Wells Fargo
Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes sat cramped in the nine passenger Concord Stage. The Concord was touted by the stage company as being the luxury liner of stages because of a center "Jump Seat," with a "Lazy Back Rest," where three additional passengers could be seated. This added feature brought additional fares to the stage line, but significantly cut down the leg room for the six passengers facing each other during the ride.
The leather shades of the corner windows were all rolled up and tied securely, and the two pocket windows on the doors had been lowered. This helped to circulate the air throughout the the stage interior, but with the breeze came dust that clung to clothing as well as exposed skin. Traveling through the dust riddled, arid plains of Texas, with low humidity but high temperatures, did little to soften the dispositions of the road weary travelers, and attempts at conversational pleasantries by the passengers had long since been abandoned.
As they approached the Swing Station outside of Willis, Texas, both Heyes and Curry were eager stretch their legs, if only for a few minutes. Swing stations occurred every ten to fifteen miles along the Wells Fargo route from Houston to San Francisco and served only as a place for the driver to change stock on the coach's six-horse hitch. Unlike the larger, more accommodating Home Stations that offered food, drink, and in some instances, a cot for sleeping, Swing Stations offered no such amenities and both driver and passengers considered themselves lucky if a cup of coffee was offered during the brief layover.
Like most stages, overnight stops were seldom an option. Those wanting a chance to rest and sleep in a horizontal position would disembark the stage at a town or Home Station, and resume their journey a day or two later on another, equally uncomfortable stage.
Passengers whose travel did not necessitate a tight itinerary, would often inquire as to the value of the "Treasure Box." These boxes, made of pine and oak and reinforced with iron, carried the valuable shipments such as gold dust, bars, and coins, as well as legal papers, checks, and drafts being shipped by businesses for payrolls or other such transactions. Treasure Boxes weighed a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds and were securely stored under the driver's seat. Treasure Boxes were the focus of outlaw robberies and, because the stage companies averaged three hundred and thirteen robberies a year and an annual loss of four hundred thousand dollars, many people preferred to travel when the Treasure Boxes did not contain large amounts of money or valuables. Of course the Stage Companies were wisely hesitant to divulge the content of these shipments, fearing the information would get into the wrong hands, thus guaranteeing an armed robbery.
The Willis, Texas station was a Swing Station, little more than a dugout built into the side of a small hill with a large barn and corral nearby. Starr Granger, the station manager, led six fresh horses out of the corral while Charley Parkhurst, the stage driver, and Ted Barton, the man riding shotgun, climbed down off the driver's seat and began unhitching the lathered team of spent horses.
Passengers took this opportunity to climb out of the stage and walk around a bit in the moon lit front yard of the station. The two women passengers walked together to the nearby outhouse, while male passengers feeling the need to relieve themselves, made their way around to the side of the barn.
Heyes climbed out of the stage and arched his back to stretch his cramped muscles. "Only five hundred and fifty more miles to San Francisco, Kid."
"Thinking we might have to break this trip up a bit, Heyes, or maybe change our mode of transportation," Kid replied.
"Ah, when we reach Red Rock, I'm sure Big Mac will offer to let us stay a couple of days."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Kid replied.
Heyes laughed as he and Kid got in line behind the other passengers to climb back on the stage.
Parkhurst and Barton climbed back into the driver's seat. Parkhurst picked up the three pairs of ribbons, and wove them through the fingers of his left hand, leaving the right hand free to handle the friction break and whip as necessary, while Barton settled into his seat and rested his double barrel shotgun loaded with buckshot across his thighs while keeping a secure hand on the barrel and stock.
Parkhurst leaned over the edge of the seat. "Everybody in and settled?" he called to the passengers. Seeing a hand extend from the window and offer a quick wave, Parkhurst gave a hardy shake of the reins and the stage bolted out of the station and into the darkness of the night.
The road leading west was dry and well packed with few ruts to jostle any sleeping passengers from their seats. Two more swing stations were stopped at briefly to change horses throughout the night and by dawn they were were just six miles from the first home station where an hour for a hot breakfast, coffee, and nature needs was scheduled, along with yet another change of horses.
Once the food and coffee were served, passengers relaxed a bit and engaged in polite conversations. The two women, Mrs. J.D Bryson and Mrs. Ralph Sallinger, were traveling with their husbands to Van Horn, to attend a wedding. The other three men, one in a business suit and one an Army Officer, were both traveling to Fort Stockton, and the third, was a cowboy was going to Pacos. Unless the stage took on any passengers, Heyes and Curry would be the only remaining passengers once the stage left Van Horn.
"Five minutes!" Parkhurst shouted from outside the station. Passengers exchanged weary glances as they left the table and headed back outside.
"Don't you two get any chance to sleep?" Kid called up to the driver and shotgun man as he waited in line to climb into the stage.
"There's a night layover at Fort Stockton" Barton shouted down to him. "Course if you've a mind to drive the hitch or ride shotgun..."
Kid smiled and waved his hand. "Six horse hitch ain't my idea of a pleasant little buggy ride," Kid replied. "I'll just stay in the coach if you don't mind."
Once everyone was back in the coach, Parkhurst climbed down and opened the stage door to talk to the passengers.
"Folks, this next stretch is pretty desolate and the stations are a bit further apart. I think Wells Fargo ought to do something about that, but so far, they ain't taken no heed. Now I'm telling you this because this is likely the most dangerous stretch of the ride. There's two reasons for that. The first is that there are several small renegade Indian tribes that don't take kindly to white folks taken over their land. Stage attacks ain't common but if one was to occur, you women get down on the floor and stay there, and you men, well we expect you to do your part defending the ladies and the stage."
"What's the second reason?" Heyes asked.
"Well, this stage just picked up a pretty valuable Treasure Box. Outlaws know this stretch is pretty desolate. If we was to get stopped by an outlaw..."
"Just one?" Kid interrupted.
"Black Bart usually works alone, though sometimes he's been known to travel with Rattlesnake Dick," Parkhurst explained. "Black Bart seems to like this stretch of road."
"Pretty colorful names," Heyes said and gave Kid an amused glance.
Parkhurst ignored Heyes' reaction. "Now, folks, if we was to get held up, I want you folks to stay calm, do what they tell you, and avoid drawing your guns unless they was to shoot first. Black Bart is known for just wanting the Treasure Box. He don't generally steal passengers possessions or money. I don't want to scare you folks none. I just want you to be aware."
"Well, we appreciate that," Kid said sincerely.
Parkhurst closed the door of the coach and climbed back into the driver's seat. Taking the ribbons in his left hand, he flicked the reins and the stage started on its way with the usual jolting of passengers.
"Anybody ever hear of this Black Bart fellow before?" Heyes asked.
"Black Bart is pretty well known around these parts," the Army Officer replied. "About a year or so ago, he and Rattlesnake Dick held up a stage not far from here and got the largest sum ever stolen from a single stage hold up. They rode away with eighty thousand dollars."
Kid whistled and gave Heyes a look that said he was impressed. "And he ain't been caught?" Kid asked.
"No one knows what he looks like. He always wears a flour sack over his head and a Derby hat on top of that. Wears a light colored duster that hides his midsection well, so an accurate description, weight, hair color just ain't been determined. He is always armed with a shotgun, though. That much people know."
"And he don't take nothing from the passengers?" Kid asked.
"That's right."
"Sounds like them two outlaws in Wyoming, don't it? The ones that rob trains, but don't take nothing from the passengers."
"You seem to know a bit more about them then I do Mr. Smith," Kid replied and gave Heyes a stern and threatening look.
"I heard tell that during one hold up, a lady passenger got so nervous, she tossed her purse to Black Bart," the soldier said. "Black Bart thanked her but gave the purse back to her saying 'thank you, Ma'am, but I only need Wells Fargo's money."
"Ah, sounds like there really is some honor among thieves," Heyes said with a sly grin.
"Honor or not, the man is a thief. I think they ought to hang him," Mrs. Bryson declared.
"Ah, thieving ain't generally a hanging offense, Ma'am," Kid explained. "Unless it involves horses or sometimes other livestock."
"Are you saying the theft of a horse is considered a greater offense than say my great grandmother's opal and diamond broach?"
"A horse might not be more valuable, Ma'am, at least in terms of money, but the theft of one is considered a greater offense," Kid explained.
"Well, I never..."
"That's because out here in the west, Ma'am, a man is very dependent on his horse, why sometimes his very survival depends on his horse. The same thing can't be said of a piece of jewelry, no matter how much it's worth in money or sentiment," Heyes explained.
"I don't want to alarm anyone," Kid said, "But I'm assuming some of the rest of you have been seeing a smattering of Indians up along that northern ridge?"
"That's pretty typical Mr. Jones," the army officer replied. "An Indian here or there along the ridge is just keeping an eye on the stage. They are not likely to bother the stage as long as it keeps moving. If we were to stop, for mechanical problems say, they would likely be a little more assertive, fearing we might infringe on their hunting grounds."
Kid nodded and relaxed a bit. "You happen to know how much further to that first swing station?" Kid asked.
"Another five or six miles, I'd say."
"Just thinking it will be nice to have fresh horses again," Kid replied.
An hour later the stage pulled into the swing station and everyone climbed out to stretch and walk off a bit of restless anxiety.
"We're gonna be here a bit longer than expected," Charley told the passengers. "Just taken a few extra precautions"
"You in need of any help?" Heyes asked.
Charley tossed the Treasure Box to the ground, then climbed down out of the seat of the stage.
"Think we've got everything under control Mr. Smith. But thanks for the offer. Gonna be changing shotgun riders here. Barton's father runs this swing station so he tends to make this his stopping point."
Heyes nodded and watched as Charley and Barton shoved the Treasure Box under the stage, then got down on their backs and scooted underneath the stage themselves to secure the Treasure Box beneath the passenger compartment."
As they pulled themselves out from under the stage, the new shotgun rider emerged from the swing station carrying a second Treasure Box that replaced the first one under the driver's seat.
Heyes smiled. "Rather a shrewd plan," he said with a smile.
"It's an old trick," Charley replied. "Fortunately, I don't know of any outlaws that are aware of it, though I suspect that's just a matter of time."
"What's in the top box?" Heyes asked.
The new shotgun rider smiled. "Oh there's money in there alright. But it's Confederate money. Ain't worth a plug nickle. Outlaw's not going to stop and open the box till he's put a safe amount of miles between him and the stage. By then, we'll be at Fort Stockton.
Heyes nodded and looked to see if Kid had been taking this all in.
"This here is Jimmie Rolleri," Charley explained as introduction to the new shotgun rider.
"Joshua Smith," Heyes replied with a smile.
Barton's father had changed out the horses when Charley and Barton had moved the Treasure Box.
"Alright folks, climb on in. We'd like to see Fort Stockton before nightfall."
"If you ladies don't mind," Heyes said before anyone had boarded, "It might be a good idea to do a bit of rearranging of our seating. If you ladies wouldn't mind the jump seat, that would place most of the men at the windows. That could be advantageous if we were to be held up."
"Mr. Smith is right," the officer replied. "The jump seat would be safer for you ladies. One of your husband's could sit with you."
This suggestion was agreeable to all. Kid and Heyes maneuvered to be sitting across from each other. Kid looked at the women and noticed their fearful expressions.
"It's only another twenty miles, ladies. And we don't even know if this Black Bart is in the area. I really don't think there's a reason to be fearful, just cautious is all," Kid explained and offered them a warm smile.
Just six miles out and an hour and a half later, Charlie leaned hard on the friction break, thrusting all the passengers either forward or backward depending on where they were seated. Kid, who was facing the front of the coach, leaned his head out the window to see what was going on. By Kid's expression and heavy sigh, Heyes knew the coach was about to be held up.
"Well, I'm afraid the worst is happening. Everyone stay calm and do exactly as instructed and no one is likely to get hurt," Heyes told the group of passengers. "Outlaws are interested in the money and gold they can steal. They don't like adding murder to the charges against them. Getting caught stealing sends them to prison, not the gallows."
"I might be the only one you folks can see," said a man astride a horse, his face covered with a flour sack with two holes cut out for the eyes, and wearing a Derby hat. "But I'm not the only one with a gun pointed right at you. Now you, driver, and your partner there, toss your guns and rifles down here nice and easy. You folks inside just stay where you are right now. You fire a shot, and you're dead."
Kid looked at Heyes questioningly. He knew he could easily take out the rider. But Heyes shook his head. There were other passengers, women to consider. The chance was simply not worth the risk of harm to innocent people.
"Now, you folks inside, I want you to step out one at a time. Toss your guns and rifles off toward the rear of the stage. Get moving now."
Kid looked at the other passengers. "Remember, just do what he says, and no one gets hurt."
Kid opened the stage door and stepped out slowly. In full view of Black Bart, he unstrapped his gun belt and tossed it toward the back of the stage, then raised his hands in the air.
"Step over there near the front of the stage," Black Bart told him and Kid moved cautiously to the front of the stage.
"How many is in there?" Bart asked Kid.
"Six men and two women," Kid replied.
"Alright, next man, come out and do the same as this fellow."
The next man stepped out and did the same, follow by the next and the next until all seven men and two women were lined up along the front of the stage, their arms raised in surrender.
"Now you, driver, toss down the Treasure Box, nice and easy."
The Treasure Box hit the ground with a thud.
"You," Bart said speaking to Kid. "Pick up the box and hand it up here to me."
Kid moved slowly to the box and picked it up and carried to Bart, raising it up so Bart could grip it and pull it up to rest it against the horn of his saddle.
"Now the two of you up in the seat, just stay put. The rest of you lay down on you bellies, ladies too, I'm afraid," Bart told them.
Everyone slowly got down on the ground as instructed.
"Dick," Bart called. "You come on out here with me."
Soon Rattlesnake Dick appeared from behind some rocks to join his partner.
"The rest of you fellows wait till we're out of sight, then you can follow," Bart shouted to the imaginary outlaws behind the rocks. "Same goes for you folks. Stay put till we're out of sight. Then you can be on your way."
With that Bart and Rattlesnake Dick pulled their horses in a northerly direction and galloped off.
"Come on!" Charley shouted when the outlaws were out of hearing range. Them two work alone. There ain't nobody behind them rocks. Get yourselves back in the coach and prepare yourselves for a wild ride. We've got to reach the fort before they decide it's safe to open that box!"
Everyone scurried quickly to gather up their gun belts and climb back into the stagecoach.
"You ladies might be safer against one of the wall seats now," Heyes said as they all quickly shuffled into a seat and Charley used the crop to force the horses into a full gallop.
The passengers bounced and shifted in their seats, using their hands and feet to keep themselves steady as the stage raced for fourteen miles to their destination of Fort Stockton. Pulling into the Fort, everyone inside the stage breathed a sigh of relief.
Fort Stockton was commanded by Colonel Edward Hatch and most of the remaining Buffalo Soldiers were commissioned there. The fort consisted of thirty-five buildings and both civilians and soldiers lived within it's protective walls.
Dropping the passengers off at the hotel, Charlie drove the stage to the livery where the horses were unhitched and care was taken to wash, feed, water, and stall the animals. Charley and Rolleri then retrieved the Treasure Box from the underside of the passenger coach and carried it across the compound to the Wells Fargo Office for safe-keeping, and to report the robbery by Black Bart and Rattlesnake Dick.
While the soldiers had strict orders about no alcohol consumption inside the fort, the same did not apply to civilians, so after renting a room and eating supper, Heyes and Kid visited the saloon for beer and poker. They had been playing for about an hour when man in this thirties approached the table and asked if there was room for another payer. The players all nodded and the man sat down opposite Heyes as names were shared around the table.
"Joshua Smith," Heyes said as introduction. "This is my partner, Thaddeus Jones."
Kid gave the man a nod but something about the man immediately made Kid uneasy.
"Charles Bolton," the man replied with a casual smile as the cards were being dealt to all the players.
"You look familiar, Mr. Jones," Charles said with another friendly smile on his face as he carefully examined his cards. "Are you from San Francisco by any chance?" he asked as everyone tossed in their ante.
Kid raised his eyes from his cards to look at Charles. "No. I've visited there a few times but not recently," trying to determine what it was about the man that told Kid to move cautiously.
"That's where we're headed now, as a matter of fact," Heyes added, then asked the dealer for two cards.
"Business or pleasure?" Charles asked.
"Pleasure. Visiting an old friend."
Kid realize it was the distinctive deep voice of the man that he recognized, but still could not place where he had heard that voice before. He requested just one card from the dealer.
"When are you leaving? Perhaps we could ride together," Charles suggested and asked for three cards..
"We're taking the stage, at least as far as Red Rock," Heyes replied.
"Ah, more's the pity. I was looking forward to some conversation to pass the time. Did I hear correctly that the stage was held up today?"
"By a couple of men. I understand they didn't get nothing of any value, though,"
Charles laughed. "A stage full of paupers?" Charles asked.
"Not exactly, just a box full of nothing," Heyes replied.
The poker continued to nearly midnight, at which time the three men walked across the street to the hotel and Charles bid them a good night.
"Heyes, that was the fellow that robbed the stage," Kid said after they had returned to their room and locked the door.
"You sure?"
Kid nodded. "Recognized the voice."
"Think he recognized us?"
"As passengers, I'd be willing to bet on it."
"But not who we really are?"
"Heyes, we're in Texas. He's from San Francisco. Ain't too likely he knows anything about us."
"Maybe we should tell Charley, or even the Colonel."
"Tell em what? Voice alone ain't gonna get the man locked in the stockade. There ain't nothing to report."
Heyes nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Think he's going to try to hit it again. He's got to know that box was a decoy."
Kid sat down on the bed to pull off his boots. "Well then, maybe there is something to tell Charley after all. He may just want to hide that box again."
The next morning Heyes and Kid were up early in search of Charley Parkhurst and finally located Charley at the Wells Fargo office.
"Not to worry," Charley told Kid. "The Treasure Box is already on it way to Calaveras County to pay them miners. Angels Camp is one of the most violent and bawdy towns in the Mother Lode and Wells Fargo ain't ever gonna risk not getting the payroll there on time. In fact, Rollerie is riding shotgun on that stage and it left nearly an hour ago."
"Wonder if our friend Charles Bolton has left the fort already as well," Heyes mused to his partner.
"My stage will be pulling out at nine sharp," Charlie told Heyes and Kid. "So if you're wanting coffee or breakfast, you'd best go get it now."
"Thanks, Charlie. We'll be ready." Kid replied.
Promptly at nine, the two women and their husbands, as well as Heyes and Curry boarded the stage. Fort Stockton to Van Horn was a half a day of travel, but by mid afternoon, the stage was pulling out of Van Horn with just two passengers remaining. Heyes and Curry took advantage of all the room, each enjoying a full seat all to himself until the stage reached El Paso near dusk.
"Well, Charlie, I think this is as far as Thaddeus and I will be traveling with you," Heyes said as he climbed out of the stage. "Red Rock ain't too far from here, so I think we'll be buying a couple of horses and travel the rest of the way on our own."
"I thought you fellas said you was going to San Francisco?" Charlie replied.
"Oh, we are," Kid said. "We're just stopping in Red Rock for a few days to visit an old...Uncle."
"Well, we're into October now. There's likely already snow in the Sierras and if there ain't, it won't be long. Ought not be staying too long with that Uncle or you might not be able to get through the passes.
"We'll keep that in mind, Charlie. Thanks."
"Heyes, this is Wednesday. We'll get to Big Mac's sometime tomorrow. We ought to be heading on our way again no later than Saturday," Kid told his partner. "Cause I ain't getting stuck at Big Mac's for the winter."
"Right behind you on that one, Kid.
"I don't even know why we are bothering to go and see Big Mac," Kid grumbled as they headed toward the hotel to get a room.
"I just think it's a good idea to keep a foot in the door so to speak. You never know when Big Mac might come in useful to us."
"Useful? Big Mac has never given us nothing but trouble, Heyes, and you know it."
"There's a first time for everything, Kid."
The visit with Big Mac was brief, but cordial, with no attempts of bribing Heyes and Curry into some outlandish scheme or or card trick. They planned to leave on Saturday morning, so Friday evening, Big Mac showed his very gracious hospitality side by having the cook prepare a lavish dinner of prime rib with all the fixings.
They sat around in the study, drinking fine cognac while they whiled the time away before dinner. At one point Big Mac excused himself while he went to check to see how dinner was coming. When Big Mac returned, Heyes and Curry were discussing the stagecoach robbery they had recently experienced.
"I would have loved to have seen Black Bart's face when he opened that Treasure Box," Heyes was saying just as Big Mac returned to the study.
"You boys talking about that Wells Fargo stage robbery last Wednesday up near Calaveras County?" Big Mac asked.
Heyes and Kid exchanged inquisitive glances. "What stage robbery in Calaveras?" Heyes asked.
"Made all the newspapers. I'm surprised you didn't read about it. Seems a man that goes by the name of..."
"Black Bart?" Kid asked.
"Yeah, that sounds right. Well it seems he held up the payroll stage that had pulled over on the road because the shotgun rider, a fella by the name of..."
"Jimmie Rolleri?" Kid asked
"Rolleri, that's right. You sure you ain't heard about this?" Big Mac asked.
"We're sure," Heyes said. "Go on with your story Big Mac."
"Well this Rollerie fella wanted to go off in the woods for a spell and this Black Bart fella thought all he had to deal with was the driver. The Treasure Box was secured..."
"Under the passenger seats on the underside of the stage," Kid said, finishing Big Mac's sentence.
"You have heard about it," Big Mac said.
"No, no, just sounds similar to another robbery we know about," Heyes explaiend.
"Well, by the time Black Bart got it out from under the stage, this Rollerie fella had returned and fired off three shots at Black Bart."
"Kill him?" Heyes asked.
"No, didn't even hit him. But when he was running off, Black Bart dropped his Derby hat and a handkerchief with a laundry marking of FX07."
Heyes smiled. "So some detective agency was able to trace the laundry marking?"
"That's right. Checked over ninety laundries before finding the mark. Turns out the handkerchief was owned by a fellow named..."
"Charles Bolton," Kid said, again looking at his partner.
"That's right. Bolton is an engineer living in San Francisco. He's been arrested and is facing up to six years in San Quentin."
"Heyes, you suppose that was the fella we played poker with?"
Heyes nodded.
"The same fella that held up our stage?"
"Right again, Kid."
"According to the newspaper article, Black Bart pulled off the biggest stage robbery in history a year or so ago. Eighty thousand dollars, I think the paper said," Big Mac added.
"Kid. Maybe we should have worked out of California instead of Wyoming when we was outlawing."
Kid smiled. "Hell Heyes, things cost so much more in California, we probably wouldn't have made out any better in the long run."
Heyes laughed. "You're probably right, Kid."
"Excuse me, Sir, but dinner is ready," the cook said from the doorway to the study.
"Come on boys, we're gonna have quiet the feast tonight. And while we eat, I got a proposition for you."
Heyes and Curry looked at each other, rolled their eyes and shook their heads, but followed Big Mac to dinner.
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Author's note: Charley Parkhurst was a stage driver known to be able to drink, swear, and chew with the best of them. Not until Charley's death was it discovered that Charley was a woman. Black Bart and Rattlesnake Dick were real outlaws. Jimmie Rolleri really was the shotgun rider that managed to bring an end to Black Bart's outlaw days through the manner described in the story.
Other well known stage drivers included Shotgun Taylor, Wyatt Earp, William Cody, and James Butler Hickock