The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford: A Novel by Ron Hansen

exactly the sort of man that Dyerr held in deepest contempt.
    Jesse called out, “Evening, Chas!”
    Dyerr glanced to the porch and changed the grip on his lunch pail. “J.T.”
    “They’ve got you working late again.”
    “James gang robbed another train.”
    “You don’t mean it!”
    Dyerr apparently felt he’d already spoken at compromising length, for he crossed up into his yard without another word.
    Jesse called in his shrill voice, “If they put a posse together get me into it, will ya?”
    They heard a woman speak as Dyerr opened the screen door and the man responded, “Just that so-and-so next door.”
    Bob said, “You really are the cool customer they make you out to be. I’m impressed as all get-out.”
    Jesse’s cigar had gone out. He reached to ignite a match off the candle flame on the porch floor. He seemed suddenly glum, almost angry.
    “I’ve got something I want to say.”
    Jesse glared at him.
    “It’s pretty funny actually. You see, when Charley said I could come along, I was all agitated about if I could tell which was Jesse James and which was Frank. So what I did was snip out this passage that depicted you both and I carried it along in my pocket.”
    “Which passage would that be?”
    “Do you want to hear it? I’ll read it if you want.”
    Jesse unbuttoned his linen shirt and rubbed the camphor over his chest. Bob assumed that meant he should read it. He pulled a limp yellowed clipping out of his right pocket and announced, “This comes from the writings of Major John Newman Edwards.” He dipped to pick the candle up and placed it on the rocking chair’s armrest. “I’ve got to find the right paragraph.”
    “I’m just sitting here with nothing better to do.”
    “Here: ‘Jesse James, the youngest, has a face as smooth and innocent as the face of a school girl. The blue eyes, very clear and penetrating, are never at rest. His form is tall, graceful, and capable of great endurance and great effort. There is always a smile on his lips, and a graceful word or compliment for all with whom he comes in contact. Looking at his small white hands, with their long, tapering fingers, one would not imagine that with a revolver they were among the quickest and deadliest hands in all the west.’ ”
    Bob raised his eyes. “And then he goes on about Frank.”
    Jesse sucked on his cigar.
    Bob tilted toward the candle. “ ‘Frank is older and taller. Jesse’s face is a perfect oval—Frank’s is long, wide about the forehead, square and massive about the jaws and chin, and set always in a look of fixed repose. Jesse is light-hearted, reckless, devil-may-care—’ ” Bob smirked at him but read no reaction. “ ‘Frank sober, sedate, a dangerous man always in ambush in the midst of society. Jesse knows there is a price upon his head and discusses the whys and wherefores of it—Frank knows it too, but it chafes him sorely and arouses all the tiger that is in his heart. Neither will be taken alive.’ ”
    Bob flipped the clipping over and continued. “ ‘Killed—that may be. Having long ago shaken hands with life, when death does come it will come to those who, neither surprised nor disappointed, will greet him with the exclamation: “How now, old fellow.” ’ ”
    Jesse creaked his rocker, scraped the fire from his cigar with his yellowed finger, and made the ash disintegrate and sprinkle off his lap when he stood. He said, “I’m a no good, Bob. I ain’t Jesus.” And he walked into his rented bungalow, leaving behind the young man who had played at capturing Jesse James even as a child.

2
1865–1881
    We have been charged with robbing the Gallatin bank and killing the cashier; with robbing the gate at the Fair Grounds in Kansas City, with robbing a bank at St. Genevieve; with robbing a train in Iowa, and killing an engineer, with robbing two or three banks in Kentucky and killing two or three men there, but for every charge we are willing to be tried if Governor Woodson