"A steamboat?!" growled Wheat Carlson, "Are you crazy? You've always been a little strange, Heyes, but now you've gone over the edge for sure. This plan's plumb crazy!"
"Wheat," warned the Kid. He known there'd be some trouble with the plan. He'd warned Heyes that he was biting off more than he could chew, more than they all could chew, but his partner was bound and determined to pull this one off. He knew why, too. If Heyes' plan worked, the Devil's Hole gang would be famous all over the West. Heyes had taken over the gang six months ago at the age of twenty-three and, while they'd done several successful small jobs, he wanted a splashy robbery that would make them legends and not just local Wyoming outlaws. That was fine with Curry, he thought he might like being famous for something other than his quickdraw. He'd seen the plan, it could work, and it was his job to see that the boys didn't mutiny before they boarded the boat.
Wheat couldn't believe it. Heyes wanted to rob a steamboat! "Hell, how're we gonna do this? Most of these boys can't swim a stroke." His arm swept around the room taking in the motley band of outlaws gathered at the leader's cabin in Devil's Hole.
"We ain't swimming it down, Wheat. We'll ride in same as we always do," said Heyes.
"What? You got horses that can walk on water?" snorted Wheat. The rest of the gang chuckled and guffawed as the big man continued to challenge his leader. The boys weren't too excited by this idea of Heyes', but they'd let Carlson do their bellyaching for them. He always did a fine job of it and they never suffered the consequences.
Heyes smiled, but it was a cold, wolfish smile that didn't reach his eyes. Wheat knew enough to shut up and listen when his young leader got that look in his eye. He looked over his shoulder at the other men, but he saw no support there so he shrugged and sat down.
"Better," said Heyes, "I've got a plan that'll work. If you'll shut up, I'll tell it to you."
"Let's hear it then. Boy howdy, I'd like to know how we're gonna rob a steamboat. Wouldn't you like to know, boys?" Carlson laughed and waited for the others to join in. They didn't.
Wanting to wipe that smug grin off his irritating lieutenant's face, Heyes, instead, held up a map and unfurled it with the Kid's help. "This here's a map of the Missouri River. The boat we're looking at left St. Louis thirty-five days ago carrying a cargo of supplies to Fort Benton." He traced a line from the Mississippi's port city to the heart of Montana.
"Supplies?" Wheat shook his head, "What? We're stealin' food now?"
"Wheat, shut up," growled the Kid. He was beginning to lose his patience.
"Yes; things the Fort can use for trade or to sell; tools, lumber, food, blankets, and, best of all, …money." Heyes knew he had them now. Several chairs slammed onto the wooden floor with loud, hollow rings, and sweaty, unwashed bodies gathered closer together. He could smell Kyle off to his left. The little outlaw emitted a distinctive miasma of body odor, tobacco, and cordite.
"Now, yer talkin'," Kyle grinned and displayed his blackened, tobacco-stained teeth. The other men nodded their approval and Wheat knew that the time for objections had passed. He sat back; his arms crossed defiantly, and fell silent as his leader related the latest Hannibal Heyes plan.
OOOOOOOOOO
The early morning sunlight sparkled off the river as the Missouri flowed easterly past the mounted outlaws standing along the shoreline. Far off to the east, in the distance, they could see smoke curling above the trees and into the bright, blue skies. The steamboat was coming.
Kyle and Hank were stowing their axes in their rifle scabbards as their boss surveyed their handiwork. Over the past two hours, the men had taken turns chopping and dropping six tall, heavily-branched trees into the narrow section of the river. Using their lariats and horses to shift them into position, Heyes and Lobo had finally gotten them where they wanted them. The trunks of four trees spanned the distance from the bank to the sandbar that bowed out from the opposite shore and two more trees were submerged under water and tied in place to the other trees forming an effective blockade. This was a tight spot in the river and one that was routinely dredged by the steamboat companies. Over the last decade, the sandbar had been a navigational hazard that had victimized many of the steamboat captains. Heyes was hoping it was about to stymie another.
"Wheat, you take Kyle, Hank, and Preacher to the other side. You can hunker down in those willows by that clump of cottonwoods. When the boat runs aground, get ready, and wait for Kid's signal. One wave and then you go. Run like hell, but stay in the shadow of the boat so you're harder to see. Got it?"
"Yeah, we got it," said Wheat. He turned and mumbled, out of Heyes' earshot, "Damn fool plan's gonna get us all killed." He gestured for his friends to join him and then nudged his gelding into the water. Soon, four horses swam steadily across the swift current. They were swept slightly down stream, but all animals emerged from the water and shook themselves dry. The humans were not quite as lucky. Carlson led his small, bedraggled band of men to the hiding spot and soon disappeared from Heyes' sight.
"Ready, Kid?" asked Heyes. He could hear the boat's engine now. Lobo and Ike Wilson had taken the horses and were picketing them far enough away from the riverbank that they'd neither be seen nor heard.
Kid Curry had shinnied up one of the many remaining trees and now had a sniper's advantage. He would keep his friends covered and, if necessary, throw enough of a scare into the steamboat mates that there would be no bloodshed. He waved in answer to his partner's question not wanting his voice to carry through the crisp fall air.
Heyes, Lobo, and Ike hid from sight and waited for the boat to arrive. If the plan worked, they'd almost be able to hop onto the steamboat without getting their feet wet.
OOOOOOOOOO
As soon as the boat rounded the bend, the captain spotted the downed trees and blasted his horn to warn his hands to be on alert. It wasn't uncommon for trees to blow down and impede the riverway, but, dammit, this was the worst possible spot it could happen. Euphrase Bend was coming up soon and it had already claimed seven steamboats in the short history of running the Missouri. He didn't need to run aground on a sandbar when he should be preparing to run the trickiest curve in the watercourse.
They'd been making good time from St. Louis; averaging over four miles per hour but, now that they were negotiating the upper end of the Missouri, they'd slowed to a measly two miles per hour. That put the Annie Lee not too far from Glasgow, Montana, but still pretty much out in the middle of nowhere. If they ran aground here, they'd have no help getting her off the bar. It was a full day's walk to Glasgow and it could put them behind schedule by several days.
Phineas Shelton wished, not for the first or the last time, he was still piloting the old Forty Nine under Captain Leonard White. He'd planned to replace the man when he retired. The bust of the Gold Rush had put an end to those dreams. On its last southbound voyage out of Big Bend, British Columbia, the Forty Nine had carried only three paying customers.
At thirty-four years old, Phineas Shelton had found himself with a wife and two children to feed and no job. He thought about turning his hand to mining and actually becoming a forty-niner or, more accurately, a sixty-sixer but the gold, along with the economy, had all but dried up. He wouldn't subject his family to such a rough life for a meager existence. Instead, he bid farewell to friends and relatives in Washington Territory, moved his family east to St. Louis, and picked up work with one of the steamboat lines based there. It took seven more years for Shelton to work his way up to Captain and it was times like this when he wondered why he'd ever wanted his own boat. He missed Washington and the cool beauty of the Cascades. The open prairie of the inner west held no allure for him and its main river was a treacherous nightmare, but steamboats were disappearing from the western landscapes and he'd been lucky to get on the Annie Lee. He'd be damned if he'd lose his job now.
At one hundred and sixty-five feet long and thirty feet abeam, the Annie Lee was one of the larger boats to travel the Missouri River, but far smaller and lighter than the Columbia River boats. If she hung up here, though, she was still big enough that no one would get past her until she was free. Captain Shelton picked up the engine room voice pipe and shouted down to the boiler room for the engineer to be ready to cut power. He clutched the wheel and braced for impact. It was his hope that the Annie Lee could bust her way through the trees and avoid the sandbar altogether.
As the steel plating of the sturdy ship ran afoul of the trees, a horrific shriek filled the air. The snarl scraped along the metal hull eliciting protest from the stricken Annie Lee. She crushed the first tree into shards, but the second and third held; pushing her towards the nearby bank and away from the sandbar that was brushing her on the starboard side. The fourth tree had been smaller and was driven down by the broad beam of the hull, breaking loose the two trees tied in place with several trailing ropes. The two trunks skidded on either side of the keel, the ropes holding them chained to one another, only to pop up and get lifted out of the water by the sternwheeler's paddles. Scooped up, the trees and ropes became hopelessly tangled, and the blades came to a grinding halt. The boat was snared like a trapped rabbit.
Shelton screamed over the voice pipes for the firemen to look sharp, called out for the engineer to cut the clanking engines, and ordered all roustabouts on deck. He could hear the mad scramble of booted footsteps clanging up the metal stairs of the gangway and a breathless man poked his head into the wheelhouse. "Captain?"
"Davis, get your men down there and clear out those trees; then push us off. Have Foster send someone to inspect the wheel." Orders belayed, Shelton turned back and saw, to his astonishment, four armed men clambering over the bow. He heard more yelling from the stern and, glancing in that direction, he saw three more men standing on the deck with pistols drawn and aimed at his men. It was a robbery! He reached for the voice pipe to warn the engineer to lock down the cargo hold, but no words passed his lips as the hard steel of Wheat Carlson's gun pressed into his back.
"I wouldn't do that if'n I was you," said the imposing, mustached outlaw, his hand steady, and a warning in his light, brown eyes. Shelton dropped the mouthpiece.
A smaller man emerged from behind the big man and grinned a filthy smile at Shelton before tearing the voice pipes from the wall. "Now, we don't want no trouble, Cap'n."
"Keep him covered, Kyle," smiled Wheat, "Hank and me will go below deck and make sure everything's nice and shipshape. Preacher, let Heyes know we've got the Captain secured." The small outlaw nodded and a third, gaunt, austere man in black scurried down the passageway to the stern. The big outlaw and the fourth man disappeared down the gangway, making little or no noise as they descended. Shelton watched them go until his attention was captured by a dark-haired man entering the wheelhouse alone.
"Howdy, Captain," said Heyes with a broad grin. "Have a seat." He gestured with his gun for the man to sit on the wooden stool behind the helm.
"What do you want?" said Shelton as he sat down, keeping his hands up. "We're only carrying goods for Fort Benton."
Kyle snorted.
The grin disappeared and a hard look came into Heyes' eyes. "Lying isn't going to work, Captain. I know you're carrying the payroll, too, so let's make this real easy on both of us. You give me the combination, and we'll be gone before you know it."
"I don't know the combination," said the captain. "Wells Fargo loaded that safe into the hold and it'll get off-loaded at the fort. There's no reason for me to have to open it." He was feeling triumphant at subverting the theft and failed to keep a smug smile from his face.
Heyes stared at him as he pulled out his silver pocket watch and glanced at the time before snapping it shut. "Well, then, Captain, I'm afraid you'll be hosting us a little longer while we open that safe. Get up."
Shelton stood, unsure of what he'd heard. "Open the safe? How are you going to open the damn safe without a combination?"
"Well, funny you should ask," drawled a voice behind the captain. Shelton spun around to find another armed, blond-haired man smiling at him. "Mornin'." He lifted his hat in greeting and his eyes turned glacial. "Take us to the safe."
Defeated, the captain quickly led the two outlaws to the cargo hold. The safe was on the far wall of the hold and as Heyes crossed the hatchway, his eyes fell on it, and his heart leaped with delight. It was a Miller Model 61 with a four-tumbler dial. He could open one with his eyes closed. Kneeling down in front of the safe, he pulled off his black hat, and placed it on the floor next to him. He smiled up at his partner, flexed his fingers repeatedly, and leaned his ear against the metal door listening for the subtle click of the tumblers. A look of utter contentment crept onto his face.
Shelton watched the man, fascinated. He'd heard that there were men who could open safes by manipulation, but had never heard of a common outlaw who could. Now he was watching it happen in front of his very eyes. Who was this man?
After less than five minutes, a distinctive click signaled the safe was cracked and Heyes sat up; pulling the door open. He leaned into the safe and came out with a canvas bag marked Wells Fargo. Pulling the cord that bound it open, he glanced inside, and an impossibly wide, dimpled grin creased his face. "It's all here, Kid; more than six thousand dollars." He tossed the bag to his partner and stood up. "Captain, we're gonna leave now, but I'd recommend not trying to stop us. This here's Kid Curry and he's going to be covering us as we go." Satisfied to see the older man flinch at the easily recognizable name, Heyes pulled out a couple of pieces of latigo from his pocket and tied the captain securely to a post. "Oh, and by the way, you can let Wells Fargo know that it was the Devil's Hole gang that robbed you."
"The Devil's Hole gang? Never heard of it," said Shelton.
"Well, you have now," said the Kid. "That there's Hannibal Heyes and he leads the gang."
"What the hell are you telling me for, you damn fool; do you want to get caught?" snapped Shelton.
"No sir, we just want credit where credit is due," Heyes chuckled. He used his own bandana to gag the poor man and then stood back to observe his handiwork. "You ought to be able to work those loose in an hour or two if your men don't find you first. Much obliged, Captain." Tipping his hat, Heyes and the Kid hurried back up the steps to the main deck where they found their men ready to go. The roustabouts, the firemen, and the engineer had been tightly bound together and were sitting passively on the poop deck.
Even Wheat smiled at the sight of the canvas bag. "Well, I'll be, Heyes. Guess it wasn't such a stupid idea after all."
"That's high praise coming from you, Wheat," Heyes said, feeling generous now that the job was over.
The outlaws slipped over the side of the boat and waded onto dry land. The sound of their noisy departure could be heard from the deck and the steamboat crew watched as the riders burst from cover and galloped off; hooting and hollering.
"Who were those guys?" said the engineer, working hard to loosen his bindings.
Davis squinted, watching the dust trail rising through the trees. "Who the hell knows? But, I can tell you this, they're in big trouble now."
Author's note:
The Annie Lee sunk at Euphrase Bend in 1881. The Forty Nine was also a real steamboat that ran the Columbia River. Here's an interesting link for more information: .
Voice pipes, or megaphones, were used for communication aboard ships. Consisting of a tube and two cones made of wood or metal on either end, one end was shaped to speak into the other was flared to amplify the sound traveling down the tube to its destination. Multiple destinations required multiple voice pipes. These were also commonly found in building and houses but were somewhat larger in diameter aboard ship.