Shot in the Back Read Online Free Page A

Frederick Faust were sitting in Faust’s hotel room, which was dimly lit by a single lamp that sat on the bedside table.
    It had taken Jesse several minutes to tell the story, and now he sat in the chair, staring ahead silently.
    Faust got up and walked over to the table, where he dropped some ice into three glasses; then he poured a shot of whiskey into each of the glasses. He handed one to Sheriff Baker, then another to Jesse.
    â€œI thought you might need this,” he said.
    â€œThanks,” Jesse said.
    â€œIs there more to the story?”
    Jesse drained the glass before he spoke again.
    â€œYeah, but not much more,” he said. “You want to know how much money we got from that robbery?”
    â€œIt didn’t sound like you got anything,” Faust said.
    â€œOh, we got something,” Jesse said. “Before we left the bank, Bob scooped up twenty-six dollars and seventy cents. He grabbed it from an open drawer behind the teller’s cage. Twenty-six dollars and seventy cents. And for that, we left behind Bill and Clell dead, one dead horse, and two dead Northfield citizens. Truth is, though, Heywood is the only one we killed. The other fella, the Swede, Nicholas Gustavson, was killed by a stray bullet from one of the townsmen. Five out of the six of us who actually made it out of town were wounded; I was the only one who wasn’t. We split up then, and within two more weeks, all three of the Younger brothers were captured.”
    Faust had not taken a swallow of his drink until then, and now, he raised the glass to his lips and drank.
    â€œI must confess that you told that story most convincingly,” he said. “I would be inclined to believe you, but there is one more hurdle we must get over.”
    â€œYou want to know about me being killed,” Jesse said.
    â€œYes, that’s a rather major incident, wouldn’t you think? That’s going to have to be dealt with before we can go any further in this narrative. To begin with, I would be very interested in knowing how it is that you managed to get up and walk away after Bob Ford shot you.”
    Jesse chuckled. “Well, that’s easy enough. It wasn’t me that Bob Ford shot.”
    â€œWho was it?”
    â€œIt was a man by the name of Charlie Bigelow.”
    St. Joseph, Missouri—April 2, 1882
    When Jesse James, known by everyone in town as Thomas Howard, stepped into the Missouri Cattlemen’s Bar on Mitchell Avenue, he was greeted by the bartender.
    â€œHello, Mr. Howard. There are two cattlemen from Kansas City here to see you. They’re sitting in that table in the corner.”
    â€œThanks, John,” Jesse said.
    Jesse smiled as he recognized the two “cattlemen.” They were the brothers Bob and Charley Ford. In September, Charley Ford had ridden with Jesse and Frank James when they robbed the Chicago and Alton Railroad at Blue Cut, near Glendale, Missouri.
    â€œHello, Jesse,” Charley greeted as Jesse approached the table.
    Jesse glared at him. “My name is Howard,” he said. “Tom Howard.”
    â€œSorry, Tom.”
    â€œYou sent a letter, asking me to meet you here today. What’s up?”
    â€œHave you seen this?” Bob Ford asked, pulling a folded-up piece of paper from his jacket pocket.
    Jesse unfolded the paper.
    Â 
    PROCLAMATION
of the
Governor of Missouri
    Â 
    $25,000 REWARD
JESSE JAMES
DEAD OR ALIVE
    Â 
    $15,000 for Frank James
    Â 
    â€œWhy are you showing me this?” Jesse asked, shoving the poster back across the table.
    â€œI’m showin’ you this ’cause I got me an idea as to how I can collect this here reward.”
    Jesse inched his hand toward his pistol.
    â€œNow, hold on, hold on there!” Bob Ford said, reaching his hand out toward Jesse. “Hear me out.”
    â€œAll right, what is it? What’s your idea?”
    â€œTell ’im about Bigelow, Charley,” Bob said to