Chapter 2

The marshal showed up and asked a few questions. The bartender described the encounter and said that it was clearly self defense. The marshal agreed and told the swamper to fetch the undertaker. Once the undertaker was finished with his work, the marshal tipped his had and walked out the door.

We went up to thank the bartender, but he said that no thanks were necessary. He had never liked Jubal Hawkins and was glad to see him get what was coming to him. In celebration, the bartender gave us each a beer on the house!

There was not much point in staying in Hopewell Springs, so we caught the next train headed north, but this time we rode as paying passengers. Jess did not care for guns, but he did see the light enough to stop by a gunsmith and purchase a derringer modified to fire a .410 shotgun shell. The range was only about 10-15 feet, but it was deadly at that distance.

We were stopped for water when a man jumped up on the platform at the end of the train and sat down in the nearest seat. We didn't think anything about it since many people got on the train between normal stops. We were getting close to another water stop when the man stood up and said, "OK, folks, this here is a train robbery. I'll be comin' by with a sack an' I'd appreciate it ifen ya'd drop yer valuables in the sack. There won't be no trouble ifen everybody cooperates."

We were sitting in the last seats before the exit door, so he had a full sack by the time he got to us. "Y'all look pretty prosperous, soz I'm expecting a right smart of goodies from y'all. Jess was sitting next to the aisle and I was next to the window, so when Jess reached into his pocket, the bandit's attention was momentarily on him instead of me. That's when I drew my pistol and put a bullet through his chest. He did pull his trigger and the gun did go off, but it was pointed toward the floor, so nobody was hurt.

Apparently, the conductor heard the shot, because he came running in to our car and skidded to a halt when he saw the bandit lying on the floor. "All right, who did this?" he asked in a demanding voice. I told him that it was my bullet that had done the bandit in, so the conductor said, "Thank you, Sir. Ya gets a $50 reward for plugging a bandit while he's robbin' the train. I'll give ya a chit what will git ya the reward ifen ya present it in person at the division headquarters in Hartly"

I said, "Thank you very much. I'm new here, please tell me where Hartly is."

"Hartly's the next town we stop at. Ya kin git off there an' present yer chit at the office, then cotch the next train comin' through in 'bout four hours."

"That's very convenient. Thank you."

Jess and I got off at Hartly and went to collect our reward. The gentleman who gave us the money was very gracious, so I enjoyed doing business with him. Since we had several hours to wait for the next train, we went to the nearest saloon to see if there was and chance of work.

The bartender said that the only job he knew of was that of marshal. It seems that the former marshal had decided to retire, so the town was temporarily without a marshal. He said that if either one of us was interested, we should go talk to Asa Breckenridge who ran the bank and was chairman of the city council.

We took a beer and sat at the side of the barroom while we drank. Jess said that he might be interested in the job if it paid enough, so I told him to go ahead. I would meet him in one of the saloons when he had finished talking to the banker. Jess left, and I went back to talk to the bartender. Business was slow right then, so the bartender had plenty of time to talk to me.

I asked how rough the town of Hartly was to police. He said that mostly there was not much going on, except on Saturday night, when the town could get kind of lively. Mostly, all the marshal did was put drunks in a cell to keep them safe until they sobered up. He thought it was a good job that was just the thing for a man looking to settle down. I asked if there were any marriageable women in town that Jess might be interested in, and the bartender said that there were three, including the banker's daughter. This sounded to me like the right place for Jess.

I had moved on to another saloon when Jess showed up. "I took the job. I'm now the marshal of Hartly, so you better be on your best behavior," Jess said with a big grin. I congratulated him and suggested that he turn in his ticket stub from the train to collect the unused portion of his fare.

"What are you going to do?" Jess asked.

"I still have the ticket to Austin. I think I will see what is going on up there. I have always wanted to see the West, and I think that this is my opportunity."

"You ever consider taking up bounty hunting? The banker said that was very popular right now, especially in West Texas and New Mexico Territory."

"That's an idea I never thought of. I may look into that after I get to Austin. It will depend on the job prospects."

By the time I got to Austin, I was already missing Jess, but I needed to pay attention to way was going on in front of my nose. There must have been a hundred or more saloons in Austin, so I figured I had to start somewhere. I went to the saloon across the street from the train station to see if the bartender might have any word on a job I'd be interested in.

Shit! From what the bartender had to say, the job prospects here were no better than down south. I visited a dozen more saloons with no better prospects until I was getting pretty discouraged. I was visiting my 14^th saloon and talking to the bartender when this guy in fancy duds leans on the bar and says to me, "Son, I couldn't he'p hearin' ya talking ta the bartender 'bout a job. Maybe ya'd be interested in what I have ta offer. Bring yer beer over ta those chairs aside the wall, an' I'll tell ya my proposition."

Well, I'd already had too much beer, so I wasn't thinking as straight as maybe I should have been, but I went with the guy. We sat down and started talking. He asked my name, so I told him, and he told me his.

"Well, Jeremiah, ya look like a sturdy sort of feller an' I'm in need of a bodyguard. I sell snake oil off the back of a reworked wagon, an' sometimes the customers get kinda fractious. When that happens, I need a man I can depend on the quiet things down. Mostly, nobody needs ta git shot, but I see ya wear yer shootin' iron in a funny place. Kin ya use it?"

"I certainly can, Dr. Mysto. I'm a dead shot for any target within 40 feet, and I can usually hit what I'm aiming at up to easily 100 feet. Also, I can draw pretty fast from my shoulder holster. I have learned to fight with my fists, so I think that I could be a pretty good bodyguard. If I have to, I can use a knife, too."

"Dr. Mysto is my stage name, you kin call me Jake. My real name is Jake Mullins. Are ya willing ta travel all over creation, wherever my medicine show takes us?"

I nodded, so Jake continued, "OK, well, we'd be spendin' most of our nights camped out aside the road. Kin ya handle that? An', kin ya cook?"

"I don't have any problems with the camping part, but I can't cook worth a damn. If you must have that, then you'll have to find somebody else. What's this job pay?"

"OK, I'll teach ya ta cook on the trail. The pay is $40 per month and food. Ya'll sleep in a bedroll on the ground. Ya want ta give it a try?"

"Yes, Jake, I'll give it a try. When do I start?"

"Ya kin start right now. Git yer kit, an' we'll go."

"All I got is what you see. I'll have to stop off at a general store to pick up a bedroll and some blankets."

There was a general store just down the street where I could buy the necessary supplies, and I bought an extra box of .44-40 bullets, just in case. Jake led me to a livery stable where he had put up his wagon and his mule. Jake claimed that he was too smart to trust his life to a horse, he always depended on a mule. He hitched up his gaily painted wagon with its sign "Dr. Mysto's Famous Medicinal Oil" painted on the sides, front, and back. We left Austin at a brisk pace, headed for I knew not where.