Wanted Dead or Alive

I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive

Jesse James ran through the encroaching darkness, clutching one hand to his wounded side, the other holding firmly to his six-shooter. He was in an all out run toward the designated rendezvous site he, Frank, and Cole Younger had agreed upon earlier that day. He wondered if any of the others in the gang had managed to escape the mixed group of vigilantes and Pinkerton detectives who ambushed them as they robbed the Northfield Bank.

His racing mind, alert to the nearby shadows and sounds of the night, was still reeling with how quickly everything went bad. There was the usual meticulous planning done by him, Frank, and Cole a few days before the robbery took place. Trusted men were paid to go into the bank to case it, and then report back to them all the little details they needed to pull off a successful heist.

They made sure each of the gang members: Jim and Bob Younger, Lonnie Packwood, Clell Miller knew precisely what their jobs in the robbery would consist of. As per their usual way of doing things, he, Frank, and Cole were the only members to enter the bank and conduct business.

Always before their robberies went over without a single hitch, but Jesse supposed their luck had to run out sooner or later. He had hoped that it would be sometime in the future. He had entered into this robbery thinking only of obtaining enough money so that he and Zerelda Mimms could get married and start their life together. Zee was about the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and he couldn't wait to make her his permanently.

Now, with him on the run again, and with hardly any money in his pocket, Jesse's plans of getting married were halted. Self-preservation came first, next to finding out what had happened to Frank and the others. He had personally seen both Clell Miller and Lonnie Packwood killed, but he didn't have any idea whether his brother or the Youngers had survived.

He wasn't a praying man by nature, but he found himself doing so right then. He didn't pray for his own safety, but for Frank's and the Younger brothers. He didn't want to think about the possibility that his brother was dead, so he decided to focus his attention instead on reaching the hideout.

Jesse didn't know whether to be relieved or scared when he noticed the flickering light of a fire dancing off the stone walls of the old miner's shaft, as he neared the hideout. He hoped the golden glow meant that one or more of his gang members had managed to escape from the posse that was after them. The injured outlaw knew there was a strong likelihood that someone had either been coerced into leading the Pinkerton's back to their hideout to setup an ambush for the rest of the members, or was caught just as they had arrived at it. He slowed his movements and approached the entrance to the mine shaft with caution, not wanting to be caught off-guard.

Jesse placed his back against one wall of the shaft entrance, and edged closer to the opening, gun at the ready for anyone that might spring out of it at him. He took a deep breath and started to step into the entranceway, when a sharp whistle pierced the night air, and he froze in place. A second, softer whistle rapidly followed the first, and Jesse felt relief flood over him.

"Frank?"

"Jesse?"

Jesse cleared the entrance and found himself swept into a bear hug by his brother. He gasped aloud as pain sliced through his body from the pressure Frank's arm placed against his wounded side.

Frank immediately released his brother, concern flooding over his face as he realized Jesse was hurt. "How bad is it?"

"Just a flesh wound, I think." Jesse responded as he moved further into the shaft and settled himself slowly onto the ground near the fire.

"Let me check it out." Frank crouched down beside his brother and helped Jesse remove his blood soaked shirt.

Gently the older James brother probed the gunshot wound that his brother was inflicted with, wincing at the pained gasps Jesse made in response to his examination. Frank was relieved to find the wound had only damaged skin and muscle, before it exited Jesse's flesh.

"It's a flesh wound just like you thought, Jesse," Frank told his brother. "It won't take me long to get you patched up. You'll be sore for awhile though."

"Better sore than dead," Jesse replied. "You best get to the patching before I bleed all over the place."

Frank nodded. He dug into the supplies the gang had stored up in the back of the shaft, and found the necessary materials he would need to fix Jesse up. He handed Jesse a bottle of whiskey which was with the rest of the supplies, and the younger James brother took the bottle gratefully.

Jesse pulled the cork out with his teeth, spit it out, and then took a long swig of the amber liquid. He gasped as the rotgut burned a path down his throat and into his stomach. He waited a couple of moments, before taking another drink of the whiskey, before handing the bottle to Frank. Jesse nodded his consent for his brother to begin the procedure necessary to fix him up.

Frank took a deep breath and then poured a liberal amount of the whiskey onto the open wound in his brother's side. He winced as Jesse's agonizing scream echoed through the mine shaft, but did not let it deter him from doing what was necessary. He worked quickly to first clean out the wound, and then sew it up with a fishing hook and coarse thread.

By the time Frank was finished, Jesse had passed out from the pain, and he was sweating profusely. He tossed the soiled rags he had used into the fire, cleaned his hands and face, and then settled himself into a protective position in front of his younger brother, and closed his eyes.

Neither brother slept much that night. Jesse couldn't find a comfortable position on the hard ground. Frank awoke to every little moan his brother made, as well as any sound he heard from outside the mine shaft's entrance.

In the dim light streaming in through the shaft's entrance, Frank was able to tell Jesse was pale, but not feverish, and for that he was thankful. He took it as a good sign that no infection had sunk in during the night. Frank debated about starting another fire, not wanting to alert any of the posse members to their location, but knew if they were going to head out of the area, Jesse was going to need a hot meal to replenish his waning energy.

It didn't take him long to start the fire and make a meal which consisted of canned beans, chewy biscuits, and strong coffee to choke it down. Frank made Jesse a plate and handed it to his brother.

"I don't expect it's going to taste anywhere near as good as Ma's, but it's hot and filling."

Jesse smiled wanly at him. "After not eating anything all night, it might just taste like heaven to me."

Frank chuckled, and then dug into his own plate of food.

As soon as the meal was over, Frank gathered up supplies for the two of them to take with them, and then the James brothers made their getaway. Neither of them knew what the next hour, let alone the next day would have in store for them, but they were determined to do their best to slip through the closing nooses of the Pinkerton's and make their way back home to Missouri and freedom.