"My eighteenth birthday is in one week," Consuelo said to Annie. "I would like to invite you and your husband to perform at my birthday banquet. If you agree, you can travel with us tonight in our private Pullman car back to New York."
A handsome young man standing beside them quickly made the introductions. "This is Miss Consuelo of the Vanderbilt family, Miss Kaylee of the Astor family…"
Annie was a staunch advocate for women's rights. She believed it was essential for women to learn how to handle a firearm. A performance at a gathering of New York's high society was the perfect opportunity to promote her cause.
After a brief discussion with her husband, Annie replied, "Thank you for the invitation, Miss Consuelo. We would be honored. However, we are already booked to perform here through tomorrow afternoon. Many of our tickets have been sold to women and children. Would it be alright if we took the train to New York tomorrow evening?"
Consuelo, though slightly annoyed, agreed. "Very well. Keane," she said to the young man, "stay behind and handle the arrangements. Give them the deposit and the address of the banquet hall."
At that same moment, in a forest near Des Moines, Iowa, the twenty-four members of the infamous James-Younger Gang were roasting rabbits and pronghorn over a fire.
They were all former Confederate bushwhackers, and their reign of terror had spread across Iowa, Kentucky, and beyond. They robbed banks, stagecoaches, and trains, and had a reputation for utter ruthlessness. And yet, to their own bafflement, they were hailed by the common folk as heroes. They robbed the rich, it was true, but they certainly didn't give to the poor. They could only assume the American people just loved anyone who dared to fight the banks and the railroad tycoons.
"Jesse, are you sure about this intel?" Frank James asked his brother. "The Younger brothers are riding all day and night to get here. I don't want them to have come for nothing."
"I'm sure," Jesse replied without hesitation. "Consuelo Vanderbilt, the granddaughter of the railroad king, is in Omaha with Kaylee Astor and a dozen other New York socialites. They'll be passing our ambush point at 5:30 tomorrow morning."
"Good," Frank snarled. "Those damn Pinkertons have been on us like rabid dogs for two years. They blew off Ma's arm and killed little Archie. It's time we hit them back where it hurts."
"If this works," Jesse said, "the ransom alone will be enough for all of us to live like kings for the rest of our lives. We can disappear, go to Brazil or Argentina."
"How much do you think we can get?"
"Half a million, at least," Jesse said. "Consuelo and Kaylee alone are worth four hundred thousand. They say the Vanderbilt fortune is over one hundred million dollars. Her family would pay anything to get her back."
"That's why they have so many guards," one of the men grumbled. "These damn capitalists have sucked the country dry. It's time we bled them a little."
"They have thirty or forty guards," Jesse said. "But every one of our brothers is worth three of theirs. With the Youngers on our side, we'll take them down with minimal losses."
"Of course," Frank said with a grim smile. "We are the strongest."
On the train, the other compartments in Henry's car had filled up.
In the private room at the other end were a banker and his wife. Next to them was a wealthy Iowa rancher and his daughter. Then a lawyer from Chicago, a young couple, and finally, in the compartment next to Pete and Mary, were Conrad, the editor of the New York Sun, and his star reporter, Tom.
The reporter, a lively and outgoing man, soon struck up a conversation with the equally cheerful Pete.
"I'm working on a special report about the West," Tom said. "Anything interesting happening in your town?"
Pete's chest puffed out with pride. "More than you can imagine. The most incredible story is our Sheriff, Henry. A week ago, he beat 'The Blue Death' Barrett Hicks in a duel while simultaneously killing twenty outlaws who tried to ambush him."
"And before that, when eighty-six riders charged our town, he met them at the gate, alone, and cut down most of them by himself. So, which story do you want to hear first?"
Tom and his editor exchanged a look. They glanced over at Henry, who was sitting with a gentle smile on his face, playing with the little girl, Becky. All they saw was a kind, handsome gentleman, the very picture of high-society decency.
"Are you talking about the 'Blue Death'?" Tom asked, his voice laced with skepticism. "The legendary Barrett Hicks, the man who won over two hundred duels?"
"The very same," Pete said with a grin. "He's in heaven now. Let me tell you how it happened…"