Secret Service Kitty AndersonChapter 7
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Driving the Oldsmobile to Austin was great fun. I knew that the road was in good condition, so I drove between 25 and 30 MPH all the way and easily made the trip is less than two hours. My only real complaint was that I was covered with dust, even though I had worn the duster and special hat the whole time I was on the road. I really needed a bath and fresh clothes, but I had promised to see Judge McAllister as soon as possible, so I just left the Oldsmobile parked in front of the building and went inside. I left my rifle with the receptionist to keep an eye on it while I was with the Judge.
The Judge was amazed to see me and wanted to know how I could possibly get from Singer Flats so fast when the train wasn't due in for another two hours. I told him about the Oldsmobile and apologized for looking so disreputable, but he kindly brushed that off. He said that he was delighted to see me, and he could hardly wait to hear my tale.
I sat down with a cup of coffee and told him of my adventure with Josh Calhoun, including the acquisition of the Oldsmobile. He was suitably sympathetic over my near rape and congratulated me on my escape. As for the story of the KGC, that was another story.
Judge McAllister went on to tell me what he knew about the KGC and how they were related to my father and Hollcroft. It seems that my father was only nominally a Federal Deputy Marshal. That was a cover for his real job as a special investigator for an organization called the "Secret Service." The purpose of this organization was to protect the United States of America from organizations within the country who wanted to take over the USA and run it for their own benefit. Their official job was to protect the President, but that was hardly more than a cover for their real job.
During the conversation, I had told the Judge about the scam I was running on Hollcroft, hoping to get enough evidence to send him to jail for cheating me, since there was no way he could be charged again with the conspiracy that Pa had been investigating. The Judge was impressed with my ambition and cleverness in arranging to trap Hollcroft. He asked me what I planned to do about the two gunmen who were still loose. I said that I was going to kill them, but I was going to do it "legally." He was overcome with laughter when I told him about my adventure dressed as a man and drinking too much beer.
The upshot of all of this conversation was that I had given him some information that was news to him, and he was impressed with my overall skill and initiative. That's when he dropped his bombshell! Judge McAllister asked me to join the Secret Service, primarily to root out these KGC galoots. I told him that I needed to think about it, and I thought that two seconds was long enough. I accepted the offer and asked when I could start. The judge's answer was that I had started the day my father had been shot.
We spent a couple of more hours working out the details of how things would work. Oh, he swore me in as Federal Deputy Marshal reporting to him. He gave me a badge to use in case I needed it. He also went through the paperwork getting me signed up as an agent of the Secret Service. My first assignment was to continue my campaign against Hollcroft. Judge McAllister thought that Hollcroft could be a significant source of information, and he would break as soon as he actually faced jail time. Therefore, he was the best lead toward the KGC that we had right now.
My base of operations would continue to be my home in Singer Flats. Since Hollcroft was the only real lead we had for the KGC, I decided to put as much pressure on him as I could. To make this work, I planned to visit Hollcroft at least once a week and needle him for progress reports. With enough applied pressure, I expected him to screw up real big, and not take too long to do it. The automobile made it easy to drop in on Hollcroft and return home all in the same day. In fact, if I left home soon enough, I could talk to Hollcroft and get back home by dinner. That left my afternoon free for whatever else I wanted to do.
I was really anxious to find those two remaining murderers, so I spent as much time as I could make available dressed as a man and haunting the saloons in Singer Flats. I needed a man's name for my disguise, so I selected Tom Jones. There was no particular reason for that choice—I just liked the sound of the name, and it was easy to remember. I cultivated the reputation for Tom as somebody who liked to play penny ante poker and could not handle alcohol in any kind of quantity. Despite the aversion to alcohol, the bartenders tolerated Tom for his unfailing good humor, even when he lost at poker.
In my Tom Jones persona, I usually didn't visit a saloon until after supper, and I usually visited only one per night. I did that to try not to make it too obvious that I was actually hunting for the two men I tentatively identified as Jed Acton and Hank Gibbs. I couldn't be certain that they were the two I was looking for, but they seemed to fit the description I could give.
On several occasions, one man or the other showed up in a saloon I was not visiting, but it was enough to know that I was on the right track. It was a little frustrating, but I managed to console myself with the thought that I would find them eventually. I was right because I finally got lucky!
I was in the Double Eagle Saloon one Thursday night when Jed Acton wandered in about 9:00 o'clock. Wonderful, I had finally found one of the men I was looking for, but I couldn't just draw my gun and kill him. That would screw up too many bigger deals I was involved in, so I had to find a way to make him draw on me first.
Maybe I could make use of the fact that he was well known to be a notorious bully. If I was clever and lucky, I might be able to trick him into trying to draw on me, or something similar that I could use to claim self defense. He bought a beer at the bar and started wandering around the saloon, speaking to people he knew and otherwise doing things that a man might normally do when visiting a saloon.
It took about 30 minutes, but then I got lucky. Acton approached the table where I was playing poker. One of the men who had been there a while left for a trip to the jakes. Acton grabbed the empty seat before any of the other men who had been standing around waiting for their turn could react. Now, this was very bad manners, at the very least, but one man who was about to object was advised by a friend to back off, since Acton was well know for a vile temper.
Anyway, Acton anted up and play started. We went through several hands with nothing of note happening, then Acton bet a dollar, which was a big bet for our small time betting habits, since it was more than a day's wages for most men at our table. The others dropped out because the game had suddenly gotten too rich for their blood; however, I could easily handle virtually any bet that Acton could make, so I stayed in. I even raised Acton a dollar. It was pure bluff on my part, but I was curious as to what Acton had in mind.
Acton raised me another dollar, but I'd had enough, so I called. I laid my cards down, face down, and said, "Mr. Acton, I will apologize most sincerely if you can show that I am wrong, but I feel that you have not been playing according to the rules of poker." This wasn't true, but I wanted to make Acton overreact.
He jumped up and shouted, "YOU CAN'T CALL ME A CHEATER AN' GIT AWAY WITH IT!" As soon as he reached his feet, he went for his gun strapped to his thigh. I was still sitting down, so there was no way that I could reach the gun tied to my thigh in time to do me any good. However, I was carrying my Savage in my shoulder holster, so I drew that. I thumbed back the hammer and started shooting. Acton was a big man, so I took no chances. I emptied the seven shots from the magazine, plus the one already in the chamber. The rate of fire from an automatic is so much faster than what is possible with a single action revolver, and actually faster than what most people can get from a double action revolver, that I put out an impressive number of bullets in a very short time.
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