Chapter 7

Tom was a nice man to talk to, but I really did not see him as husband material at this time, so I made my goodbyes and continued my journey the next morning. I was just far enough out of Underwood to make returning not worth the effort when the rain started. Fortunately, my Oldsmobile had a buggy top that would keep most of the rain out, though I was already wet by the time I got all of the canvass in place.

My dress was soaked, and I was feeling the chill of the air that leaked into the cabin as I drove. Finally, I came to the conclusion that I was just kidding myself. I needed to get out of these wet clothes and dry off. I found a good place to stop under a sturdy tree that was breaking the force of the rain that was really pouring down by now.

I slithered into the back of the cabin and found my traveling bag in which I kept a change of clothes. Oh, damn! I had forgotten to repack the bag this morning, so the only stuff there was my disguise of men's clothes. Well, maybe I was lucky, after all. The trousers would keep my legs and bottom warmer than a dress would, so I stripped, wiped off all of the excess rain water that I could, and donned the shirt and trousers. My same boots were reasonably dry, so I slipped them back on. That done, I slithered back to the driver's seat.

I had left the engine running so that I did not have to go out into the wet to restart it. The road was somewhat muddy, but not yet so bad as to give me any real trouble. I was forced to hold my speed down to around 15 MPH so that I would not slide off the road. In fact, I realized that I was pushing my luck, so I slowed to 7-8 MPH. Even this was tricky in places, but it was fast enough that I did not get mired in the worst mud.

I drove for a few more miles, and, by then, the rain had finally stopped. The road was still a mess, but, at least, it was not getting worse. I did pass a couple of freight wagons that were stopped by the side of the road because the mules were just not able to move the wagons through the mud, muck, and mire. I asked the drivers if they needed help, but both times I was waved on—in each case, the driver was just waiting for the water to drain off, as it usually did once the rain stopped.

However, a different situation appeared a few miles farther down the road. A dead horse was lying in the road, blocking most of it, and a disgusted looking man was sitting on a fallen tree trunk near the road. Now, here was somebody that obviously needed help, so I stopped.

"How can I help you, friend?" I asked of the man.

With a grateful grin, he walked up to me and said, "I kin use all kinds of he'p, thank ya. Say, don't I know ya. Ain't ya Deputy Marshal Kitty Anderson? I'm Alan Harper, an' I also work fer Judge McAllister."

"Oh, hello, Mr. Harper. Yes, that's who I am. How did you know me?"

"Shoot, Ma'am. Everybody knows of the lady what kin shoot better'n any man an' drives an automobile instead of a horse. It was the automobile what tipped me off. I wasn't shore, though, cuz of yer men's clothes."

"Oh, that. My dress got so wet during the first part of the rain storm that I had to change, and this was what I had easy to get to. You're not offended, I hope!?!"

"No, Ma'am. Ya kin wear what ever ya want to, as far as I am concerned. Kin I git ya to he'p me move my dead hoss out of the middle of the road? I can't move him by myself, but I figure that yer automobile kin do the job right easy."

Alan stripped his tack from the dead horse and pitched it into the back of my automobile. This got mud all over my wet dress, but I had to wash it anyway, so I was not annoyed.

He tied a rope from his horse to the front of my automobile frame with the rope passing around a tree trunk. I shifted into reverse and was able to drag the dead animal clear of the road. We left him for the scavengers. Alan climbed in, and we continued on our way.

"Why did you have to shoot your horse, Mr. Harper?"

"First off, please call me Alan. I ain't Mr. Harper anywhere 'cept in a court of law. I'm due to see Judge McAllister as soon as I kin git to Austin fer a new assignment, but I don't know what it is. Anyhow, my hoss stepped wrong in the mud and slipped. He broke his leg in the process, an' I had to shoot him. I really hated to do that—he was a damned nice hoss. Oops, please excuse me my language."

"Don't worry about the language, Alan. I have been known to use such words, myself, on occasion. Well ... Pretty often, if the truth be known. Oh, and please call me Kitty, since we are what might be called partners in crime."

I offered to take Alan all the way to Austin, since it was really not out of my way all that much. He agreed, so we spent the next few days in each other's company. I enjoyed the chance for conversation along the way, and I am sure that he did too. We got to know each other quite well, and I even taught him to drive my automobile. The Oldsmobile was definitely fun to drive, but it was very tiring after a while, so it was good to be able to relax in the padded seat and let someone else do the work for a while.

That was the only day I wore the men's clothes. All the rest of the trip I dressed in my most attractive dresses and bonnets. I got the idea that Alan was impressed, though he did laugh at the thought of my shoulder holster. He quit laughing when I proved that I could draw faster from my rig than he could from his thigh. That was enough to convince him to add a crossdraw holster like mine to his armament. After shooting it, he was also enamored of my modified Savage automatic. It looked like Mr. Harper was being dragged into the 20^th Century, though he did not really object.

The trip was pleasant enough, but we were both in for a big surprise when we went in to see Judge McAllister. He had a job he wanted both of us to take on as partners. That was the first time I found out that Alan was a Secret Service agent, and vice versa. Though both of us had talked about some of our previous experiences, neither one of us had mentioned a tie to the Secret Service.

There was a problem with train robberies which involved the theft of mail and federal money. This had to be an inside job, because the only trains being robbed were those of the Austin and El Paso Railroad which were carrying something worth taking.

We agreed that we would start our investigation by trying to stop the robberies, themselves. Alan rode as a guard inside the express car, and I rode as a female passenger in one of the passenger cars. The idea was that nobody would suspect me, and I could be the ideal backup for Alan during a robbery. We wanted to catch one or more of the bandits for questioning.

Two weeks later, we made our first run. We were almost certain that this train would be the target of an attempted robbery, since this was the first significant transfer of money in about six weeks. We showed up and boarded the train in our appointed disguises. By the way, Alan was carrying a modified Savage automatic pistol just like mine, down to the hollowpoint bullets.

We had been traveling for about two hours when the train came to an abrupt halt. There was no obvious reason for this as far as I could see, so I was sure that it was a robbery in progress. I was sitting in the last seat before the exit door. This train was still running cars with open platforms, so I had no trouble in leaning around far enough to see toward the front of the train.

Yep, there were four men with drawn guns standing around the express car. I was only about 60 feet away from them, so I was in a good position for accurate shooting, even with the hollowpoint bullets. I drew my Savage and held it with both hands to be sure of my steady aim. Furthermore, I leaned against the bulkhead of the car to steady myself further. I knew that I could not miss under these circumstances, so I began firing. There was no chance that the men with drawn guns were innocent bystanders.