Sherlock Holmes and the Treasure Train

me. 'You know, Watson, I've been rather waiting for you to bring the matter up. Now, considering this news, which just may impart a meaning only you and I can understand, I cannot hold my curiosity in check any longer.'

'Relative to what?' I queried, but I knew. He had heard me on that momentous afternoon in Essex. Well, it had been enjoyable to cherish my own little secret for a while.

'Our imposter friend. The pseudo-Ledger.'

'You disagree with his story of how he came upon the scene?'

'No. That holds water. The idea of a wanted American desperado assuming the identity of a fallen friend and matriculating to Africa and then England is plausible.'

'What, then? We could hardly ask the chap to tell us the whole story. After all, he saved our lives.'

'Agreed,' said Holmes. 'But you referred to him by name—McCarty—and he did not deny it.'

'There's a story that goes with it,' I said, savoring the words.

'I'd like to hear it.'

'It begins with the Lincoln County cattle war.'

'You mentioned that during our investigation of Trelawney's death in Shaw.'

'So I did. Both sides of that bloody frontier incident hired fast guns, and they flocked to New Mexico from everywhere.'

'Including the true Ledger,' interrupted Holmes in an impatient manner. 'I understand all that.'

'The Lincoln County war ended in eighteen seventy-eight, with the near total extermination of one side. A survivor was William Bonney, better known as Billy the Kid. The area was under martial law, and General Lew Wallace offered Bonney amnesty.'

'Wallace? The same chap who wrote Ben Hur?'

'Correct. Bonney refused the general's offer, pointing out that if he hung up his guns, he would not live to see the next sunrise. Later, in eighteen eighty, he was captured by Sheriff Pat Garrett but escaped from jail. Garrett trailed him and shot him in eighteen eighty-one.'

'You are indeed a fund of information, Watson; and I recall your mentioning this Billy the Kid previously. But what has this to do with our adventure?'

'There are a couple of holes in the story. For one thing, Bonney was supposedly killed in Fort Sumner, New Mexico, where he was very well liked. For another, Sheriff Pat Garrett was a friend of his.'

'Ah-hah!' said Holmes. 'You feel all was not as it seemed.'

'Rather sure of it. You see, Bonney's real name was Henry McCarty.'

The jaw of my friend Sherlock Holmes actually dropped in astonishment. It was a glorious moment, which I shall always cherish.