CHAPTER 1
It was late September of 1864. The air was crisp and fresh. The birds flew from tree to tree announcing the new day. Their cacophony of singing was almost deafening. The trees nearest to the two story hotel held hundreds of squawking crows. They carefully watched the suspicious man below from their perch.
Alexander, a tall, thin man in his late forties was almost alone in the town square waiting for the stagecoach as he paced back and forth in the middle of the reddish brown hard clay road. He looked like a banker or a businessman with his fine woolen tan pants and his well shined dark boots. He pulled out his gold pocket watch while he was still pacing on the dusty road. He knew that the stagecoach would have to stop at the bank to load some valuable cargo before picking him up in front of his hotel. The coach should have already arrived, he thought. He would have been worried about the cargo, but he had the assurance from the town sheriff that all would go well. It was already seven in the morning. He took a deep breath and let it out all at once. He would just have to wait. He hated waiting with a passion.
Alexander was a very solitary man. Always friendly, well liked and proficient at everything that he did. He worked as a bank manager, usually staying in the big city. He rarely traveled to the smaller banks in the towns nearby. Instead, he would conduct most of his bank business between his hometown of San Francisco, a thriving gold rush town and the major banks of New York. However, two days before he had traveled to this small town about a day's ride from his home to visit with his eldest son under the guise of conducting bank business. He was very familiar with this town but never had much interest in visiting. He was much more comfortable with the feel of the big city. Even San Francisco was no comparison to New York City, the city where he had grown up. He had traveled with his wife and infant son from New York to San Francisco long ago.
What could anyone, even his son find comfortable about this small town in the middle of nowhere? He took a deep breath and let it out all at once. “Where is that damn coach?” Alexander said.
Alexander had lost his wife, the love of his life some thirteen years back. He never wanted to get married again. How could he even think about it? He had two sons and a daughter. His oldest, Alex was twenty-three then Marcus nineteen and Marissa sixteen. He loved his children and was very proud of each.
The waiting was unbearable. Still no coach. Alexander made his way to the hotel porch as horses, carts, and people began their hustle and bustle along the roadway. He kept to himself and didn't make eye contact with any of the townspeople. Most people didn’t pay attention to this stranger. They just went about their business, not quite sure what to make of him. However, some of the townspeople glared at him as he nervously paced back and forth. They weren’t sure what he was up to. Probably up to no good, they thought. Even the crows watched him silently, occasionally squawking with suspicion.
Alexander was lost in thought, impatient and distracted. He didn't notice that it was a beautiful cloudless blue sky. There were two dogs in the alley next door to the saloon where he had met the sheriff when he first came to town. He didn't hear the rhythmical sound of the horses’ hoofs as they passed by him. Up the street from the hotel, he saw the town grocer, a shoe repair store, a blacksmith shop, and the town jail. The town was coming to life.
At half past eight, beautiful majestic horses pulling a shiny black stagecoach arrived in front of the hotel. Alexander snapped out of his distraction in time to see the driver motioning him to enter the coach. He took one last look up and down the street and hesitated before entering the stagecoach. Was this all for naught, he wondered. His heart was crushed. There were two other passengers already seated in the coach. They were a wealthy couple named Charles and Victoria Adams. Alexander was familiar with them, as they were loyal bank customers who frequented the bank where he worked. Alexander was not shy. He graciously participated in the obligatory pleasantries of exchanging greetings with his traveling companions.
Victoria noticed that Alexander looked a bit pale and asked, “You don’t look very well, Mr. Johnson. Are you alright?”
He was devastated. He had been sure that his son was coming back home with him. I told him that it was his choice. His son had seemed thrilled at the prospect of seeing his siblings and Gertrude again.
“I’m just tired from all of this bank business. If you don’t mind, I’ll close my eyes for a bit and see if I can get a bit of rest.”
Alexander leaned up against the side of the coach, pulled his hat over his face and shut his eyes. He felt defeated and just wanted to go home. With that, the coach drove on.
Alexander quickly fell asleep and found himself dreaming of his father. In the dream, Alexander’s father was furious with him. His father was very abusive, self-centered, and drank excessively. His father was yelling at Alexander. His father was telling Alexander that he was worthless. In his dream, Alexander was only twelve years old. Alexander thought that if he couldn’t get his father’s love, then he would at least try to get his father’s respect. His father thought that this was ridiculous. His father was laughing at him, ridiculing him, and taunting him. Alexander woke up agitated and choking.
This time, Charles asked, “Are you alright? You seem distressed.”
Alexander, using his might to gather his composure, sat upright. “Yes, I’m fine. I just had a bad dream. I apologize for upsetting your wife.”
Victoria smiled uncomfortably.
Charles continued, “Alexander, do you know what business this coach had with the bank this morning? I saw them loading some satchels into the compartment above.”
Alexander took a deep breath and let it out all at once.
“Just a small sum of money to transfer back to the central bank branch. There is nothing to worry about.”
Victoria shifted uneasily in her seat with a look of sheer panic on her face. Even before she could gasp, she knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. She had a sense for these sorts of things. The stagecoach was traveling on a narrow road when a shot was fired, instantly killing the driver. The horses ran in terror. Victoria, Charles, and Alexander were jostled about in the cabin as the coach careened over the edge of the trail into the ravine. Alexander was thrown out of the coach seconds before the it stopped at the bottom. Alexander saw someone up on the road above. He wiped away at the blood that was obscuring his vision.
“I’ll get some help,” he muttered to himself. Alexander crawled up the side of the ravine. As he crawled onto the road, he saw his son’s friend Tom seated on his horse.
“We’ve had an accident, we need help. My travel companions are still alive down there, but the driver is dead,” Alexander cried.
Tom got down from his horse to help Alexander.
Alexander could still hear Victoria sobbing quietly. Alexander jumped as he heard Victoria scream. Two loud shots silenced her scream. Even the birds went silent.
Alexander laid still on the ground, writhing in pain fading in and out of consciousness. He thought that he was dreaming again. The pain in his left leg was intense. It was broken. With a mixture of tears and blood in his eyes, he looked up at Tom and said, “Help!” Then Alexander passed out and began to dream about his wife, Martha.