Although John had grown up less than twenty minutes from Blackwater, and in fact had gone to school there, he rarely visited downtown. Most of his childhood and early adulthood was spent at Beecher's Hope, tending to the ranch, his ailing mother, and his demanding father after his mother passed away. For many years he felt a sense of loyalty to his father, thinking he would be doing his family a disservice if he left. But recently he decided to be the master of his own destiny. He left his alcoholic father behind and hadn't been back to West Elizabeth until now.
John parked in front of his friend's horse ranch, just inside the Blackwater city limits. It was better to keep Minerva here than keeping her at Beecher's Hope where his father still lived, John figured. He pulled out Arthur's old journal again and gave it another read before dropping off Minerva:
Abigail and Marston keep arguing. I wonder why exactly he came back. He cannot seem to decide if he wants to be a father to that boy of his or not.
The arguing is exhausting...
"So my great-grandparents fought a lot," John said aloud to himself. "And apparently John wasn't too keen on fatherhood at first. Interesting."
Hosea and I are onto something. Something pretty big - might be a lot of cash coming in to do with a real estate scam Hosea thinks he may have discovered. I am not sure yet. The perfect crime, we think - one where we rob crooks. We are being real careful.
It's fun working with Hosea again. The man is an artist of nonsense. Even if nothing comes of it, we are having an amazing enough time. It's good to be running scams again. Hosea is a born huckster. He is getting anxious, worried that by lingering in town, we are going to bring undue attention to ourselves.
But Dutch thinks he is also onto something big, his words, not mine, bank money being brought in by boat, apparently, so for now, we are working on both things and seeing what happens.
Plan is to flee west into the desert country someplace if we can. Micah and Dutch are planning to rob the ferry in town. They think it's laden with riches - cash coming in for the banks, coming in by boat.
For once, I am not getting involved in the job. Hosea and I are too taken up with our business, which I believe could go very well, and Dutch seems confident that with the group assembled, all will be okay.
Plan is for them to carry out the job, then flee into the wilderness out to the West. The next day, Hosea and I carry out our scam and join them.
A knock on the window interrupted John's reading. He startled, but relaxed when he saw it was just his friend that owned the ranch. Richard Smith, or Rich as most called him, was a small man, but a good hard worker. He had worked with horses all his life, so John knew Minerva would be in good hands. John rolled down the window and smiled at Rich.
"So, the big city boy returns to Blackwater," Rich said good-naturedly. "What's brought you home so soon?"
"I'm doing research on my family's history," John responded. "Could you perhaps watch over Minerva while I'm out here? I'd hate to keep her at Beecher's Hope. Pap's still livin' out that way."
"Oh, yes, that'll be fine," Rich responded. "Never had a problem with Minerva. She's a good one. Let's open up the trailer and get her out to pasture." John got out of the truck and helped Rich open the trailer and lead Minerva out. They led her down a dirt path, through a gate, and into the main pasture. Over a dozen fine horses grazed out there and Minerva immediately galloped over to them, thankful for the opportunity to socialize with her own kind.
"I love how social she is," Rich remarked.
"As do I," John said. "What do I owe you?"
"Oh, we'll call it an even hundred. You're a good friend. I can't charge too much."
"Thank you kindly, old friend." John pulled out his wallet and handed Rich a $100 bill. Rich tipped his hat and made his way back to the ranch house while John got back in his truck, stowed the horse trailer near the ranch house, and hit the main road to downtown Blackwater. After just a short five minute drive, he reached his first destination. The railroad served Blackwater for many years, but after passenger service declined with the rising popularity of the automobile, there was no need for trains and the rails were removed. The train station was eventually converted into the Blackwater Historical Museum.
John parked his truck in front of the museum and entered. He was greeted by a man at a desk. "Hello, sir, and welcome to the Blackwater Historical Museum. It's a $5 admission fee to get in. Will you pay with cash or card today?" John took out his wallet and handed the man a $5 bill. "Thanks for your donation, sir! Enjoy the museum!"
"I have a question," John said. "Does the museum have anything on the Van der Linde gang or the Marston family?"
"Well, we do have some materials in our archives. We usually don't take people down there, but seeing as how it's a slow day, I think we can arrange something." The front desk man left and went into the former ticket office, which was now presumably a back office. He returned with a tall man who wore a name tag that said "Harold Fordham, Resident Historian".
"Barry here tells me you're interested in seeing our archives," Howard said. "What's your name?"
"John Marston," John responded.
Harold chuckled. "Seriously, what's your name?"
"I ain't foolin, sir. John Marston is my great-grandpap and I'm wantin' to study our family history."
"Ah, I can vaguely see the resemblance," Harold said. "My grandfather, Archer Fordham, worked on the Van der Linde case with the Bureau of Investigation, the FBI's predecessor. He worked with another Bureau agent, Edgar Ross, to bring the remainder of the gang to justice after the turn of the century."
"My grandpap, Jack, told me a story once that Edgar Ross sent men to kill John. What do you know about that?"
"Er...why don't we just go look at the archives now?" Harold turned and walked away quickly, and John wiped the look of confusion off his face and scrambled to keep up. Harold and John walked into the old cellar of the railroad station, which was now where the museum kept its archival material, and walked all the way to the back of the room. He turned on an old-fashioned light bulb and John realized they were in an even smaller room now.
"This is what we have of the Van der Linde gang," Harold said. "We don't have anything from the Marston family. I hear that Jack Marston was quite the keeper of family history, but that most of it was donated before he passed away and our museum was opened about a decade after he died. Feel free to take a look around and let me know if you have any questions."
"Aside from the one I asked earlier?" John quipped.
"Er...yes, aside from that one."
John spent a few minutes looking around. He saw a pretty dress draped on a headless mannequin display with a sign on it that said, "Once belonged to Susan Grimshaw". An old book sat on one of the back shelves, and after getting permission to look at it, John saw that it was a ledger of contributions to the camp at Horseshoe Overlook. A piece of canvas lay next to it with a small sign that said "Allegedly came from one of the tents at Horseshoe Overlook campsite". A lanter with a sign that said "Found at Horseshoe Overlook campsite" was also on the shelf.
"Is that everything?" John asked.
"Sadly, yes," Harold said. "I wish we had more, but to my knowledge not much has survived after all these years. We had a team of archaeologists comb over the Horseshoe Overlook campsite and planned on looking at the other campsites as well, but one of our sponsors threatened to pull funding if we continued so we had to stop. That's all we have."
"I just come from Saint Denis, and the historian at the library there was tellin' me about this dissertation that he wrote that might be in the local college's library," John said. "Where might that library be?"
"You're probably looking for Blackwater College," Harold said. "That's just a mile south and a block east from here. Shouldn't be too hard to find."
"And you still ain't got an answer for my first question, right?"
"Yes...yes that's right."
"Alright then. I guess I'll be on my way then." John and Harold walked out of the cellar without speaking another word to each other. John found Harold's behavior regarding John Marston's final fate suspicious. Probably one of the most hotly debated topics regarding the Van der Linde Gang was the death of John Marston. Some historians believed that John had been involved in bringing several of the gang members to justice, only to be betrayed in the end and brought down himself. But the prevailing theory among most historians was that Edgar Ross was solely responsible for the destruction of the Van der Linde Gang. John knew that his grandfather corroborated the theory that John was betrayed by the Bureau, but he always wondered if that was true because his own father told him that Jack was full of shit and he told lies to make a profit off of their family name.
John hopped back in his truck and took a drive through the downtown historic district to reach Blackwater College. The downtown area of Blackwater had gone through a period of urban decay during the Great Depression and into the 1960s, followed by a revival and preservation starting in the 1980s. The old cobblestone road was restored and fixed to be usable by modern vehicles, old buildings were refurbished, the old Blackwater Saloon was repurposed as a saloon after years of being abandoned, the Blackwater Theater was reopened and showed movies for less than $5 per ticket, and the bank and city hall were also fixed up as part of this project. The former home of the Bureau of Investigation was now a law enforcement museum, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation maintaining an office in a different location in town. It was the oldest continuously operated FBI office in the country.
John's thoughts had returned to Arthur Morgan's journal and the botched ferry job as he pulled into a parking space at Blackwater College. He hoped that Matthew Ricketts' dissertation would provide more context into this particular failed heist, as well as potentially help him understand his ancestors and the gang as a whole. John entered the main building of the college and saw a bored-looking receptionist at the front desk.
"Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the library?" John asked.
The receptionist looked up from the book she had been reading. "North wing of the building, down the hall a ways and it'll be the first set of double doors on your right."
"Thank you." John made his way to the library and logged onto the nearest computer. He typed "Matthew Ricketts dissertation", wrote down the book number, and managed to track it down in just a few minutes. He sat down at a table next to the computer and read the introduction:
The Dutch van der Linde Gang (sometimes referred to as "Dutch's Boys" in historical texts) was one of the longest-running and most notorious outlaw gangs in the American Old West. With over twenty confirmed members and dozens of suspected associates, the gang cut a swathe from Ohio to the coast of California, robbing banks, trains, homesteads, and stagecoaches. Several dozen robberies are confirmed to have been committed by the Dutch van der Linde Gang and they are/were suspected in many others. Dutch van der Linde and Hosea Matthews are generally believed to be the original founders of the gang, with Arthur Morgan and Susan Grimshaw being the next two to join. Within a couple decades, many others had joined the gang in what may have been perceived as a community of sorts, a safe space for men of questionable morals and actions to freely do as they pleased.
Operating from the late 1870s until 1899, the gang's beginning is just as ambiguous as its ending. The circumstances behind their first meeting are unknown, but Hosea Matthews and Dutch van der Linde committed their first documented crime together in Kettering, Ohio in 1877. Arthur Morgan first appeared with Matthews and Van der Linde in a brazen robbery of the Lee & Hoyt Banking House in 1887, after which it's believed the trio remained in town to redistribute the money to the homeless and destitute people in town. This Robin Hood-esque image of the gang survives in dramatic fiction and dime western novels written both during the gang's operation and after the gang's demise.
The journal of Arthur Morgan, authenticated by the Saint Denis University Library in 1992, came into my possession shortly after its authentication. It provides much insight into the gang's activities during 1899, what is generally agreed to be the gang's final year of operation. According to Morgan's journal, Molly O'Shea, who had joined the gang less than a year prior to its disbandment, became an informant for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Although the gang learned of her treachery and she was presumably killed by them, the damage had been done and shortly thereafter their camp at Beaver Hollow in the State of New Hanover was raided by a force of Pinkerton agents led by Edgar Ross. Ross would later be the responsible party for the tracking and extermination of the remainder of the gang in the twentieth century.
This dissertation will focus on the history of the Dutch van der Linde Gang. Included are individual biographies of all known gang members, detailed information on each heist confirmed to have been committed by members of the gang, and the compelling history of the gang's final year of operation, which was undoubtedly their most violent and brazen year.
John noticed a table of contents immediately following the introduction. He turned the pages to the section entitled "Blackwater Massacre of 1899" and continued reading:
The Blackwater Massacre of 1899 is simultaneously the most successful and the most unsuccessful heist committed by the Dutch van der Linde Gang. According to Arthur Morgan's journal, a large boat carrying $150,000 worth of bank notes and gold from Saint Denis stopped in Blackwater to refuel and trade off passengers. The gang was very heavily rumored to be camped near the area, so the Pinkerton Detective Agency was hired to keep a close watch on the historically large shipment of money and goods. The robbery and subsequent shootout resulted in dozens of deaths and a months-long lockdown of Blackwater and its surrounding environs.
Members of the Van der Linde Gang were observed boarding the boat in the morning hours of May 1, 1899. Although they boarded quietly and certainly thought they had the upper hand, Pinkerton agents and local law enforcement had the boat surrounded within minutes. The Van der Linde Gang's lookout, a young woman named Jenny Kirk, alerted the gang of the large law enforcement presence and a tense standoff ensued near the exit. A civilian named Heidi McCourt was taken hostage by Dutch van der Linde, and although it initially seemed that the gang would surrender, Ms. McCourt was suddenly shot by Dutch and the infamous gun battle began.
Jenny Kirk and the infamous Callander Brothers, who had few connections to the Van der Linde Gang prior to this heist, were killed in the fierce gun battle. Civilians took cover and law enforcement dug in as the violent and dangerous outlaws were attacked from all sides. Hosea Matthews and Arthur Morgan, two of the more senior members of the gang, were not present during the initial onslaught; according to Morgan's journal, they were working on a non-violent real estate scam. They joined the gang in their desperate and daring escape north of Blackwater into the Grizzlies. Several other gang members are believed to have been injured and one, an Irish immigrant named Sean MacGuire, became separated from the gang and was taken by Ike Skelding and his gang of so-called "bounty hunters".
The worst part of the Blackwater Massacre was the high number of civilian casualties. Many passengers on the boat hadn't left the boat by the time the shootout began. Over a dozen of them were caught in the crossfire, either being killed by members of the Van der Linde Gang or falling victim to friendly fire from law enforcement. Additionally, many businessmen in Blackwater took up arms against the Van der Linde Gang and, unfortunately, many did not make it out of the fight alive. Local legend states that Landon Ricketts, my two-times great grandfather, was also involved in the battle; although no historical documentation (nor family records) exist to authenticate this claim. Nevertheless, the Blackwater Massacre is remembered as one of the darkest days in West Elizabeth's history, and it marked the beginning of the violent end of the Van der Linde Gang as an organized outlaw group.
John approached the checkout counter and asked the lady working there, "Could I check out this old dissertation, please? It's mighty long, but I'd loke to keep readin' it."
The lady grabbed it, read the title, and wrinkled her nose. "A History of the Dutch van der Linde Gang by Matthew Ricketts? Are you sure, young man?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"The woman scoffed. "Oh...nothing," she responded tersely. "Is this the only item you're checking out today?"
"Yes ma'am," John responded. The lady scanned the dissertation and handed it back to John. "Well thank you kindly, ma'am. I hope you have a blessed day." John took the dissertation, tucked it under his arm, and walked out of the library. He then pulled out Matthew Ricketts' business card and dialed his number. He hoped that he would be able to provide some answers for the several questions he already had.
The phone rang three times, then Matthew answered. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Matthew Ricketts?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"This is John Marston. We spoke at the Saint Denis University Library?"
"Ah, yes. Mr. Marston. How's your research coming along?"
"Very well, thank you. I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you, if that's alright."
Matthew sighed. "Look, Mr. Marston, I know what you did."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Well, John...I know you took Arthur Morgan's journal."