Jesse Woodson James rubbed the underside of his jaw, feeling the scratch of his goatee-bearded chin as he watched the long ribbon of smoke from the New York, New Haven and Hartford train. He coughed once, hiding the spittle of blood from the rest of the men by use of the hand that rubbed his chin.
He had been wounded twice in the chest, once during the war and then afterwards when he tried to surrender under a white flag and been shot at by Union troops. That wound, the most recent had left its mark and not yet healed properly and it often brought about a coughing bout tainted with blood.
The eight members of the gang were sitting on horseback, stationed high on an overlooking hill and the railroad track below ran in a perfectly straight line through the valley floor with the trail of dense smoke from the funnel billowing in a black cloud behind. It stained the otherwise fresh green of the pine and juniper growing on the grassy slopes of the valley but Jesse barely noticed the impact of the dirty exhaust against the open countryside and bright blue sky.
He was nineteen years old, a thin-faced, slightly built character with eyes so pale that it appeared all color had been washed from them, his short hair was oiled was down and cut neat under his wide-brimmed slouch hat. But the expressionless gaze spoke of the harsh year that a man so young had spent fighting as one of the Confederate ‘bushwhackers’ during the war. The bloody experiences had hardened the young man’s heart and yet his commitment to the Southern cause was still as strong as it had been when he had first watched with envy as his older brother by four years had gone off to fight.
He turned to Alexander Franklin, that same older brother who sat alongside him on the hilltop. ‘Where’s it stopping at, Frank?’
Jesse who did not to hold with the use of foul-mouthed talk would often make up his own expletives and such a one he had invented had been taken up and used as his nickname by his brother Frank.
‘Makes three stops, Dingus. This is a special, so it’s only three times to take on water and such. The first one is in Bridgeport.’
‘Then what?’
‘They got a guard, name of Bode Williams. He’s supposed to check the padlocks and the express car door at every stop, damned things built on an iron frame with sheet iron for walls. Them locks is great big things like to keep the Lord himself out. This old guard is a lazy fellow though, one of our boys noticed on previous runs that he ain’t too particular. He’ll look right well on them all at the first stop but after that he don’t give a good goddamn, just sits in his caboose sucking on sour mash liquor and smoking his pipe.’
Jesse nodded. ‘This is too good to miss. We have word from Little Archie that the Grand Knight says this train will be carrying nigh on seven hundred thousand dollars worth of cash, bonds and jewelry. We have to take her.’
‘What’s our cut when it’s done, Dingus?’ asked his brother.
Although Frank was nominally the boss, Jesse’s fame was growing outside the boundaries of Clay County thanks to the efforts of one, John Newman Edward who devoted his time by writing lionizing dime novels and articles about the young outlaw. As a result Frank often deferred to his younger brother. Frank knew only too well the younger man’s bold and sometimes reckless behavior but recognized his tactical abilities. Added to those practical qualities, the blood ties of a youthful sibling enabled Frank to hold implicit trust in Jesse and the decisions he made.
‘We get thirty percent of whatever’s in there. The rest goes for the benefit of the South under the auspices of the Golden Circle.’
‘Hooh-rah!’ cheered Frank turning to the rest of the gang waiting behind. ‘That’s two hundred and ten grand for us, free and clear boys.’
They all followed the news with cheers of their own.
‘So how do we do it?’ one called.
‘Here’s how I see it,’ said Jesse, his words intended for the listening gang but his eyes fixed on the steaming train. ‘We get on ahead and be ready for them at the second stop on the line. Once it’s in the yards we get some of you boys to bust open them locks and get aboard. When the train sets off again they break open the strongboxes inside and toss out the moneybags as they travel along. We’ll all be coming right quick behind picking up them sacks like children on a paper trail. Before the third stop on a slow grade you men exit the cars and wait on us to come up with the horses.’
‘Hell!’ chuckled Frank. ‘Sure beats taking down the train by fighting off the guards and getting her to stop at pistol point. I like it. Just let her travel on in a regular way and we take it at our leisure, having all that gold thrown to us on the wind.’
‘You got it, Frank. Now let’s ride, we don’t want that old steamer beating us to it.’
The one thing the gang hadn’t reckoned on was Bode Williams. At the last moment before the train set off, the old drunk had taken one too many and slipped and fallen from the platform edge, cracking his head on a railroad tie. He had been replaced by a clerk from the railroad office at the last minute, a young fellow, keen as mustard named Benjamin Aimes.
Aime’s saw his duty as a God given opportunity for advancement and intended to use it to the best of his ability. So doing, he armed himself with a cut-down shotgun, a brace of Navy Colts and a saber that had belonged to his officer father and seen action at the second Bull Run. Bristling with his armaments, Aimes took up his station in the calaboose and waited impatiently for his first tour of duty as they pulled into Bridgeport.
All went according to plan until the train pulled into its second stop. The engine driver drew into a curved siding and began to take on water from the tower whilst his fireman and some Negro railroad workers carried aboard more logs for the boiler fire. Whilst the men were engaged in passing up the timber, Jesse’s two men made their stealthy and unseen way on foot alongside the curve of wagons until they reached the express car. Armed with crowbars they began to lever the padlocks free. It was hard work and with the additional problem of being as quiet as possible the two never heard Aimes as he arrived behind them with a surprised but determined look on his face.
‘What do you fellows think you are about?’ he asked, raising the shotgun to cover them both.
The two men spun around dropping the crowbars as they did so. On sight of the wavering shotgun in Aimes’s trembling hands, the two raised their hands high.
‘Don’t shoot, mister,’ said one, thinking quickly. ‘We’re with the railroad. Just checking security here.’
A slight and disbelieving smile crossed young Aimes face, ‘I don’t think so, boys. I think you mean to break in there and take what you can.’
‘Just who’re you exactly?’ asked the other outlaw turning belligerent. ‘You’re the one with the gun. Could be you’re a road agent or train robber yourself.’
‘No, mister. I’m the guard here and you fellows are my prisoners.’
Aimes was feeling pleased with himself but he was not a trained gunman, his usual trade meant he carried nothing more dangerous than a dip-pen and ruler, so his body trembled with excitement. Aimes swallowed and tried to steady his nerve.
‘Now you men will come along of me, back to the calaboose. We have some irons there and I intend to place you in manacles until we reach the end of the line.’
‘Want a bet?’ came the voice behind, followed by the click of a revolver being placed on full cock.
Aimes froze, his fingers locking on the shotgun with an intense claw-like grip.
‘Now you leave off with the shotgun, mister. Just hand it over to one of the men there, that’s it,’ said Jesse as Aimes obeyed.
‘You sure were just in time, Jesse,’ breathed the man taking the shotgun.
‘Best you boys get on with your work. Me and this young fellow going to have a few words. What is your name?’ asked Jesse as he poked the guard in the back of the head with his pistol barrel.
‘B…. Benjamin Aimes,’ stuttered the clerk
‘What you doing here, Ben? Where’s the regular fellow?’
‘He got drunk and busted his head,’ Aimes explained.
‘Damn fool,’ snorted Jesse. ‘And you is what? You ain’t no regular guard.’
‘No, I’m accounts clerk for the railroad. They set me up with this temporary, as there weren’t no Pinkerton agents available at such short notice. You ain’t going to take it out on me, are you?’
‘Well, Ben, I been considering on that. You sure got yourself into a pretty pickle here, ain’t you?’
Just then there was a wrenching noise as one of the padlocks gave way, the sound barely heard over the hiss of steam and clatter of logs coming from the engine further along the track.
‘Looks like we’re inside,’ said Jesse, as the second lock broke and dropped to the ground. ‘In you get boys.’
The car door was slid back and the two mean leapt inside.
‘You know who I am, Ben?’ asked Jesse.
‘Y…. You’re the outlaw, Jesse James, ain’t you?’
‘Right nice to meet you,’ grinned Jesse. ‘Now what in tarnation do I do with you?’
Aimes swallowed hard. ‘It’s my duty to protect this train, Mister James. I was just doing my duty.’
‘Sure you were, same as I am in alleviating the Union of some of its ill-gotten gains. Now climb up there alongside my men, will you?’
Aimes, with his hands held high and his nervous gaze fixed on Jesse’s pistol, hiked himself up into the express car.
‘You boys listen to me,’ Jesse said to the men inside. ‘I want you to take care of Ben here. Don’t you hurt him none, just put a gag on him and tie him then you go and leave him in a corner somewhere out of the way. Alright now?’
The train was shunting forward, the buffers crashing together as it prepared to set off.
‘We got you, Jesse,’ said one of the men inside as the door was slid shut. ‘We’ll take good care of him.’
Trouble was, the two men in the car looked at Aimes from a different viewpoint. They did not want a witness and their pictures then appearing on a Pinkerton wanted circular and so Ben’s dead body was later found dumped alongside the track some forty-eight hours after the raid. Jesse got both the blame for the robbery and the murder; he also earned Allan Pinkerton’s undying resentment. A fact that was to come back and bite the outlaw later.
But despite this unpleasant event both safes inside the express car were broached and the total amount of valuables carried off. Two thirds of it making its way to Brevet Landing and into the hands of Paramount Bliss in readiness for shipping out of the country.