Summer Challenge: We Never Sleep

Feeling creative? Post your fan stories and fan art here!
Post Reply
Saint Kurt
Administrator
Administrator
Posts: 2151
Joined: Wed Jan 28, 2004 3:43 am
Title: Derelict Landlord
Location: Watch out for that cow pie!

Summer Challenge: We Never Sleep

Post by Saint Kurt »

Introduction

Most of this story is fact. And a great deal of it is fiction.

The operatives of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency were the first private detectives for hire (and originator of the moniker “private eyes” from their famous motto “We Never Sleep” accompanied by an ever open, ever watchful eye at the center of their logo), the first presidential protectors (known today as the Secret Service), the first secret agents (now defined by the letters F.B.I., C.I.A, and dozens of other colorful acronyms), and the first agents of industrial espionage (better known as “spies”).

Pinkerton men stood guard over president-elect Abraham Lincoln, thwarting at least one assassination attempt. After his election and for the duration of the Civil War, Lincoln’s protection was to be handled by the more than capable United States Government. Unfortunately their capabilities fell short of the Pinkerton’s and Lincoln was assassinated in 1865.

From their inception in 1850 onward, Pinkerton’s have provided security for factories and mines containing iron, coal, and gold. They have protected banks and infiltrated labor unions, including the Molly Maquires, who may or may not be one of the fictional elements of this story. When there was a Pinkerton man on board the trains crossing the first continental railroad, attempts at robbery by such colorful legendary outlaws as Jesse James, Butch Cassidy, the Reno Gang, and the Wild Bunch, failed and the cargo holds stayed safe.

At one point history, there were more Pinkerton agents deployed and in the field than there were members of the U.S. Army. There is even an “Anti-Pinkerton Act”, passed in 1893 and still on the books, preventing them from infiltrating and thus potentially over throwing the government. There was a time when the name “Pinkerton” was synonymous with “detective” and “law man” though, that was before any of those words sounded as outdated as they do now. And to make certain that those words became firmly embedded in our vernacular, Allan Pinkerton himself wrote several dozen detective novels all about the many jobs well done by his operatives. Whether these were meant to be works of fiction or public relations is unclear from the writing.

All of this is true and the Pinkertons are still with us. They have a (legalized) United States Goverment division and (with a merger and a name change or two) have moved into the global realm as the world’s largest single security company. They still use a single open eye as their logo.

As for their motto, no Pinkerton man has ever been caught sleeping on the job.
Image
Saint Kurt
Administrator
Administrator
Posts: 2151
Joined: Wed Jan 28, 2004 3:43 am
Title: Derelict Landlord
Location: Watch out for that cow pie!

We Never Sleep: Part 1

Post by Saint Kurt »

Bobby Pinkerton looked down the line of horses at the backs of the two agents in front of him. The slow steady cadence of their hooves was comforting, not unlike being rocked to sleep. Every few minutes he had to blink hard to clear his vision and keep from drifting off. The traveling party was provisioned with twelve horses, six good under the saddle, and six more carrying full packs. They were in for the long haul, traveling for days at a time across the plains where the roads were no more than wagon tracks and hoof prints.

The three were headed to the appropriately named Central City just outside of Gregory Gulch in the Kansas Territory. The miner’s camp, situated at the center of a broad valley just beyond the foot hills of the Rocky Mountains had at one point been just a few buildings in the mud; a mining camp and hardly what one would call a going concern. Until someone had struck it rich, finding a rich vein of gold on small claim just outside of town. There were more claims and more cries of “Bonanza!” Nearly over night the place had blossomed into a full blown city with two blocks of commerce branching off the camp’s original main boulevard, a dump and a latrine. Perhaps most importantly Center City had opened its first bank to change that gold into dollars.

And that meant that somebody had to watch those dollars and somebody had to watch that gold. Somebody had to make sure that gold made it out of Central City eastward to its intended destination. Those somebodies would be Bobby and his two fellow agents.

As much as Bobby was looking forward to getting to his destination and setting up shop, he liked being out on the road, moving, watching the scenery. He liked the feeling of being “on duty”. Bobby was the youngest operative in the employ of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency and one of the best. Well, he thought so at least. He was just 21 years old, a rookie by anyone’s estimation, but he had already undertaken two operations with men in his charge. This one was to be the third. But of course it was in his blood. For there was talk of annexation of the western territories into the United States and were that to happen, the Pinkertons would be set up with a new branch of operations in the heart of gold country not just with three trained agents, but Allan Pinkerton’s own son to look after his interests.

His own opinion aside, Bobby was a what one might consider a “solid and dependable agent”. He didn’t drink whisky and he didn’t play cards. He read when he had a book and even considered marriage, once. Well, twice really. But now that he was making the move out west, he though that maybe it was a good thing he’d never gone up the center aisle. From what he heard, the frontier was no place for a lady.

Maybe someday, but right now, he was satisfied with a job.

Bobby looked westward, squinting into the the setting sun and shading his eyes with his hand and the brim of his hat. The sun was getting low in the sky and they were in Sioux country, maybe even bordering on Pawnee territory. He’d never encountered an Indian warrior personally and that wasn’t a score Bobby was to eager to change. They had weapons and supplies in their packs that didn’t want to part with so quickly. The safest approach to the situation was to set up camp while their was still light and take it in shifts to stand guard over the provisions until sun up.

They couldn’t yet see the ridge of the Rockies on the horizon, but another day’s travel and they would soon enough. It was going to be a lot rougher from there on out and Bobby wanted to make sure they were wide awake and on fresh horses when they reached the hills.

He whistled once through his fingers, a short sharp blast that set the line of horses clattering to a halt on the hard clay. Eustace and Jimmy twisted around in their saddles

“What say we make camp at that stand of trees up yonder?” he called, pointing the hundred or so yards ahead.

There was nodded consent and they drove the horses up far enough to find a small clearing where they could take shelter for the night. The horses, tethered to a few low branches tossed their heads and ripped at the grass growing in uneven tufts beneath them. It wasn’t a bad spot to camp really and with the sun still up in the sky Bobby could see the shadows of the leaves play in the dappled sunlight through the white canvas of roof of his tent. After taking a last glance out the open tent flap towards where Eustace sat on seat made from packing crate, a rifle across his lap and twin revolvers on his hips, Bobby assured himself that all was well and shut his eyes.

Pinkerton or not, everybody had to sleep sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky was black, like spilled india ink, but with the multitudes of stars, each a tiny pin hole of light and a near full moon, Bobby could see well enough. It wouldn’t be easy for anyone to sneak up on them. It was his turn now, to sit upon the crate, his shotgun at the ready, his revolvers holstered but equally accessible and other than the low cacophony of the nighttime wildlife going about its business added to the snores of the two men behind him, the camp was secure.

He stretched out his legs, leaned the box back and was about to tap a hand rolled cigarette out of the case when he heard a strange noise. It sounded like a gun shot, only muffled like over a long distance yet, his gut told him it had been close by. Instantly alert, Bobby was on his feet, the shotgun cocked and ready to fire.

“Who’s there?” He asked, turning this way and that, the twin barrels of his Remington cavalry rifle leading his movements.

“I’m armed,” he warned the darkness. “Come forward slowly or I’ll fill you full of buckshot.”

He heard the same muffled bang again only this time he was sure it came from behind. Bobby whirled around and then he felt the cold steel of a knife at his throat. He swallowed hard, feeling the metal press against his adams apple. How on earth...

“Don’t make another sound, bub,” a gruff voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a growl said into his ear, “And drop your weapon. We have a proposition for you. All you gotta do is listen.”

“We?” Bobby asked feebly as he let his shotgun fall to the grass. He hadn’t heard one let alone two. There was no point in sounding tough. He was surely outclassed.

In that instant, the fire, which had burnt itself down to a pile of smoldering embers sparked to life again as another log was dropped on top. A second man, tall and thin with a regal bearing like that of a politician or some other such importance was seated comfortably, holding his odd hands out before the flames.

“That’s it, bub, we. My partner and I have a proposition for you.”

Bobby felt the chill blade slide away from his skin. He was still shocked at how easily he’d been ambushed. He took a few cautious steps towards the fire, at the same time turning to keep both men in his vision; comforted by the fact that though he may have dropped his gun, he was still armed.

“We mean you no harm,” came a voice from the direction of the fire. It was different than his partner’s. It sounded ... foreign.

“You don’t huh?” Hard to imagine when just a moment before there had been a knife pressed against his windpipe. Bobby looked skeptically from one to the other. “What’s this all about?” he asked when it was clear that they were making good on the seated man’s promise.

The man with the gruff voice had seated himself at the fire and gestured to Bobby to join them.

Still not sure what was happening or why, Bobby did so.

{to be continued}
Image
steyn
Global Moderator
Global Moderator
Posts: 3970
Joined: Sun Sep 14, 2003 12:16 pm
Title: The furry one.
Nightscrawlearth Character: :bunny
Location: Space.

Summer Challenge: We Never Sleep

Post by steyn »

Oh this is sooooo good, heee. I love this, want more please!
Rowena
Global Moderator
Global Moderator
Posts: 886
Joined: Fri Dec 19, 2003 12:55 am
Location: Time And Relative Dimension In Space
Contact:

Summer Challenge: We Never Sleep

Post by Rowena »

Oh, fantastic!!! This is great so far! What a neat idea! Beautiful writing, and I can't wait to find out what's going to happen next! Thanks for entering!!! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
Post Reply