When the Guns Start Firing – Extended Epilogue

Clementine Farnsworth yawned slowly as she stared out the passenger window. The sign read Rayner Station.

Lord, what a dreary little town. They all look the same out here. What could possibly ever happen of interest in such a desolate place?

A stout and stumpy sixty-three-year-old widow, Clementine was returning from her annual visit to her son and his wife in Billings, Montana Territory. She wasn’t looking forward to the long journey back to New York City.

I hope we’re not stopped here long. I fear I shall die of boredom.

She looked up as a young woman entered the passenger car, carrying her traveling bag. The girl was so tall that her head nearly brushed the ceiling as she stood in the aisle, looking around at the people in the seats.

Lovely, Clementine thought sourly, a local yokel making her first train journey, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. God! Why is youth wasted on the young?

The girl stood beside the old lady’s seat. “Good morning,” she said chirpily. “Looks like you’re the only other female on the train, ma’am, and I was wonderin’ if you would mind if we sit together?”

Clementine looked up without smiling. She really didn’t want company, but she reminded herself that she was a lady of culture and means—Clemmy Farnsworth wouldn’t forgo good manners in meeting anyone. “I wouldn’t mind at all. Please, sit down.”

“Thank you kindly.”

When the girl had stowed her bag and plopped into the seat, she extended a long, tanned hand. “My name’s Eleanor O’Riley.”

“Clementine Farnsworth.” Clemmy forced a smile. “How do you do?”

“Been worse. Sure hate leavin’ my family behind, though. But a girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, I guess.”

“And what is that?” Clementine asked.

“What’s what, ma’am?”

“What do you have to do?”

Eleanor chuckled loudly.

“What’s so funny, Miss O’Riley?” the old lady asked, annoyed by her good cheer.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny that you asked! I don’t rightly know what I’m gonna do at the end of the journey. All I know is I gotta get there.”

“I see.” Clementine sniffed, eyeing the girl’s plain calico dress and bonnet. They looked suspiciously homespun, although the fit and the sewing were immaculate. “Well, that’s a start, Miss O’Riley, isn’t it? And where is ‘there,’ if you don’t mind me asking?”

“‘There’ is New York City, ma’am. I got a whole passel of relatives in that town, my mama tells me. I’m gonna stay with my Uncle Finnegan and his wife till I figure out what’s next.”

Of course—she’s working-poor Irish. The poor dear. Those slums are horrendous.

“Where you off to, Mrs. Farnsworth?”

“Same. I’m returning from a visit with my son in Billings.”

“Wonderful! We’ll have some time to get to know each other, then.”

Oh, joy.

“If you don’t mind, Miss O’Riley, I’m feeling awfully tired. Perhaps we can postpone getting to know each other until I’ve had my nap?”

“Of course, Mrs. Farnsworth. I understand. It’s nice to meet you.” Eleanor smiled.

“And you,” Clementine lied, propping a blue velvet cushion behind her head. She pulled a knitted afghan blanket over her legs, closed her eyes, and was soon asleep, her mouth hanging open in a rattling snore.

***

Eleanor watched out the window as the familiar landscape of the North Dakota rangeland began to slowly change over the miles. The change brought a feeling of homesickness. To escape it, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and let the rhythmic motion of the train lull her to sleep.

“Oh, my God! Where is it?” a voice shrieked, jolting Eleanor awake.

“What happened?” she asked groggily.

Clementine was frantically searching for something. She rummaged through her travel bag, then bent over double and felt underneath the bench with her hands.

Eleanor watched silently for a few moments, still half-asleep. “Did you lose something, Mrs. Farnsworth?”

Finally, the old lady stopped and sat still, looking dazed like she was in shock. “My purse has been stolen. I can’t find it anywhere.”

“That’s terrible! Are you sure it’s gone?” Eleanor doubled her long body forward and peeked under the seat. “It’s not under here.” She stood up and checked the overhead baggage rack. “Not up here either, ma’am.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Clementine said in an icy voice.

Eleanor felt her eyes go wide at the accusation. “No, ma’am! I would never do such a thing!”

“Don’t you lie to me—I know what you Irish are like. You’re thieves, all of you,” she growled. “I had my travel money in that purse. Give it back to me, Miss O’Riley, or I’ll call the conductor.”

Eleanor had seen racial prejudice before. Never against her own race, however, and the viciousness of the attack stunned her. “I didn’t… I never took it. Honest.”

“I don’t believe you,” Clementine said loudly.

Heads turned to look. Eleanor remained standing beside the seat, unsure of what to do next. “Please, Mrs. Farnsworth, you’ve got to believe me. Let me help you find it.”

“How do you propose to do that?” she asked scornfully. “A mere schoolgirl like yourself.”

“May I sit down again? I seem to be getting a lot of curious looks standin’ here.” The old lady frowned, pursed her lips together, then nodded curtly. Eleanor plopped onto the seat and took a deep breath. She turned to her accuser and said in a confidential tone, “My father is a county sheriff. He used to tell me about his cases all the time. I know how to investigate things.”

“Really!” Clementine mocked.

“Yes. I didn’t take your purse, but I can find the person who stole it… if you want.”

“How?”

“First, I’ll interview you.”

“Interview me?”

“Yes, the first step in solving a crime—after you thoroughly check the scene, which we’ve already done—is to interview the victim and any witnesses. You’re the victim, ma’am. I’ll start by talking to you.” She glanced around the railroad car. “And then I’ll expand the investigation further.”

“Well… you certainly sound as if you might know what you’re doing,” Clementine admitted reluctantly. “And you say your father is a sheriff?”

Eleanor nodded and smiled. “Yes. He’s Irish, too.”

The old lady looked down at the floor of the car in silence for a moment. “I was dreadfully rude and overreacted, Miss O’Riley. Please, forgive me.”

“Yes ma’am, I do. Right readily.”

“Thank you. What do you want to know?”

***

When Eleanor had finished interviewing Mrs. Farnsworth about the case, she looked carefully around the passenger car and noted who else was present at the time of the robbery.

I’m assuming it was a robbery, of course. Maybe Mrs. Farnsworth accidentally launched her purse down the drop-chute in the toilet? If that happened, it’s layin’ somewhere on the tracks a few miles behind us, waitin’ for some lucky cowboy to find it!

She looked around the car again, then got up from her seat. It was time to talk to her fellow travelers. Besides herself and Clementine, it was still all men riding the car. She would begin by speaking to individuals who were sitting at opposite ends of the car, as far apart as possible. This way, the men would be less likely to overhear the conversations and therefore not have time to think of an alibi.

After talking briefly to two of them—both of whom reported seeing nothing unusual at the time of the ladies’ nap—she approached an older gentleman who looked to be in his early fifties. The man, who gave his name as John Gaddis, was dressed in the simple clothes of a laborer or farmer, neatly groomed and clean shaven.

“Now that you mention it, miss, I did happen to see a man do somethin’ kinda unusual ‘round that time you mentioned.”

“What happened?” Eleanor asked.

“Well, I saw him leave the car for a minute—goin’ to use the drop-chute, I figured—then, when he came back in, he stopped there by your seat when you was both sleepin’. I saw him reach over toward the older lady. I thought maybe he was closin’ the window or somethin’, didn’t think much of it. It does get mighty drafty in here sometimes.”

“What did he do after that?”

“He went back to his usual seat.”

“Do you remember what the man was wearing, Mr. Gaddis?”

“Same as he’s got on now—coat over his shirt, canvas range pants. Looks like a cowpuncher. He’s sittin’ alone near the middle of the car there.” Gaddis nodded toward the man.

“Thank you for speaking with me.”

“No problem. Hope you find the feller who did it.”

Eleanor glanced over at the man Gaddis had identified. He seemed to be around thirty, thin and nervous looking, with a couple days’ growth of stubble on his face. He caught her eye and turned away quickly, staring out the window.

She got up and walked over to his seat. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes?” he said curtly.

“I’m wonderin’ if I could speak with you a moment about something?”

“I ain’t much of a talker.”

“Please, it’ll only take a moment. May I sit down?” He nodded with an annoyed expression and Eleanor sat next to him. “Since you’re a man of few words, I’ll get straight to it, sir. My friend, the dear woman at the front of the car there, lost her purse earlier today when we were both nappin’. Did you see anything unusual goin’ on there around mid-mornin’?”

“Nope.”

“One of the passengers saw you standing by our seats during our nap. You reached over toward my friend and then went back to your seat.”

“So what? That ain’t no crime, is it?”

“Can I ask why you did that?”

He sneered at her. “I saw the old lady’s blanket slipped to the floor. She’s been wearin’ it since we left Billings. I picked it up and put it over her legs again. Got a soft spot for grandmas, I guess.”

Eleanor smiled. “Thank you… mister?”

“Yup, just mister.”

“Thanks again. I’m Eleanor.” She got up and went back to her seat, considering what Mister had said. He certainly didn’t seem like the type to have a soft spot for old ladies. But her daddy had often told her not to judge a book by its cover—people often surprised you in unexpected ways, both good and bad.

Having interviewed all four men in the car, Eleanor decided she would keep an eye on Mister as the prime suspect in the case. It was all she had to go on at the moment.

Around dinner time that day, Mister got up and left the passenger car. A minute later, Eleanor followed. She saw him enter the dining car. After waiting a few minutes to appear not to be following him, she went in also.

Mister was seated at a table, slurping at a bowl of soup. He looked up briefly when she entered then went on with his meal. Eleanor took a seat at a table. She noticed Mister’s meal consisted of a few crackers, a cup of water, and the soup. He certainly wasn’t living high on the hog.

Gaddis was in the diner, too, and he nodded at her. He was feasting on steak and vegetables. A small bottle of wine was on the table.

Mighty rich food for a poor farmer. He and the cowpuncher probably earn about the same—why is one of ‘em feasting like a king and the other eating like he’s broke?

Eleanor realized there could be any number of explanations for this. Rich people sometimes dress plainly to avoid attention. Or he could simply be a well-off farmer with a good appetite. Or… Gaddis might have come into a pocketful of cash recently.

That cash could have come from Mrs. Farnsworth’s purse. Is he feasting on her travel money?

She remembered how quick the man had been to share the story of Mister reaching toward Clementine. Had Gaddis tried to mislead her by pointing the finger at someone else?

She decided he was also a suspect, and she’d keep an eye on him, as well.   

***

Over the next couple of days as Eleanor surveilled both suspects, Gaddis seemed to notice he was being watched. His behavior took on a nervous and self-conscious aspect that hadn’t been there before. He often glanced over his shoulder and looked around. He fidgeted.

In fact, Eleanor noted that Gaddis’ behavior had become very similar to Mister’s.

He’s got a case of the jitters! How come? Tryin’ to hide somethin’?

Gaddis no longer acknowledged her presence when she followed him into the dining car. Mister’s attitude, on the other hand, did not change. The cowpuncher was as nervous-looking, surly, and stand-offish as always.

Eleanor had seen Gaddis talking with another older gentleman on the car several times, an overweight fellow in a black broadcloth suit. She decided to re-interview him when Gaddis was gone for supper, and see if she could find out anything else about the man who had become the prime suspect of the case.

Amos Carpay proved to be an affable and gregarious fellow. He was a traveling businessman on his way to Chicago after a trip west, and seemed glad to talk to her.

“John? Yes, met him when I got on the train in Montana.”

“What does Mr. Gaddis do for a living?” Eleanor asked.

“That’s a good question, Miss O’Riley. He never mentioned it.”

“Did he tell you what his destination is?”

“Yes, he’s going to Chicago. Is he a suspect in the purse-snatching incident?”

“He is, Mr. Carpay. Please don’t mention it to him, though.”

***

About seventy-five miles from Chicago, the train was pulling into a small town called De Kalb when John Gaddis suddenly began gathering up his things.

“Look! He’s getting ready to disembark,” Eleanor said to Clementine. “I’m going to follow him.”

“Be careful, Eleanor,” the old lady said. Her attitude toward the young woman had softened as she realized how diligently Eleanor was investigating the purse-snatching.

“I will, Mrs. Farnsworth.”

Gaddis avoided eye contact with the ladies as he walked by them carrying his travel bag. When he had exited the car, Eleanor got up and followed.

On the platform, the conductor helped Gaddis retrieve his suitcase.

He’s leaving!

She approached the conductor as Gaddis walked away. “How long is the train here at the station, sir?”

“Ten minutes,” he said, glancing at his pocket watch.

Eleanor followed as the suspect passed through the station and exited outside. He began walking quickly up the road. Glancing back, he saw Eleanor and picked up the pace.

You’re not getting away that easily, Gaddis.

She began closing the distance between them at a fast walk. “Mr. Gaddis! I’d like to ask you a couple questions, please.”

He looked over his shoulder again and broke into an awkward run with the suitcase. Eleanor sprinted after him, her long legs quickly closing the distance. Still, Gaddis wouldn’t stop. “Leave me alone!” he shouted.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, jogging alongside.

“Go away!”

Eleanor decided to make a citizen’s arrest. Her dad had told her it was something anyone could do if they witnessed a crime or believed they had sufficient evidence of one. “Okay, have it your way. John Gaddis, I’m arresting you on suspicion of theft.”

“Go to hell!” he growled angrily.

She tackled him, throwing the man onto the grass at the side of the road. Gaddis dropped the suitcase as he landed and it broke open, spilling its contents onto the lawn. He tried to get up, but Eleanor pushed him back down and jumped onto his chest, pinning his arms to the ground. “You’re under arrest, sir! Don’t move.”

She glanced at the items from the suitcase that were strewn on the lawn—among them was a small ladies’ purse, black with a gold clasp. “So, it was you after all, John.”

“Yeah, so what? That rich old dame won’t miss the money.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to steal it.”

“What’s goin’ on here, miss?” a wry voice called from the road. “Are you teachin’ your husband a lesson this morning?

They both turned to look. A young man was sitting his horse and gazing at them with an amused expression.

“Can you help me, sir?” Eleanor said. “This man stole that black purse there on the grass. He took it from my friend on the train.”

His swung down from the horse. “The sheriff’s office is just a couple blocks away.”

“Can you hold him for me? I need to go back to the train and tell the conductor what’s happened.”

“Sure thing, gorgeous. I’ll even march him down to see the sheriff, if you like; save you the trouble.”

“Thank you kindly.” She smiled. “I won’t be long.”

He drew a pistol out of his jacket and Eleanor released the suspect into the young man’s care. Once he had given her directions to the sheriff’s office, she picked up Clementine’s wallet and sprinted back toward the station, hoping the train hadn’t left yet.

***

The conductor wasn’t able to hold the train longer but when he’d heard what happened, he offered travel passes to Eleanor and Clementine if they wanted to stay over at De Kalb to press charges. Clementine was adamant that the thief face justice. So, after getting their luggage and personal items from the train, the ladies caught a hansom cab to the sheriff’s office and gave their statements.

Afterwards, they ate lunch at a local restaurant and sat sipping tea together, waiting for the afternoon train heading east.

“I must say, that was excellent work finding the culprit, Eleanor. And apprehending him like that! Have you ever thought of police work as a career?”

She nodded. “When I was a young girl, I wanted to be a sheriff like my daddy.”

“Why didn’t you pursue it further?”

“Because there ain’t no women sheriffs in all the West.” Eleanor smiled wistfully. “Or at least none that my father knows about.”

Clementine looked at her thoughtfully and was quiet for a few moments. “I happen to know that the Pinkerton agency has several women detectives in their employment.”

“Really?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes. The company has an office in New York City. I would be glad to provide a recommendation to them on your behalf. It’s obvious you’re born for this kind of work.”

Eleanor was stunned by the information, and by Clementine’s offer. “That would be great. Thank you so much, Mrs. Farnsworth. That’s so kind of you.”

“Please, call me Clemmy. All my friends do.” The old lady smiled. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to pay for any additional training you might require for the job as well, Eleanor. Consider it a reward for what you’ve done for me—for a job well done.”

“Oh, my goodness. Are you sure about that, ma’am?”

“Quite sure.” She nodded.

“Well, that’s right amazin’! Thank you so much, Clemmy!”

“My pleasure, dear,” she said, smiling again.

Wait until Mama and Daddy hear about this.

THE END

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