by Gene Shelton
A half hour later Jim pushed his empty plate away, waved off Hattie’s offer to refill his coffee cup, motioned for her to sit beside him and reached for her hand.
“Hattie, I’ve decided something. Not just today, but over the past few months. There’s a world of opportunity in Tascosa and the Panhandle, a lot of things a man can do to make a good living.” He sighed and looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t intend to run for sheriff again this fall.”
Hattie’s eyes misted. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it for the world, but I’m glad you made that decision. I’ve worried so about you. In case you hadn’t noticed, Jim East, being a sheriff isn’t the safest line of work for a man.”
“Or for a woman to have to worry through,” Jim added, his tone tender. “I haven’t spent nearly enough time with you over the past few years, girl. I plan to make that up to you. Until you get tired of having me underfoot and boot me out the door.”
She squeezed his hand. “That’ll be a while, Mister East,” she said.
Tascosa
January 1887
Jim East handed his badge and the keys to the Oldham County jail to newly elected Sheriff Tobe Robinson, concluded the exchange with a handshake, and led Hattie from the courthouse into the blustery north wind that swept down McMasters and swirled onto Court Street. Neither spoke until the door of their home closed behind them and blocked the chill outside.
“Well, former sheriff East,” Hattie said as she draped her coat on a peg and turned into his arms, “I guess I have you to myself for a while now.”
Jim grinned at her. “For better or for worse. And maybe even sometimes for dinner.”
“I’ve got a treat planned for you this morning, Jim,” she said. “Chocolate. I’ve been saving it for weeks for a special occasion.”
Jim pulled two chairs around to face the fireplace and placed a small table before them. The two sipped at the rich, steamy delicacy in silence for a time, content with the moment and the simple pleasure of each other’s company.
Finally, Hattie sighed and turned to her husband. Jim saw a mixture of relief and pride in her eyes. “Any regrets, Jim? Over giving up the badge?”
“A few. There were so many crimes I never solved, people I never caught. One of the things that grates on me is that I never found proof Bill Moore was stealing LS cattle. Now he’s fat and happy and has a hatful of money. I never could abide a man who would steal from the brand he rode for, Hattie. The old cowboy in me coming out again, I suppose.” He fell silent and listened to the moan of the wind outside.
“Jim, you accomplished more than enough during your term,” Hattie said. “People will remember what you did as sheriff of Tascosa.”
Jim stared into the fire for a few heartbeats, then shrugged. “No, Hattie. They won’t remember what I did. People remember things that happen. They’ll remember the big gunfight on Main Street. They’ll remember the dead men buried on Boot Hill. But they won’t remember a thing that never happened.”
He leaned back, stretched in contentment, and pulled Hattie closer to him. “They won’t remember the big range war that tore the Texas Panhandle apart, Hattie. Because it didn’t happen. I’ll be more than happy to settle for that.”
EPILOGUE
After he turned in his badge as sheriff of Oldham County, Jim East worked for a year as a ranch foreman, then bought the Equity Saloon on Tascosa’s Main Street. It was in that establishment that he was involved in his last recorded gunfight when he killed gambler Tom Clark in a shootout in 1889. When Tascosa was in its death throes as a community, Jim East moved to Douglas, Arizona, in 1903, where he served as city marshal, chief of police, and police judge. He died there on May 12, 1930, at the age of 77.
Pat Garrett returned to New Mexico, lost a fortune in an irrigation scheme, and later served the state again as a special investigator and sheriff. In February 1908, near Alameda Arroyo, New Mexico, the famed lawman was killed by a gunshot to the back of his head. The identity of his killer was never established.
Dave Rudabaugh, the unwashed partner of Billy the Kid, made his escape into Mexico where he terrorized a village until the inhabitants finally became fed up and solved the problem by chopping off Rudabaugh’s head and displaying it on a stake in the town square.
Lem Woodruff recovered from his severe gunshot wounds and was tried along with Luis Bausman, Charley Emory, Tom Emory and J. B. Gough (the Catfish Kid) for the murders of Ed King, Frank Valley, Jesse Sheets and Fred Chilton in the “Big Fight.” The first trial resulted in a hung jury; in a second trial the defendants were acquitted.
No proof was ever established that Bill Moore, fired from the LX under a cloud of suspicion, had started his own ranching empire with the aid of a long rope and a running iron. He became a successful and respected ranch owner in New Mexico.
Jess Jenkins parlayed his earnings in Tascosa and Hogtown into a career as a successful businessman and entrepreneur in the Panhandle.
Tom Harris, leader of the cowboy strike, took his own life sometime in the late 1800s.
Tascosa, the one-time cow capital of the Texas Panhandle, did not survive the winds of politics, railroads and progress. The original site of Tascosa now is home to the famed Cal Farley’s Boys Ranch, the land deeded to Farley by Julian Bivins, LX Ranch owner. Today there are only two tangible reminders of Tascosa’s past. One is the old two-story courthouse which now serves as a museum on Boys Ranch. The other is Boot Hill.