SEEKING AND REMEMBERING
The telegrapher in Blackwater sat at his desk, boredly tapping his feet and twiddling his thumbs. He was almost always bored at his job; he received plenty of messages, but most of them concerned the many businesses in town and were uninteresting to him. He sighed and slouched back in his chair, tired, and took a quick nap.
The sound of tapping woke him before he could fall deeply asleep, and he cussed as he began to write the message down on paper. As the message formed, however, he became more and more interested in it.
The message read:
"J-A-C-K M-A-R-S-T-O-N S-P-O-T-T-E-D I-N M-E-X-I-C-O. S-E-N-D R-E-I-N-F-O-R-C-E-M-E-N-T-S."
While the message was being tapped out, the telegrapher couldn't help but feel excited. He had given his telegrapher's assistance to the law before, but these were always the most thrilling messages to him. He had delivered messages about Jack's father, John, three years before when he was working on behalf of the Bureau. It was him who had wired to the marshal in Armadillo telling him that John was looking for Bill Williamson and to give him the assistance he needed. He never could have guessed that three years later, John's son would become an outlaw and he would have a big hand in bringing him to justice.
Once the message had finished being tapped out, the telegrapher took the piece of paper he had written on straight to the Blackwater police headquarters. He burst through the doors and quickly ran to the front desk, catching himself as he ran right into it. "I need to speak with Chief Fordham," he said to the man at the desk. "It's urgent. Jack Marston has gone to Mexico."
The desk clerk quickly led the man upstairs to Fordham's office. There, the telegrapher quickly stated the message he had received regarding the whereabouts of Jack Marston. Once he had finished speaking, Fordham looked lost.
"You were speaking too quickly," he said. "Calm yourself and repeat to me what you just said."
The telegrapher took a deep breath. "My apologies, Chief Fordham. I just get excited when I get messages like this. I just received a telegraph that said Jack Marston has been spotted going to Mexico. I don't know how he got past border patrol, but I do know that it could mean trouble. We need to send some police there immediately."
"Border patrol should be able to take care of things," Fordham said, following through with his promise to protect Jack.
"The telegraph sounded urgent. What if Jack killed the border agents?"
"Then we wouldn't have received a telegraph. Nobody would have been able to send one. They should be able to handle it on their own."
"But if they could handle it on their own, why did they send for help here?"
"I'll look into the matter soon, but for now I have other things to attend to. Now please go."
"But..."
"You also have a job to do, if I'm not mistaken, Mr. Telegrapher. Now get back to your post." The man begrudgingly walked out of Fordham's office, mumbling to himself. Rather than returning to his post immediately, however, he talked to another police officer, Nathaniel Covington, who promised to talk to Fordham for the telegrapher. Once the telegrapher had left the building, Nathan entered Fordham's office.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he began, "but this matter is urgent. It's in regard to the whereabouts of Jack Marston. He was spotted in Mexico and the border patrol agents have sent us a telegraph requesting assistance."
"We have matters to deal with her in Blackwater," Fordham said. "I'm sorry, but there's not much I can do right now."
"This is Jack Marston we're talking about," Nathaniel argued. "He killed Edgar Ross, one of Blackwater's finest men. He also killed several men on our police force and seriously wounded another, Drew Blankenship. The doctors say he'll pull through, but his legs have been amputated. He'll be a cripple for the rest of his life. Jack Marston is a menace and needs to be brought to justice immediately. For our fallen brothers."
"Jack Marston is not a threat to anyone in this country unless he is actually in this country," Fordham rebutted. "As long as he's in Mexico, he's not our problem and, in fact, he is out of our jurisdiction. What would President Reyes do if we sent our men into his country? There's already a civil war on the horizon over there and I don't want to be responsible for involving the United States in any conflict related to that."
"That's not what you said three years ago about Bill Williamson and Javier Escuella. Remember? Both you and Agent Ross were talking about how they needed to be brought in before they could do more harm. How is this situation with Jack Marston any different than that one?" Fordham had no counter argument, so Nathan continued. "Maybe Mexico is out of our jurisdiction, but that didn't stop the Bureau from sending John Marston, Jack's father, down there to serve justice on their behalf. Perhaps we could send somebody like that down there?"
"No. The Bureau made a mistake in sending John down to Mexico. If it weren't for the overthrowing of Sanchez's government several weeks later, he probably would have taken action against us. It could have turned into a much bigger ordeal than you realize."
"But if they hadn't sent him to Mexico, who knows what Bill would have done? He could have returned to the States, rebuilt his gang, and continued to terrorize the citizens of New Austin. It was a good thing that we sent John Marston to Mexico to kill Bill, and it would be good if we could send somebody to kill or capture Jack."
Fordham tried to think of what to say to that. He didn't want anybody to become suspicious of him, but at the same time he had promised to keep Jack safe. He wasn't sure what to do at this point. Nathaniel had some great points, and was completely correct in everything he said. Still, Mexico was out of their jurisdiction and they had been lucky to not get in trouble when they sent John there.
Finally, Fordham got an idea. "Alright, I will take action. I will personally go down to Mexico and track down Jack Marston." This way, I can warn Jack that the law is on to him, Fordham thought.
"That would actually work well. You are, after all, the highest ranking officer that survived the shootout at his ranch. You should be the one to bring him back."
"Let me make preparations and I will leave tomorrow," Fordham said. "I'm leaving you in charge of the police department until I return."
"As you wish, Chief," Nathaniel said, nodding. "I can assure you that Blackwater will be in good hands while you're away."
A couple days later, Archer Fordham entered the small Mexican village of Chuparosa, on the lookout for Jack. He approached one of the citizens and smiled in greeting. "Hola," Fordham said. "Have you seen a...uh...gringo with a feather in his hat?"
"Que?" the man asked, unable to understand Fordham. "No comprende. Que le dijiste?"
"Uh...sorry, no habla Espanol. Do you speak English?"
"No, Senor. No speak Ingles."
"OK, thank you," Fordham said, walking away from the man. He tried to speak with many other town residents, but was met with similar confusing conversations half in English and half in Spanish. After almost an hour, he finally gave up and went into the little cantina in town. He sat down at one of the tables, took off his hat, and ran his hand through his hair, sighing in frustration.
From the bar, Cole spotted Fordham and approached him, sitting down at the same table as him. "Como estas?" he asked.
"Uh...fine, I guess," Fordham responded. "I must apologize, I don't speak Spanish."
"Well then you've come to the wrong place, pal," Cole said. "Why you even here anyway?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"Who you lookin' for?"
"Jack Marston, son of John Marston. Have you seen him anywhere?"
"Are you with the government back in the States?" Cole asked suspiciously. Fordham shushed him.
"No, I'm Blackwater Police Chief," Fordham whispered, leaning closer to Cole, "but I'm not here to harm Jack. I just want to warn him to watch his back because we know he's in Mexico. Is he here in...uh...what's the name of this village?"
"Chuparosa," Cole said. "You got a lot of nerve comin' here, mister. If our president knew you were here, he probably wouldn't be particularly happy."
"I know, which is why I need to remain undercover. As I said, I don't want to hurt Jack. I just want to warn him. Is he here?"
"No, you just missed him. Some men took him away to Mexico City."
"What did they want with him there?"
"I don't know, but it sounded urgent. I think Reyes might have heard that John Marston's son was in Mexico and wanted to speak with him. Whatever it is, I hope Jack doesn't ally himself with Reyes. Of course, given his poor attitude and lack of judgment skills, I wouldn't be surprised if he did. That boy needs to learn how to handle himself responsibly."
"Do you think he'll return to Chuparosa?"
"Hard to say. I guess it all depends on what happens with him and Reyes."
"Do you think it would be worth my time to stay here and wait for him?"
"That would depend on how badly you want to speak to him. If he stays close to Reyes, it'll be very dangerous to track him down, so if there's any chance of you meeting up with Jack, your best bet is Chuparosa."
"Thank you for your help, Mr..."
"Cole. Cole Ricketts. Happy to help, sir. So you're with Blackwater Police, eh?"
"Yeah, I've been chief for a few months now."
"You got a name? Or are you like one of them dime western heroes who comes into town all anonymous-like?"
"I'm Archer Fordham."
"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fordham," Cole said, shaking Fordham's hand. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Please," Fordham said.
Cole waved for the bartender and said, "Dos tragos de tequila, por favor." The bartender quickly brought two shots of tequila and the men drank them down.
Fordham exhaled. "That's not bad," he said.
"The plants are locally grown," Cole said.
"So you're Cole Ricketts? Any relation to Landon Ricketts?"
"Yeah, I'm his son."
"He was in the Blackwater Massacre fifteen years ago, wasn't he?"
"And so was I, sadly. My father raised me to be good with guns from a young age. The massacre was awful for everyone; only a few people made it out alive. You lose anyone in that?"
"My mother. That was what inspired me to become a law officer."
"That's a shame. I'm sorry." Changing the subject, Cole asked, "Just out of curiosity, why aren't you lookin' to bring Jack in?"
"I had a lot of respect for his father. I actually tried to convince Edgar Ross not to kill John."
"Oh you did? He obviously wasn't a good listener."
Fordham laughed. "No, no he wasn't. They ended up giving him a chest of medals. I think it was something like twenty or thirty medals total. They honored him for his service with the Bureau, and most of all they honored him for the extermination of Dutch van der Linde's gang, including John."
Cole shook his head. "That's just sickening. Why would anyone in their right mind give a man like that a medal like that?"
"I don't know, but whatever the reason, he's at least nobody's concern now. The only sympathy I feel is toward his family. They're devastated."
"And why wouldn't they be? They ain't as cold hearted as he was."
"No they're not. Anyway, I'm not lookin' to bring Jack in because I made a promise to him that I would keep him safe. I'm the one who told him to come to Mexico."
"So, you're just going to wait for him then?"
"I am," Fordham said. "I am. When did you meet Jack?"
"Just a few days ago. We had ourselves a duel not long after we met."
"A duel against you? And he's not dead? You must have disarmed him."
"That's right," Cole said, amused, "but I didn't hurt the kid. Just shot the barrel of his gun, that's all."
"When do you think he'll be back in Chuparosa?"
"I can't tell you when he'll be back, or if he'll even be back at all, but I guess we'll see. Wherever he is, I hope he's stayin' out of trouble, though I doubt he is. I guess...I guess I just hope he ain't dead."