Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

“Insults? He probably didn’t say anything about you that wasn’t true.”

  William sipped from his glass but his eyes kept moving over the men in the saloon. “Was it a coincidence that you picked this table, Mother? Or did you know I needed to have my back protected?”

  “My face was on a wanted poster until Texas gained independence from Mexico.”

  He chuckled. “What were you wanted for? Shoplifting?”

  “Murder.” She looked around then swallowed the gin.

  “Were you guilty?”

  “Yes. Why don’t you go to Europe? I’ll give you enough money to live well.”

  “I’ve got more money than you do, Mother.”

  “Stealing from the gold miners?”

  “Among other things.”

  “If you have so much money, why stay here?”

  “I like it here. It’s fun.” He poured more gin in her glass.

  “The reward for you is so big that eventually somebody is going to shoot you in the back for it.”

  “That’s what makes it fun.”

  “Do you call sitting with your back to the wall fun?” Marina picked up the glass and put it back down. “I better go.”

  “Finish your drink first.”

  “If I do, I won’t stop.”

  He studied her for a moment. “I don’t really know you, do I?”

  She stood up. “If you know yourself, you know me. Luckily, all my other children took after their father.”

  “You’re wrong, Mother. I’m the lucky one.”

  “Time will tell, William. Take care of yourself. God won’t.”

  May 28, 1849

  Panama

  Bartolome Quinton climbed California’s ladder and shook Captain Forbes’s hand. “Are you recovered, Captain?”

  “Indeed, I am, sir. Thank you.”

  “Have you some passengers bound for New York that prefer the overland route?”

  “No. I sent for you because of another matter.” Forbes gestured forward. “I wonder if I might have a private word with you.”

  “Of course.” Quinton looked puzzled, but accompanied Forbes to his cabin.

  Forbes cleared maps and charts from one of the chairs for Quinton, then crossed the cluttered cabin to stand at the map table. “Have a seat please, Mr. Quinton.”

  “I’m fine standing, thank you. What’s this all about? Why have you not docked yet and why did you send for me?”

  Forbes took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. “We left San Francisco on the first of this month with fifty-four passengers and gold specie valued at…” He glanced at the ship’s log that was open on the table. “Three hundred forty-six thousand, six hundred and fifty-three dollars. We arrived here with fifty-three passengers and a few gold bars worth less than a thousand dollars.”

  “Oh dear. Have you any idea where this thief disembarked?”

  “Not exactly, but certainly it was very near here. He dined with me last night and we only noticed him missing a short time ago when it was discovered that there was only a bamboo frame covered with a tarpaulin disguised to look like a properly stowed boat on the stern davits. He probably absconded after the mid-watch began.”

  “The perpetrator would have needed help to load so much weight into the boat.”

  “Yes. It is evident that he had four or more accomplices. The stern boat is quite large and requires two crewmen on the windlasses and another two in the boat.”

  “Can we assume that they would be members of your crew or could passengers have been involved?”

  “Lowering the boat requires some small skill. I doubt that any passengers have such experience.”

  “Have you any idea which crew members?”

  “No. And I may never discover the answer. The entire crew that came with me from New York deserted for the goldfields of California when we reached San Francisco. I was forced to hire an entirely new crew at exorbitant wages. Many of the men are of low moral character and they too will be gone at the first opportunity.”

  “I see. So what is it that you wish of me?”

  “I was hoping that you would spread the word of the theft across the isthmus, among your minions.”

  “I presume that a reward is offered?”

  Forbes seemed surprised. “Yes. If that is necessary.”

  “How much are you prepared to offer?”

  Forbes shrugged. “What would you suggest?”

  “I should think fifty percent reasonable.”

  “What?”

  “To recover half is considerably better than none.”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “As did I. Before you sent me, unarmed, into the mob during your outward bound voyage.”

  “Twenty-five percent,” Forbes said.

  “Shall we say thirty?”

  “Very well. Thirty.”

  “Dead or alive?” Quinton asked.

  “It doesn’t matter as long as you recover the gold.”

  “Do you have a name and description for this fellow?”

  Forbes searched through some papers on the table. “The name on our passenger manifest is Colonel Van Williams.” He handed Quinton a sketch. “A woman passenger drew this. It’s quite a good likeness.”

  “Handsome fellow,” Quinton observed. “I expect that he’ll have shaved the beard by now.”

  “Quite likely.”

  “The name, Colonel Van Williams, is surely false as well.”

  “Yes. The young woman who drew the sketch referred to him as Billy, if that helps.”

  Quinton folded the sketch and walked toward the cabin door. “Never fear, Captain. Nothing and no one can cross the isthmus of Panama without me knowing.”

  June 23, 1849

  Port Isabel, Texas

  Lucky Billy Van waited as the last customer left the bank and put his foot in the door before the clerk could close and lock it. “I need to speak to the manager.”

  “We’re just closing, sir.”

  “I know. I have private business.”

  “Very well, sir.” He stepped back, waited for Billy to come in, then closed and locked the door before pulling down the night shade. “This way please.”

  Billy followed the clerk through the gate to the back where three private offices were located. “This gentleman wishes to speak to you, Mr. Young.”

  The man behind the desk sized up Billy quickly and decided that the cut of his clothes and his bearing warranted a welcome. “Jason Young,” he said, standing and offering his hand.

  Billy stayed by the door. “I have a little more than three hundred thousand dollars in gold in a freight wagon that’s parked behind your bank. I need it brought in before someone starts helping themselves.”

  Young needed to hear no more and hurried out to begin issuing curt orders.

  Billy sat down in an armchair across from Young’s desk and clipped a cigar.

  “I’d rather you didn’t light that, sir,” Young said, returning to his desk. “The ladies complain of the smell.”

  “That’s what you get for hiring women.” Billy put the cigar in his inside pocket.

  “Did you want us to hold the gold in our vault for you, sir, or did you have other plans?”

  “I want it shipped to my bank in Switzerland and I need it weighed and tallied so that I can insure it.” He looked at the clock. “The Lloyds Office closes at five. Can you get it done by then?”

  “Yes. And we can arrange the shipping for you, sir – and write the insurance. We are agents of Lloyds.”

  “Can you now?” Billy asked in surprise. “I want to insure it from the moment it is locked in your vault to the moment that it is locked in the Swiss bank.”

  “Yes, sir. That is a very common rider on marine policies.” Young opened a drawer in his desk and found a pad of forms. “Who are your Swiss bankers?”

  “Wegelin and Company. They’re private bankers.”

  “Indeed, sir. One of the largest and most respected. We do business with them
quite often.”

  “You do?” Billy asked. “You do this all the time? Insure gold shipments?”

  “Not necessarily gold. Sometimes cash or gems – even artworks. We handle valuables of all kinds coming from Mexico, South America, the West Coast and Asia.”

  “Imagine the luck of that. I just stumbled in here and had no idea.”

  “Did you want to insure the shipment for its full value, sir?”

  “How much would that cost?”

  “One percent. I can’t quote you a figure until we’ve weighed the entire lot. But if your estimate is correct the premium would be something over three thousand dollars.”

  “That’s fair. Yes. Full value, bank vault to bank vault.”

  “Easily done, sir. I’ll just need you to fill out this top part.” He pushed the pad toward Billy. “I presume you have your Swiss bank account number?”

  “Indeed. This transaction will be tied to that, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The number being the key, not my name?”

  “Correct. This has nothing to do with your banking arrangement and won’t alter it in any way. We’ll merely deposit the gold in your Swiss bank under your account number. Your bank balance, however, will be subject to fluctuations of the gold market and can be audited at any time.”

  “Very good.” Billy completed the form and pushed it back.

  “Will you be accompanying the shipment, sir?”

  “No. I’m traveling overland to the east coast. I’ll sail from there some time in the future.”

  “If there is to be a significant delay until you reach Switzerland, might I suggest that you convert the gold to bonds or stocks?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “With all the new gold fields in California, the price of gold will be eroding. At the same time, stocks or bonds will be appreciating and earning interest or dividends.”

  “I’ll take my chances on the gold market. Given the current political tensions, I have little confidence in the American treasury.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  “Have you ever been robbed?”

  “No, sir. There’s never even been an attempt.” He pointed toward a row of high windows near the front. “We have armed guards up there behind mirrored glass.”

  “I was just wondering why it was so easy for me to walk in after closing time.”

  “Walking in is easy. Walking out with our depositors’ money is impossible.

  “What about at night?”

  “Guards inside and out. And our vault would stand up to cannon fire. You’ve come to the right place.”

  “So it seems. Lucky me.”

  “Yes indeed, sir. If you will give us a few more minutes we should be able to wrap this up.”

  “Fine. I think I’ll just step outside and smoke my cigar.”

  “That would be fine, sir. Leave everything to me.”

  Billy got up, walked through the lobby and waited for a clerk to unlock the door. On the sidewalk, he leaned against one of the overhang’s support posts and lit his cigar with a sulfur match.

  A woman in a bright red dress with a matching parasol stepped up and linked her arm with his. “Everything go alright?”

  He nodded and blew a plume of smoke toward the plaza. “They’re finishing up the transaction.” He took an envelope from his coat pocket and gave it to her. “The deed is in there, all properly executed.”

  She folded the envelope and pushed it into her clutch purse. “I should be happy, but I’m not.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve been partners for a long time.”

  “All things must come to an end. Besides, I haven’t been holding up my half. The place is rightfully yours.”

  “You’re a complicated man, Billy. Sweet as candy one minute and mean as a rattlesnake the next.”

  “Like Romulus and Remus, I was suckled by a she-wolf.”

  The bank door opened. “Sir? Mr. Young says that your documents are ready.”

  “Thank you.” Billy extracted his arm and gave the woman a light kiss on her lips. “You go on now. I have some business in Mexico, but I’ll stop back to see you before heading north.”

  June 27, 1849

  Nuevo Laredo, Mexico

  Josiah Whipple was sitting in the dark hotel room with his pistol in his lap when a key rattled in the door lock. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid, William,” he said as the door began to open. “Just come on in.” He cocked the pistol. “If I have to shoot ya through the door the lead paint on the wood slivers is gonna poison you, no matter where I hit you.”

  “Very thoughtful of you to warn me, Josiah.” William Van Buskirk pushed the door wide open, being sure to show his empty hands.

  “Light one o’ them lamps, then close the door.”

  “As a US Marshal, you have no authority in Mexico anymore, Josiah. The Republic of Mexico’s been established since last we met down here.” Van Buskirk lit a lamp with a match and trimmed the wick.

  “There’s a U.S. Mail reward poster on you here for the gold robbery down at Panama. Any yahoo with a gun can arrest you and claim the reward. It ain’t smart to steal from Uncle Sam.”

  “Are you aware that there’s no judge and no jail here?”

  “No. I didn’t know that, but it don’t matter. I ain’t gonna trust no Mexican jail again. This time I’ll haul yer carcass across the river.”

  “There’s no judge in Laredo either.”

  “I’ll bet that the Laredo sheriff would be glad to put ya in his jail until the circuit judge comes around.”

  “I sincerely hope you’re wrong.”

  “Turn around and face the wall. Hands behind yer back. Lean in.”

  “I won’t be able to ride with my hands manacled.”

  “Not to worry. You’ll be chained to the mule so as you can’t fall off.”

  “You’re in for a big disappointment again, Josiah.”

  “You ain’t gonna bribe your way out of no Texas jail, William. Not when I tell em how much yer hide’s worth, delivered to a judge.”

  July 30, 1849

  Waco Village, Texas

  The sign above the door of the log cabin proclaimed it to be the village office. Inside, three well-dressed young men were busy shuffling paper. They pointedly ignored the bedraggled-looking man until he spoke up loudly. “Is this here the Mayor’s office?”

  “It is,” one of the dandies replied haughtily.

  “I’d like to see him.”

  “Have you an appointment?”

  “No. How do I get me one?”

  The young man went to a desk and dipped a steel-nib pen in the inkwell. “Your name?”

  “Josiah Whipple.”

  The clerk began to write but was interrupted by a booming voice. “Josiah Whipple doesn’t need an appointment.” Thomas Van Buskirk appeared from a back office, extending his hand toward Whipple. “We hadn’t heard from you in so long we were afraid you’d gotten lost out there.”

  Whipple shook his hand. “Naw. I never go anywhere’s special, so getting’ lost ain’t even a possibility.” He waved his hand at the rutted street outside the dirty window. “So you’re the mayor of this here new metropolis?”

  “Indeed. It’s changed some since you sold it to me.”

  “Yup. You cut down all the pretty oak trees and put up a bunch o’ ugly buildings.”

  Thomas chuckled and led him into a small, cluttered office. “Sit down and tell me what you’ve been up to.” He took a seat behind his desk and waited until Josiah was settled. “Did you stop by the ranch?”

  “Well, if the truth be told, I didn’t know you, or this new town, was even here.”

  Thomas sat back waiting for him to explain.

  “I come along this way a-lookin’ for yer brother William.”

  “William? We heard that he was captured and hanged.”

  “He was captured by me but the crooked Laredo sheriff hung some vagrant, claimed the reward and too
k a bribe from William t’ boot.”

  “How did he manage to hang the wrong man without you knowing?”

  “They took William out through the back door of the jail while the Sheriff had me busy fillin’ out a slew o’ forms. I didn’t get outside ‘til the hangin’ was about to start. By then there was a fearsome crowd and I couldn’t get close to the front without startin’ a fight. The prisoner climbed the gallows with his back to me and they put a hood over his head before they turned him around.”

  “Are you so sure it wasn’t William?”

  “Positive. The way it happened made me plumb suspicious. But I didn’t say nothin’ to the sheriff; I just laid low ‘till after the buryin’. Then I come back in the night and dug up the body. It weren’t yer brother. Not even a close match.”

  “Did you do anything about the sheriff?”

  “Shot the bastard dead. His deputy too. Then I confiscated the reward and the bribe money that William paid. You ain’t seen William, have ya, Tom?”

  Thomas shook his head. “I doubt he’d come here, Josiah. He knows that I’d turn him in.”

  “You didn’t turn him in the last time you seen him.”

  “That was long before he shot Charlie and it was up on the Edwards Plateau, hundreds of miles from any peace officer. My choices at that time were to kill him or let him go. I decided that my conscience would bother me less if I let my brother live than it would if I killed him. If it’d been after he shot Charlie, I would have made a different choice.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a few things to do before I can quit for the day. Why don’t you wait for me at the ranch? Jane, Paul and John will be delighted to see you.”

  Whipple stood up. “Sure would like to see them too. Where’s it at?”

  “Do you remember the old Ranger Fort?”

  “Fort Fischer? Sure do.”

  “Just follow the river downstream for about a half mile from the fort. You can’t miss it. There’s a sign above the front gate.”

  “Still called the Two Alone Ranch, is it?”

  “Yes. It was too much trouble to register a new brand.”

  ~

  “So is Marina still in Galveston?” Josiah asked Jane.