Wyoming Shootout (Gun For Wells Fargo Book 2)

by G. Wayne Tilman

  The train steamed on through the night. The detective next to Pope slept. Pope did not. He was mortally terrified for Sarah.

  The next day, when the train pulled into the depot at Cheyenne, Pope asked Bell to have someone deliver their gear. He also asked Bell to claim both horses, then meet him at the office as soon as possible.

  Pope left his long canvas duster on his gear and sprinted the several blocks to the office. He stopped about three minutes out and looked around the area.

  9

  Sarah received the warning Pope asked Hume to send. She sent the messenger with a note to Chief Deputy Akin about Pope’s concerns. He returned shortly, having left the note for Akin.

  She also placed her sawed-off shotgun under her desk. Sarah warned the staff to not become involved if something happened unless asked to do something by her, Pope, or a deputy. She did not want any untrained heroics by someone popping off with a .32 revolver from Sears Roebuck.

  The messenger found Akin was in court but was expected back momentarily. He waited at the sheriff’s office to give Akin the note as soon as he returned.

  Detective Sarah Watson was as ready as she could be under the circumstances.

  Kid Taos, as he liked to call himself, had ridden into Cheyenne in the late morning. He was hungry and stopped for a breakfast of coffee, steak, and eggs.

  The robbery in Cheyenne was the height of his career as a famous gunman and robber. He knew he could pull it off again. They did not have guards in the office.

  The policeman he shot was under-armed. And, slow. He had been no match for a real gunfighter. This would be easy, like it was before.

  He felt like a drink or two before robbing the Wells Fargo and high-tailing it out of town once again. He never saw a posse on his trail last time, he reminded himself trying desperately to organize his thinking.

  Of course, it was snowing during his first robbery. Maybe posse’s did not ride in the snow. He knew it would take a while to form a posse. By then, his gray would be in the next county.

  Two rot-gut whiskeys later and feeling more in control, he rode past the Wells Fargo office. He tied the gray about a hundred yards down the street. He used a hitching post in front of a store. He went in to buy some candy to eat on the ride out of town. It would be like a lunch, he thought.

  He walked the distance to the entrance to Wells Fargo.

  This would be the one. The robbery and shootout which would cause Ned Buntline or Prentiss Ingraham to start writing Kid Taos dime novels. The thought thrilled Randolph. A big smile appeared on his face.

  Three men and two women walked in the door.

  He quietly followed them, gun still holstered.

  Pope stopped and scanned the office and the street around it. He saw a gray hitched to the rail in front of a general merchandise store. It was pretty far from the office.

  He checked the Colt’s. They were free and loose in their holsters. He was wearing a vest and pants. There was no coat to interfere with his draw. He did not usually walk around a town with his guns showing. Today was different. Besides, his gold badge was pinned on the left lapel of his vest.

  Pope walked slowly up to the office door. He peered in. He saw movement reflected and turned his head. Somehow, Bell had gotten their gear and put it on the horses and was riding one and leading the other.

  Pope held up his arm in a signal. It had no meaning beyond “I know you are here. Be silent.”

  He looked in the glass door. He saw a bow-legged cowboy facing Sarah. She looked both scared and defiant. Pope wished she would just be compliant and not make the crazy killer mad.

  He saw the cashier, messenger and the telegrapher. Both were standing facing Sarah and the gunman. All three had their hands raised.

  Three men and two women were with them. They looked terrified and had their hands up also.

  Pope heard Jake Bell ease up behind him.

  He whispered “Ready?” not expecting an answer.

  Pope eased the door open.

  John Henry Randolph did not hear the door. He did see a change in the pupils of Sarah’s eyes.

  He quickly slipped around her and pointed his gun to her head.

  Sarah Watson was now a hostage.

  He put an arm around her and grasped a breast in his non-gun hand. His head and most of his skinny body were blocked by his captive. He was so close to her, he had to hold the gun at an awkward angle to get the long barrel against her temple.

  Kid Taos saw two serious men in cowboy garb. Both had badges. Two at a time! He knew he could take them. The fame of killing two lawdogs in a gunfight would be worthy of the dime novels he dreamed so much about.

  “Mr. Randolph, drop your gun. We can deal with this without anybody getting hurt,” Pope said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

  “Who the hell are you?” Randolph asked.

  “I am John Pope. I work here. I think we can come to a peaceful conclusion. All you have to do is stop pointing the gun at the lady.”

  “You don’t look like no Wells Fargo man. You look like a cowboy.”

  “Check out the badges my friend and I are wearing. Now, take the gun off her head.”

  “What if I don’t? Are you going to draw?” Randolph asked.

  “It would not be very smart of me to draw on a man who already has a gun in his hand, would it?” Pope asked.

  “What if we just gave you five thousand dollars and let you slip out the back door?” Pope tried.

  Kid Taos got a pensive look on his face and hesitated.

  Pope saw him get an even crazier look in his eyes. “He’s going to do something stupid!” Pope thought to himself.

  Pope drew faster than anyone present could imagine. It was probably his fastest draw ever. He was indexed in such a position, he did not have to raise his Colt to eye level. As soon as he cleared the holster, he cocked the hammer and pressed the trigger. It was a trick he had perfected during his recovery last year. He aimed close range shots with his body. Usually he used it for a mid-torso shot. This time, he was sure Randolph was getting ready to kill Sarah. There was no time for anything but stopping him instantly from pulling the trigger on the S&W.

  Pope noticed something which gave him an extra split second. Randolph had just begun to cock his gun. With the speed of the detective’s draw, it probably did not matter.

  The .44-40 bullet hit Randolph in the wrist from seven feet.

  Randolph screamed as the bullet tore through skin, cartilage and bone and rendered his right hand worthless, probably for the short time remaining in his life. As the gun fell to the floor, Sarah spun away and moved against the counter. She pulled her own revolver and levelled it at Randolph.

  Pope shook his head almost unperceptively and she read his signal and held her fire.

  Randolph looked at the blood spurting from his ruined wrist.

  His legs lost their strength and he leaned against the counter behind him. The would-be dime novel hero’s back slid down the counter and he landed on his butt on the floor.

  He sat there soiling the new tile floor with crimson.

  Pope and Bell moved in fast. Pope kicked Randolph’s gun aside and cashier Chester Lyon picked it up and moved back by Sarah.

  Pope ripped Randolph’s bandanna off his neck and made a tourniquet. He tied it just below the right elbow and some of the blood flow began to abate. He frisked him for a hideaway gun or knife. He did not find one.

  “Messenger, go and get the sheriff or chief deputy. Tell whoever you find at the sheriff’s department we have Kid Taos. Tell them he needs to go to the hospital right away, or he will die before they can hang him.” The new young man ran out the door.

  “Watch him?” Pope asked Bell, who already had his .44 pointed at the wounded man. Pope went to Sarah and held her tightly in his arms.

  “You okay?” She nodded, not yet ready to speak. He just held her as a constable and a couple deputies entered in response to the gunfire.

  “Hey, John?” Bell ca
lled.

  “Yeah, Jake.”

  “The way he was holding the gun on Sarah? You shot off his left ear lobe, too.”

  “Probably won’t matter on the scaffold when they hang him.”

  Pope let go of Sarah and walked back to the robber, who was wailing and moaning in the floor.

  Pope watched Randolph for a few minutes. The tourniquet seemed to be working.

  He waited another five minutes for the robber to stabilize before addressing him.

  “John Henry Randolph, I am arresting you for murder of a Wells Fargo manager, an innocent lady, a Cheyenne constable, robbing a Wells Fargo office, and aggravated assault against this Wells Fargo manager. Other charges may be forthcoming.”

  Randolph was still moaning. Pope poked him in the shoulder and asked, “Did you hear me?”

  Randolph answered “Yes, damn it, now get me some help.” Pope stood up and started to kick him in the ribs as hard as he could but restrained the impulse as Chief Deputy Horatio Akin walked into the office.

  “Pope? He’s still alive. Have you ever just winged anybody before?”

  “No, but he was holding a gun to Sarah’s head. His head was mostly behind hers, so I could not take a head shot. I had to disable the gun hand. If I shot him anywhere else I could see, he might have pulled the trigger on her. It was my only option.”

  “You arrested him yet?” Akin asked.

  “Yes. For killing Byron, the lady, the constable, robbing this office, and aggravated assault against Sarah.”

  “We have a bunch of other warrants on him, but your first three will guarantee his neck stretches.”

  He bent down and put his face inches from the injured robber’s.

  “You little piece of dung. You thank your lucky stars you didn’t try to draw on this man who shot you. You would have been dead before your gun cleared leather.

  You see, the thing is, he’s a real gunfighter. You are just a half-ass wannabe gunfighter. As it is, his shot today will go down in Wyoming history. But, you won’t live to read about it.”

  Randolph spat at Akin. Like Pope, Akin showed great restraint and just stood and stepped out of range of another spit.

  A doctor and several orderlies from the hospital arrived with a large wheel gurney. They loaded Randolph aboard. They certainly could not put nippers on his right wrist. It was a pulpy mess.

  They removed the makeshift tourniquet and put a proper one on. Once Randolph was on the gurney, the doctor wrapped a gauze bandage around his head to put pressure on the bleeding stub of ear lobe.

  “Once the sawbones say it’s alright, Detective Bell and I need to question him,” Pope told Akin.

  “Not Sarah?”

  “No, she’s a victim this time. Just doesn’t seem like it would be right.”

  “I see your point. Mind if I sit in?” Akin asked.

  “No, I’d want you to.”

  “I’ll follow the gurney to the hospital,” Akin said.

  “Mind if Jake Bell goes with you. I would, but I want to make sure Sarah is fine.”

  “No, not at all. Hey, Bell? C’mon with me to the hospital for the medical portion of your report. It’s historical. Usually your man Pope has to get reports for the coroner. This will be on a live body.”

  Bell grinned and grabbed his coat off the new horse on the way past, then caught up with the chief deputy and the hospital people wheeling Randolph down the middle of the street.

  Pope got the names and addresses of the three men and two women who were witnesses. All were local. He decided to interview each the next day and asked they come in on half-hour intervals starting at nine in the morning. He would let Akin know so the sheriff’s office could participate for their reports.

  “Let’s close early, Sarah,” he said. She nodded. She had not said a word yet.

  “Chester, would you get the messenger and get the blood cleaned up. Lon, stand by for a short report telegram to Chief Detective Hume.”

  Pope sat at his desk, cipher book open and converted the following to code.

  “J Hume. Stop. Kid Taos attempted robbery Cheyenne WF office. Stopped. Took manager hostage. Stop. Wounded by J Pope. Stop. Case closed except for reports trial and hanging. Stop. Pope”

  Lon Olson keyed the message. An hour later, he brought a reply over to Pope and Sarah.

  “J Pope. Stop. Wounded Question Mark. Stop. Practice more. Stop. J Hume.”

  “I never thought of the boss as a smart Alec,” Pope remarked.

  “He’s not, honey. He is just relieved you saved his prettiest detective and captured one of the most wanted men in the West. Even though the wanted man is a crazy one. He could, with any kind of half decent lawyer, be found guilty by reason of insanity,” Sarah said.

  “I’d actually like guilty by reason of insanity. I promised his mother I’d do my best to not kill him. Insane asylums are worse than prisons. He really is crazy. He needs to be kept in one instead of walking down the street.”

  “Did your promise to his mother come into play at all when you wounded him while he was holding me hostage?”

  Pope just looked her directly in the eyes for a long time, then got up and walked out the door without saying a word.

  He untied Caesar’s reins from the hitching rail and mounted his horse and rode silently to the livery. He unsaddled Caesar and left with his saddlebags and rifle. He walked past the office and on to the hotel.

  Pope put his gear in the wardrobe and took off his hat, vest and boots.

  He laid across the bed and stared at the ceiling. Sarah heard him explain to Akin why he took the shot he did to save her life. She had no business asking him what she asked.

  The detective fell asleep on the top of his blankets. The ceiling had no answer for his thoughts or emotions. He tossed and turned until he was awakened by a knock on his door.

  He got up in shirt, vest, pants and sock feet and went to the door. As always, he had a Colt in his hand.

  Standing to the side of the closed door, he said “Yes?”

  “It’s me, darling. Your stupid fiancé.”

  He opened the door to a tear-streaked Sarah.

  “I am here to beg your forgiveness,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For questioning your choice of the best action to save my life. Nobody could have done what you did. So fast. So accurately. I was not thinking when I blurted out about your conversation with Randolph’s mother influencing the action you took. It was stupid of me. Damn stupid, John.

  Jake and the guys saw how upset I was. I was shocked when you walked out and asked Jake why you might have done such a thing. He told me you probably felt pretty let down by what I said. He lectured me on how you explained to Horatio why you took the action you did by shooting Randolph in the wrist. He said it’s the only thing possible to save me and probably nobody else in the world could have pulled it off. He said you probably thought I had no faith in you. I can see why!”

  After her long admission, she broke down in tears. He just stood there and watched her. She dropped to her knees in the doorway and sobbed uncontrollably, something he could never envision her doing.

  Finally, he lifted her up and guided her into the room. Pope closed the door.

  “Will you ever forgive me for questioning your honor and skill?” she asked.

  “Sarah, a man’s honor is about all he has,” he said.

  “No, it’s not!” she almost screamed to him. “If he’s lucky, he has a woman who loves him as much as I love you!”

  She embraced him and buried her face in his vest, still sobbing.

  “If you are going to soak my vest and shirt, I better take them off.”

  She started ripping at them and did not stop there. Then, she did the same to her own apparel. Soon she was laying, head on his shoulder, still crying softly.

  Pope had never wondered whether she would play on his emotions. Primarily because he never thought about emotions. And, he had virtually no experience with women.
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  One of the things he was exceptionally good at however, was reading people. He always had been, but honed it sharp as a San Francisco officer, then as a detective.

  He did not question Sarah’s sincerity. Perhaps her reaction was caused by the trauma of thinking she was going to die. Of thinking he was powerless to stop it. He knew he loved her and could forgive her anything. And this was not so very much to forgive under the circumstances.

  Pope gently turned her head to face him.

  “I took a chance, Sarah. It was the only thing possible to save you. I watched his thumb begin to cock the hammer. It was then or never. The shot was a calculated risk. Shooting inches away from the head of a person you love more than life itself always is a risk. I knew I could do it. But it had to be right then. The clock had run stopped.

  Sarah Elaine Watson, I would die for you. I will and have killed for you. I will love you through my dying breath and take my love to wherever I go when I leave this earth. I will take a smile into the hereafter because I spent time on earth with you. Do you know these words are true?”

  “I do know, John. And I feel the same way. I think Wells Fargo is going to make me manager here and station you here as a regional detective. As soon as we hear, we need to go to California to your grandfather and Millie. There’s a wedding in our immediate future if you will still have me.”

  “I will. Let’s consummate our pact now.”

  She smiled and her smile was far less than angelic.

  By morning, things were more than back to normal. They were better than normal.

  Jake Bell returned from the hospital mid-morning.

  “Jake, what’s new with our friend Kid Taos?” Pope asked.

  “They had to amputate his right arm just below his elbow. The doc said it would be a week or so before you can interrogate him.”