Nathan laughed. “I felt a little sorry for the Pinkertons. They had told the railroad men the thieves wouldn’t dynamite the baggage car, but when I arrived, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of it left. I never saw anything in the papers about a Pinkerton man shooting a railroad brakeman, or of the Pinkertons being dismissed as railroad security.”
“The AT and SF hushed it up,” said Silver. “It would have hurt the railroad’s credibility and served no good purpose. However, if the Pinkertons are hell-bent on nailing you with a murder charge, the AT and SF might change their minds. That brakeman died, and while the railroad took care of his family, railroad lawyers could prepare one hell of a negligence suit. The Pinkertons could have a day in court they’ll never forget, and in the process, forget all about Nathan Stone.”
“Silver, if I’m ever on trial for my life, guilty or innocent, I want you to plead my case. Why should I limit myself to an occasional bushwhacker on some lonely trail, when I can be shot at two or three days a week, all the way from Missouri to Colorado?”
“By God,” said Silver, “you’ve got the straight of it. If I wasn’t already in solid with the Federals, I’d root you out and take the job myself.”
“Do me one more favor,” Nathan said. “If the Pinkertons come up with charges that might put that ten-thousand-dollar bounty on my head, get word to me.”
“I’ll do that,” said Silver. “I’ll even go a step farther. I’ll wire Foster Hagerman, of the AT and SF, in Dodge. He’ll go after the Pinkertons with a fistful of legal thunderbolts.”
“Damn it, Silver, I’d prefer that the whole world not know about this investigation. Don’t be telling Hagerman anything, unless you have to.”
“He already knows the story, and he’s quite familiar with the manner in which the Pinkertons tried to set you up for an ambush. You have friends, Nathan. Swallow some of that pride and don’t wait until you’ve been gut-shot to allow some of them to help you.”
The time spent at Fort Worth with Byron Silver had done wonders for Nathan. While he still missed Cotton Blossom and always would, he had accepted the fact the faithful dog was gone. Nathan rode west to Fort Griffin and north from there, avoiding Indian Territory entirely. The first thing he learned, after reaching Fort Worth, was that there had been a major battle in the Texas panhandle between buffalo hunters and plains Indians. Twenty-eight men, with only an adobe ruins for cover, had driven away seven hundred Cheyenne, Kiowa, and Comanche warriors, led by the young Comanche chief, Quanah Parker.15
The buffalo had been virtually cleaned out in west Texas, further infuriating the plains Indians. The ride from Fort Griffin to the Cimarron was more than two hundred miles, and Nathan spent two nights on the trail, depending on his horses to warn him of danger. He breathed easier when he had crossed the Cimarron into Kansas Territory.
Dodge City, Kansas. July 29, 1874
“Good to see you again,” Sheriff Harrington said. “You just missed a friend of yours when you were here the last time.”
“I spent some time with him at Fort Worth, and he convinced me I should accept that railroad security position with the AT and SF. I’m supposed to meet Foster Hagerman here.”
“My God, will he ever be glad to see you,” said Harrington. “Three damn robberies in July, and three lost military payrolls. Where’s your dog?”
“Dead,” Nathan replied. He again told the story, finding it less painful as he repeated it. Harrington was properly sympathetic.
“You should meet Hagerman before you do anything else,” said Harrington. “He’ll be able to get you a monthly rate at the livery, and he keeps a few rooms reserved at the Dodge House. It’s by far the best hotel in town.”
The AT and SF offices were located in one end of the railroad terminal, and Nathan had no trouble finding Foster Hagerman.
“Come in, come in,” Hagerman invited. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Silver and the damned telegraph,” said Nathan.
Hagerman laughed. “Mr. Silver understands our dilemma. I’ve delayed a payroll in Fort Leavenworth for about as long as I can. Are you prepared to take a train to Kansas City tonight and ride the baggage car back tomorrow?”
“I reckon,” said Nathan. “I’ll need a hotel room for my belongings and a livery for my mount and my packhorse.”
“Here,” Hagerman said, passing Nathan several sheets of paper embossed with the AT and SF logo. “One of these you’ll present to the livery, the other to the desk clerk at the Dodge House. You have two hours before train time. Take your meals at Delmonico’s. You have a tab there.”
Nathan rode to the livery, presented his authorization, and left his horses. At his request, his saddle and packsaddle were stored in a tack room. From there he went to the Dodge House, received his key, and found his room. Dropping his saddlebags in a corner, he changed his mind and took them with him. Including the four thousand he had won on the horse race in Uvalde, he had almost six thousand dollars in the saddlebags, too much to leave in a hotel room. He went to the Dodge City bank and deposited all but five hundred dollars. With that, what he had on deposit in the Kansas City bank, and the five hundred from the railroad each month, he might never have to gamble again. He hadn’t thought of Eulie Prater in a long time, but he did now. She had hated having him in the saloon to gamble, and when he had shot his way out of one in San Antonio, she had saved his life. Leaving the bank, he started for Delmonico’s arriving just in time to meet Sheriff Harrington.
“You were right,” Nathan said. “First class all the way. Join me for supper?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said the sheriff. “When do you start?”
“In less than two hours,” Nathan replied. “I’m taking the next train to Kansas City and riding west in the morning, with a payroll.”
“Be careful,” said Harrington. “I think these robberies can all be laid to the same pack of outlaws. They manage to get close enough to dynamite the express car.”
“You’ve just given me an idea,” Nathan said. “I need to talk to Hagerman one more time before I go.”
“He’ll still be there,” said Harrington. “He goes early and stays late.”
After supper, Nathan left Sheriff Harrington at Delmonico’s and returned to the depot where Hagerman’s office was located. He knocked on the door and was bid enter.
“Just one thing more I need,” Nathan said. “When that payroll train heads west in the morning, I want you to be sure there’s a caboose. In that caboose, I want a case of dynamite with sufficient caps and fuse.”
“But the payroll will be in the express coach.”
“Which is where it should be,” said Nathan, “and that’s where the thieves will expect you to have a guard. Can you limit the train to four cars, the fourth being the caboose?”
“Yes,” Hagerman said. “The brakeman will be riding with you.”
“Good,” said Nathan. “Will he have the sand to do what I tell him to do, under fire?”
“He’ll side you, up to and including gunfire, if need be. He’s Enos Pilpaw, brother to a brakeman who was killed during a robbery last month.”
“Be sure there’s a sending instrument aboard,” Nathan said. “I’ll telegraph you if we need help repairing damaged track.”
CHAPTER 16
Kansas City, Kansas. July 31, 1874
Arriving in Kansas City, Nathan was assigned a cot in a room directly behind the railroad dispatcher’s office. There he lay awake far into the night, unable to sleep for the continuous clang of locomotive bells and the shriek of whistles. Eventually he slept until he was awakened at six o’clock by the dispatcher on duty.
“Train time is eight o’clock,” the dispatcher said. “Plenty of time for breakfast.”
Nathan left his Winchester with the dispatcher and had breakfast in a cafe near the railroad depot. When he returned to the dispatcher’s office, the big clock on the wall said seven forty-five.
“That’s your train on track two,” said th
e dispatcher. “Engine three thirty-eight. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Nathan replied. Taking his Winchester, he walked to the train. The door to the express car was open, and he stopped there. He had no trouble getting the attention of the expressman because he was expected.
“God, am I glad to see you,” the railroad man said. “I’m Art Raines. I’m glad to have you ridin’ with me.”
“Sorry,” said Nathan, “but I won’t be riding with you. They’ll expect that. I’m Nathan Stone, and I’ll be in the caboose. I aim to see to it they don’t get to you.”
Nathan went on to the caboose, climbed the metal steps, and opened the door. He was greeted by a young man who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. He grinned and offered his hand.
“I’m Enos Pilpaw,” he said.
“I’m Nathan Stone. I asked for some dynamite; is it aboard?”
“It’s here, with caps and fuse.”
“That cupola up there,” said Nathan. “Does it open to the roof of the caboose?”
“It does,” Enos said, “but it’s glassed in. You can see in any direction with it closed.”
“That’s good,” said Nathan, “but I’m going to need to reach the roof, and I don’t aim to step out that door and climb the ladder.”
The caboose lurched as the locomotive took up the slack, and there were three blasts from the whistle. A trainman slid the express car’s door shut and locked it. Slowly the train began to move.
“It’s time to fuse and cap the dynamite,” said Nathan. He dragged the wooden box out from under one of the bench seats and found the lid had been removed. Removing the coil of fuse, he found the end and with his knife, began cutting what he hoped were forty-five-second lengths. He then fused and capped two dozen sticks of the explosive, and from his shirt pocket he took an oilskin pouch of matches.
“I may need your help, Enos,” he said. “If I need this dynamite, I want you to light the fuses one at a time and pass me the sticks until I stop you. Comprende?”
“Yes, sir,” said Enos.
“I’m going to climb up there on that high bench so that I can see out,” Nathan said. “Do the outlaws usually stop the train by ripping up some of the track?”
“They always have when I’ve been on this run,” said Enos. “They usually come at us from behind the train. They’ll leave one man to cover me, and then move on to the express car. There’s always a man within rifle range on each side of the engine, keepin’ the engineer and fireman covered.”
“Allowing them to dynamite the express car,” Nathan said.
“Yes, sir. The Pinkertons always rode inside the express car, with the payroll.”
“This time,” said Nathan, “I aim to stop them before they reach the express car. Does this train stop anywhere between here and Dodge?”
“There’s a water stop at Wichita,” Enos said. “Most of the robberies have taken place between Wichita and Dodge.”
A pattern that was likely to continue, Nathan thought, but he couldn’t count on that.
“I have a Winchester,” said Enos helpfully, “and I generally hit what I’m shootin’ at.”
“Keep it loaded and handy,” Nathan said. “If they get past the welcome I have planned for them, I’ll need all the help I can get.”
Reaching the outskirts of Kansas City, the locomotive picked up speed. For once, the flat, seemingly endless Kansas plain seemed a blessing.
“Forty miles an hour,” said Enos. “Who would ever have thought a man would travel this fast? We’ll be in Wichita in a little over two hours.”
They were an hour out of Kansas City when the outlaws struck. The train had crossed a bridge that spanned a creek, when the train slowed, slamming the caboose hard into the coupling of the car ahead. Willows lined the creek, which they had just crossed, and it was from this cover the dozen mounted men emerged. Two of them split off, well out of rifle range, one to each side of the train. Their guns would cover the fireman and engineer.
“Enos,” said Nathan, “get two sticks of dynamite ready and prepare to light the fuses when I give the word.”
“They’re ready,” Enos said.
On the riders came. Nathan waited until they were perilously close before opening the cupola hatch. “Dynamite, Enos,” he said.
Nathan held the explosive a few seconds until most of the fuse was consumed. He then flung the stick as high and as hard as he could. Enos handed him the second stick and he repeated the procedure. The first stick of dynamite detonated in the air above the mounted men, followed seconds later by the second explosion. Horses screamed and reared as Nathan climbed to the roof of the caboose with his Winchester. Five of the outlaws lay on the ground, while the remaining five seemed dazed. Three horses were down and the others had galloped away, riderless. The five outlaws had gotten their wits about them and had begun firing. Slugs shattered glass in the back door of the caboose, but Enos had cut loose with his Winchester. Nathan bellied down on the roof of the caboose as lead cut the air just inches above his head. One of the attackers was hit, and in rapid succession, two more. The remaining pair turned and ran back the way they had come. Lead struck the cupola, throwing splinters in Nathan’s face. The two outlaws who had ridden ahead to cover the fireman and engineer were firing at Nathan. He got to his knees and then to his feet, and over the tops of the railroad cars, ran toward the outlaws, a Colt in each hand. One man was hit, and slumping over in his saddle, kicked his horse into a gallop. His companion, finding himself facing two blazing Colts, galloped away to the north. Nathan continued along the tops of the cars until he reached the tender.
“It’s over, gents,” he told the fireman and engineer. “Time to see how much damage they’ve done to the track.”
“My God,” said the fireman, “you drove that bunch away, by yourself?”
“I had help,” Nathan replied. “The young man in the caboose can shoot. Four of these varmints escaped. Eight of them won’t be goin’ anywhere.”
“We’ll have a look at the track,” the engineer said. “If they didn’t damage the rails or ties, we can maybe patch up the track and go on.”
Nathan went with them. If there was a lengthy delay, he must telegraph Hagerman in Dodge City. Starting at a coupling joint, the outlaws had taken an ax to a dozen crossties, chopping away enough of the wood to withdraw the spikes that secured the rail. The rail had then been separated at the coupling joint, leaving enough of a gap to have derailed the locomotive.
“You gents have almighty sharp eyes,” Nathan said. “How did you spot this in time to stop the train?”
“I couldn’t have done it without the help of the sun,” said the engineer. “When you’re keepin’ your eyes on the rails, they’re like two streaks of light. When one rail has been twisted out of line, it’s like a section of the light’s gone out. I’m Collins, and my fireman is Handy. Will you be ridin’ shotgun with us on other runs?”
“For as long as you need me, I reckon,” Nathan said. “Can you repair this damage, or should I telegraph Dodge or Wichita for a work crew?”
“Those ties can’t be used,” said Handy. “If you telegraph Wichita, they can be here in maybe an hour. Tell them they’ll need to replace a dozen damaged ties. When you wire the dispatcher at Dodge, have him sidetrack the eastbound from Pueblo, giving us the main line. We’ll be reaching Dodge at least two hours behind schedule.”
Nathan met Enos at the express coach.
“We’d better tell Art he ain’t gonna lose this one,” said Enos. He unlocked the door and slid it open.
“What in hell happened?” Art asked. “It sounded like they blew up the caboose.”
“They didn’t blow up anything, this time,” said Enos. “It was them that got blown up. It was this hombre we got ridin’ with us that used the dynamite. Eight of the varmints are dead, and one of them that got away took some lead with him.”
“I need the telegraph instrument and lineman’s spurs,” Nathan said. “I’m telegraphing W
ichita to send a repair crew and Dodge City to sidetrack the eastbound.”
The outlaws had become so bold, they no longer bothered cutting the telegraph line, and for that, Nathan was thankful. He climbed a pole, and establishing contact with Dodge, sent Foster Hagerman’s message first. He asked for an acknowledgment, and waited until he received it. He then telegraphed Kansas City, asking that a repair crew be dispatched from Wichita. He listened until he heard the order being sent to Wichita, and waited for the response. When it came, he disconnected his instrument and returned to the train.
“Nothing to do now, but wait,” said Collins, the engineer. “Lucky we took on wood and water at Wichita. At least we can keep up steam.”
Nathan and Enos walked back to the scene of devastation. Nathan didn’t recognize any of the dead men.
“I wish we could have gotten them without killing the three horses,” Enos said.
“So do I,” said Nathan. “Unless the next gang is all new hands, this trick won’t work again.”
“You think this same gang has been responsible for all the holdups?”
“I suspect they have,” Nathan said. “It’s been my experience with train robbers that as long as they’re successful, they won’t change their habits. Only because we made some changes in the railroad’s defense did we beat them this time. From now on, we’ll have to be ready for anything.”
The work train—consisting of a locomotive, tender, and flat car—arrived an hour and a half after Nathan had telegraphed Kansas City. It cost them another hour while the crew replaced the mutilated ties and spiked the rail back in place.
“Pardner,” said Nathan to the engineer of the work train, “there’s eight dead men back yonder behind our caboose. When you’re ready to return to Wichita, load that bunch on your flat car. Tell the sheriff or marshal they’re two-thirds of the pack of coyotes who have been stealing payrolls from the railroad. Some of them may be wanted by the law for other things.”
The Killing Season Page 22