Shot in the Back Read online

  “What condition is that?”

  “That you stay on for at least sixty days, until I’m sure I’ve got the hang of running this store. I’ll be happy to pay you a salary to do so.”

  Molly looked at him with a confused expression on her face. “Mister, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “Take advantage of me? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know if you can cipher or not, but if you give me two thousand dollars and the note, you will be giving me more money than I’m actually asking for.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  The confusion on Molly’s face turned to a big smile, and she stuck her hand out.

  “Mister . . . ?”

  “Alexander. J. Frank Alexander.”

  “Mr. Alexander, you have just bought yourself a gun store,” she said.

  “And hired a store manager?”

  The smile turned to a little laugh. “Yes. And hired a store manager.”

  Tuesday, July 4, 1882

  Jesse very much missed Zee and his children. But almost as much as he missed them, he missed the very act of having a family. He knew, also, that if he had a wife and a family, that it would be much less likely that anyone would ever be able to find out his true identity.

  After three months of working with Molly, he decided that if he was going to take another wife, she was the one he wanted. Molly was a very pretty woman, prettier even than Zee, though he felt a little guilty about thinking that. Like such a thought would be a betrayal.

  Jesse thought about it long and hard before he asked Molly to marry him. Technically, he knew that he couldn’t marry her, because he was still married to Zee. On the other hand, he was legally dead, and though he wasn’t actually dead, he told himself, in all probability, that meant his marriage with Zee had been dissolved as surely as if there had been a divorce.

  He also wondered if he should tell Molly his real name. He decided not to, because he didn’t want to burden her with that knowledge. Also, he wasn’t sure how she would take being married to an outlaw, especially an outlaw with the reputation of Jesse James.

  Molly accepted his proposal, and they decided to get married on the Fourth of July.

  “Damn, Frank,” Sheriff Wallace said. “The Fourth of July is Independence Day. Why are you choosing that day to give up your independence?” He laughed at his own joke, and Jesse laughed with him.

  Sheriff Wallace was a good customer of the gun store, and Jesse recognized the advantage of making friends with the law. He had even allowed himself to be sworn in as a deputy on a couple of occasions.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sheriff Wallace, his wife, and several other businessmen of Wild Horse gave up a part of their Independence Day celebration to attend the wedding. And now, as firecrackers popped in the street, Jesse and Molly stood before Father Gordon Prouty, the priest of Holy Spirit Episcopal Church of Wild Horse.

  Jesse listened to the priest drone on through the litany of matrimony, then Father Prouty looked up from the prayer book he was holding.

  “I require and charge you both, as thee will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know of any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess. Far be well assured, that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God’s word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful.

  “Frank, wilt thou have this woman, Molly, to be thy wife? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

  Jesse hesitated. It wasn’t Molly he was seeing, it was Zee, and he saw her as clearly as he had that last day, standing in the park back in St. Joseph, Missouri. If he was going to say anything, if he was going to confess who he was, this was the time and the place to do it, because after this moment it would be too late.

  As the delay in his response stretched on, the smile on Molly’s face faded, to be replaced by a look of concern and confusion.

  “Frank?” Father Prouty prodded.

  “What? Oh, sorry. Yes, of course I will,” Frank said, smiling at Molly.

  Molly’s return smile was one of relief.

  “Molly, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

  “I will.”

  “Join your right hands together.”

  Jesse turned toward Molly and took her hand in his.

  “I declare you man and wife. Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”

  As if on cue, several firecrackers went off outside, just in front of the church. Jesse, dropping Molly’s hand, spun toward the front door, his right hand moving quickly to his side, as if reaching for the pistol that wasn’t there.

  Sheriff Wallace laughed. “Whoa, hold on there, Frank. You’re a little jumpy, aren’t you?”

  Jesse laughed. “I guess I am,” he said.

  “Come on, folks, we’re goin’ to have a wedding party for these good people down at the hotel,” Seth Parker said. Parker owned the hotel.

  From the Wild Horse Times:

  Wedding on Independence Day

  Wild Horse’s newest businessman, J. Frank Alexander, married Molly Collins on July 4. The wedding was well attended by all the businessmen of the town.

  It was widely thought that when Ken Collins died, the gun store he had begun would go out of business. But to the satisfaction of all who would prefer to do as much of their business in Wild Horse as is possible, Mr. Alexander arrived from his former home in Paducah, Kentucky, bought the store from Ken Collins’s widow, and continues to operate it. His extensive knowledge of firearms has been of great benefit to all the citizens of the town.

  He kept Mrs. Collins on to help him, and soon, nature took its course. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Alexander are now the newest married couple in our rapidly growing city.

  Wild Horse, Colorado—September 1892

  Not long after Jesse and Molly were married, Jesse had a house built for them. In one room of the house, he had the carpenter build a setback in the corner, telling him it was for a piece of furniture he was going to buy. Then, claiming he had changed his mind, he had the carpenter take out the setback. The result was a double wall, and that was where he hid the remainder of the fifty thousand dollars he had stolen. Nobody, not even Molly, knew of that money, and over the next ten years he finally managed to get it all into his account at the local bank, making periodic deposits of the stolen money, along with the money his store earned. On a couple of occasions he made deposits that were clearly larger than his earnings from the store, but he convinced Molly, and the banker, that the money was the result of betting on horse races.

  Molly had given him two children, twin sons, whom Jesse named William Anderson Alexander, and Frank James Alexander. Though they were twins, they had very different personalities. Billy was the more daring of the two and more apt to get into trouble. He was often a truant, and Jesse, half in jest, and half serious, posted an advertisement in the Wild Horse Times.

  One Gallon of Black Strap MOLASSES

  To anyone who can keep

  My son, BILLY, in school

  Long enough to advance

  To the next grade.

  ~J. Frank Alexander

  Frank, on the other hand, was always on the straight and narrow. He never disobeyed his parents or his teacher, he made very good grades in school, and he was well liked by everyone.

  “Oh, why can’t Billy be more like you?” Molly asked Frank Jr. one day after Billy had broken a neighbor’s window by using a sling to throw a rock.

  “Mom, you know that colt that Pa bought? He was hard to break but once he was broke, he was a real good horse.”

  “
Once he was broken,” Molly corrected.

  “Yes, ma’am. Well, Billy is like that. Yeah, he does things that he ought not to do. But I think that’s just because he is young.”

  “You’re twins, Frank. You’re both the same age.”

  “No, we aren’t. I was the first one born, that’s what you ’n Pa said. That means I’m older.”

  Molly laughed. “I suppose that’s true.”

  Molly shared with Jesse the conversation she had had with Frank.

  “Billy reminds me of myself when I was his age,” Jesse said. “I wouldn’t worry about him; he’s not even nine years old yet. He’ll come around. Look at me, I’m a legitimate businessman now.”

  “I can’t help but worry about him. I do wish he would settle down and be more like his brother.”

  “Give him some time.”

  Molly sighed. “There’s nothing else I can do but give him time, is there? All right, I’d better get to work. I have to get the order filled out for some more ammunition. You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

  Molly kissed him, then went into a small room at the back of the store. They used this room, which wasn’t accessible to the customers, as the store office.

  Shortly after Molly left the front of the store, the bell on the door tinkled as Sheriff Wallace stepped into the gun shop. Jesse was standing at the workbench in the back of the shop working on a rifle, the pieces of which were spread before him. He looked up as the sheriff came in.

  “Hello, Larry. What can I do for you?”

  “There was a bank that was robbed up in Mirage this morning,” Wallace said. “I just got a telegram that said the bank robbers are more ’n likely heading this way. I’m getting some men together, and I’d like to deputize you.”

  “All right,” Jesse said. “Molly’s in the back; let me yell at her so she can mind the store.”

  Half an hour later Jesse joined the sheriff and five more men to go out in pursuit of the bank robbers. Jesse couldn’t help but sense the irony. Here he was, part of a posse, when there were so many times in his past that he had been the pursued and a posse had been the pursuer.

  “You got ’ny idea where to look for ’em, Sheriff?” Lindell, one of the members of the posse, asked.

  “We got word from someone that they saw four men going into Twin Peaks Canyon.”

  “Whoa, hold it,” one of the others said. “There’s four of ’em goin’ to be holed up at Twin Peaks, and we’re goin’ after ’em with just six men?”

  “What’s your problem, Sarno? There are six of us, only four of them.”

  “But they’ll be there, hidin’ behind the rocks in the canyon. Don’t you see? They’ll have the advantage. We need more men.”

  “How many more men?” Jesse asked.

  “I’d say at least four more. I mean, without at least ten men, we don’t have a chance against ’em.”

  “A posse that large is hard to handle,” Sheriff Wallace said.

  “And we may as well be ringing cowbells to tell them where we are,” Jesse said. “With a posse that large, all we would do is scare ’em off. We wouldn’t have a chance in hell of actually capturing them.”

  “How would you know?” Sarno asked.

  “I’ve been around a few posses,” Jesse replied without being more specific. “Six people is all we’ll need.”

  “Yeah?” Sarno replied. “Well, six may be all you need, but five is all you’re goin’ to have. ’Cause I ain’t goin’ with you.”

  The posse members had been inside the sheriff’s office, and they looked on as Sarno walked out.

  “Then we’ll do it with five,” Wallace said. “Unless some more of you decide to leave.”

  “I’ll stay,” Lindell said.

  One by one the others made the commitment to stay.

  “All right, stop by Suzie’s Café; I’ve already made arrangements for her to make lunches for us. Also, make certain that you have water and ammunition.” Sheriff Wallace looked over at Jesse. “I’d say twenty rounds each, at the county’s expense. Can your store handle that?”

  “We can handle it,” Jesse said.

  Two hours later, Sheriff Wallace halted the men at the beginning of Twin Peaks Canyon.

  “Damn,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “I think Sarno may have had a point. If we start into this canyon, they’ll have cover and position on us. If they start shooting at us, we won’t have any maneuvering room. We’ll just be hanging out there.”

  “I’ve got a suggestion,” Jesse said.

  “Any suggestion is welcome.”

  “Suppose I go this way”—he pointed up—“around the mountain.”

  “Over the top? That’s a mile high.”

  “Not over it, just around it. If I’m lucky, I can get down into the canyon behind them.”

  “You want someone to come with you?”

  “No, if there are two of us that just doubles the chances of being discovered. I’ll go alone. Give me about half an hour, then start into the canyon. Make as much noise as you can going in.”

  “Why would we want to do that?” Wallace asked.

  “I know what he means,” Lindell said. “If we make enough noise, it will draw their attention toward us and give Frank a better chance of getting in behind them without being seen.”

  “Exactly right,” Jesse said. “Larry, will you keep up with my horse? I’m going to have to do this on foot.”

  “All right,” Sheriff Wallace agreed.

  Jesse climbed up the side of the east mountain of Twin Peaks, figuring that the higher he went, the less distance he would have to cover in circumnavigating the mountain. He climbed about a thousand feet, then started working to his right, which he knew would eventually take him all the way around.

  At first he could only move by going sideways, finding hand- and footholds wherever opportunity presented them. Then, as he was reaching for a handhold, a rock dislodged underneath and, losing his footing, he began sliding down. The mountain wasn’t a perfect cone, and he knew that within another few feet he would go over the edge, then fall several hundred feet to the valley floor below.

  At the last minute he managed to grab hold of the trunk of a small but sturdy juniper tree. He hung there for a second, looking down to the ground, far below.

  “Damn, that would be something,” he said aloud. “All the times I’ve been shot at and hit, to wind up falling off the side of a mountain?”

  Catching his breath, Jesse managed to pull himself up, then finding foot- and handholds he climbed until he found a narrow ledge. The ledge was still not big enough for him to walk on, but it did provide a solid and continuous path for him to work his way around. Then, halfway around the mountain he came upon a trail that would let him walk standing up.

  After that he was able to move easily and quickly. He worked his way all the way around the mountain until he heard the exaggerated sound of the others coming in through the front of the canyon.

  “Here them sons of bitches come!” someone said, and looking toward the sound of the voice he saw four men in position behind a rock ledge.

  “Soon as we see ’em, we start blastin’,” another voice said.

  That voice caught Jesse by surprise. He could almost swear he had heard it before.

  The sound of the posse coming in grew louder, and the waiting outlaws stared toward the point where they would first see the posse.

  The distraction worked perfectly, because none of the outlaws saw Jesse walking up behind them. When he got to within fifty feet of them, he called out.

  “Drop your guns, and throw up your hands!”

  “What the hell!” one of the men shouted.

  All four turned and started shooting. But Jesse was already set and aiming. He fired three quick shots, and three men went down. The fourth man threw down his gun and put his hands up.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he shouted in panic.

  The expression of panic in his
face turned to one of shock.

  “Jesse? No! It can’t be! You’re dead!”

  “Hello, Pete. I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re getting too old for this sort of thing, aren’t you?”

  Pete was Pete Arnold, who had ridden with Quantrill and, at one time, with the James-Younger gang.

  “My God! It is you! But how is that possible? The whole world thinks you’re dead. You was kilt by Bob Ford ten years ago!”

  “As you can see, I wasn’t.”

  “But how—?”

  “It’s a long story. But now we have a problem. You are right, the whole world thinks I’m dead. But now you’ve seen me, and you know that I’m not. Bud, I can’t have anyone know that I’m still alive. You are a danger to me.”

  Jesse pointed his pistol at Arnold and cocked it.

  “Jesse, for God’s sake, you ain’t goin’ to shoot me, are you? I mean, me ’n you rode together with Quantrill, Anderson, even Little Archie. I ain’t goin’ to tell no one, I swear I won’t.”

  Jesse lowered his pistol and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m just going to have to trust you. Go on, get out of here.”

  “Thanks, Jesse. You won’t regret this,” Arnold said. He reached for the money bag from the bank robbery.

  “Leave that,” he said.

  “The hell you say. I risked my life for this money. I ain’t goin’ to just leave it here.”

  “You’ve got no choice, Pete. Leave it, and go now. Hurry up, before the rest of the posse gets here.”

  “The rest of the posse? Wait a minute, are you telling me that you’re ridin’ with a posse?” He laughed. “Who would’ve ever thought that Jesse James would be ridin’ with a posse?”

  “We don’t have time to gab, Pete. Hurry up, go, before they get here!”

  Jesse looked back toward the curve in the canyon, and that was when Arnold made his move.

  “I ain’t leavin’ the money!” Arnold said, shooting at Jesse. Arnold missed. Jesse returned fire and didn’t miss.