A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! One more quick chapter. I hope y'all enjoy. Much love and admiration for MaleficentKnits for her tireless and amazing beta! Jasper Whitlock belongs to S. Meyer. Everything else belongs to my overactive imagination. No copyright infringement is intended.
August 19, 1862
The train pulled into Galveston Station at 11:36 in the morning. Albert Baldwyn waited patiently for other passengers to collect their effects and leave before he stood, collected his small bag, and headed toward the exit. He had delayed his return to Galveston longer than anticipated. He knew that Major Whitlock was safe and secure under the wing of an overprotective general and was not going anywhere. After his success catching bounty jumpers, Baldwyn had made a personal trip southwest, into the heart of Texas.
He had long desired to visit the Alamo. Baldwyn was surprised to see that the former Catholic mission had been retooled into a military fortress. The Confederate colors blew lazily in a gentle breeze over the Alamo as he looked at it from across the plaza. He made no attempt to get any closer, mostly because of the sentries and the fact that the plaza had been turned into a makeshift lot for carriages.
Although the infamous battle had occurred only 25 years before, it had already become a symbol of bravery, valor, and valiantly fighting the good fight. Albert Baldwyn considered himself locked in a similar battle. Only this time, in his mind, he saw himself to be the good guy. Unlike the fate of the Texas patriots, he would be the victor.
Perhaps he came to see the site of the great Texas Martyrdom to gain inspiration. Perhaps he came to tempt fate. Maybe he came to thumb his nose up at the battle he would not lose. Baldwyn didn't know the reason himself, but what he did know was that he felt a sense of accomplishment.
Following that visit, and sacrificing another week with loose women, he was finally ready to bring his personal mission to a close.
Baldwyn still used his cane, even though his limp was little more than an aggravation and barely noticeable. Truth be told, he would occasionally forget to carry it. He still liked to keep one on hand in place of his side irons.
It was nearing lunchtime and he was hankering for some local fare. Having been in Galveston on more than one occasion, Baldwyn knew just where to go for cheap food, beds, women, and, most importantly, cheap labor. He needed hired hands who work quickly and help him track down the major. However fortune and fate had a different plan.
Baldwyn seated himself at a table in corner of the restaurant on the first floor of his usual hotel. Planning to eat before reserving a room, he dropped his bag in the corner behind him and sat down with a newspaper he had not finished reading on the train. No sooner had he settled in to his seat than a young officer stepped up to his table.
"Mind if I join you sir?" the man inquired.
"Be my guest," Baldwyn responded kicking a chair out on the other side of the table. He placed his right hand on his sidearm. He was sure he had seen this officer before and a sneaking suspicion led him to believe trouble was going to ensue.
"I thank you, sir," he said sitting down. Then he offered his hand as if to shake. "Captain Haversham Jacobs."
"Matthew Stephens," Baldwyn lied. Knowing that he had to be careful, he used an alias he created in San Antonio after an altercation with a particularly feisty prostitute. He cautiously shook Jacobs' hand and quickly returned his hand under the table to his piece.
"My pleasure," Jacobs said as he took his seat. "I appreciate your indulgence, but I need a quiet place to sit."
"Is this corner somehow more quiet than the others?"
"Not particularly," Jacobs chuckled. "I am looking for someone in particular and do not want to be seen if I can avoid it."
"Ah, I see," Baldwyn had now moved from suspicious to nervous.
"It's nothing too serious," the captain said calmly. "I'm sure we will catch him soon enough."
Baldwyn quickly scanned his surroundings. He saw two more soldiers he had not noticed before. There was one in each of the corners of the room opposite from them. One had a pistol, but the other had a musket. This was far from subtle, and Baldwyn quickly saw his end coming.
How did they find me so quickly? he wondered.
"So, who is it you're lookin' for?" Baldwyn asked; his drawl slipping through because of his nervousness.
"No one of consequence, Mr. Stephens," Jacobs said. "There's no reason for you to be concerned."
"Perhaps not, but I'm mighty curious."
"It's just a local matter, largely unofficial," the captain said leaning forward and lowering his voice slightly. "There's someone who isn't supposed to be here who keeps showing up."
That's all I need to know, Baldwyn thought. He immediately started planning his escape. He was sure he could take the captain and the soldier with the pistol in the nearer corner, but he knew he lacked both the time and accuracy to hit the musket-armed soldier in the farther corner.
"So you think you're just going to walk out with this guy?" Baldwyn asked.
"That's up to him," Jacobs answered. "If he's willing to go quietly, everything will be hunky dory. If he wants to struggle… well… we don't want to think about any bloodshed.
"I'm sure we don't want to think about that," Baldwyn said bluntly before casually opening his newspaper. Once opened, he slowly withdrew his gun from its holster and he quietly placed it upon the table.
A waiter came by and asked for orders. Baldwyn was surprised when the captain casually asked for a beer. Not to be outdone, he ordered a whiskey, and the man scuttled off and returned in a few moments with their drinks.
"So what is worthy enough to be printed today?" Jacobs asked after taking a swig of his beer.
"Excuse me?"
"What's in the news?" he repeated. "I have not been fortunate enough to read a paper in a couple of days now."
"General information about the war," Baldwyn said, not really thinking about what he was saying. "I'm sure it's nothing you don't already know."
"Hmm…," Jacobs mumbled. "Is there any way I could talk you into letting me borrow the paper?"
What is his game? Baldwyn thought, How in the hell does he know what I'm hiding back here?
"If you don't mind, Captain," he said directly, "I am trying to read it myself."
"Fair enough, sir."
Baldwyn tried to hide his relief, but feigned interest in the words on the page while he continued to work out his escape plan. There they sat for a couple of minutes in silence. Baldwyn "read" and Jacobs sipped on his beer.
There if I take the two shots, I can duck for cover until he squeezes off a shot from his musket. Then I can take him out. Baldwyn planned. He tried to scan the other patrons of the restaurant to see if there were any vigilantes who might cause trouble.
The awkward silence between them seemed to grow as he continued planning. Then, suddenly, Captain Jacobs stood up and walked over to another patron three tables away. As the captain moved, Baldwyn watched as the two other soldiers slowly moved in behind the seated man.
He couldn't hear what Jacobs said, but he saw the unknown man sitting at the table look around, see the other soldiers, and his shoulders drooped. He stood up slowly and turned back toward the doors. Baldwyn then realized he was not the target. Relieved, he replaced his gun, folded his paper, and gulped down his shot of whiskey.
Three men went straight for the door, but Jacobs came back toward him.
"That went well, and I thank you for allowing me to hide back here with you," Jacobs said. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a couple of coins and threw it on the table. "Allow me to buy your drink to compensate for the inconvenience."
"It was no inconvenience, but I thank you, Captain," he said. "May I return the favor?" Baldwyn said holding up the newspaper. "I do believe I am done with it now."
Jacobs thanked him and departed. Baldwyn sat there for a moment breathing in sweet relief and then he ordered another shot. He paid for his drinks using the money Jacobs left and told the bartender that the captain failed to pay for his beer.
As he expected, fifteen minutes at the bar was enough time to find a few men unable to serve in the war effort. He promised five dollars to the first man to locate the major. They quickly departed and Baldwyn used that time to reserve a room. He left instruction that he was only to be disturbed by one of the men he had hired.
He settled into his room within minutes, but he was careful to inspect the layout. The window looked out onto a rarely used alley, which was all the better for someone wanting to hide. It was impossible for someone to observe him while in hiding. This meant he didn't need to be as careful, but there was no need to be foolish. He even reserved the room under his "Stephens" alias.
He was able to catch a short nap as it was shortly before three when the first scout returned.
"He hidin' in plain sigh'," the near toothless man said. "He only two block away, at de photographer."
"Outstanding," Baldwyn said handing the man one dollar. "You'll get the rest once I set my eyes on him. If you see the others, tell them to meet me back here after supper."
The hired hand was not satisfied, but he dared not argue with his temporary employer. Baldwyn's reputation preceded him, and most of the regular patrons of this particular hotel knew that he was not to be trifled with.
Baldwyn must have known this, based upon the sneer he shot toward the man. He collected his gray overcoat. He liked to wear it, in spite of the heat, as it hid his weapons so well. Because he was so well prepared, he left his cane behind as he left his room. Within a few minutes, he made his way the few blocks to the only photographer in the city.
Baldwyn was careful to approach from the far side of the street. He also knew that if the major was inside the shop, there would be no possible way to hide from him. However, he also recognized that the worst option was for him not to be there. His only chance of taking down Whitlock was by surprise. Going into the shop would make his presence known. Staying back and quiet was not just his best option, it was his only option. So, he leaned back against the side of the building he was standing in front of and lit a cigarette.
There he waited through one full cigarette, casually watching the sun creep slowly lower in the afternoon sky, but he still kept a cautious eye on the photographer. Horses bustled along the street drawing their carts behind them. The pedestrians were few and sporadic, but none seemed to be about any particular business.
Then, all of sudden, one horse-drawn cart was coming down the street faster than any of the others. Aside from the driver, there was an army officer in the back of the buckboard. Not just any officer, though.
Baldwyn knew him at once. It was the captain he had shared a table with a few short hours previously. The same man he had given the newspaper to and had even left responsible for a beer.
No sooner had the buckboard stopped than Captain Jacobs jumped out of the back and ran inside.
Baldwyn's mind was racing.
What should I do now? he thought, surely Whitlock's inside… but he's got backup with him here…
To make matters worse, Baldwyn was still trying to assess the situation when he heard their raised voices getting louder. In a rare moment in his life, Baldwyn actually went from nervous to full panic. A pit formed in his stomach. There was no way he had waited so patiently, so long, just to get caught now.
His emotions got the better of him, and he felt that pit welling up inside of him. It grew rapidly, to the point he couldn't control himself anymore. He turned, doubled over, and vomited down the side of the building and partially onto his shoes. It was a horrible feeling. He had just sabotaged his own efforts by drawing attention to himself.
Baldwyn was so disappointed that he couldn't bring himself to turn back around. He straightened himself up and waited for the inevitable… But it never came.
After a few worry-filled moments, he heard the horses start off almost at a gallop and the wagon start up with a loud jolt. He twisted his head and saw the pair of officers disappearing up the boulevard.
A wave of relief washed over him as he stood there. Baldwyn looked back over toward the store, where he saw a girl he recognized go back in with a man he could only assume was the photographer.
This changed things.
The major had obviously just sat for a photograph, and Baldwyn's mind was racing with new ideas for how to catch his prey. Although he didn't know her name, he remembered the woman had dined with Whitlock before.
Clearly I cannot let her see me, he thought, but she could be the key.
As he was finishing a second cigarette, the woman left the store and strolled up the boulevard. Baldwyn took this opportunity. He crossed the street and entered the photographer's studio. A bell above the door chimed as he entered, and within moments a little man popped out from a back room.
"Good afternoon, sir," he said cheerfully. "How may I be of service?"
"I'm coming in regards to Major Whitlock…" Baldwyn started.
"Oh, did he send you for the photograph?" the little man asked hopefully.
"Yes," Baldwyn lied. He had no clue what the man was talking about, but he couldn't resist such an easy cover for his being there. "Yes, of course, sir."
"Oh, wonderful!" he exclaimed, then he began speaking so quickly Baldwyn was having a difficult time digesting all that he was saying. "This really does help restore my faith in him as an officer. I mean, really! Who would ever just give photographs to a woman to whom he is not betrothed?"
Baldwyn simply nodded as if agreeing. He didn't really care nor did he want to. He simply was hoping to gain information. Unfortunately, this man's prattling was filled with everything but anything useful to him.
"So," the store owner said finally winding down, "it should only be another twenty minutes or so for Major Whitlock's photograph to be fully developed. Will you wait for it?"
"If you'd be so kind as to indulge me, I would indeed prefer to wait here."
"Certainly, sir," he said with a slight nod before turning around and toddling away back to the door from which he had appeared the first time.
The next twenty minutes passed as uneventful as possible. Baldwyn had hoped to fill his time by looking around the store, but that took no more than two or three minutes at most. I'm sure these photographs are more interesting if you actually know these people, he thought.
He further whiled away the time by listening to the shopkeeper speak with someone else in that hidden back room. Their conversation was largely technical sounding speech and lingo that he did not understand.
Baldwyn was bored and getting somewhat frustrated. The one thing that made him feel better was that no one had entered the shop in the time he had been there. If nothing else, this helped protect his anonymity in town. Finally, the shopkeeper finally returned after twenty-five minutes.
"Here you go, sir," he offered holding out a small photograph approximately three by five inches.
Baldwyn took it and examined it. He was completely unimpressed. He saw nothing but the man's cockiness and haughtiness. This made his rage toward the major boil just looking at it. Still, he couldn't repress a small smile. He liked knowing that he now had an image and a likeness to show the men would pay to get the drop on Whitlock. This would guarantee they got the right man.
"You do good work," Baldwyn said with feigned pleasure.
"Thank you very much, Mr…"
"Stephens," he lied again, extending his hand. "Matthew Stephens."
"Mr. Stephens," the photographer said shaking his hand, "I have to give you some change to return to the major. He paid enough for two copies."
"That's not necessary at all," Baldwyn said. "Please go home early today and keep the extra as payment for your troubles.
"That is mighty fine of you, Mr. Stephens," Stein said. "I shall certainly consider doing just that."
"I hope you will," Baldwyn said, as he tipped his hat. "Good day to you sir."
"And to you," Stein replied.
Baldwyn went quickly out the door and sidled furtively up the road and back to his hotel. He had only been back a few hours and things were moving along quite well. Albert Baldwyn's makeshift posse would be in his room in a few hours and he would be ready with a plan of attack. He had not yet decided how he would capture Whitlock, but he did know that it would not be a simple smash and grab job. He was going to toy with him and watch the major's downfall before the final confrontation.
