Meanwhile, Rufe Gaddis and Julius Byler had established a camp in Indian Territory, a few miles south of Wichita. Passing a bottle back and forth, they contemplated their next move.
“Damn it,” Byler said, “if it wasn’t for owin’ Chancy Burke a third of what we got, we could take that twenty-five thousand and ride on.”
Gaddis laughed. “We could ride on, anyway, taking it all. What would Burke do? For sure he couldn’t complain to the law that we took his share of the money he helped us steal from the railroad.”
“No,” Byler agreed, “but he wouldn’t feed us any more information about when there’s a gold shipment coming. This is a sweet setup, and us gettin’ greedy could ruin it.”
“One thing bothers me,” said Gaddis. “There ain’t been a word out of the railroad after we took that twenty-five thousand. We can always stop the train by blocking the track or ripping out a rail, but what happens if there’s a dozen armed guards in that mail coach?”
“I reckon that’s all the more reason for Burke to get his share,” Byler said. “It’ll be up to him to warn us if the train’s swarming with Pinkertons or soldiers.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Gaddis said, “we’d better ride to Kansas City and have some words with him. If a shipment’s under heavy guard, he’s got to warn us.”
Leaving Fort Worth, Danielle reached the Red River before sundown. Rather than enter Indian Territory so near dark, she made camp on the south bank of the Red. Tomorrow, she would continue her journey to Wichita. The story she had read in the Dallas paper was somehow incomplete. It had provided the names of the thieves—Rufe Gaddis and Julius Byler—but how had that been possible? For certain, the two had not introduced themselves. She hoped the sheriff in Wichita could and would fill in the missing information.
The following morning, after a hurried breakfast, Danielle saddled the chestnut mare and crossed the Red. It was a good two-day ride just getting across Indian Territory. She wanted to get as much of the Territory behind her as she could on the first day. She kept the chestnut mare at a mile-eating gait, stopping once every hour to rest the animal. Near sundown, she found a spring and, not wishing to risk a fire, ate jerked beef and drank cold water. There was no graze, and she fed the horse the last of the grain.
“Sorry, old girl,” said Danielle. “That will have to hold you until we reach Wichita.”
Wichita, Kansas. November 8, 1870.
The first stars were already twinkling when Danielle rode into Wichita. Her initial concern was for the horse, and she left the mare at a livery, paying for extra rations of grain and a rubdown. The newer buildings in Wichita were strung out along the railroad track, with several cafes and a hotel among them. Danielle took a room then went to the nearest cafe. She was hungry, having eaten little but jerked beef since her first night in Waco. After eating, she decided against returning to the hotel immediately, going to a nearby saloon instead. In an obvious play for railroad business, it had been named The Railroad Saloon, and a sign in the plate glass window proclaimed it the largest and fanciest in Wichita. It wasn’t much past the supper hour, but the place was already crowded with an abundance of poker and faro games in progress. So as not to attract unwanted attention, Danielle sat in on one of the faro games. Sticking to her limit, she dropped her five double eagles on the felt-topped table.
“Five-dollar limit,” said the dealer.
Danielle won and lost, won and lost, and finally dropped out, breaking even. She was about to leave the saloon when a pair of familiar faces caught her eye. At one of the poker tables sat Herb Sellers and Jesse Burris, the two would-be bounty hunters she had last seen in Denver. Danielle slipped up behind Burris and poked him between his shoulder blades with her finger.
“You’re under arrest, you varmint.”
“Not now, damn it,” said Burris. “I’m ahead.” Herb Sellers looked up and smiled, recognition in his eyes, but he remained where he was. For the next few hands, Danielle stood back and watched. Evidently, Herb and Jesse were doing well at the table, and it was almost an hour before they withdrew from the game.
“Well,” Danielle said, after they had left the saloon, “how’s the bounty hunting going?”
“Not worth a damn,” said Burris. “We’re surviving because we’ve been lucky at the poker tables, but how long does a run of luck last?”
“What about your manhunt, Daniel?” Sellers asked.
“I caught up to one of the outfit in New Mexico,” said Danielle, “but that’s all. I came here because there was a short story in a Dallas newspaper about two hombres robbing a Kansas-Pacific train of a government payroll. The newspaper printed the names of two of the men I’m searching for, so I came here to see what I could learn. Mostly, I want to know how the newspaper discovered their names.”
“I can tell you that,” said Burris. “Herb and me got here yesterday because there’s a $2,500 bounty on the heads of each of the train robbers. They stopped the train four or five miles east of here, and after the robbery, the engineer backed the train into town. The sheriff got a quick posse together and picked up the trail of the robbers, who were bound for Indian Territory. But they found tracks of three horses, and eventually caught up to a woman whose horse had gone lame. She had been with the robbers, but hadn’t taken part in the train robbery. She told the sheriff as much as she could—including the names of the train robbers—and the sheriff let her go.”
“The newspaper account didn’t tell it all,” Danielle said. “There was no mention of the woman. She had to talk about Gaddis and Byler, but she might also have known something about the rest of that bunch that hanged my pa.”
“She left last night on the eastbound train,” said Herb. “The sheriff wouldn’t even tell us her name.”
“Sounds like the kind of treatment I got in Waco,” Danielle said. “Rufe Gaddis, Julius Byler, and Chancy Burke are all from there, and they’re all part of the gang that hanged my pa. I made the mistake of telling the sheriff why I was looking for them, and he made it a point tell the whole damn county why I was there. The Gaddis, Byler, and Burke families tell everybody when to jump and how high. I couldn’t stable my horse, rent a room, or buy myself a meal.”
“Then what did you do?” Jesse Burris asked.
“I rode to Fort Worth and met with Captain Ferguson, the post commander. He finally admitted it was a military payroll that Gaddis and Byler took, but he wasn’t interested in the plan I had. I think Gaddis and Byler are being fed information by someone working for the railroad. I wanted Captain Ferguson to use his influence to get a list of the names of men who are involved with the Kansas-Pacific, but I couldn’t meet his conditions. He wants to do everything by the book, allowing the authorities to make proper arrests. I don’t care a damn about Gaddis and Byler being arrested for train robbery. I want the bastards dead.”
“Burris and me was in that saloon right through supper,” said Herb, “and I’m starved. Let’s get somethin’ to eat and talk about this some more.”
“I’ve had supper,” Danielle said, “but I can always use some more coffee.”
They stopped at one of the cafes near the railroad. While Sellers and Burris waited for their food, the three of them sipped hot coffee.
“A damn shame the military wouldn’t work with you,” Burris said. “If Gaddis and Byler have somebody connected with the railroad feeding them information, they’ll know when a train’s carrying a payroll. But suppose we managed to get the names of every man with the Kansas-Pacific, and none of them are the men you’re hunting? We still wouldn’t have a clue as to who the Judas is, and you’d be no closer to finding the bunch you’re looking for.”