Two young men—Benjamin and Monroe—looking like younger versions of Silas, came out and stood beside their father.
“He looks like one of them damn rangers, Pa.” said Benjamin. “Two guns.”
“A mite unusual for a line rider,” Silas said. “Boy, are you the law?”
“No,” said Danielle, “and I’m not a bounty hunter. Why are you afraid of the law?”
“I ain’t afraid of the law,” Silas growled, “and if I was, it wouldn’t be no business of yours. Now turn that horse around and ride.”
There was no help for it. Danielle wheeled the chestnut mare, riding back the way she had come. After she was well out of sight, a horseman rode out of a thicket where he had been waiting, and rode on to the Burke place. Sheriff Rucker had some news for old Silas Burke.
Danielle rode on to the Byler spread, where she received the same cold reception.
“I ain’t hiring,” said Damon Byler, “and if I was, it wouldn’t be no two-gun shavetail passin’ through. Ride on.”
Reaching the Gaddis ranch, Danielle prepared herself for yet another rebuff, and it wasn’t long in coming. Luke Gaddis was waiting for her to ride in, and before she had a chance to speak, Gaddis shifted the shotgun under his arm.
“I ain’t hiring,” said Gaddis bluntly.
“You don’t even know me,” Danielle said.
“No,” said Gaddis, “but I know of you and your kind. Sheriff Rucker’s told me about you. Now turn your horse around and ride.”
Danielle rode away, furious. Sheriff Rucker had violated a confidence, knowing well the effect it would have on the Burke, Byler, and Gaddis families. There was nothing more to do except ride back to town, and Danielle did so, unsure as to what her next move would be. If the three men she sought did return to Texas, they would immediately learn that they were being hunted. But Danielle still had some unpleasant surprises ahead. She reined up and dismounted at the livery.
“I got no room for another horse,” the liveryman said.
Danielle made up her mind to remain in Waco one more night. Returning to the hotel, she requested a room.
“Sorry,” the desk clerk said. “We’re full.” Danielle received the same treatment at other hotels and boardinghouses. She stopped at the cafe where she had eaten breakfast, and before she could sit down, one of the cooks spoke.
“You’re not welcome here. Move on.”
Danielle left, mounted the chestnut mare, and rode to the mercantile to replenish her supplies, including a bag of grain for the chestnut mare. She would sleep on the ground and prepare her own meals. But the store owner, looking embarrassed, turned her away.
“I got to live in this town,” he said, “and I can’t afford havin’ them that don’t like you comin’ down on me. Sorry.”
“The whole damn bunch of you deserve one another,” spat Danielle in disgust.
She considered riding back to San Antonio and reporting the sheriff’s behavior to Sage Jennings, the Texas Ranger, but changed her mind. Jennings had almost surely been to this town and, beyond a doubt, had met with the same hostility. Recalling that Fort Worth was only a few miles north, Danielle decided to go there. If the gold taken from the train by Gaddis and Byler had been a government payroll, surely the post commander at Ft. Worth would know. He might even be sympathetic to her cause.
Fort Worth, Texas. November 5, 1870.
Arriving in Fort Worth, Danielle asked to speak to the post commander. Following a Sergeant Waymont, she was taken through the orderly room. Sergeant Waymont knocked on a door, and from inside the office, a voice spoke.
“Yes, who is it?”
“Sergeant Waymont, sir, and I have someone with me who wants to talk to you.”
“Come in, Sergeant,” the officer said.
Waymont entered, saluted, and had it returned. He stepped out the door, closing it behind him. Danielle was on her own. She spoke.
“I’m Daniel Strange, from St. Joe, Missouri.”
“I’m Captain Ferguson. Sit down and tell me what you want of me.”
“Maybe you can help me track down three killers I’m looking for,” said Danielle.
“The military does not assist bounty hunters,” Ferguson said.
“I’m not a bounty hunter,” said Danielle. “The men I’m searching for were part of a gang that robbed and murdered my pa in Indian Territory.”
“You are justified in your search for them, then,” Ferguson said, “but I don’t understand what you want of me. I presume you have no evidence.”
“Only the confession of one of the men,” said Danielle.
“Oh,” Ferguson said. “Where is he?”
Danielle sighed. “He’s dead.”
“Then we’re right back where we started,” said Ferguson.
“Not quite,” Danielle said. “When I was in San Antonio, in a Dallas newspaper I found a story about a train robbery near Wichita. Gaddis and Byler, two of the men I’m after, were involved in that holdup. They stole a military payroll, didn’t they?”
After a long moment of silence, and just when Danielle had decided Ferguson wasn’t going to reply, he did.
“I don’t think I’m violating any rules, telling you this. Yes, it was a military payroll, bound for Fort Dodge. A military escort was to have intercepted it at the end-of-track.”11
“Those outlaws were successful in one train robbery,” said Danielle, “and it’s a safe bet they’ll plan another one. How can I find out when there’ll be another shipment?”
“You can’t,” Ferguson said. “That’s confidential information.”
“Not confidential enough to keep the outlaws from knowing it,” said Danielle.
“No,” Ferguson said with a sigh. “Privately, I believe we’re being sold out by somebody with the Kansas-Pacific in Kansas City. But the railroad refuses to consider such a possibility, because there’s no proof.”
“Except that the thieves always seem to know which train is carrying a payroll,” said Danielle. “Can you get me the names of the men employed by the railroad?”
“Probably,” Ferguson said, “but for what purpose?”
“I want to see if any of the men I’m searching for are on that list,” Danielle said. “If a name on that list matches a name on my list, he could well be the traitor that’s selling out to the train robbers.”
“I’ll secure a list of the Kansas-Pacific employees on one condition,” said Ferguson.
“I’m listening,” Danielle said.
“Should we actually find on this list the name of one of the men you’re searching for,” said Ferguson, “I want him arrested by the proper authorities, not gunned down.”
“If the proper authorities can take him, welcome,” Danielle said. “If they can’t, then he belongs to me. In case you don’t know, three of the varmints on my list are from Waco, and two of them stole your last payroll. Your ‘proper authority’—the county sheriff— is more concerned with keeping his star than he is in tracking down hometown boys who are thieves and murderers.”
“See here, young man,” said Captain Ferguson coldly, “it is not the responsibility of military personnel to track down civilian thieves. Asking for an employee list from Kansas-Pacific would be exceeding my authority, and under the circumstances, I don’t believe it is justified.”
“Thank you for seeing me, Captain,” Danielle said, getting to her feet.
“I’m not finished with you,” said Ferguson.
“Maybe not,” Danielle said, “but I’m finished with you. You’re about as much help as that no-account sheriff in Waco.”
Danielle left the office, mounted the chestnut mare, and rode north, bound for Indian Territory.