisfaction. Simpson had been made to feel important, probably for the first time in his life and would undoubtedly follow his instructions until he was disposed of. The killer then checked his revolver carefully. The next stop was at Parsons City but President Hayes would be dead before then.

  Bill and Calvert arrived back at the station shortly afterwards. Governor Wallace had given them a letter of introduction which explained that they were in pursuit of Brad Gunter and when the president returned the two men pushed their way to the front of the crowd. The tall, grey bearded figure of General Sherman stepped between them and Hayes as the president made his remarks of farewell. He noted the silver badge pinned to Calvert’s chest as the letter was handed to him and he briefly scanned its contents. Sherman turned and whispered to the president while the crowd applauded an
d he gestured for them to step forward.

  Moments later, Bill and Calvert found themselves seated in a railway carriage opposite the stocky, well built figure of Rutherford Hayes. The president removed his silk hat as the steam locomotive pulled out of the station.

  ‘What news do you have for me, gentlemen?’

  ‘Gunter planned to take a shot at you when you arrived at the depot this afternoon’ Calvert told him. ‘It was my associate here who spotted the open window on the top floor of a boarding house. Our man must have been disturbed just before we got there because we found the landlady shot dead and he left his rifle behind.’

  Mrs Lucy Hayes, a dark haired prim looking woman gasped with horror but her husband remained calm. He looked at Bill appraisingly.

  ‘You’re a very observant young man, Mr Douglas. I guess I have you to thank for being alive.’

  ‘Actually, Mr President, it was the poor woman who disturbed him you should thank. If he’d had the chance to take that first shot, we might not have got there in time.’

  ‘Where’s Gunter now?’ asked General Sherman.

  ‘He’s probably gone to ground somewhere but that doesn’t mean he won’t try again’ replied Calvert.

  ‘This hare brained plot of his to start up the confederacy again, that’s all finished now though isn’t it?’ remarked Hayes. ‘I mean, you recovered the money and know all the details. Perhaps he’ll just give up.’

  ‘Gunter doesn’t know that, Mr President’ Sherman pointed out.

  ‘What if a story were to appear in the newspapers explaining all this?’ asked Mrs Hayes. ‘Wouldn’t this Gunter realise that his cause is now hopeless?’

  Hayes patted his wife’s hand affectionately. ‘Unfortunately, if the whole country were to be aware of what had been planned, it would re-open all the old wounds of the civil war. There would be outrage and might even bring about the very conflict this rascal was trying to create.’

  ‘I think you’re right’ replied Bill. ‘Besides, Gunter’s so relentless and determined that he would still go ahead anyway, hoping that the assassination itself would be enough to start another war.’

  ‘I think you should consider cancelling your attendance at the Neosho Falls Valley Fair tomorrow’ said Sherman. ‘You’ll be out in the open and there will be tens of thousands of people there.’

  Hayes shook his head vigorously. ‘I can’t let all those people down by just not turning up. No, I’ll rely on these two gentlemen here to keep a sharp eye out for me. Now, what would you all say to a refreshing glass of lemonade?’

  Both Bill and Calvert would have preferred whiskey after all they had been through but the president and his wife were known for their strong temperance views. Mrs Hayes was not called ‘Lemonade Lucy’ for nothing. The two men accepted with a show of enthusiasm and settled down for the journey to Parsons.

  The train was picking up speed and Gunter glanced through the window as prairies and woodland flashed by. The guard entered his carriage.

  ‘We should reach Parsons in less than an hour. Two men got on at Fort Scott, an older man with a beard wearing a marshal’s badge and a younger one, in his twenties.’

  Gunter fought down the panic rising up from the pit of his stomach. Could it be that Douglas and Calvert had double crossed him and somehow found out what he was up to? He had to know! If it was them, they were undoubtedly armed.

  ‘Did you get their names?’

  Simpson thought for a moment. ‘I heard the older man calling the younger one Bill. They gave a letter to General Sherman and then the president let them on board. Are they with you?’

  ‘Those men are the reason I’m here, Simpson. They’re imposters. Where are they now?’

  The guard swallowed hard before he replied. ‘They’re with President Hayes in his carriage. My God, what are we going to do?’

  ‘Keep calm, Simpson’ urged Gunter. ‘Now, I want you to get those two men out of there for me. Tell them there’s an officer on board with a message for them. They’ll be suspicious but they’ll come. Then bring them both here but make sure you stay in front as you come back in.’

  The guard nodded and made his way to President Hayes’ carriage. He cleared his throat and knocked before entering.

  ‘Excuse me but there’s an officer on board with a message for the two gentlemen who boarded the train at Fort Scott.’

  It was Sherman who reacted suspiciously, however. ‘I didn’t bring any of my staff officers on this trip. What’s his name?’

  Simpson hesitated and eyed Bill and Calvert nervously as he replied. ‘It’s Major Fleming sir.’

  ‘There’s no Major Fleming on my staff. Does he have a ticket?’

  The guard shifted uncomfortably. ‘Not exactly sir.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? You know you were given strict instructions not to let anyone on without a ticket!’

  ‘He’s carrying an order signed by you requesting cooperation from all military and civilian personnel sir’ replied Simpson defensively.

  Sherman shook his head. ‘I’ve signed no such order. What else did he tell you?’

  The guard now realised that he had been duped. ‘I’m sorry but he said that there was an emergency, a threat to the life of President Hayes and that he was on the train to prevent it. He said that these two gentlemen here are part of it and that I was to bring them to him.’

  ‘What does this Fleming look like?’ asked Bill.

  ‘He’s about forty I guess, with blue eyes and dressed in army uniform. I... I thought I was doing the right thing letting him on. How could I have been so stupid?’

  ‘Well gentleman. I assume I am about to come face to face with Brad Gunter’ said President Hayes.

  Chapter Eight

  There was a stunned silence before Bill nodded and turned back to the guard. ‘Do you think you could go back in there and stall him for a few minutes?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so. What are you planning to do?’

  Bill pointed upwards. ‘I’m going to climb on to the roof, creep across to the guard’s van and shoot at him through the window.’

  ‘Are you mad? You’ll be running across a moving train against the direction of the wind!’ said Calvert.

  ‘Have you got a better idea?’ asked Bill.

  ‘A few of us could storm the guard’s van’ suggested Sherman. ‘He’s just one man, isn’t he?’

  ‘He might see us coming. It could turn out to be quite a gun battle’ warned Calvert.

  ‘We’re wasting time’ said Hayes. ‘If you’re prepared to take the risk, Mr Douglas, I’d like to go along with your plan. Fewer people are likely to get hurt that way and we must consider the fact that there are other passengers on this train.’

  Bill got up, went to the window and opened it. He then squeezed through the gap and felt the full force of the wind against his body as he clung to the side of the train, gradually hauling himself up on to the roof. He lay flat against it for a moment to recover his strength and then inched his way along the iron surface towards the next carriage. Clouds of steam obscured his vision as he crept forward, the rush of air like a whirlwind blowing dust and grit against his face.

  Gunter drew his revolver as the guard returned alone to the compartment. Simpson eyed the gesture nervously.

  ‘They’re on their way, Major. I couldn’t persuade them to come straight away without arousing their suspicions.’

  ‘Come here’ said Gunter, pointing the revolver at him.

  Simpson stepped forward nervously and the assassin grabbed his collar, spinning him around. Gunter then rammed the muzzle of his revolver under the terrified guard’s chin.

  ‘Do as I say and you won’t get hurt. When those guys come in here, tell them if they don’t throw their weapons down you’ll get the first bullet. Got that?’

  Simpson nodded dumbly and there was a tense silence while the two waited. Above them, Bill had crept to the end of the first carriage. He rose up to jump on to the next one and the
train swayed beneath him. He stumbled and landed heavily, rolling to the edge of the roof as his hands slid over the iron surface, desperately searching for something to hang on to. The carriage swayed back and his body slid with it to the centre of the train before he inched ahead once more.

  Gunter looked up sharply when he heard the thud of Bill’s body against the roof. He rammed the gun hard against Simpson’s throat.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘I... I don’t know.’

  ‘You’re a goddamned liar! Tell me what they’re doing or you’ll get a bullet right now!’

  ‘One of them is on the roof. He’s going to shoot you through the window. Please don’t kill me, mister. I was just doing my job!’

  There was another thud as Bill landed on the roof of the guard’s van. Gunter clubbed Simpson over the head with his revolver and flung the unconscious guard to the floor, then fired a series of shots up at the ceiling. The first one missed Bill by less than an inch and he rolled to the edge of the roof once more to avoid being hit. He counted five more bullets as the tiny holes appeared, then drew his own weapon. Rolling back to the other side of the roof, he leaned over and pointed his pistol through the open window as he peered in. There was no sign of Gunter but he could see Simpson lying on the floor. Suddenly, his arm was seized and jerked downwards in a sharp motion toward the window ledge, banging his elbow hard so that the gun fell from his numbed fingers. Gunter was pulled forward from his hiding place in a corner of the van as Bill wrenched his arm back from his opponent’s grasp, rolling once more across the roof of the train.

  Gunter picked up the gun and squeezed his head and shoulders through the carriage window. He was unprepared for the gusts of wind that tore into his face and knocked his aim sideways so that the shot he fired went wide. Bill lashed out with a kick that sent the gun spinning from the assassin’s hand but Gunter was undeterred and grabbed the younger man’s foot as he hauled himself on to the roof. Bill sat up as the killer crashed in to him and a pair of large hands took a vice like grip around his throat, squeezing the air from his body. Gasping for breath, he clawed at the air, the older man’s face just out of range above him. Squirming beneath his opponent, his lungs on fire, Bill finally managed to get his foot against Gunter’s chest and kicked out with all his remaining strength. The assassin fell back and Bill stumbled to his knees as his opponent grabbed the edge of the roof to avoid falling off.