Shot in the Back (13 page)

It took them two weeks to reach Joplin, and there they sold their horses and tack, and bought new clothes. Both had grown beards, but here they shaved them off so that it was unlikely that even if the teller of the bank in Joplin was standing three feet in front of them, he would be able to make a positive identification. Here, too, they bought leather valises in which to carry their money, though, to the casual observer they could have been businessmen, carrying the papers of their profession.

From Joplin they caught a train to Kansas City. There were several tracks here, with brick-paved walkways between them. At least half a dozen trains were standing in the station, and as they walked from the tracks into the building they were assailed by the sounds of trains leaving and arriving. Inside the depot more than two hundred people crowded the ticket counters, the food vendors, the information booth, or just lounged on the many benches.

Outside the building they saw trolley cars arriving and departing.

“Which one do we take?” Billy asked.

“I don't think it matters much,” Jesse replied. “All we want to do is get down town. Once we're there, it won't be hard to find a hotel.”

They stepped onto one of the trolleys, dropped a nickel in the coin box, then took a seat halfway back in the car.

“Pa, look at that!” Billy said excitedly, pointing through the window. “You know what that is? That's an automobile! There's another one. There's another one! Damn, they're all over the place.”

Billy counted the automobiles during their trip, and got to twenty before they reached their destination.

“There's a hotel,” Jesse said. “Let's get off here.”

Stepping down from the trolley, they waited for it to pass, then started toward the hotel when they heard a strange honking sound. Looking toward the sound, they saw an automobile coming quickly toward them, and they had to jump back quickly to avoid being hit.

“Get out of the way!” the driver shouted as the car whizzed past them.

“That's twenty-one,” Billy said.

Looking both ways, they hurried across the street. As they approached the hotel, the doorman opened it for them.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the doorman said, greeting them with professional courtesy.

Inside they learned that each room of the hotel had its own bathroom, which included a flush toilet and a porcelain bathtub with hot and cold running water.

“There is also an elevator to take you to your floor,” the desk clerk told them proudly.

 

 

“What are we going to do with our money?” Billy asked when they reached their room. “Where are we going to keep it?”

“What do you mean, where are we going to keep it? You've got a leather case for it.”

“I mean when we go out. I want to take a look around.”

“You'll take the money with you,” Jesse said.

“You mean I have to carry it around all day?”

Jesse laughed. “Listen to you. You're bitching because you have to carry a lot of money with you.”

Billy laughed as well. “Yeah, I guess that's right. All right, I'll take it with me. I'm really looking forward to wandering around this afternoon. I've never been in any town that was this big before.”

“Enjoy yourself, but just be careful and hang on to your bag. Also, don't get drunk and careless.”

“I won't.”

“We'll meet here for supper tonight,” Jesse suggested.

 

 

The painted sign on the window read K
ANSAS
C
ITY
S
TAR
. Jesse stood on the sidewalk in front of the building for a moment, then he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He could hear the clacking of half a dozen typewriters and smell ink from the pressroom. There was a counter across the front that denied access of the rest of the office to anyone not specifically invited. Someone was on one of the telephones, even as the other phone began to ring.

“Yes, sir,” a smiling man said, stepping up to the counter. “You wish to place an ad?”

“Place an ad?”

“Do you wish to place an advertisement in our paper? A classified announcement, perhaps.”

“No.”

“Buy a subscription, perhaps?”

“No, I don't want to do that, either. I would like some information about someone who used to live here.”

“Sir, there are over one hundred and sixty thousand people who live in Kansas City. Surely you don't think you can just come into a newspaper office and ask about someone and expect us to tell you how to find them, do you?”

“Well, this person is rather well known. That is, her husband was well known. I know for a fact that her husband's name appeared in many newspapers throughout the state. At least it did back in the 1860s and 1870s.”

“Just a minute, let me get Josh up here. He's been here since the paper started, and if there is anyone who can answer your question, it would be him. He knows everything there is to know about Kansas City history. Josh?” he called.

A gray-haired man who was sitting at one of the typewriters, pecking with two fingers on the keys, looked up.

“This fella has a question that you might be able to answer.”

Josh stood up, reached for his pipe, and clamped it between his teeth as he came up to the counter. “Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”

“I'm trying to find someone that I think lives here. Her name, that is, unless she has gotten married again, is James. Zerelda Mimms James.”

“Zerelda Mimms James. Well now, you would be talking about the wife of Jesse James, wouldn't you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Jesse James was quite a well-known figure in Missouri. I guess he is one of the best known Missourians of the last fifty years.”

“I'm looking for his wife. Does she live here?”

“Well, sir, she did live here. That is, until she died.”

“She died?” Jesse felt a quick surge of unexpected emotion. “When did she die?”

“Two years ago.”

“How did she die? I mean, she wasn't all that old. She would only have been fifty-five then.”

“You must have known her fairly well,” Josh said, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “You look very familiar to me. Have we ever met before?”

“No. That is, I wouldn't think we have met. This is my first time in Missouri. And I didn't know Mrs. James, either. But I've heard about her and I just wanted to meet her, to ask her some questions about her famous husband.”

“You're a writer, wanting to write a story about her, aren't you?”

“Yeah, that's it.” Jesse figured that letting the man think he was a writer was an easy enough way to keep him from asking any more questions.

“Well, I can tell you right now, it wouldn't have done you any good if you had met her. There were just a whole lot of people who wanted to write her story, and they kept pestering her. Some even offered her a lot of money if she would give them her story, but she wouldn't do it.”

“Well, I can see how she might not want to do that. I'm sure she was well enough fixed that the money didn't really mean anything to her.”

“Well fixed? Are you kidding? You really didn't know her, did you? From the time Jesse James was killed, she became destitute. Nobody would hire her because of who she was, and she wound up moving in with her sister because she couldn't support herself and her kids. You asked how she died? I'll tell you how she died. She died of a broken heart and humiliation. That's how she died.”

The emotion Jesse had felt when he first heard she had died intensified now to a sense of hurt, guilt, and anger. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from showing it.

“Do you have any idea where she is buried?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah, I know exactly where she is buried. She is at Mount Olivet Cemetery in Kearney. Kearney's about—”

“I know where Kearney is,” Jesse said. “Thank you.”

“How is it that you know where Kearney is? I thought you said you had never been in Missouri before.”

“When I got interested in this, I read about Kearney, and I looked it up on the map.”

Satisfied with the answer, Josh nodded. “Yes, I can see how you might have done that. Are you going to visit the grave?”

“I thought I might,” Jesse said.

“Lots of people do,” Josh said. “Jesse James was sort of a folk hero to people around here. All over Missouri, I suppose.”

“How did you feel about him?”

“I don't know as I can say. He was an outlaw, that's for sure. But the Civil War and the next twenty years or so were tumultuous times. I don't think you can judge anyone unless you walk in his shoes for a while.”

“Well, I thank you, sir, for the information you've given me.”

“My pleasure,” Josh said, turning to walk back to his desk.

Jesse walked back outside, feeling an intense emotion of sadness and loss, equal to that last moment he ever saw Zee in the park back in St. Joseph, twenty-two years ago.

 

 

“Pa, I've been walking around this place all day,” Billy said that night. “This is the biggest town I've ever been in, in my whole life.”

“It has over a hundred and sixty thousand people,” Jesse said.

Billy laughed. “You know the damndest things.”

“Let's take a ride tomorrow. There's a little town just north of here that I want to visit.”

“Are we going to scout another job?” Billy asked.

“Not in Kearney,” Jesse replied.

“How are we going to get there?”

“Like you said, Kansas City is a big place. We'll find a livery and rent a couple of horses.”

“Pa, I've got a better idea.”

“We're going to Kearney,” Jesse insisted.

“I mean I have a better idea than renting horses.”

Jesse shook his head. “I don't want to go by stagecoach or train. I want some way of getting around while we're there, so we're going to have to have horses.”

“That's not the only way of getting around,” Billy said with a broad smile.

“Do you have another idea in mind?”

“Yeah. You remember I told you that I was walkin' all around Kansas City?”

“Yes.”

“Well, here's the thing. Pa, you saw it when we was in the trolley car comin' to the hotel. This town is just full of automobiles. Why, there's nigh as many automobiles as there is horse and wagons. You should see them.”

“I did see them,” Jesse said. “Like you said, you can't walk around in this town without seein' them.”

“Well, what I would like to do is go to one of them places where people buy automobiles and look at one of them up real close.”

“Why do you want to see one real close?”

“Why, if we're goin' to buy one, don't you think we ought to look at it real close?”

“Buy one? Who said we're goin' to buy one?”

“Why not, Pa? Horses are on their way out. Why, I bet you there will come a time when the only place you can see a horse is in a zoo somewhere.”

“If that time ever comes, I don't want to be here,” Jesse said.

“Let's buy an automobile, Pa,” Billy said. “It's not like we can't afford one.”

“What in the world has put an idea like this in your craw?”

“This is the twentieth century, Pa. I think automobiles are the thing of the future.”

“All right, we may as well go have a look,” Jesse agreed.

“Ha! I knew you would come around!”

 

 

“If we're going to get one, I say we get this one,” Jesse said, pointing to a red automobile with yellow wheels. It had front and rear black leather seats.

“Why this one, Pa?” Billy asked. “This one looks a bit more snazzy.” He pointed to a smaller, racier looking model, which had only two seats.

“Because this one has a top in case it rains. And it's got enough room for us to carry our things.”

A salesman who had been standing by, listening to their conversation, chose this moment to step in.

“Your father has made a wise choice, young man. This is the Oldsmobile Brougham. It not only has a roof, as you can see, but it also has these isinglass curtains that you can roll down.” He stopped to demonstrate. “This will keep you perfectly dry even in the hardest downpour. And, the engine develops ten horsepower.”

“Wait a minute,” Billy challenged. “Are you tellin' me that this engine here would be the same thing as hookin' up ten horses to this carriage?”

“Oh, no, it wouldn't be like that at all,” the salesman said.

Billy smirked. “I didn't think so.”

“Even with ten horses, the fastest you could go would be about twenty miles an hour, and that would only be for a short distance. In this automobile you can go forty miles an hour for as long as you have road to drive on, and gasoline to operate your engine. When we say ten horsepower, we are talking about how strong the engine is. If you hooked ten horses up to a dead weight and pulled it, you could pull that same weight with this machine.”

“How much is it?” Jesse asked.

“Six hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Oh, I don't know. That's a lot of money,” Jesse said.

“But, Pa, if it will go that fast, think of it. It will outrun the fastest horse. It will, won't it, mister?” Billy asked the salesman.