A Bounty Hunter’s Last Stand – Extended Epilogue

Texas, 1892

As the steam train barreled through the Piney Woods of East Texas, Alby and Jep sat on rickety wooden chairs inside the express car. They were armed to the teeth but feeling relaxed as the first leg of the job began.

“I hope she don’t have the baby before we get back,” Alby said.

“Why? Were you planning on delivering it?” Jep teased. “It’s a women’s thing, Alby. They’ll do just fine without us.”

“I know, but this is our first child. I’d really like to be there and see him when he’s firstborn.”

“He?” Jep smiled. “You sure about that, partner?”

“Hattie thinks it’s gonna be a boy, so does your mama. So, I’m gonna go with the experts’ opinion.” He chuckled. “What do I know about babies?”

“Soon you’re gonna know a lot more,” Jep replied with a wink. He looked at the massive iron safe standing in one corner of the train car. “That’s the biggest safe I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Yeah. Probably weighs a couple tons.”

“I wonder what a million dollars of gold looks like?”

“Looks like trouble, I reckon. That’s why the bank hired us to make sure nobody steals it.”

“How could anybody steal that monster of a safe?” Jep wondered. “It’s so heavy it’d fall right through the bottom of a wagon.”

“Dynamite. They’d try and blow the door open. Or, if they had a genius of a safecracker, he might be able to break the combination fast enough—that’d attract less attention than a stick of dynamite. Either way, they’ll have to deal with us first.”

“I hope it’s just a hypothetical question, and we’ll get the gold to New Mexico without anybody trying it.”

“Yessir,” Alby replied. “We get paid the same, either way.”

And it was very good pay, he reflected. Banks normally trusted the railroad’s own expressmen to guard valuable shipments. For a cargo worth this much, however, they had sought out Alby. The company knew of his reputation for being honest and trustworthy—and one of the best in dealing with dangerous criminals.

Alby had negotiated a staggering fee of fifteen hundred dollars each for himself and Jep, a sum greater than a year’s pay for an average cowhand. As usual, the men were getting all their expenses covered as well: meals, incidentals, hotel rooms, if needed, and a return ticket to Texas.

“Who’s gonna take the first shift tonight?” Jep asked.

“I’ll do it. I’m feelin’ spry after a week off in Creede.”

The men had agreed to each take a four-hour shift overnight for the duration of the journey, so that one of them would be awake and alert at all times for any sign of trouble. To this purpose, they’d outfitted the express car with a couple of cots to sleep on—at the bank’s expense, of course.

“How are you and Hattie liking the new house?” Jep asked.

“We like it. There’ll be lots of room for the babies, too.”

“Babies? How many you guys plannin’ to have?”

“As many as we can fit into the place,” Alby joked.

In the year after their marriage, the newlyweds had built a modest home at the end of the cul de sac where the Smith home was located. It was a comfortable two-story house, within easy walking distance for Mama Smith.

“I’m looking forward to being Uncle Jep. It’ll be fun.”

“Good. We’ll get ya changin’ them nappies right away.”

***

Hector Rodriguez sat back casually in his seat in the passenger car and watched the old conductor walk toward the door, carrying a coffee pot in one hand.

The Mexican nudged his colleague with an elbow and nodded toward the man. “He’s goin’ in again, Max.”

They watched as the conductor went out the door of the passenger car and closed it behind him. Then he knocked on the door of the next car, waited a moment, and pulled out a key.

As the door swung open, the observers saw a Black man standing inside. He smiled, said a few words, and took the pot of coffee. Then the conductor turned around and came back through the passenger car.

“Seem to be two guards in there,” Max said quietly. “Dat Black man and another.”

Hector nodded. “We can handle both of them with the old man’s help. Let’s watch a while longer, though, see how many times the guards leave the car before we make our move.”

Max looked at his boss and nodded.

Hector Rodriguez was a thirty-two-year-old Tejano—a Mexican American—from South Texas. Above his black handlebar mustache, intelligent brown eyes peered at the express car in eager anticipation. His gang had been successful at pulling off other train robberies, and Hector expected this one to be the crowning achievement of his career. He’d gotten a tip that a New Mexico bank was shipping over a million dollars in gold bars on this journey.

Sitting beside him was Maxime DeGagne, an explosives expert he’d recruited into the gang for the purpose of blowing open whatever it was that held those gold bars. Strongboxes or a safe, Max knew what it took to get the job done without accidentally blowing everything else up—including himself and his colleagues.

The tall, wiry Frenchman with the big nose was well known in the criminal underworld of Texas, and Hector was paying him well. He’d agreed to cut Max in for fifteen percent of the take: one-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars worth of gold.

Santa Maria! It’ll probably be the biggest job Senor Max ever pulled off, too. We can both retire after this if we want.

As he sat back in his seat, Hector dreamed once again of what he would do with his thirty-percent share of the gold: an almost unimaginable fortune worth three-hundred thousand dollars.

Ahh, sí…after I build Rancho Rodriguez, I will be ready to wine and dine all the senoritas that my heart desires. And my heart desires many!

***

As the day turned to evening, Hector observed the guards in the express car only left to get their meals or use the toilet. They only left one at a time, sometimes carrying a chamber pot to dump the contents down the drop-chute onto the tracks.

“After they both get their supper,” he whispered to Max, “we will make our move. We will wait until the conductor brings them coffee. You have everything ready?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all ready, monsieur.” Max put his hand on the carpetbag sitting at his feet and smiled.

“Good.”

Hector nodded toward a man sitting across the aisle from them, who nodded back almost imperceptibly. This was their prearranged signal that the heist was a go. Once the burly, bearded outlaw had received a second nod from his boss, he would get up from his seat and leave the passenger car.

Then, when no one was looking, he would climb onto the roof of the express car. From there, he would make his way forward to the locomotive engine and hijack the train. At a third signal, he would order the engineer to stop the train.

***

“This railroad food ain’t bad, is it?” Alby asked, smacking his lips as he enjoyed the plate of supper he’d brought from the dining car.

“Mmmm, not bad at all,” Jep agreed, busily devouring his own plate of food. “Not as good as Mama’s cookin’, but I’ve tasted worse. Wish I could wash it down with a beer, though.”

“No drinkin’ till we get the gold delivered, partner. We can’t afford to let our guard down or get sloppy. It could make the difference between life an’ death for us…or somebody else.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Besides, it’ll make that first beer out in New Mexico taste all the sweeter.”

After supper and a dessert, they stacked their empty plates on the table of the express car. “Whoo-wee!” Jep said, patting his stomach with a satisfied smile. “I am stuffed to the gills. I could lie down and have me a nap right about now.”

“The coffee should be here soon, partner.”

About fifteen minutes later, they heard a rap on the door. “Who is it?” Jep called, getting up and walking over.

“Conductor.”

He put an eye to the peephole and saw no one else outside except the old man. “Alright, come on in, Walter.” When he heard the door unlock, Jep swung it open, and the conductor’s body was pushed forward at him. There was a gun to the man’s head.

“Drop your weapons, or I will kill him!” the person holding the pistol said. He was a Tejano of about thirty years old, standing behind Walter and using him as a human shield.

“Do what he says, Jep,” Alby warned.

Both bounty hunters put their weapons slowly on the floor as the Tejano pushed the conductor inside. Another person followed, a tall White man with a big nose. He held a pistol on them as he closed the door. Then the Tejano threw him a key, and he locked it.

“Put your hands up in de air,” the man ordered in a French accent.

Shit, hope they don’t shoot all of us, Jep thought as he reached for the sky.

“Where is de gold?” the Frenchman asked gruffly.

Jep looked at Alby, who nodded toward the corner. “It’s in the safe.”

“If you are lying to us, you will all be dead men,” the Tejano warned. “I promise you.”

The Frenchman grabbed a carpetbag slung over his shoulder, then knelt down in front of the safe and began pulling items out of the bag. One of them was a narrow wooden case. He put it carefully onto the floor of the car and opened it. Jep could see two sticks of dynamite inside the cushioned interior.

Alby was right. They’re gonna blow the safe!

When the dynamite was rigged onto the safe, the end of a fuse wire was attached to it. The man began to uncoil the rest of the line as he backed carefully toward the other door of the car.

“Open that door,” the Tejano ordered. Alby took a key out of his pocket, turned the lock, and swung it open. “Outside! All of you!”

The bounty hunters and the conductor shuffled out onto a narrow platform between the train cars. The Tejano followed next with his pistol trained on them. He stood to the side, on the steps of the platform. Then the Frenchman emerged, spooling out the detonation fuse behind him.

Taking a knife out of a scabbard, he cut the fuse, stuffed the rest of the wire into his carpetbag, and closed the door. “Ready, Hector.”

The Tejano nodded, and his colleague took a box of matches out of his pocket. Cupping a match in his palms, he struck it on the flint and lit the fuse. The end of the wire sparked and hissed as it burnt down quickly toward the door. Then it burned its way underneath it.

Jep cringed as he waited for the explosion, covering his ears. He looked at Alby and Walter. They stood there with brows furrowed, looking tense. Hector was the same. Only the Frenchman seemed relaxed. He was hanging onto the door frame and grinning at them.

***

When the explosion rocked the express car, Alby chopped down on Hector’s forearm, causing him to drop the gun. It bounced with a clatter off the steel grid of the platform and disappeared off the side.

Hector threw a left with his other arm and caught Alby in the stomach, staggering him and taking his breath away. Then the Tejano pushed by him and jumped onto the ladder on the end of the car.

Jep had slammed the Frenchman face-first against the door and had him pinned him there with an arm twisted behind the man’s back. “I got this one, Alby! He isn’t going anywhere.”

The conductor had stepped down onto the other side of the platform, where he was holding on tightly, gawking at them in fear.

Alby looked up the ladder. Hector had disappeared onto the roof of the car. “I’m goin’ after him, Jep.”

He climbed to the top then peeked carefully over the edge. Hector was walking across the roof toward the other end of the car. Alby scrambled up quickly and walked after him as fast as he could, the swaying movement of the train threatening to throw him off balance.

He saw the Tejano reach the other side, look down, then back up a few paces and glance over his shoulder with a wild grin. “I hope you are a good jumper, señor!” He sprinted forward with a yell and launched into the air, landing with a thud on the roof of the passenger car.

If he can do it, so can I…

Alby launched into a run and threw himself over the gap, screeching like the furies. He hit the roof with a bang and rolled over once before coming up onto his knees. Hector was already walking toward the other end of the car.

A shot cracked behind them, followed by the ricochet of a bullet off the steel roof. Alby turned and saw a bearded man leaning out of the locomotive window with a pistol in hand.

Who the hell is that, the engineer? 

He ducked down to get out of the line of fire. The man shot again, and the bullet hit the roof a couple feet away.

Shit! Either he’s a lousy shot or—

The blast of a gun roared from the forward end of the express car. He saw the bearded man jerk backward violently and drop his pistol.

Alby got to his feet again. The train seemed to have slowed down. It was easier to keep his balance and walk, so he picked up his pace.

He saw the Tejano jump over the gap to the next passenger car, so Alby put his head down and broke into a sprint. He cleared the distance and landed on his feet, running this time.

Closing in on the outlaw quickly, he tackled him onto the rooftop, face-first. Hector rolled over, and Alby caught him square in the face with a couple of punches, knocking him out cold.

***

Further up the line, two buckboard wagons sat by the side of the railroad tracks. The wagons were empty except for the men sitting in the seats, waiting. When the four of them heard the sound of an approaching train, they snapped to attention.

“Here she comes, Drew,” a middle-aged outlaw grinned at his colleague sitting next to him. “One million dollars in gold!”

“What you gonna do with your share, Nicky?”

“Retire and live the easy life. Maybe raise me some horses. You?”

Drew Gage shrugged. He was a young man of eighteen and didn’t know what he wanted to do in life—whether he had money or not. “Suppose I’ll build Ma an’ Pa a nice house, first off. They’re gettin’ up in age now. Then I reckon—”

He was interrupted by a shout from the other wagon. “Hey! That train ain’t slowed down. It’s goin’ double speed!”

Their heads jerked toward the locomotive coming around the bend. “What the hell!” Nicky exclaimed. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Maybe somethin’ gone wrong with the heist?” Drew offered.

They sat and watched, speechless, as the train roared toward them. The engineer in the locomotive window threw them a cheerful wave as he sped by.

Drew and Nicky glanced at each other as the train disappeared into the distance. “Reckon we should follow ‘em?” the young man said.

“Nope. You can kiss that gold goodbye, kid,” Nicky mumbled.

***

As their train pulled into Creede, Alby stood at the door anxiously. He couldn’t wait to see his son! They’d gotten a telegram in New Mexico that Hattie had given birth to a healthy, nine-pound baby boy.

Even before the car had rolled to a stop, he threw open the door and stepped onto the station platform. Jep stood in the doorway and called, “Easy, amigo! No use falling underneath a train before you see the boy.”

They quickly got their luggage and were en route in a carriage towards the new house at the end of the cul de sac.

Pulling up out front in a cloud of dust, Alby threw the driver the fare and a generous tip, grabbed his baggage, and walked toward the house. “I’ll talk to you later, Jep,” he called over his shoulder.

Jep shook his head and smiled as the carriage pulled away.

In the parlor, Hattie was sitting on the couch with their child in her arms, nursing at her breast. “Heard you pull up,” she said with a grin. “He just latched on for a lil’ snack.”

Alby put his bag down, walked over, and sat beside her.

“How was the trip?” she asked.

“Good. How was the delivery?”

“Hurt a bunch, but it was all for a good cause.” She turned so he had a better view of their baby. “See?”

“Oh, my goodness,” Alby whispered, deeply moved at seeing his son’s face for the first time. He reached out and stroked the boy’s cheek with a finger. “Hello there, little man. Good work, Hattie, he’s fat an’ healthy as a pork chop.”

“Yes, eats like a pig, too.” She giggled. “Wanna hold him?”

He nodded.

Hattie gently took the child from her breast and put him into his father’s arms, where he started to fuss and gurgle. “It’s okay. I’m your daddy. I’ll give you back to your mama in a minute for some more milk.”

He looked into the boy’s eyes, rocking him back and forth to soothe him. The child soon quieted down, and Alby glanced up at Hattie. “What should we name him?”

“You still want to name him after Jep?”

“If you’re okay with that, darlin’.”

She smiled. “Yes. How about Albert Jeptha?”

“Albert Jeptha Thornton! Yeah, I like that.” Alby leaned forward and gave his son a kiss on the forehead. “Pleased to meet you, Junior.”

THE END

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