Life and adventures of Frank and Jesse James, the noted western outlaws

by J. A. Dacus

"'What are you doing here?' asked the larger one of the two.

"I must have stammered a little, and appeared awkward and frightened as I made answer that I had a great desire to meet Mr.—— and his brother—naming the person to whom the letter was addressed—and I have a message for Mr.—— here with me now.

"One of them—it was Frank—turned to me sharply, and asked me what I knew about Mr. ——. I told him that I had never met the gentleman, but that I had a great desire to do so. He then asked me when I was last in St. Louis. I replied that I had not been in St. Louis for a period of more than five years. 'What are you doing here?' he asked. 'Looking about the country,' I replied. 'You like it, do you?' he inquired. 'Very well,' I said. 'You go to Chicago, do you?' 'Never was there in my life,' I answered. 'Do you know Allan Pinkerton?' 'I don't,' I said. 'What state do you hail from?' 'Georgia.' 'A very good state,' he soliloquized. 'From whom did you say you had a message for Mr.——?' 'From Col.——, of——,' I answered. 'You know where you can find——?' 'I do not.' 'Give me the message; I'll see that he gets it.' 'Are you Mr.——?' 'No matter,' he answered, 'I'll see that he gets the communication.' 'But I've come all the way here to see him myself. I do not want to go back without seeing him,' I remarked. 'What do you want to see him for?' 'Well,' I stammered, 'I have heard a great deal about him and his brother, and I just wanted to visit them at home.' 'You know who he is then?' 'Certainly, he is Jesse James and——.' 'An outlaw!' he interrupted me. 'Mind how you act, young man.' The tones of his voice were dry and harsh, and the pistol which had been allowed to droop was once more raised, and pointed at my breast.

"You may be sure I was thoroughly alarmed, and it required some effort to speak distinctly. At last I managed to say in a tolerably low tone, 'I wish you would read this letter which I have brought.' The pistol was lowered and he reached out his hand to take the letter from the breast-pocket of my coat. Meanwhile, Frank kept me under cover of a pistol. Jesse secured the letter, and commenced to read it. I watched his features closely. A change came over his countenance. The cold, stern look relaxed, and his face put on a sunny smile as he read on. When he had finished, he turned to Frank and said, 'I guess this is all right.' Then he turned to me and said, 'So you are a kinsman of Colonel——?' 'I am,' I replied. He continued, 'He is a good friend of ours, and I reckon you're all right. You wanted to see the James Boys. You see before you what is left of them. I guess you had better give us your pistols to keep for you until you are ready to leave again, for you know we are the only armed men allowed around our place. This is a very odd world anyhow. We do not trust anyone.' 'I have but one, and here it is,' I said, presenting it to him, while I held the muzzle. He took the pistol and thrust it into a side-pocket, and turning full toward me, he said with a smile on his face, and a merry twinkle in his bright blue eyes: 'So you wanted to see the notorious outlaws?' 'Yes.' 'Well, did you expect we wore horns, and had split feet, and spouted fire and brimstone, eh? But you see you are mistaken. There are a hundred, yes, a thousand, worse men along the borders here than the James Boys. But they have not been lied about as we have been; they have not been hunted all over the states as we have been; they have not been so grossly misrepresented and abused, and we must bear not only our sins, but the sins of many others. It is a pretty hard fate, young man.' The hard, unpitying expression came upon his features once more, but it was only for a moment, and the cloud passed away, and his countenance was illuminated by a smile that was genial and pleasant, and whoever could have gazed into the face of Jesse James at that moment, would not have concluded that he was a desperado and an outlaw.

"'I suppose,' said Frank, 'that you will accept an outlaw's invitation to his humble retreat?' 'Most gladly,' I said.

The Home of Frank James, in Texas.

"They turned their horses' heads, and Jesse taking a position on one side and Frank on the other, we rode on to the crest of the ridge. 'There is where we camp,' said Frank, as he pointed away to the northwest. Camp! Indeed, it seemed more like the residence of a well-to-do planter in Georgia. The situation which they had selected was beautiful as any I had yet seen in the West. Before us a broad, green valley lay spread out in the sunlight, bounded by a line of high hills toward the northeast, and widening toward the southwest. A noble grove of timber skirted the margin of the stream, which appeared to be of considerable size, and meandered through the valley. Beyond the stream and the grove, situated on a gentle slope in the midst of gardens and cultivated fields, and vigorous young trees, rose a pleasant house of two stories in elevation, with a garden in front. Some distance away were the barns, stables and other outbuildings. 'A lovely home!' I exclaimed. Frank smiled at my evident delight, and remarked that he found it very comfortable, after the exposure and hardships through which he had passed.

"So we rode on down the slope into the grove, and across a beautiful broad pebble-bottom stream, and up the slope to the front of the mansion, talking, by the way, of many things in the past, and expressing views and opinions concerning the future.