Heresy

by Melissa Lenhardt

  The sheriff sat at his desk drinking coffee and flipping through a stack of wanted posters. He glanced up when the door opened and did a double take when Hattie walked in after me.

  “What can I do for ya?”

  “I’m here to escort the prisoner, Jehu Lee, to Denver for trial.” I held the letter out to the sheriff. He looked at the letter, at the gun on my waist, at Hattie, who held a rifle down to her side and was looking around the place. The sheriff looked up, turned his head to the side without taking his eyes off me, and shot a stream of tobacco juice into the nearby spittoon.

  “You’re not Salter.”

  “Salter has been relieved of his responsibilities in this case. I am the agent in charge now. This letter from Allan Pinkerton explains everything.”

  The sheriff took the letter, opened it, and read it with deliberate slowness. “Who’s the nigger?”

  “My guard.”

  “He a Pinkerton, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not mentioned in the letter.”

  “I met him this morning. It seems agents have been dispersed to other cases, and this is the best Mr. Pinkerton could come up with on short notice. Show him your papers, Henry.”

  Hattie held out the forged Pinkerton credentials, and I handed him mine as well. Mr. Pinkerton hadn’t asked me to relinquish them when I resigned, and I’d kept them for just such an eventuality.

  “Women and nigger detectives, huh? If that don’t beat all.”

  “Women and Negroes break the law, too, Sheriff …?”

  “Cooper.”

  “Sheriff Cooper. We have reserved a cabin on the eight twenty-five train to Denver. It was alluded to me that the reason I have been taken off my own case to do this errand is that you do not have the manpower or the funds to pay your men the overtime it would require to deliver Mr. Lee to Denver. Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Connolly have gone to the trouble of getting me and Henry here to do your job. I’m sure they won’t be pleased to learn you made me miss a train, which we’ve already paid for, because you didn’t trust a woman and a Negro with legitimate credentials to do their jobs.”

  The sheriff laughed and stood. “Lady, you must be new at this, because disappointing rich men isn’t a threat that’s going to get me to do what you want.” He stood between us and the door leading to the jail cells, one hand resting on his gun. He spit another stream of tobacco juice and adjusted the wad in his mouth.

  I snapped my fingers and held out my hand to Hattie. She placed an envelope in it. I held it out to the sheriff, but pulled it back before he could take it.

  “Is everyone in the West corrupt?”

  “Just about,” he said.

  “I’ll take our credentials back first, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll keep the letter, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Of course. Henry, see to the prisoner while I sign him out.”

  My hand shook as I wrote my name in the log. When I lay the pen down, a sense of inevitability came over me. By signing my name, I’d passed the Rubicon, thrown my Christian name, Claire Hamilton, in with a group of outlaws. I was helping a prisoner escape, and if caught would go to prison myself. The full import of that hadn’t hit me until I dotted the i and crossed the t in my last name. Had I been swept along in the energy and the excitement of the events? Or had I been manipulated? Or had I gone into this with my eyes open, knowing deep down where the end was and not caring? I could have left many times. But I never had. What a dull, boring life I’d led to this point.

  The jingle of chains announced Jehu and Hattie’s arrival. For a moment I didn’t recognize either of them, Hattie’s disguise was that good. When it snapped into place, I gaped at Jehu. He was a shell of the man who had threatened to throw me over a cliff a little more than a month earlier. The yellowing bruises on his face were almost as shocking as his sunken cheeks, dark-circled eyes, and stooped-over shuffle.

  Hattie was managing to keep it together, somehow, but I saw the fire in her eyes.

  I tried to keep my voice neutral despite the pounding of my heart in my ears. “What happened to him?”

  “He didn’t want to come in quietly.”

  “He looks ill. Has a doctor seen him?”

  “Yep. But ain’t our fault he won’t eat or drink.”

  “Very well. Thank you, Sheriff Cooper. Good day.”

  The sheriff got his gun from the cabinet behind his desk and said, “I’ll walk you to the train. Just to be on the safe side.”

  “I hardly think he’s in any state to attempt an escape.”

  “No, he’s nice and compliant now. But he has friends, or so they say. Only person that’s visited him besides the preacher’s widow is a little boy. Works at the blacksmith shop.”

  “I certainly understand the need for the escort, then.”

  It was Sunday morning, so the main thoroughfare was mostly deserted. The gang was well hidden; I never saw them.

  Sheriff Cooper checked the compartment before we entered and waited until the train was pulling out before leaving. We pulled the window shades down and Hattie hugged Jehu. He grimaced at the pressure on his arm. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “Go get him some food, Grace.”

  “What is she doing here? She’s a Pinkerton.”

  “Not anymore,” Hattie said. “Go, Grace.”

  I left the compartment under Jehu’s glare and ran straight into Rhodes and Newt Valentine.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Found him staking out the sheriff’s office.”

  “I’ve been waiting on y’all to bust Jehu out for a week. Where’ve y’all been? He was dying in there.”

  “We’ve been busy.”

  “I was about to ask Portia and Rosie to help me bust him out. I bet they would have, too. They’re two fine women.”

  “Don’t let Joan hear you say that.”

  “Go on, Newt. Joan and Stella are in second class. Whatever you do, don’t talk to them, especially about Jehu or breaking him out,” Luke said.

  “Can I have a dollar for some food? I left before I et.”

  Luke gave him a quarter and gently pushed him down the hall.

  “Why is Newt in Cheyenne?” I asked.

  “Garet and Hattie rescued him from Valentine, took him to some friends to stay. The bastard didn’t even care. Joined up with Spooner when he realized Newt was gone. Talked big about Garet stealing his boy and taking his revenge, though.”

  “You won’t let that happen, will you?”

  “No.”

  “I need to get Jehu some food. He looks half-starved.” Rhodes started to enter the compartment to give Hattie the bag he carried, but I stopped him. “Give them a few minutes. Come with me to get him something to eat. I gave the sheriff all of my money.”

  We bought a sandwich from the steward, and when we returned to the compartment Jehu had settled down, but he still didn’t look happy with me. He was still in irons.

  “Did the others make the train?” Hattie asked Rhodes.

  “As far as I know. Newt did, too.”

  “That’s all we need is a boy getting in the way,” Hattie said.

  “Don’t you worry about Newt. He’ll do what he’s told,” Jehu said.

  “Stand there and guard the door, Grace.”

  Luke removed the irons and Jehu rubbed his wrists. I held the sandwich out to him. He took it, sat down, and tore into it.

  “You didn’t tell us they beat him, Luke,” Hattie said.

  “I knew you’d go off half-cocked if I did.”

  “Don’t you act like you know me.”

  “It’s what I would have done if I’d been in your shoes. Let’s argue later. Did you tell Jehu the plan?”

  “A bit, not enough to make me rest easy. I’m not going back to jail. Haven’t been able to take a shit in a week,” he said.

  “Don’t you worry, baby. You’ll be able to take a shit whenever you want for the rest of your life.”

  “You sure know
how to charm a fella.”

  “It comes natural. You two skedaddle. We have to get changed.”

  Rhodes told me Ruby was in second class, and he was going to the back. “I’ll meet up with you in Denver. Good luck.”

  Somehow Ruby was sitting on a bench alone, and I asked if I could sit next to her as if we were strangers. She smiled at me and raised her eyebrows in question. I nodded and winked at her. Ruby’s expression changed ever so slightly. I blushed and buried my head in this journal. It means nothing. Nothing at all.

  I cannot believe we pulled it off. My heart is still racing, though I’ve been on the train for over an hour. I’m not sure when I will come down from this high. I understand the appeal now.

  THE WESTERN UNION TELEGRAPH COMPANY

  21,000 OFFICES IN AMERICA

  CABLE SERVICE TO ALL THE WORLD

  TO: CALLUM CONNOLLY, DENVER, CO

  FROM: SHERIFF CLAY COOPER, CHEYENNE, WY

  DATE: AUG. 27, 1877

  PINKERTON CLAIRE HAMILTON AND A NEGRO GUARD TRANSPORTING JEHU LEE TO DENVER. ARRIVE ON 5:20 TRAIN.

  REPLY

  TO: SHERIFF CLAY COOPER, CHEYENNE, WY

  FROM: DORCAS CONNOLLY, DENVER, CO

  DATE: AUG. 27 1877

  C CONNOLLY MURDERED YESTERDAY, 8/26. DIRECT ALL CORRESP TO ME. C HAMILTON NOT A PINKERTON, PART OF OUTLAW GANG. SEND SALTER TO DEN WHEN ARRIVES.

  THE WESTERN UNION TELEGRAPH COMPANY

  21,000 OFFICES IN AMERICA

  CABLE SERVICE TO ALL THE WORLD

  TO: ALLAN PINKERTON

  PINKERTON NATIONAL DETECTIVE AGENCY, CHICAGO, IL

  FROM: DORCAS CONNOLLY

  CONNOLLY ENTERPRISES, DENVER, CO

  DATE: AUG. 27, 1877

  CALLUM MURDERED 8/26. JEHU LEE RELEASED TO C HAMILTON TODAY, UNDER YOUR NAME. BOTH EVENTS DOWN TO M PARKER. SALTER MIA. SEND 5 MEN TO CE OFFICES IN DEN + I WILL DO WHAT YOUR BEST MAN COULDN’T: CATCH THE PARKER GANG.

  30

  WPA Slave Narrative Collection

  Interview with Henrietta Lee

  Thursday, September 17, 1936 cont

  Taking Jehu out of that Cheyenne jail was the easiest job we ever did. You expect me to tell you about some sort of doom and gloom right now, how everything went to hell. It didn’t. Everything went right to plan.” Laughs. “Shocked the hell out of me, if you want to know the truth of it. Stealing a little gold is a lot different proposition than walking a prisoner out of jail and into freedom. But the plan worked because it was so simple. Claire Hamilton and I walked into that sheriff’s office, I was dressed as a man, of course, and she gave him a forged document from Pinkerton and a bit of cash, and we walked right out. Let that be a lesson for you, Grace Williams. Simple plans and simple lies are always the best options.

  “There was one unknown with the plan, who would be waiting for us in Denver. We figured a cable would be sent telling of his transfer. We had to look out for both Callum and Dorcas to be staking out the station. Claire needed a good disguise. No doubt Dorcas had an eagle eye out for the detective who betrayed her. A dark dress and a thick mourning veil did the trick just fine. But it’d been years since we’d seen Dorcas, and neither I or Jehu had spoken more than a dozen words to her in our life.

  “Still, to be safe, I asked Jehu to wear a dress. He stared at me long and hard and I thought he was going to refuse. I’d brought some facial hair to glue on him just in case, but I didn’t want to go that route unless he threw a fit. All I cared about was getting us all out of Denver safely, and that meant Jehu needed to wear a goddamn dress for a few hours. When he finally spoke, he asked about his hair. That’s when I showed him the plain Quaker dress and poke bonnet. He bent his head and shook it a few times. Told me he hadn’t worn a dress since he was twelve years old. I thought he might tell me a little about that, about his early life, but he didn’t. He never did, and I respected that. I never told him all of my past, neither. As I said, it didn’t matter. Our lives began when we met, and everything before was what we had to go through to find each other. I’d go through it again if it meant I got to spend fifty years with Jehu.”

  Mrs. Lee choked up here and asked if we could continue another day. I agreed, of course, and we scheduled for me to come two days later. The time of each session was dwindling markedly, so that now I am lucky to get an hour’s worth of conversation out of her. I fear she is nearing the end of her story and is wanting to drag it out for dramatic purposes.

  ROCKY MOUNTAIN NEWS

  MONDAY, AUGUST 27, 1877

  PROMINENT BUSINESSMAN FOUND MURDERED

  VICTIM OF ROBBERY

  MURDERER LEFT NO CLUES

  NO SUSPECTS

  Callum Llewellyn Connolly, aged 34, was found brutally murdered in his office Sunday night. His aunt, Dorcas Connolly, found the body after she became worried when he didn’t return home from his errand to the office. The safe had been robbed of $20,000 worth of cash, bonds and gold.

  Sheriff Brandon Smith says it was one of the worst scenes he has witnessed, but refused to give details so as not to “shock your female readers.” Sheriff Smith said there are no suspects at this time, but the detectives would be interviewing numerous people in the course of the investigation. They would also work with the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, which had been hired by Mr. Connolly to find the gang that has been targeting his businesses for the last two years. If anyone has information that might help, they should contact the police.

  Mr. Connolly was the son of the late Colonel Louis Connolly, a cattle rancher turned investor turned philanthropist, who died three years ago. In his two years managing the business, Callum Connolly has expanded the company’s mining interests, lately investing heavily in the strike in Oro City. He was also in talks to invest in the expansion of Nathanial P. Hill’s smelting company.

  Mr. Connolly leaves no heirs and, according to Dorcas Connolly, she will inherit Connolly Enterprises.

  PART FIVE

  FAMILY IS THICKER THAN BLOOD

  31

  Claire Hamilton’s Case Notes

  Monday, August 27, 1877

  Denver, Colorado

  When we got off the train, a newspaper boy was hawking the afternoon paper with the headline “Break in Callum Connolly Murder Case!” It is a good thing my face was covered with an opaque veil or everyone on the platform would have seen the color drain out of it. Ruby, dressed in a light-blue, loose-fitting tunic and trousers, walked a few paces ahead of me. I kept my eyes on her shoulders for want of anywhere else to look. I knew Dorcas Connolly was on the platform, waiting for me. I remembered Hattie’s advice: Don’t walk too fast or too slow. Walk like you know where you’re going. Believe you’re a widow, kill someone from your past if you want. Believe in the disguise, and you’ll be that person.

  Kill someone from the past? Such as my mother? Not too hard to imagine, since that was essentially what happened. Oh, it was an accident, I was defending myself, after all. But I saw the fire engulfing house after house on our street, and I left her unconscious body to fate. I’d never mourned her, and no one else did, either. Very few people were at the funeral, and there wasn’t much to bury anyways. I’d never bought a marker, so Judith Hamilton was one of hundreds of anonymous graves in Oakwood Cemetery.

  I found myself suddenly out of the station and on the street, confused because I wasn’t in Chicago on Van Buren Street. I glanced around and saw Dorcas deep in conversation with a man with a sheriff’s star on his breast. She wasn’t looking in my direction, so I stepped off the curb and walked the opposite way. I didn’t exhale until I’d rounded a corner and was out of sight. I found an alley and leaned against the wall.

  How in the world did they do this all the time? I would have long since died of heart failure. The excitement from going undercover for Pinkerton (and that was the most thrilling part of the job) pales in comparison to being on the wrong side of the law.

  Hattie’s plan was simple: Disguise ourselves, leave separately, and meet up at Garet’s room
. Take your time. Make sure you’re not followed. If you are, walk into a crowd, lose a piece of your disguise, walk out a different person. Hattie was the only one of us who knew everyone’s disguises. To keep us from looking out for the others, she said.

  I have to give Hattie her due: she is brilliant. The plan was all hers, with each of us suggesting little fixes. I had the impression they were all things she’d thought of, but that she let us take the credit for morale, for everyone to be invested in the plan. No matter, it worked. We all did what she said, and we all arrived back at Garet’s without a problem. I was the last to arrive, and the expressions of relief on their faces did not go unnoticed.

  I smiled to see Garet up and about. “Worried I wouldn’t make it back? Or were you worried I was going to betray you?”

  “A little of both, if I’m honest,” Garet said. She hugged me.

  “Don’t take the ‘I’m dying, so I can be brutally honest’ tack for the next few … months. You want us to have good memories of you, don’t you?”

  “If I’m too perfect, I won’t make a good heroine. All the best heroines have a fatal flaw, you know.”

  “Yours is talking too much,” Stella said.

  A knock on the door, and Joan put her hand on the knob, pulled her gun, and asked who it was.

  “Rhodes.”

  Garet’s face fell, and I laughed. I’d forgotten all about our token man. “What’s he doing here?” she whispered.

  “He helped us,” Hattie said.

  “You worked with Luke Rhodes?”

  “I was in charge, and I haven’t forgiven him. You want me to tell him to go away, I will. With pleasure.”