Pete spoke for over a dozen minutes, his voice filled with a passionate energy. He saw that Henry didn't mind, which only encouraged him to be more dramatic in his retelling.
The other passengers were completely engrossed. Even the fifteen-year-old Susan and the young couple, Henderson and Maria, were listening with rapt attention.
Tom and his editor, Conrad, now began to take the story seriously. A formal duel with a legend like Barrett Hicks was a verifiable event. Pete might be exaggerating the details, but the core of the story had to be true. They still didn't believe that Henry could have killed twenty armed men while simultaneously dueling Barrett, but just the fact that he had won the duel was a major scoop.
Tom began to press Pete for more details about Henry's other exploits.
Henry just sat back and watched with a smile.
In the ten days since he had arrived in this world, he had come to understand that this era's fascination with gunslingers was not unlike his own time's obsession with celebrities. It was time for him to start cultivating his public image. Fame, he knew, was a powerful weapon.
A man like him, with no connections, no family name, needed a larger-than-life reputation. It would be a shield, an aura of invincibility that would deter his enemies, attract allies, and smooth his path to power.
And Pete wasn't even exaggerating that much. The stories he was telling weren't even half of what Henry had actually accomplished. He had no fear of the truth coming out. He was alone, with nothing to lose. This was his time to be bold.
He also knew the New York Sun. It was the first successful commercial newspaper in America, a "penny press" that had revolutionized the industry. With a daily circulation of 180,000 in a city of 2.2 million, its influence was immense. The Sun specialized in sensational stories of crime, vice, and disaster. A story like his was exactly what they were looking for.
As Pete continued his tale, the entire car was now listening. Little Susan would periodically gasp, "Oh, my!" or "Is that really true?" her eyes darting toward the handsome, smiling hero of the story.
Richard, Madeline, and Edith listened with a complex mixture of emotions. It all felt like a dream. Three days ago, they had first heard the name Henry Bruce from the mouth of a filthy outlaw, a name that had represented a fragile, desperate hope. Now, that same man was their friend, their savior, and the outlaws were nothing but a bad memory.
Edith remembered the feeling of throwing herself into his strong arms, the overwhelming sense of warmth and safety she had felt. A tender, sweet feeling blossomed in her heart.
Tom scribbled furiously in his notebook, occasionally interjecting with a question to guide Pete's narrative.
When the story was finally finished, over two hours had passed.
Tom looked at his notes, then at the tall, handsome, and princely figure of Henry. "Sheriff Henry," he asked, "may I ask who taught you to shoot? How did you become so powerful at such a young age?"
Henry smiled. "It was partly a gift," he said. "And partly because my mentor was a master gunslinger himself. He was a soldier, and I inherited his perfect technique."
"Can you tell me his name?"
"He died in the line of duty, fighting criminals," Henry said, his voice slow and somber. "He was a true hero. I am proud to carry on his legacy, and his will."
He paused for a moment, then spoke, each word resonating with a profound, heartfelt gravity.
"Old soldiers never die; they just fade away. But the light of their lives shines on forever."
Linda, hearing his words, immediately bowed her head and hugged Andre tightly, hiding the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Henry had already spoken with her, and they had agreed it was best not to mention Bryan's name in public, to protect her and the children from any future danger.
If Tom and Conrad had been skeptical before, Henry's powerful, poignant words had completely won them over. The entire car, save for the children, was deeply moved.
Conrad, especially, was ecstatic. A line like that, he knew, would sell thirty thousand extra copies.
At 5 PM, in a small forest outside Des Moines, Jesse and Frank James met their reinforcements: the four Younger brothers, their comrades from the Confederate bushwhackers, along with their own formidable gang.
Jesse's sharp eyes immediately spotted the prize: a ten-barreled Gatling gun, mounted on a wagon.
"What do you think of this beauty?" Cole Younger said with a grin, clapping Jesse on the back.
"She's a damn fine piece of work, Cole," Jesse replied.
"This gun and five thousand rounds of ammunition will drastically reduce our own casualties," Cole said. "It wasn't easy to borrow. So, we'll be taking an extra ten percent. A fifty-fifty split. Agreed?"