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  Shooting For Justice

  Gun For Wells Fargo III

  G. Wayne Tilman

  Shooting For Justice

  Kindle Edition

  © Copyright 2021 G. Wayne Tilman

  Wolfpack Publishing

  5130 S. Fort Apache Road, 215-380

  Las Vegas, NV 89148

  wolfpackpublishing.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.

  This novel is historical fiction. Any historical figures herein are depicted fictionally in the story, other characters are purely the creation of the author.

  The opinions expressed in this book are those of the author only and not of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, or any other federal agency.

  eBook ISBN 978-1-64734-928-8

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-64734-929-5

  Contents

  Get your FREE Starter Library

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  If You Like This, You May Enjoy: Arizona Gunmen

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  About the Author

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  Shooting For Justice

  Acknowledgments

  Appreciation is expressed to Denise Kearns,

  Becca Payne, and Susan Stecker

  for their contributions as Beta readers.

  1

  Wells Fargo Detectives John Pope and Sarah Watson walked out of San Francisco’s exclusive Bohemian Club. They were with their boss, the company’s famous chief detective, James Hume.

  The meeting had been unexpected until the day before. The person who had called it was a surprise. He was the president of their firm.

  The case offered them was a bigger surprise. They were to be loaned to the US Department of Justice to investigate a potential attack on the safety and sanctity of their country.

  The type of attack and specific target were unknown. Also unknown was whether it was a coup attempt, an assassination attempt on President Chester A. Arthur, or both.

  Determining the type of attack and target was their assignment. As was stopping the threat at all costs.

  Exactly how was left to the two detectives, one a gunfighter and former San Francisco detective, the other, formerly one of the elite women detectives of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.

  Hume had warned them before they knew anything about the case. He had said it would be the largest and most difficult of their careers.

  Though the partners had not yet had the chance to share their feelings on the case, each knew from the other’s body language and expressions, it was worrisome. Hume did also. He had misgivings.

  “Let’s go back to my office and chat a bit,” he suggested. He knew they would want to talk with each other at length, but it would have to wait. He had a few unshared details for them first.

  They walked back from the club without speaking. Once back behind closed doors, he took a deep breath and began to share what little he knew.

  “For my own clarity of thought as well as yours, let me start from the very beginning. I will be more specific than our president, Lloyd Tevis, with whom you just met, is. He’s a big picture man. People like us know the devil is in the details.

  “Tevis was called to Washington on a ruse about potential business matters. He met with Attorney General Benjamin H. Brewster. Brewster will be one of the two Cabinet members who will be your direct contact. I was not told who the other person will be. I doubt Tevis was either.

  “General Brewster got wind of an imminent threat against the Administration. President Chester Arthur has done some wonderful things. He is accomplishing good way beyond many insiders’ expectations. The people seem to love him. His own cabinet, now largely replaced from the late Garfield’s, apparently does not. This is in spite of the fact he appointed all except one himself,” Hume said.

  “Mr. Hume, who was the carryover?” Sarah asked.

  “Well, technically the whole cabinet carried over upon the assassination of President Garfield. Over time, Arthur has replaced all except for one. The one, since I suspect he is who you are asking about, is Robert Todd Lincoln. He’s the son of the other slain president. He is the secretary of war. I understand he, like his father, has unimpeachable integrity.”

  “Could he be the other direct contact, Boss?” Pope asked.

  “Probably. It’s logical. I’m afraid you will have to get there and be told officially by Brewster.

  “Now, Tevis expects the world to drop everything and do whatever he says immediately. Like mandating the two of you getting married for the company’s propriety.

  “Quite frankly, you don’t have time to have the wedding you deserve. I do not think the company ordering you two to marry is conscionable. Marry now, marry later, or don’t marry at all. Just pretend to be married while you are on the case.” The two nodded appreciatively.

  “Do you have any idea of what the threats against the country or the president are?” Pope asked.

  “Not a clue.”

  “We will be undercover, I guess. Will the government specify cover stories and identities?” Pope continued.

  “I do not know, John. This is very hush hush. I will tell you your salaries here will continue, we will cover transportation to and from. Once you get there, you need to negotiate with Brewster about your housing and expense needs. I gathered from Tevis he’s pretty upset and will take good care of you to get this thing to go away.”

  “When do you want us to leave?” Sarah asked.

  “As soon as possible,” the chief detective said.

  “I wonder about taking my horse,” Pope mused.

  “I would let the government provide transportation appropriate to the cover they give you.”

  “Without having to worry about Caesar,” Pope looked at Sarah, “we should be able to leave tomorrow.” She nodded affirmatively.

  “Excellent! I will apprise Tevis and he will telegraph Brewster. ‘Detectives John and Sarah Pope’?” Hume asked as he handed them two very sizeable travel drafts.

  “Sounds good to me,” Sarah responded. Pope just grinned at her.

  “Stay in touch and let me know if you need anything. No need for weekly check ins. This is not criminal activity. It is more like sedition or espionage. I don’t know who is going to be watching you. I am pretty confident someone involved on the wrong side will. So, be very careful,” Hume said as he rose. Rising and shaking hands was his normal way to dismiss his detectives to depart to begin a case.

  “One more thing,” Sarah said as they were standing to leave.

  Hume raised his eyebrows and waited.

  “Pinkerton’s was effectively his secret agent operation during the war. Why didn’t he reach out to Allan Pinkerton?” she asked.

  “I asked Tevis the same thing. He said for two reasons. Brewster and the other cabinet member have read about your exploits for the first thing. With Allan’s rapidly declining health, they are unsure of the future capacity of the agency to handle something this big.”

  “Thank you, sir.” They walked out the door.

  “Let’s go to the cashier and cash these so we can get our tickets. I want to send Grandpa a letter saying we will be back East on business and can be reach
ed via Hume. I’m thinking, depending on our cover, we may need more formal clothes than we own for this case,” Pope said.

  “I agree. We will have to get them in Washington, DC,” Sarah said.

  The cashier was able to issue train vouchers not charged against their cash drafts. They went to the train station and found they could leave at nine in the morning. Pope added some cash to the vouchers and got one sleeper car ticket in the name of Mr. and Mrs. John Pope. His partner smiled mischievously as she heard him order it.

  “Something worries me, Sarah,” Pope admitted.

  “Yes?”

  “It worries me we have had so much newspaper exposure two members of the president’s cabinet have read about us on the other side of the country. Notoriety will harm our ability to go undercover and do our jobs. Not just on this case, but any case.”

  “I did not know we were famous. You are right. It won’t help us doing our jobs. I am more worried about your fame as a fast gun. There are a lot of wannabes like Kid Taos out there who would like to be the one who outdrew you.”

  “Maybe this case will be all investigative and my so-called fame will die down a bit. I guess it depends on how long it lasts.”

  “My suspicion, John, is a coup or assassination will not take long to reach its fruition. How in Heaven’s name we are going to come in from the cold and solve it first is beyond me,” Sarah said.

  “We will solve it. We just won’t know our investigative plan until we get there and talk with our contacts. I have no idea why the Department of Justice does not have any investigative agents. It makes no sense, does it?”

  “My understanding is they borrow Treasury agents for investigative cases,” Sarah said. “Lafayette Baker, who found John Wilkes Booth, ran the National Detective Bureau during the war and worked with Allan Pinkerton. Pinkerton’s influence on him ran over into the subsequent formation of the Treasury’s agent cadre. Baker had listened in on Secretary Stanton’s communications and believed Stanton supported the attack against Lincoln. He possessed Booth’s diary and said some missing pages contained information about Stanton and Booth. These allegations made him unpopular, and he was subsequently fired. Yet, his influence lived on. Maybe all of this has to do with a distrust in using the treasury agents for a case like this one. Alas, who really knows?” she ended.

  “Interesting. Maybe one of the conspirators here is the Treasury Secretary. I don’t even know who he is or exactly what he does, other than print money,” Pope said.

  “I reckon we will find out,” Sarah said as they approached their rooms.

  The conversation continued after they arrived and took their coats off. Sarah started brewing coffee. They knew they would take minimal luggage since they did not know whether they would spend their time in downtown Washington at dinners, riding around or travelling.

  “Sarah, do you know Detective Ed McEnroe?” Pope asked.

  “Vaguely. Isn’t he somewhat older? Maybe mid-fifties?”

  “Exactly. Between assignments and well before Wyoming, he and I happened to have lunch together. He told me he had been a spy for the Confederacy during the war. It appeared from what he said, the South had a far more sophisticated spy network than the North. I listened closely to see if it was just bias on his part, however, I think he was correct.

  “Anyway, he said being a spy was very different from being a detective. We deal with crooks and with snitches. A spy deals with a variety of entities and never knows what side somebody is on at any given time. Is the person a double agent, agreeing to spy for your side? Or a triple agent agreeing to spy for you, when he is actually still loyal to his original agency and feeding you disinformation? Is he a patriot, a disgruntled job seeker, or just someone in it for the money? He said you have to actually live your cover. You cannot just come home and be you until you go back out again. You have to be careful about every word you utter, no matter who you are conversing with.

  “I believe, my Sarah, this is what we have gotten ourselves into. It will be different than anything we have ever done, or even imagined.

  “McEnroe said you don’t put the nippers on your enemy, you slit their throat and leave them in an alley as you walk away. He said you never attract attention by running. Sometimes you join the crowd of onlookers surrounding the person you killed.”

  “I wonder if we made a mistake taking this case, John?” Sarah asked.

  “I don’t know. He certainly pulled our patriotic chains on it. There really was no option, the way I see it. And, despite what Tevis said, turning it down would be tantamount to resigning.

  “I believe we must meet with the contacts, try to get the lay of the land. If necessary, we have to admit to them and Wells Fargo if it’s beyond what we can do. Then, begin to look for a new job,” Pope added.

  “We always agreed Harry Morse would hire us. But, if we got fired by Wells Fargo, I think it would jeopardize both his friendship with Jim Hume and future business with Wells Fargo. I suspect the company is his largest client,” Sarah said.

  “Looks like we will be spies for the Justice Department then, oh wife of mine!”

  “I kinda like the sound of it,” she admitted. “The wife part, I mean,” she added.

  “Me, too. I would like it better with us choosing the date, not Tevis.”

  They put a few things in carpet bags for the four days on the train and the first few days of Washington. They managed to squeeze a short-barreled shotgun and Pope’s carbine into the combination gun case and saddle scabbard. Both doubted they would need long guns in the city, however, they did not know where their inquiries would take them.

  Pope walked over to the livery and visited with Caesar, his horse. He had arranged for young detective Jake Bell to deliver the horse to his grandfather in Marin County next weekend.

  While he was visiting with Caesar, Sarah was out shopping for snacks to take on the train trip. Though their expenses would cover meals en route, it sometimes was just simpler to eat in their sleeper room than go to the dining car.

  They left at nine in the morning. They took the Central Pacific eastwards to Ogden, Utah Territory and changed to the Denver & Rio Grande. The next day, they were about twenty miles outside of Pueblo, when a post-lunch conversation was interrupted by the train sliding to an emergency stop.

  “Badges and guns!” They already knew the express car was about four cars in front of their sleeper car. They had visited it and conversed with the express messenger, former shotgun messenger Thomas Hyland. Both knew him from a small case they worked in California.

  Pope rushed down the aisle and car to car dressed in his suit minus the jacket. Both of his guns showed in their shoulder holsters and his badge was prominent on the left lapel of his vest.

  Sarah kept up with him through the train, her guns strapped on and the short ten-gauge shotgun menacingly in hand. She, too, wore her gold badge where everyone could see it.

  They slowed their pace as they approached the express car. From the edge of the door glass, Pope peered in.

  A man with a bandanna tied over his mouth and nose was raising his gun to shoot Hyland. The guard’s shotgun was on the floor.

  Pope drew his right gun and shot through the glass panes in the door of the car he was in and the ones in the express car. The glass shattered and with a clearer shot, he fired again. The wounded man was hit solidly this time and began to crumple as a second robber stepped into view facing Pope.

  The second robber swiped his revolver across Hyland’s forehead, and he hit the floor.

  The man aimed at Pope, who stepped aside and let Sarah operate the ten-gauge with its double-aught buckshot. He fell, dead before hitting the aisle floor. Another man popped into view shooting wildly.

  Sarah jumped back to avoid the barrage of bullets aimed at her.

  From the left, Pope emptied his right-hand Colt .44 and stepped outside the train door. He jumped five feet to the ground to the surprise of four men holding horses. They swung around and aimed at the
detective.

  He dropped two with the five cartridges in the cylinder of his left Colt. He was now empty. With a shoulder holster instead of a cartridge belt around his waist, Pope did not have reloads.

  He ducked between cars as bullets careened towards him. He could hear the men coming and knew he was in big trouble.

  Pope did not even have his Bowie knife, something he doubted he would live to admit to his grandfather, famed mountain man Israel Pope.

  He could hear their boots on the sharp gravel beside the rails. They were mere feet away, when above, the door swung open, and Sarah dropped both with horrendous effect from such a short distance.

  Pope knew there was no need checking for pulses. The buckshot from four feet had literally destroyed both men.

  “Honey? You alright?” came a soft, caring female voice.

  “I am now. It was close. Thanks!” he said.

  He came out from between the cars, and she tossed him her .44 caliber Russian S&W double-action revolver, retaining the smaller .38 version in its left-hand holster.

  Pope saw one man on a horse from thirty feet wheel the horse and start to ride off.

  “Where in hell was he?” Pope asked himself aloud as he cocked Sarah’s revolver for a more precise shot than the long, double-action trigger pull would allow.

  He took the classic target shooter’s position, right arm outstretched and left on his hip. He was bladed towards his target.

  “You on the horse! Halt!”

  The man turned. It was obvious to Pope he had been heard. And, ignored.