Memento Mori by David J West

Author:David J West
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: LOST REALMS PRESS
Published: 2020-03-29T04:00:00+00:00

The Wise are silent, the Foolish speak, and children are thus led astray. ― Algernon Blackwood

7. Fool in the Rain

Porter had been struck senseless by one of the Pinkertons debating who was to shackle him as he lay there in the mud. He awoke in the back of a wagon, knowing full well where he was as it came to a stop before a squared stone building. The Clay County jail, or as Mormons referred to it, the Liberty Jail. As yet he had heard no charges against him, but soon as anyone recognized him, he could expect the full extent of the law on his head. He imagined if Cole had slain that bank teller, he would be the one to swing for it.

They grabbed Porter and forced him inside the jail, throwing kidney punches along the way for good measure. Porter clenched his teeth and endured because there was no use fighting back and taking worse licks just yet. Much as it galled him, he had to go with it until a better opportunity presented itself. Forcing him to the floor, the Pinkertons took the shackles and leg irons off him.

It had been an awful lot of years since Porter had been here, but it seemed much the same as last time he had visited. Prisoners were kept in the bottom chamber. The walls were thick rough sawn timber, and even if one were able to gnaw through those wide planks, the next layer was a mass of jumbled limestone and then another layer of great blocks. This was a jail with only one way in or out. They dropped Porter into the cell. He was alone. Laying in the filthy straw he realized the terrible cold of that basement. Thankfully he had never spent too much time here. He had only been a visitor as it were. But now…

Nothing to do now but try and sleep and rest his aching bones and head. He hoped he might have answers soon.

***

Elizabeth reached the nearest town of Kearney. The streets buzzed with word about not only a Pinkerton attack on the James farmstead but also the bloody retribution against a Pinkerton collaborator in nearby Liberty.

Despite her anger and resentment, she had to know more. She made her way toward a group of people standing outside a telegraph office. “Excuse me, what are the details, if you please?”

“Well,” explained a mustachioed man. “The Pinkertons tried doing a midnight raid on the James Farmstead and it didn’t turn out so well for them. They lost a few men and have nothing to show for it. But word got out about some of the local folks who supplied them with information, and Jesse’s boys have gone and paid him a visit he’ll never forget.”

“Is he dead?” questioned Elizabeth.

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, indeed. Jesse shot Reeves down in his own bank.”

“What about the gang? Did they get captured or shot?” She tried to act nonchalant, as if she had no personal stake, just idle curiosity.

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