by Edward Gates
“Suit yourself. We’ll be downstairs.”
Charlie heard the muffled sounds of talking and the creaking of floorboards as Dave and some others walked down the corridor. He thought about lying back down, but knew that once he was awake he’d never fall back to sleep. It didn’t take long for his mind to flash back to the previous night. He felt remorseful, almost embarrassed, about his intervention into Ed’s showdown with that young man. As well-intended as his actions were, they were inappropriate for the time. He had acted, or rather reacted, with his emotions instead of thinking through the situation.
He promised himself that from now on he would watch and listen instead of jumping into situations. Maybe he’d learn how to survive in this time. One thing he had learned last night was that being impulsive could be dangerous.
Charlie took his time getting dressed, then walked downstairs. The first floor of the Planters House was nothing more than a large room. Again, no frills. A long wooden counter, grayed with time and divided into two sections, ran along the back wall. One side was dedicated to the sale of stagecoach tickets, the other for checking hotel guests in and out. A simple rope cordoned off a corner of the left side of the room to hold baggage and cargo destined for the stage. Mismatched chairs, tables and benches were scattered around the room for guests and stage passengers. On the right side of the room was a small buffet table that held a large brass coffee urn and a platter of biscuits.
Ed, Dave and Jesse were all sitting at a table drinking coffee. A tin plate of biscuits sat in the middle of their table next to a small glass jar of honey. Charlie helped himself to a cup of coffee from the brass urn and joined them. He noticed they were all wearing sidearms.
“Where’s Walter?”
“He’s out front waiting on us,” Dave said. He paused for a moment. “What are your plans today, Charlie?”
Charlie shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t really have any plans. At some point I need to find a laundry and get a pair of boots that fit better than these old things. I thought maybe I’d look for a boot store.” He noticed Dave and Ed exchange glances. “Okay. What now? What’s going on that you’re not telling me?”
“Well…” Dave began and then looked over at Ed as he cleared his throat. “It seems that young farm boy you bested last night in the bar picked up his gun this morning. He and his two friends have been hanging around down the street. Walter’s outside keeping an eye on them.”
Charlie felt the blood drain from his face. Visions of being ambushed and gunned down in the sloppy streets of Denver raced through his brain. He began to tremble. “You think they’re looking for me?”
“They’re waitin’ on something. My guess is it would be you or me,” Ed replied.
Charlie’s stomach churned. His initial thought was to hide inside the hotel until the young man got tired of waiting.
“We all kinda thought we’d stick together today,” Dave said. “Ed and Walter want to get gussied up some so they’re going to the barber on Fifteenth Street. Thought we’d all go together. Just so happens Dorheis’s store is right across from the barbershop. You can pick a pair of boots right off the shelf there. We thought you might want to walk along with us, today.”
Charlie’s fear subsided a bit knowing they would all be together. Now he understood why everyone was wearing a gun. He smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. Maybe I might get gussied up some myself.”
“You want to grab something to eat first?” Dave asked.
“No. All of a sudden I’m not very hungry.” Charlie paused.
“Those boys are most likely looking for you and Ed and maybe even Walter. They’ve never seen me an’ Jesse. So we’re going to walk up the street and set by ‘em. Just in case they want to start something.” Dave smiled and winked at Charlie. “I’ll be seeing ya.” He and Jesse walked out the door and headed down the street.
Ed stood and smiled at Charlie. “You ready to go get your hair cut?”
“Just as long as that’s all that gets cut.”
Charlie, still fearful of the trouble that might come, followed Ed out to join Walter. The three began a leisurely walk along Blake Street. He was amazed at how calm and relaxed everyone seemed… everyone but him. He wondered how they could be so composed knowing there was trouble ahead. They all exuded a confidence that he could only dream of emulating.
As soon as they turned onto Fifteenth Street Charlie stopped, his breath stuck in his throat. There, across the street leaning against the support post, was Frank, the young man from last night. Ed bumped Charlie.
“Keep walking and don’t look at him,” Ed said quietly. “If he hollers at you, just stop. Don’t say nothing and don’t do nothing.”
Charlie took another step to keep up with Ed and Walter. He was fighting the urge to turn and look at the boy.
“Hey! You there! I’ll be having words with you!” Frank hollered as he stepped off the sidewalk onto the street. Charlie, Ed and Walter all stopped on the sidewalk and turned to look at him.
“Got nothing to say to you, boy. Go on home before someone gets hurt,” Ed shouted back.
“Not you, old man. I’m talking to that young fella next to you.”
“You put a gash in my face last night, boy. If’n you want to tangle with someone, you can tangle with me!” Ed replied.
“Got no beef with you, mister. It’s him I want.” The young man raised his hand and pointed at Charlie.
People on the sidewalks, sensing there was about to be trouble, began to scurry away. Frank’s two friends took a step off the sidewalk to join their friend. As they did, Dave and Jesse stepped from the shadows behind them with their guns drawn. They stuck the barrels of their guns in the backs of the two boys and whispered something in their ears. They stopped and didn’t move any farther.
Charlie smiled at Dave and Jesse’s intervention. Ed and Walter moved to the edge of the sidewalk and Charlie stepped up alongside them.
“Don’t say anything unless you have to. Let him make the first move. Keep your head about you and watch him,” Ed said under his breath. “He’s brash and will make mistakes. Watch for them.” He paused. “You okay with this?”
A surge of confidence rushed through Charlie after hearing Ed’s instructions. He nodded. “Yeah. I got this.”
Charlie stepped down onto the street. His heel landed on a rock in the street and caused him to stumble. So much for looking cool and confident. He bent over and picked up the stone. It was about the size of a tennis ball. He smiled at an idea that flashed in his brain. He looked at Frank with a wide grin on his face and started slowly walking toward him, still clutching the rock in his right hand. Frank looked back and saw that his two buddies were standing back away from him with their arms raised and weren’t coming any closer. When he turned back to face Charlie, Charlie threw the rock at him as quick and as hard as he could. The young man lunged to one side, dodging the rock. When he did, Charlie pulled his gun, pointed it at him and continued walking until he got right next to him.
“Your two friends aren’t going to play, Frank. It is Frank, right? They each have a gun in their back, in case you were wondering.” Charlie paused, his confidence bolstered by the success of his rock-throwing trick. He could see the anger in Frank’s eyes. But the young man kept quiet. “Look, I don’t want any trouble with you. Why don’t you take your buddies and go back home and forget about all this? There’s no harm done here.”
Frank took a deep breath but didn’t answer. Charlie assumed his deep sigh to be a sign of capitulation and, still holding his gun, turned to rejoin Ed and Walter. Suddenly, Ed hollered his name. Charlie turned around and saw that Frank had pulled his gun and was bringing it to bear on him. He fired just as Charlie dropped to one knee. The shot missed. Charlie raised his gun in Frank’s direction and fired before he could draw a good aim. His shot was off, but still managed to clip Frank’s forearm, causing him to drop his gun.
Charlie was no longer afraid. Now, anger surged through him. He sto
od, cocked his gun and walked over to Frank.
“Are you crazy?” Charlie shouted at him. He pointed his gun at Frank’s head. “Do you really want to die? Because I can blow your damn head off right now if you really want me to!”
“Charlie!” Dave called out. “Let it go!”
Charlie puffed in quick breaths and gritted his teeth. He was seething over the fact that this boy had tried to kill him, especially with his back turned. He looked up to see Dave step out from behind the other two teens and walk toward him.
“Put your gun away, Charlie. It’s over,” Dave said as he drew near.
Dave was right. Charlie took a deep breath and tried to relax. He realized that in his state of rage he could have easily killed that young man without a second thought. He couldn’t remember ever being that angry. He took another deep breath, holstered his pistol and looked at Frank’s wound. The bullet had just grazed the arm.
“Just a nick. You should be okay.”
Frank looked at Charlie, anger gone from his eyes. Just then, a deputy sheriff ran around the corner with his gun drawn. He stopped, surveyed the situation and walked up to where Charlie and Dave were standing with Frank.
“What’s going on here?” the deputy asked.
The young man looked at Charlie and then at the deputy.
The deputy shook his head. “Jesus, Frank. Not you again. How much trouble can one boy get himself into?”
“Nothing happened here, Sheriff. Everybody’s fine,” Charlie said.
The deputy looked at Frank’s arm. “Damn it, Frank. I told you yesterday that if you or your brother started any more trouble I’d throw you both in jail. You want to spend some time in jail?”
Frank didn’t answer. He just lowered his head.
“I didn’t think so.” The deputy looked at the other two boys still standing near the sidewalk. “Jesse! You take your older brother here and get out of Denver City. And I mean now! I don’t want to see any of you in town again. If you boys want to keep shooting off them pistols you ought to go back to Missouri and join the damn army. Now git!”
The young man picked up his pistol and, along with his two companions, walked up Fifteenth Street and disappeared around the corner. The deputy turned to Dave and Charlie. Jesse walked down and joined them in the middle of the street.
“That boy had the same name as you, Jesse,” Dave pointed out.
“I reckon he did at that.” Jesse smiled. “Kid kinda reminded me of me.”
“Now. Who are all of you and what are you doing shooting up my town?” the deputy asked.
While the deputy sheriff and Dave talked, Charlie took time to reflect on what had just happened. He had done well controlling the situation -- that is, until he got angry. It was the emotion, the anger that he didn’t control. That was the key these old men knew. Dave saw the anger and stopped him. Ed reminded him about it before he stepped off the sidewalk. Once again, they all had the situation well in hand... all except Charlie. If he kept control of his emotions, he’d be able to control his situation. Lesson learned.
Charlie thought about almost killing that young man. They called him Frank. Jesse? Frank? Missouri? He turned back to the deputy sheriff.
“Sheriff, you acted like you knew those boys. Who were they?” he asked, interrupting the conversation.
“A couple of young boys out of Missouri named James. Too damn young to be on their own, if you ask me.” The deputy shook his head. “They came here a few days ago with their cousin looking for their pa. They said he was a minister who disappeared in the west. They seem to think he met a bad end here in Denver City. Been nothing but trouble since they got here.”
Charlie looked away. Wow! He just shot Frank James. He thought about what would happen to history if he had killed one of the infamous James brothers. While Dave spoke with the deputy about their business in town, Charlie rejoined Ed and Walter.
“You know who those boys were?” Charlie asked with enthusiasm. Before he could say anything else Ed grabbed him by his vest and hurled him against the side of a brick building. Charlie landed on his shoulder. Ed pointed his finger in Charlie’s face. “You don’t ever… ever turn your back on somebody you’re facin’ down! What the hell’s the matter with you!?! You coulda got yourself killed!”
“Sorry. I thought he was finished.”
“Finished? It’s only finished when one of you is down or gone. You savvy?”
Charlie nodded. Another lesson painfully learned. He rubbed his shoulder where he’d hit the side of the building. “I can promise you I’ll remember that.”
Ed nodded, convinced Charlie would remember this. “Now, what was it you started to say?”
“That was Frank and Jesse James, the James brothers.”
Ed and Walter looked at each other and then back to Charlie. “Who the hell are the James brothers?” Ed asked.
“Why they’re the…” Charlie froze. In his exhilaration about meeting such prominent historical figures, he forgot that the James brothers wouldn’t be notorious for quite a few more years. Charlie stepped away for a second. Now how do I get out of this? He turned back to Ed. “You mark my word. I got a feeling about those boys. They’re going to be famous someday.” Then Charlie laughed.
Ed laughed, too. “Sometimes you say the damnedest things. Come on. Let’s go get you some boots.”
Further up Fifteenth Street, Ed and Charlie entered the Dorheis Boots store. Walter walked across the street to the barber. Charlie bought a pair of tall brown riding boots that covered his legs to just below his knees. He left his old work boots at the store for someone else to have. Ed and Charlie went across the street to the barbershop.
Walter had gotten his shave and haircut and looked pretty good with a clean face and his hair oiled down and parted in the middle. Charlie waited along with Walter while Ed got his shave and haircut. Dave came in and announced that he and Jesse were going over to the warehouse to check on their goods. Walter joined them.
Charlie kept thinking of his encounter with the real-life Frank and Jesse James. What an exciting moment for him. However, it could have had drastic historical implications had he killed Frank James. How could he have known? More importantly, how could he prevent this sort of thing from happening to him in the future? He scolded himself once again. None of this would have happened had he just let Ed and Walter handle the trouble in the bar. I just can’t get involved!
38
Moving On
The James brothers apparently heeded the deputy’s warning and were not seen again. The remainder of Charlie’s stay in Denver was uneventful. The time off gave him a much-needed rest and a chance to get himself and his laundry cleaned, augment his wardrobe and generally get ready to continue their trip.
Christmas Eve in Denver was quite a festive occasion. Candles burned in many windows throughout the city. Evergreens decorated doorframes and support posts. A recent snowfall shrouded the city and surrounding mountains in a white, fairytale appearance. Echoes of songs could be heard around town and camaraderie filled the air. Some saloons offered special holiday ciders and nog, and, for their better customers, free or “bonus” drinks.
Christmas Eve was also the day that thirty-two farm equipment boxes, each filled with ten Enfield rifles, were loaded into the two freight wagons. Sixteen boxes, stacked four to a row, four rows high, filled each wagon. On top of the contraband boxes, four additional boxes were loaded, each filled with shovels, picks and axes. The idea was that if an inspector wanted to check the contents, he would open one of the four legitimate boxes on top.
As he stood in the rear yard of Dobson’s Warehouse, Charlie thought about the upcoming trip through Texas to Galveston. The different stories his father had told him about the Civil War swirled through his brain. He had never shared his father’s enthusiasm for the study of Civil War battles, so a lot of the information he recalled was muddled at best. Galveston was one of those stories, but he couldn’t remember the details.
Char
lie watched the loading process and let out a deep sigh. He couldn’t help but think about the smuggled goods and the dire consequences if they were caught. Maybe he should take the bay, as Dave suggested, and ride out leaving the old Southern freighters to take care of this by themselves. They’d done this before; they didn’t need him; after all, it was their war, not his. His thoughts were interrupted by Ed walking up next to him.
“I want you to know that I’m real glad you decided to stay with us, Charlie. I truly am. We could use some young blood amongst us. It’s good to have you on board.” Ed put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and gave it a friendly shake.
Charlie looked at him and then back to the wagons. “Yeah, I’m glad I’m here, too.” He said it, but his heart wasn’t in it. I guess I’m staying after all.
Dave joined them. “Why don’t you two take Walter over to the grocers and get the supplies we need for this trip. We’ll stop in Pueblo and Trinidad, so we won’t need a whole lot -- just enough for a week or so. We’ll stock up in Trinidad for the trek across Texas.”
“Trinidad!” Ed exclaimed. “Why we stopping in that dung hole? Ain’t nothing there but a little post with a bunch of trappers. They didn’t have squat the last time we were there.”
“Yeah, I know. But I heard it’s quite a booming place since the coal miners moved there. They’re bound to have supply stores for the miners.”
“Coal? Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Ed, Charlie and Walter left the warehouse and headed to Foley’s Grocery on Larimer Street. While the others took care of business, Charlie browsed the items in the store but soon became bored. The store’s goods no longer held the same fascination for him they’d had earlier in his sojourn. Now they were just everyday items to him and not historical artifacts. He was surprised at how acclimated he had become to this era. A smile crossed his lips. He really did enjoy being in this time period where the life was slower and simpler. Some aspects were difficult and occasionally dangerous, but, all-in-all, it was pleasant. He had adapted well and the thoughts of Angel and his old life in the twenty-third century were no longer in the forefront of his mind. Someday, he thought, maybe he’d go back; maybe, someday.