Tower
of the Blue Horses Tower
of the Blue Horses 
Chicago 1932 - Heavy dark clouds loomed up above, covering the sky with an ominous gloom of imminent showers. Lake Michigan hadn't been at all forgiving to the citizens of Chicago. The weather had been wet, cold and miserable the entire week. Rain had been falling in what seemed like endless downpours. It felt like the gloom would last forever.
James Butler Hickok stepped out of the lobby of his brownstone apartment into the cool, damp morning. He looked heavenward, the air having the telling smell that another shower was soon on its way. As he breathed in the morning air, a light drizzle sprinkled in the blowing wind, hitting his face.
He sighed as he clung his tan raincoat over his chest. "Just another one of those days." he muttered wryly. He tilted his black fedora over his forehead as he began to walk to his car, the wind kicking up, whipping the increasing droplets of rain in his direction.
Jimmy, as he was called by his closest friends, squatted low, checking the underside of his car. He rose to his feet and opened the door of his model black Ford seeing that everything was clear. Jimmy hopped in and sat in a moment of silent reflection. He lived a dangerous life, committed to a badge, and a promise to bring justice and order to the city of his birth. He was an officer of the law, a man of honor and values. A man who could not be bought in a city full of corruption and vice.
The men he chose to surround himself with; valiant, courageous men, lived by that same code of honor. A code that made each and everyone of them a marked man; a target against the growing plague of organized crime in this god-forsaken city.
Jimmy put the key in the ignition. The ritual had become routine. He said a silent prayer even though he never claimed to be a man of strong faith but reckoned that someone out there had been watching over him. He hadn't gotten blown up just yet. Closing his eyes, he turned the key. The engine reved as he pumped the gas, slowing to a steady humming noise as soon as he released the accelerator.
A snicker escaped his lips. "Still alive," he joked. He had to. Life was too short to worry excessively and his was destined to be shorter being who he was, the man who vowed to bring an end to illegal gambling, drinking and prostitution. It was a tall order to fill and he knew it. Yet, he was determined to make a change. Even if it cost him his life.
Growing up in the city slums of Chicago, he had seen the ruthlessness of the mob. The killings, the shootings, the bombings, the dismemberments...fingers lost, broken limbs and scars that left their unforgettable sting on its victims; a permanent reminder of who had the upper hand in this town.
The sting of the underground hit Jimmy personally when his best friend a boy named Kid as he was affectionately referred to, almost three years Jimmy's junior but having wisdom beyond his youth, lost his father, a decorated police officer in an assasination plot when the boys where only teenagers. Jimmy guessed from hence the cards had been written, for the two boys banded together and swore to bring an end to the very thing that had caused such devestation to them both.
Though they had been raised in opposite environments, Kid having what was seen as a model family, lacking nothing in this world whereas Jimmy's mother, single and working two jobs to support her son, struggled to raise him right and keep her boy out of the grips of the good-for-nothing mobsters that used young boys like her Jimmy, to do the little dirty jobs for considerable pay. Jimmy could've easily wound up a mobster in his own right but once he met Kid's father, that all changed. The man had become the father figure Jimmy never had and he grew to love the lawman and his son as his own flesh and blood. A good man had been taken away from this earth by those who today would dare spit on his grave. A man that had taught them all that was good and honorable. A man that now was gone, leaving a deep void in both his boys.
Alcohol, smoke and sweat lingered in the air and toward the ceiling of a large,
dark room. Bits and pieces of clothing were scattered about the floor. Other
than those items, and the eerie fog, the room was immaculate. A small sliver
of light seeped through the drawn
drapes, one minute glimmer. But still, the light wasn't bright enough to light
more than a width of a foot of space, from the wall to the door. The clouds
covered the city, as rain pounded upon the roof. Louise quickly awoke to the
showers of the morning and lightning and thunder that seemed to follow. She
lied open skinned, faced down on the silky sheets. Her head pounded from her
activities of the previous evening. A dreadful thickness remained in her mouth
as her tongue past by her aching teeth. She was hung over, and hated it.
Louise rolled over and stretched her arm, searching for the man that lay beside her. Her hand found his smooth back, as she inched her way toward him. She met his face, and awakened him with a deep, passionate kiss. His eyes opened and numb lips quivered by such a startle, but he returned the kiss with the same amount of strength. One arm wrapped around her small frame, another went forward, grasping her breast with his rough hand. Their legs intertwined, straying in maze-like directions, as he turned over on top of her. He slid inside of her, as their movements became more in sync. Louise felt his back muscles and massaged tightly with her nimble fingers. In those moments of fire and ecstasy all of their thoughts toward each other were revealed. The couple was flushed with pinks and reds as they experienced each other's greatness.
Louise was happy. She pushed him harder and longer. Her tongue dug deep in his mouth, massaging his own. His fingers sliced through her hair and slowly worked their way down, past her smooth breasts, tickling her curves, and gripping tight her hips. He pushed harder as well, and she did her best to hold on. He returned her kisses with the same power as she gave them. But as his strength took over, her thoughts were taken back to another time, another lover. He noticed, quickly, that her mind had strayed, her interest in him vanishing. Frustrated, he pulled himself away, and rolled back over to where he had awakened. Louise snapped out of her thoughts and followed him. She continued to kiss him and pulled herself in to snuggle. The stronger man shoved her away.
"Frank?" she questioned as tears welled up in her eyes, with the shock of rejection.
"You really are a whore, you know that?"
Frank James said forcefully as he lifted himself up and put on his robe. He
quickly opened the door, left and slammed it behind him.
Louise pulled her knees to her chest and remained, naked on the bed, watching
the dust
particles dance in the small light that the sun still provided.
Jimmy drove along the slick yet not so busy streets of Chicago, the rain beginning
to stream down his windshield, his mind drifting, going back in time. He couldn't
believe the different roads boyhood friends and sometimes rivals had taken.
Hickok thought about the very thing that had bonded him and Kid, a fight with
Frank James; the infamous, trouble seeking, Frank James.
Jimmy and Frank hadn't always been at odds. They had been good, close friends at one point, but Frank had bigger and better plans for his life. He vowed he wouldn't be the slum scum they were often derogatoraly referred to. He would make a name for himself in this town. Jimmy knew Frank was headed for trouble and his little brother Jesse was right behind. He saw it coming all too clear. Call it insight, discernment, whatever. But now the lines had been drawn. His once good friend was now his staunch enemy. The man that stood against everything that Jimmy hated. Everything that was vile and underhanded. Everything he would seek to destroy. The lines were not blurred any longer.
Frank and Jesse James were his number one priority. They had in a matter of three years taken control of vast holdings in this city. They didn't hesitate to use any methods at their disposal to get what they wanted. Their tentacles now spread far and wide. The fear they spewed, even worse. Jimmy and Kid had one agenda, and the James brothers were it. The chase would never be over until the James brothers were either in jail or dead.
Jimmy pulled his car into the reserved parking spot in front of the two-story police building. The rain began to fall heavier and he ran across the street to the newstand, his usual morning stop.
"Good Morning Mr. Hickok." greeted the man behind the newspaper counter.
"Good Morning Charlie." he replied.
"Haven't seen the paper this morning huh?" he asked, noticing the light greeting from the detective and then nodding to the stack of newspapers just to his right.
Jimmy grabbed the top copy, his eyes scanning the headline. "Damn it!" he cried.
"Tell ya, it's a war Mr. Hickok and it ain't stopping no time soon." remarked the man.
Jimmy didn't respond. He dug in his pocket and left payment for the paper, more than he needed to but he had to get to his office. Time was essential. He tucked the folded newspaper under his arm, and ran back across the street, entering the police station.
He passed with quick steps by the front desk, not bothering to stop and hear any stories or anymore greetings. He would have to get his guys together and get on top of this murder case at once.
Louise James married Frank not more than one year ago. They had only known each
other two months on top of that. She immediately fell in love with his life
style. She was enthralled with the glitz, glamour, and danger. But, most importantly,
she loved the money. However, she quickly learned that being the wife of a gangster
was not all that it was cracked up to be. Fortunately, the drugs, alcohol, and
late nightlife made up for what Frank obviously lacked, but damn she loved him
anyway.
After he had left, she still thought about the memories
that had flashed in her mind when Frank was kissing her. The man she began imagining
Frank to be. But the morning was growing old, and eventually she gained her
composure and was able to put on her robe.
She walked herself over to the vanity and sat down on the cushioned stool. She
grabbed her brush and smoothed her short, brown hair flat to her face. She dreaded
looking in the mirror.
Nearly six months ago she wouldn't have cared. Back then, her young face was a beautiful, creamy white, not a blotchy pale. Her cheeks were often flushed, and she never had dark circles under her eyes. But, now, deep, black marks surrounded her sunken eyes. Her cheekbones nearly escaped her thin skin. She ignored what she saw, opened her drawer, brought out a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. The first shot went down easy and three more followed, leaving her ready to venture to the kitchen for her cup of coffee and morning paper. She left the bedroom door open.
Jimmy ascended to the second story, coming out of the elevator, his eyes glued
to the front page news, his lips mumbling the words written in black. "Notorious
Mob Boss Jake Caulder found DEAD!" He walked down the hall, turning the
corner, entering a spacious room, at once greeted by his secretary.
"Jimmy, I guess you heard the news?" she met him half-way, taking his wet raincoat from him.
"Heard? Like hell I did! Why wasn't I called?" he said, not missing a step, his voice loaded with annoyance.
She followed him into his office. "Well, Kid is handling it. He's down at the crime scene with Noah and Ike as we speak. You've been so exhausted he figured..."
"He figured?! Didn't I specifically say that I was to be notified if anything of this magnitude went down?!" he yelled.
"Jimmy...you've been working yourself sick! He's only concerned about your well-being." she defended.
"You know, I-I wish you would all get off my back! The headaches are not a big deal. I can handle it." he lashed out, snatching his hat off his head. He raked his fingers through his short brown hair, his temples pounding in an endless beat.
"Really? Well you can't fool me James Hickok." Rachel said with a maddening scowl. "I've been working for you far too long and know when you're fibbing."
He ignored her. "I need to get down there."
"You're not going anywhere mister." she said stopping him from the door.
"Rachel," he sighed, "you're a great secretary, even a better friend but if you don't get out of my way..."
"What? You're gonna slug me?" she frowned. "Besides you can't go anywhere without these!" she said, dangling his car keys in front of his face. He tried to grab them out of her hand but she was too quick. He didn't have time for this. He attempted again vainly, as she threatened to toss them out the window.
Just when he was about to really lose his temper, for Rachel knew that he had a very short fuse, the telephone rang. He grunted and turned from her and walked to his desk.
"Hickok." he answered. It was Kid.
"Kid where the hell are you?" he asked angrily. "Well hurry up and get your ass here! And you better have a damn good excuse for this one!" he slammed the receiver down.
"Feel better?" Rachel teased.
Jimmy glared back. "Much!"
Frank and Louise's bedroom sat at the end of a long hallway. Their oak doors
expanded to the base of the ceiling, nearly twenty feet. Louise only ever used
one of them, but when company was over, the two doors at the end of the hallway
were always looked upon with
suspicion, yet admiration. The plush, cream carpet slipped in between her toes
as she walked down the long corridor. The walls were covered with famous paintings
from the late1800s and early 1900s. However, Louise's favorite was one entitled,
"L'Atetier De Cannes." She liked it basically because Frank cringed
every time he passed by it. Still, the
artist was promising, because the painting was more than expensive. She never
figured out how to pronounce the name of the painting, so she called it "Frank's
Picasso."
Down the hall, Louise finally made her way through the main entrance of the house, passed the cold ceramic tiling, and into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Louise," Jesse greeted his sister-in-law with a fresh cup of coffee and a kiss on the cheek. He smelled the alcohol immediately and gave her a look of concern.
Louise only nodded, and then added, "It was
only one, Jesse," and he watched her frail body as she made her way toward
the table and sat down to read her paper.
"Where's Frank?" she asked. "Never mind, it doesn't matter."
she added.
The headline read, "NUDE CORPSE FOUND ON TRACKS." Louise continued to read, "Mob-boss murdered! Gangster's Number One Rival in High Suspicion." Louise could only shake her head.
"Another murder," she wiped her face. "I
swear these people are going to destroy this
town before prohibition is overturned."
"Chicago is a good town, Louise. Good people. People who want to see it done right. Why should the government have a say in what we do or don't drink?" Jesse asked curiously.
"Well, they shouldn't," she agreed.
"I better go. Have a good morning, ok? Take care of yourself, ya hear?" Jesse said as he finished his coffee and excused himself.
Jesse was Frank's younger brother. He was tall but lanky and full of energy, outgoing, and ambitious. His brown hair was kept a little longer than his brother approved of, but it was Jesse's declaration of independence. He held a top position in their family business, and with that came respect and a small piece of freedom. Jesse proved himself to be a top man, and no one was going to prove other wise.
Ever since Frank had married Louise, Jesse had been jealous. Louise was a beautiful woman, and he only knew that Frank would ruin her. Yes, in the beginning they seemed happy, in love even, but one short year had changed that. Jesse had watched her need for alcohol and drugs increase, and now it seemed as though she was wasting away to just skin and bones. Of course, they were nice skin and bones. Sometimes Jesse believed that he truly hated his brother for what he had done to her. But, he wouldn't leave. Jesse was there to protect Louise from Frank, even herself if necessary.
Louise watched Jesse leave, and then read the article.
Her favorite journalist at The Chicago Daily wrote it. He went by the colorful
name of Teaspoon, and it was a good thing because if the mob knew his real name,
his ink would have dried out a long time ago.
You see he always used his own ideas and had anecdotes to every crime that the
mob had ever committed. But, with this situation, there wasn't much he could
say, so he went into detail about the mobster's criminal life and his horrific
death. The article also described the men who were assigned to the murder. Good
men. Men of honor and redemption. Men that had been trusted by the city to keep
its citizens safe by destroying the underworld of crime.
They had been dubbed The Blue Horses by said writer, a nickname he thought fitting to give the men years earlier when they first joined up with each other. Louise always thought the title was curious but pondered that it carried a majestic undertone of power as it were, since these men were the only group of investigators and lawmen that the mob somewhat feared.
The Blue Horses, though, were not blue in the least sense but white, muscular, beautiful beasts that, under the full moon of night gave them the mystical, surreal look of a pale-blue. They were strong and powerful, magical and mysterious. The stories of their myths live long in the annals of the Native American peoples just like their brethren, the eagle. Similarly, these boys were at their best under the glowing light of the moon.
Included, along with the headline story, was a picture that prominently over took the bottom right-hand corner of the paper. The picture showed six men, standing shoulder to shoulder, near the tracks of the Randolph Street Station. Louise knew the men.
She knew them very well. She had actually seen the picture before. It was taken when the rag-tag team of boys captured one of the highest ranked mobsters in the town, Mr. Frank James, for conspiring to smuggle beer out of the town. Louise smirked at the thought of it. And then her eyes filled up with tears as she looked back upon the picture with sadness. It wasn't the fact that her husband had been unjustly arrested. She knew he did not deserve the charges, and that was why he was released. But, the memory that brought heartache to her was the young man on the right side of the picture.
He was medium height and medium build. According to the picture, he was only black and white, but Louise remembered different. She even giggled at the thought of a man who contained so much color and personality. She remembered his soft, brown hair and warm caring blue eyes. She remembered the way his gray, silk suit hugged his sides. Just thinking at that moment, she could smell the mint on his breath. She even felt his smooth tanned hands on her face, and his tender light red lips upon hers. Most of the time she only wanted to forget, but at this moment in her life, she remembered.
She sat in a hard chair and the cool kitchen just listening to the raging storm outside. The rain sparked thoughts of a night she and Kornelius, Kid to everyone but his mother, had spent in a small tent down by the tracks. The two spent many nights down there. Although young, they believed that they were invincible. Not too far from that night, Kid's father was murdered, and then the two of them got even closer. Louise didn't think it was possible, but it happened. However, eventually, things changed between the two of them. Louise fell in with an opposite crowd, and they drifted apart. She met Frank James, and had a hard time keeping in contact with Kid. Kid disapproved of her new friends, and she was too frightened to even start a conversation, in fear that he would start an argument yet again. Kid repeatedly warned her against hanging out with him. He enforced and reinforced his bad qualities and dangerous lifestyle.
So, Kid left her life, that is, until her wedding. He showed up, suit and tie. He begged for her not to marry Frank. He pleaded with her. He even went to the lengths of proposing himself. But Louise wouldn't have it.
With the rain and fog and alcohol, all she could do was reevaluate the mistakes she had made in her life. But, marrying Frank was not a mistake, she convinced herself. "I would have ruined Kid," she almost voiced aloud. "Frank and I just make sense."
Tears started dropping down onto the paper in front
of her, and she watched as the ink blotched in different spots. She carefully
lifted herself out of the chair, put her coffee cup in the sink, and walked
the long journey back to her room. One more shot of whiskey,
and it was time for a nap. Louise fell asleep as the rain continued to pound
the roof outside.
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