CHAPTER 13
Three months of dusty cow towns and wide open spaces proved fruitless. The Jensens had not found Shardeen, nor had they located any of the men Emmett was looking for. At the moment, they were in the middle of nowhere, with no particular place to go. Well, it wasn’t actually nowhere. They knew they were somewhere in Kansas. Or at least, they thought they were in Kansas.
It was a cold and very gray day.
“Pa, what’s the date?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Emmett admitted. “Late October, early November, maybe?”
“It’s got to be later than that. I don’t think it would be this cold unless it was at least December.”
“Could be that you’re right,” Emmett agreed. “You know what I’m thinkin’?”
“What’s that?”
“I’m thinkin’ that the next town we see, we might want to put in for the winter.”
Kirby frowned. “You got ’ny idea where that next town might be?”
“Not the slightest. But that fella we run into a couple days ago said the Arkansas River was in front of us, and it can’t be more ’n a day’s ride away. Once we get to the river, all we’ll have to do is follow it. It’s goin’ to eventually take us to a town.”
“All right,” Kirby agreed. “Let’s find the river.”
During the night, snow began to fall. It came down softly, silently. It was quite a surprise when Kirby awoke the next morning to find himself almost completely buried in snow. He looked around for his father but didn’t see him.
“Pa?” Kirby called. “Pa? Where are you?”
“Hrmmph!” Emmett grunted and suddenly sat up from under a blanket of snow. The white stuff was in his hair, his eyebrows, and hanging from his beard.
Kirby laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You look like a snowman.”
Emmett looked around. “We had quite a snowfall, didn’t we?”
“Yes, sir, I would say that we did.”
“Have you checked on the horses?”
“No, sir. Seemed like the first thing I should check on was you.”
Emmett chuckled and nodded. “Good idea. Let’s find the horses.”
Both men stood, stomped and shook the snow from themselves, and dug through the snow to find their saddles. They walked to where the horses stood, knee deep in snow. They looked cold and miserable.
“Wow, these are going to feel awfully cold to the horses when we put them on,” Kirby said as he held up the saddle, still dripping with snow.
Emmett laughed. “It’s going to be just as cold on our butts.”
Kirby laughed as well. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought about that.”
Big Ben Conyers’ ranch, Live Oaks, lay just north of Ft. Worth. The gently rolling grassland and scores of year-round streams and creeks made it ideal for cattle ranching. Two dozen cowboys were part-time employees, and another two dozen were full-time employees. Those who weren’t married lived in a couple long, low, bunkhouses, white with red roofs. The married couples lived in small houses adjacent to the bunkhouses, all of them painted green with red roofs. A cookhouse large enough to feed all the single men, a barn, a machine shed, a granary, and a large stable were also on the property.
The most dominating feature of the ranch was what the cowboys called “The Big House.” A stucco-sided example of Spanish Colonial Revival, it had an arcaded portico on the southeast corner, stained-glass windows, and an elaborate arched entryway.
In the parlor, Ben watched as Janey decorated the Christmas tree, adding gaily colored pine cones to the red and green ribbon laced all through it. The many small candles would be lit once all the decorations were in place.
“I do believe that is the prettiest Christmas tree I have ever seen,” Ben said.
Janey turned toward him. “It’s easy for me to say that. This is the first Christmas tree I’ve ever seen, anywhere.”
“Well then, I’m glad that your first tree is so fine. It’ll be even prettier when all the gifts are under it.”
“Ben, please, no gifts for me,” Janey said.
“What do you mean, no gifts for you? Of course there will be gifts for you. Why, what is Christmas without the presents?”
“But, I have no present for you.”
“You know what I want from you. It would be the most wonderful present I can imagine.”
Janey didn’t respond.
“Marry me, Janey. I couldn’t ask for a greater present than to have you as my bride.”
“Ben, I can’t.”
“Why can’t you? You aren’t already married, are you?”
“No, I’m not married. But you know why I can’t. You are a very important man here. Maybe if we lived somewhere else . . . someplace where there is less a chance that I would be recognized, I could consider it. But you know, without a doubt, that there are people who know who I am . . . and what I am . . . was. If word would get around, it would be terribly embarrassing. I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Some may recognize you, that is true. But how would they recognize you unless they, too, had visited the Palace Princess Emporium? If that was the case, it would be just as embarrassing to them as it would be to me. At any rate, I assure you, Janey, nobody will ever dare say anything about it to my face, nor would they even take a chance on me learning that they had spoken of it behind my back.”
“But what if they do? What would you do? Would you kill them?”
“If I had to.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Ben walked over to Janey and pulled her to him in an embrace. “I don’t want you to ever be afraid of anything. As long as you are with me, you don’t have to be. If you don’t want to get married yet, I’ll just enjoy whatever part of you, you are willing to share. I love you, Janey. I don’t care about your background.”
“Oh, Ben, why couldn’t I have met you before?” Janey asked, her eyes welling with tears.
“Nothing that happened before now matters. Only now matters, and we are together now. So we’ll just enjoy what we have, and we’ll see where it leads. If I’m the luckiest man in the world, it will lead to matrimony.”
As Janey lay in bed that night, she thought of their conversation. Ben had told her that he didn’t want her to ever be afraid of anything, but she was afraid. She was pregnant. Ben had accepted the idea that it was his baby, but she couldn’t be certain. She wasn’t sure exactly how long she had been pregnant, but she had been with at least two other men a few days before she had left Dallas with Ben.
That had been in August. If the baby was born any later than April, she would know that it was Ben’s. If it was born in April, or earlier, it might not be.
January 1866
Emmett and Kirby were wintering in Delphi, Kansas, a small town on the Arkansas River near the border of Kansas and the territory of Colorado. Although they still had most of the bounty money that had been paid for Cox and Haggart, they opted to take jobs through the winter to preserve what money they had.
Emmett worked for the company that operated the ferry across the river, while Kirby had agreed to become a deputy for City Marshal Darrell Wright.
“We don’t have much call for lawin’ here,” Marshal Wright told him when he was hired. “About all we ever have to do is pick up a drunk now ’n then. Most of the time, the onliest reason we pick ’em up is ’cause they sometimes pass out on the street. In the winter time, they could likely freeze if we didn’t bring ’em in.”
It was the cold that worried Kirby the most—not for himself, but for his pa, who was exposed to the weather on the ferry boat. He tried to get his father to quit. “It’s not costin’ us all that much to live. I’m makin’ enough as a deputy to pay the boardin’house . . . and the boardin’house is feedin’ us. With your lung ’n all, it can’t be good for you to be out in the cold all the time.”
“I ain’t so damn feeble that my own son has to take care of me,” Emmett said. “The work ain’t hard, ’n I can wrap up in a buffalo robe that keeps me warm. You don’t be worryin’ about me.”
“I just wish you’d quit, is all.”
“And do what? Sit around with my thumb up my ass all the time?”
Kirby laughed out loud. “Well, I don’t guess I’d want to see you doin’ that, exactly.”
“I would damn sure hope not. Now, you do your work ’n I’ll do mine, if you’ll just let me be.”
“All right, Pa. But if it gets too much for you, remember, it ain’t somethin’ you have to do.”
The boardinghouse where they stayed was the Homestead House, owned and run by Mrs. Pauline Foley, an attractive widow in her mid-forties.
“I made biscuits this morning, Emmett,” she said when Emmett and Kirby came down for breakfast. “I know how you like to sop them through sour cream and sugar.”
“You’re too kind to me, Mrs. Foley.”
“Oh please, won’t you call me Pauline?”
“I would be honored to, Pauline. I just don’t want to be too forward.”
“You could never be too forward,” she said, smiling as she poured coffee into Emmett’s cup.
As they left the boardinghouse to go to their respective jobs, Kirby smiled at his father. “Pa, I think Mrs. Foley likes you.”
“She’s a business woman. She’s just being nice to her customers, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh. But she’s nicer to you than she is to Mrs. Simmons or Mr. Clark.”
“Boy, you know what your problem is?”
“What?”
“You see too many things that aren’t there.”
“She likes you, Pa. You know she does,” Kirby said with a broad smile.
Emmett sighed. “She might, but I’m not encouragin’ it. We’ll be leavin’ here, come spring. I don’t want to do anythin’ that might cause her some hurt. She’s a good and decent woman, and she don’t fit in with my plans. You do understand that, don’t you, boy?”
Kirby nodded. “Yeah Pa, I do.”
“Then please, don’t do or say anything to her that might give her the wrong idea.”
“I won’t, Pa.”
“I’ll see you at supper.”
Kirby nodded. “Try ’n stay warm out there on the water today.”
One of the advantages of working as a deputy was Kirby’s access to WANTED posters. He had mixed feelings about those he had seen on Angus Shardeen. On the one hand, he was glad that Shardeen was being regarded as a wanted outlaw . . . and not a hero as was James Henry Lane. On the other hand, because Shardeen was a wanted man with a price on his head, it was quite possible that someone else might find and kill him before Kirby had the satisfaction of doing so.
As he was looking through the WANTED posters, he was surprised to see his and his father’s name, not on a reward poster, but on a document that rescinded their wanted status.
Notice is hereby given that the Wanted status of Elmer Gleason, Emmett Jensen, and Kirby Jensen has been withdrawn. Reason for revocation: an appeal filed on their behalf by Keith Davenport has been granted, and Daniel Gilmore has been removed from the federal bench due to malfeasance.
Kirby smiled as he read the document, and he gave a silent thanks for the honesty and integrity of the lawyer who, even though he would probably never see his clients again, had done the right thing.
On an early spring day, Kirby was in the bank to deposit a county check for the sheriff’s office when his landlady came in with two men. “Hello, Mrs. Foley.”
As soon as he spoke to her, he saw that the expression on her face was one of terror. He also saw the reason for her terror. Both men who had come into the bank were armed, and one of them had his gun stuck into her back.
“This is a holdup!” shouted one of the two men.
“Here, what are you doing?” the bank teller called. “You let that woman go!”
“We will, soon as you fill this bag with money.” The second armed man stepped up to the teller’s cage, passing a cloth bag over the counter.
With shaking hands, the teller began taking money from his drawer, and sticking it into the cloth bag.
“Hurry up!” the robber urged.
“There’s no need for you to hurry, Mr. Montgomery,” Kirby said easily. “These two men are under arrest. I’m going to ask you to let Mrs. Foley go . . . now.”
“What did you say?”
“You may have noticed the star on my jacket. I’m the deputy marshal here, and I’m putting both of you under arrest.”
The outlaws laughed.
“Are you tryin’ to be funny, mister?” one asked.
“No, I’m quite serious.”
“You may have a deputy’s star, but you ain’t got no sense. Maybe you’re too dumb to notice, but you don’t have a gun in your hand, and we do.”
“That’s true,” Kirby agreed. “But you’re pointing your gun at Mrs. Foley, and your friend is pointing his gun at the bank teller. Neither one of you are pointing your guns toward me. And that’s where you have made your mistake.”
The one holding his gun to Mrs. Foley glanced at his partner. “Can you believe this guy?”
“I’m going to ask you one more time to let Mrs. Foley go,” Kirby said, his voice quiet and calm as it was the first time he’d addressed them.
“What the hell! Let’s just shoot him and get it over with!” The one holding Mrs. Foley seemed to be the leader.
Kirby was watching both men very carefully. The instant the man holding Mrs. Foley moved his pistol, Kirby drew and fired twice, one on top of the other. Both would-be bank robbers went down, each of them with a bullet in his forehead, dead before realizing they were in danger.
Shocked by the sudden and unexpected turn of events, the scream that Mrs. Foley tried to make died in her throat. By the time she looked toward Kirby, he had already returned his pistol to his holster. The bank teller, with an expression of utter shock on his face, was still holding the half-filled bag of money.
“You can put the money back in the drawer now, Mr. Montgomery,” Kirby said. “Oh, and the sheriff would like to deposit this county check.”
The two bank robbers were identified as Frank Morris and Seth Crandall, former Jayhawkers. Within a week, word of Kirby Jensen’s unbelievable performance had traveled up and down the Arkansas River and beyond.
Some declared the story fanciful since only two eyewitnesses could claim that they had seen it happen. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could have actually done what was being told.
“I’m proud of you, son,” Emmett said. “You are already getting a taste of what I told you was going to happen. You are beginning to build a name for yourself. I do believe there’s goin’ to come the time when ever’one in the West knows who you are.”
“I’m not sure that’s somethin’ I want, Pa,” Kirby said.
“I’m not goin’ to lie to you. It’s goin’ to be a burden. But as long as you use this skill and talent for the good, you’ll go to bed ever’ night with a clear conscience.”
Had Kirby known how close he was to Angus Shardeen, he would have turned in his badge and gone after him. The raiding Jayhawker was camped less than fifteen miles west of Delphi, just across the line in Colorado.
“Both of them?” Shardeen replied after being told about what had happened in the bank in Delphi. “Morris and Crandall were both killed?”
“Yes,” Bartell said. “By that same kid that shot Tim in the hand.”
“Why didn’t you do somethin’?” Shardeen asked.
“I was outside with the horses. When I heard the shootin’ ’n Frank ’n Seth didn’t come out, I figured it was best I not give myself away. I just went across the street into the saloon. That’s when I heard what happened.”
“He said he was comin’ for you, Angus,” Tim said.
“One man? And a kid at that?”
“Yeah, but he ain’t like any other kid I’ve ever heard of. Frank ’n Seth both had their guns already drawed when they went into the bank,” Bartell said. “Jensen shot ’em both.”
“A tiny bank in a one-horse town, ’n Morris and Crandall get themselves kilt. Next time I’ll send better men.”
Rebecca Jean Conyers was born on April 15, 1866. The date of her birth did not preclude Ben being her father, but neither did it absolutely establish that he was. She had red hair, and Ben was quick to point out that his mother’s sister had been redheaded.
Janey promised that she would marry him but asked for a little time to recover from the birth.
On the day that Becca was three months old, Janey was standing in the nursery holding her.
“Do you want me to give the baby a bath?” asked Juanita Gomez, the nanny Ben had hired to look after the baby.
“Not yet,” Janey said. “Juanita, I’m going to be gone for a while. I want you to look after Becca while I’m gone.”
“El bebé hermoso que yo velo,” Juanita said. Then she repeated it in English. “The beautiful baby, I will watch.”
“I know you will. Oh, would you have Mr. McNally to bring the surrey around? I’m ready to leave.”
“Sí, Señora.” Juanita knew that Janey and Ben weren’t married, but she called her Señora anyway.
Janey waited until Juanita was gone, then she kissed the baby again. Her eyes shining brightly, Becca smiled up at Janey.
“Good-bye, my sweet child. I know you don’t understand now, and you may never understand. But what I’m doing is best for you and for your father. I’ll never see you again, but I swear to you, I’ll never forget you.”
Janey put the baby in her crib, then raised up with tears streaming down her cheeks.
When Ben returned later in the day, he went into Rebecca’s room, picked her up, and kissed her on the forehead. “If you aren’t the most beautiful baby in the entire state of Texas, I’ll eat my hat. Without salt,” he added with a laugh. He put her back in her crib and looked over toward the nanny. “Juanita, where is Janey?”
“She said she will be gone for unos pocos días.”
“She’s going to be gone for a few days? Where did she go? Did she say?”
“No, Señor.”
“That’s damn odd,” Ben said.
Puzzled by Janey’s strange and unexpected disappearance, Ben went into the parlor. On the fireplace mantel was an envelope that bore his name.
Even more puzzled and a little worried, he hurried over to retrieve the envelope, then tore it open to read it:
Dear Ben,
Please forgive me, but I cannot stay here. I am afraid that to do so can do nothing but cause you embarrassment and pain. I’m leaving Becca with you. You have enough love and means to give her a wonderful life. I have nothing to offer her but my love, and on the day she learns of my past, my love won’t be enough. Then, I will be an embarrassment to her, as well, and I don’t think I’d be able to bear that. Tell her that I died, for it would be much better if she grows up believing that.
I do love you, Ben, but it is a love that cannot be. If you love me, I beg of you, make no effort to find me. Instead, give all your love to our daughter.
Janey
Ben went back into the nursery and picked up the baby again. He took her into the library, locked the door behind him, and walked over to sit in the big leather chair. There, the six-foot-four, 330-pound man held his baby close to him and wept.
The days had grown warmer and it was time to move on. Emmett and Kirby said good-bye to the friends they had made in Delphi.
“I wish you would stay,” Pauline said. “You wouldn’t have to work on the ferry boat anymore. You could help me run the boardinghouse.”
Emmett took her hands in his, raised them to his lips, and kissed them. “Pauline, you are a very sweet woman. My son and I were lucky to have met you, and are very grateful for the way you made us feel so welcome. But we can’t stay here. We have to go on.”
“But why, Emmett?”
“I’m not sure I can answer that. At least, not in the way you could understand.”
“Is it because you are dying?”
“What?”
“I’ve heard that kind of cough before, Emmett. I don’t know how much longer you have, but I know I could make you happy in what time you do have left.”
“Pauline, you don’t know how much I want to do this. But I have sworn to do something, and I must do it. If I stayed here, I wouldn’t actually be with you, not really. The part of me that needs to do this thing would take over my heart and soul, and I would have nothing left. You are too good a woman to have to live with that.”
With tears in her eyes, Pauline nodded. “I’ll always remember you, Emmett. And I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
“I’m blessed to have met someone like you. It’s just too bad that we didn’t meet under different circumstances.”
“Pa, would you have stayed there?” Kirby asked as they rode out of town. “I mean if you wasn’t lookin’ for them men, and I wasn’t lookin’ for Shardeen. Would you have stayed with Mrs. Foley?”
“I don’t know, Kirby. I might have,” Emmett admitted. “She’s a very good woman, and a man can’t ask for more than to have a very good woman.” He was quiet for a while, then added, “Your ma was a very good woman, too, and I didn’t do right by her. I had no business goin’ off to war. I was old enough that I didn’t really have to go. If I had been home when the Jayhawkers came through—”
“You’d more ’n likely be dead now,” Kirby said, interrupting him in mid-sentence. “There were too many of ’em, Pa.”
“Maybe. But about Pauline. She deserves a man who will stay with her, and look after her. You ’n I both know that I can’t do that. Not with this lung fever I got.”
“Maybe when we get farther west and into dry country, it’ll get better like the doc said,” Kirby suggested.
“Maybe,” Emmett said, but there was very little conviction in his voice.