by Dan Arnold
“I expect he can, in a stage or on a wagon, if you take it easy on the road. He needs to protect that shoulder. His left arm should stay completely immovable. Even if the shoulder heals, I don’t think he’ll ever have full use of the arm again. It may still have to come off. I don’t like the color in his hand,” he said, as he gathered up his things and put them in his bag. “I’ll be off. You be careful out there.”
Holden hadn’t said much to us since we had gotten him back to the jail. The ride in the wagon had nearly done him in. Out there in the brush that day, when he had tried to kill me, he had admitted to shooting Bill and the others. He admitted he did the shootings at the direction of Herman Thorndyke.
“You’re as tough as they say you are,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me, I didn’t catch that.”
“I said you’re one tough hombre. You knew I was laying for you and you rode right into the ambush. The fella who shot me, did he kill Jack Slade the same way?”
“No, he didn’t kill Slade. I did. Why do you ask?”
“I never even knew he was there.”
“The men you killed never knew you were there, either.”
“No, I guess they didn’t,” he smiled and closed his eyes.
The ride back to Bear Creek was uneventful.
After we got our prisoners settled, Hugh wanted to introduce me to the men who had turned up looking to become deputies.
“Hugh, can we do this tomorrow morning? I need to go get my stitches out. Then I need three things, a bath, a good meal and a good night’s sleep.”
He nodded.
“Sure we can, John. In fact, I’m glad to see you’re learning to take care of yourself,” he rasped, with a grin.
I walked down to Lora’s house.
I stood on the porch, with my hat in my hand, waiting for her to come to the door.
“John! I’m so glad your back. Please come in.”
We sat in her parlor. The boarders didn’t seem to be around. It wouldn’t be supper time for a couple of hours.
“So, tell me all about your trip to Thorndyke. Did you get any helpful information from the Sheriff there?”
Talk about a loaded question!
“Yes, it turns out he was the man who shot Bill and three other men. Bill was the only survivor. How’s he doing, by the way?”
“What? Did you say the Chaparral County Sheriff did the shootings?”
“Um, yes, he’s locked up in our jail now, along with Mr. Thorndyke. How’s Bill?”
“Damn it, John, trying to get information out of you is like pulling teeth.”
“Sorry, I’m trying to tell you the story.”
“I think you had better start at the beginning.”
“OK, I will, but first, how’s Bill doing?”
“Oh! He’s doing much better. The doctor thinks he’ll make a full recovery.”
“There’s another question I need to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“I need to know where we stand. You and I…”
She reiterated her concerns and fears.
We talked about fear and how it can keep us from freedom to experience all that God has for us. Faith and fear cannot be in the same place at the same time. They don’t mix any better than oil and water. You either live in one, or you live in the other.
I reminded her that life is uncertain. Each day is a gift from God and comes with no promise for another. She agreed.
“…but, John, can you at least promise me you will be more careful?”
“Um, yeah…I mean, I try to be careful now. I try to think things through, and I pray for wisdom. I’m only human though and I fail sometimes. Thank God for grace and mercy.”
She was thoughtful for a moment.
“OK, ask me again,” she said.
“Ask you what again?”
“John!” she slapped me on my sore arm. “Ask me again…”
I swear, I can be dumber than a post sometimes.
Then it dawned on me!
“Lora, will you marry me?”
She flew into my arms.
“Yes, oh yes, I will marry you. I’m sorry I have been so scared.”
I know you’re wondering what happened next. You’ll have to use your imagination!
Eventually, Lora used some embroidery scissors and some tweezers to remove my stitches. Then I got that bath and a really good meal.
I had told Hugh, I needed three things.
You know, two out of three, aint bad.
40.
The trials didn’t go as planned, but then again, they often don’t.
The first trial was Joe Holden’s. His attorney and the prosecutor wanted a show trial. He had already confessed to doing all four of the shootings, and attempting to shoot me, but at his arraignment hearing, Joe Holden pled “not guilty”. So, we went to trial.
“Sheriff Sage and his deputy, Bob Logan, have testified you were hired by Herman Thorndyke, President of the Chaparral County Stockman’s Association. They testified you told them this, after you were shot by Bob Logan, a well-known gunman. Did you tell them you were hired by the Stockman’s Association?” Holden’s defense attorney asked.
“Objection, Your Honor. The defense is attempting character assault on the deputy,” the prosecutor said.
“Not at all, Your Honor, Deputy Logan has a history of gun violence, as does our Sheriff. They have both shot and killed several men. This is well-known and published information.”
“The objection is sustained. The reputations of the Sheriff and his deputy are not pertinent to this trial. The jury is advised to overlook the defense’s remarks about Deputy Logan and Sheriff Sage. Let the record reflect that. Further, I would advise you, Counselor Smith, to restrict your questioning to the issue at hand.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Let me rephrase my question.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
Mr. Holden, after you were shot by Deputy Logan, and you were lying on the road, badly wounded, did you tell Sheriff Sage and Deputy Logan you had committed these crimes, on the orders of Herman Thorndyke?”
Joe Holden was very calm.
“Not that I recall. I was hurt bad. Sheriff Sage was pressing down on my bullet wound, real hard. I might have said anything to get him to stop.”
“Now hold on…” I started.
The judge banged his gavel.
“Silence in the court! I will not have outbursts from anyone. Is that clear? Proceed with your questioning, Counselor Smith.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Now then, Mr. Holden, if I understood you correctly, you stated the Sheriff was torturing you…”
“Objection, Your Honor. The defense is putting words in the defendant’s mouth.”
“Sustained, the jury is advised to overlook the defense’s statement regarding the treatment of the prisoner. Let the record so show it. Further I would advise you, Counselor, to be very careful with your handling of the witness.”
“Very well, Your Honor, I will rephrase the question.”
He walked back and forth in front of the bench, and then turned to Holden.
“Did you tell Sheriff Sage that Mr. Thorndyke ordered you to kill those people?”
“No, I don’t recall ever doing that”
“No further questions, your honor?”
“The prosecutor may cross examine,” Judge Tucker said.
“Mr. Holden, do you still admit you attempted to shoot and kill Sheriff Sage?”
“Yes, and I would’ve done it too, if Sage wasn’t so damned quick, but the other feller, Bob Logan, shot me first.”
“Do you still admit you shot Mr. Courtney?”
“Yes”
“Did you shoot and kill the surveyor on Mr. Courtney’s ranch.”
“Yes.”
“Did you shoot and kill the other two men in Chaparral County?”
“Yes.”
“But, you have entered a plea of ‘Not Guilty’. Why is that?”
“I’m n
ot guilty.”
“How is that possible, sir? You have stated clearly you are responsible for those killings. Are you, or are you not, guilty of those shootings?”
“Oh, I shot those fellas all right, but I’m not guilty.”
There was a stir in the courtroom, people murmured to one another.
“Order, order in the court!” Judge Tucker banged his gavel.
The prosecutor looked perplexed for a moment.
“Are you suggesting you shot them with your rifle, from a concealed position, all four of those men being unarmed at the time. You shot them, killing them…in self-defense?”
“No. I wasn’t defending myself. They never even knew I was there,” Holden smiled.
“Are you ‘Not Guilty’ by virtue of the fact you were ordered to shoot them, by someone else?”
Holden shook his head.
“Nah, I shot them because they were a problem. I shot and killed them, because I could. It’s what I do. I’m very good at what I do.”
The courtroom stirred a little. The jury looked on, intent with concentration.
“Let me be perfectly clear. Are you admitting you personally planned to murder each of those men? You scouted the best location to shoot them from? You hid and waited until you had a clear shot at them, and then you did, in fact, shoot them?
“Yes.”
“Why would you do such a thing, unless you were hired by Mr. Thorndyke?”
“I object, Your Honor! Mr. Thorndyke is not on trial here.”
“Sustained, the prosecution is reminded to ask questions and not lead the witness. Mr. Thorndyke’s name is to be stricken from the record. The jury is advised to disregard the statement.”
“Your Honor, I am merely trying to determine why Mr. Holden committed these crimes. Let me rephrase the question.”
“Mr. Holden, why did you shoot and kill at least three men and attempt to kill, both Mr. Courtney and the Sheriff?”
Holden smiled again.
“I told you, because they were a problem. It made them become my targets. It’s what I do, I kill people. I’m very, very good at what I do. But, I’m not guilty. I have no guilt about it, at all.”
The courtroom stirred again.
“No further questions, Your Honor. The prosecution rests.”
The jury was only out for about fifteen minutes. They came back with a “Guilty” verdict. One week later, we hung Joe Holden from a gallows built on the courthouse square. The city was crowded with spectators. Joe Holden had become famous and even granted interviews to the newspapers. A photograph of him, smiling, inside his jail cell, had appeared on the front page of the Bear Creek Banner.
Herman Thorndyke never even had a trial. When Joe Holden recanted his story and refused to implicate Mr. Thorndyke, the Grand Jury returned a “No Bill.” The charges were dropped, and I was forced to release him.
The telegram we had sent the Governor was supposed to convince him to send the U.S. Army into Chaparral County, to preserve the peace. Bureaucracy, time and distance had delayed the Army from moving in.
When Joe Holden was executed, the Thorndyke’s understood the Stockman’s Association had dodged a bullet. His conviction left them without an enforcer, and there were still three names on the list of people to be eliminated. The Thorndyke boys took it upon themselves to solve the problem.
One morning, right at daybreak, they snuck up on one of the small ranches which had armed itself in defense against the killings. Just as one of the men in the barricaded house stepped out to get some water from the well, they attacked, laying down a hail of bullets. He was killed instantly. The others inside the house, returned fire and a pitched gun battle erupted.
It turned into a siege, until the Thorndyke boys sent a burning wagon load of hay down the hill, into the house.
As the occupants of the burning house staggered out of the smoke and flames, The Thorndyke boys shot them down, one by one. In all, four men, two women and a small child were killed.
That was too much for the vigilante committee. They burned down Herman Thorndyke’s house, with him and one of his sons, Horace Thorndyke, inside it. They were both killed. The fire raced from building to building, nearly engulfing the town. Even the courthouse was burned and all the property records were destroyed. The Army finally intervened and restored order.
The remaining four Thorndyke boys disappeared.
41.
For their part in the violence, now known as the Chaparral County War, the four Thorndyke brothers were wanted men. They had killed seven people, two of whom were women, and one, a small child. The Diamond T was still owned by the Thorndyke’s, but now that they were outlawed, they couldn’t go home to their ranch. The State of Colorado was expected to seize the property and holdings. Bud, the foreman ran the place. It had been whittled back down to its original size, and the neighbors, including the Bar C, were putting up barbed wire to mark the boundaries.
Henry, Howard, Harvey, and Homer Thorndyke, were outlaws on the run, but they were not without resources. The other members of the now defunct Chaparral County Stockman’s Association considered them heroes. Upon the death of their father, they had inherited quite a bit of money, still in the Bank of Thorndyke, in which the four of them were now the majority stockholders. The bank was one of the few buildings that had not burned, as it was one of the few buildings in the town of Thorndyke built of brick, rather than wood. Because of their wealth, and for as long as the ranch continued to make a profit, they would not be desperate for money.
They had time on their hands and hearts full of hatred.
Since the Thorndyke’s had gone on the run, a couple of the men who had been in the vigilante committee had been murdered. There was no way to know for certain, but everyone believed, the Thorndyke’s had done those killings.
Bob made it a personal priority to catch the Thorndyke boys.
I had too much going on in my own county, to worry about them.
“Bob, it’s not our problem. I have no interest in trying to hunt them down. That’s a matter for the new Chaparral County Sheriff to deal with.”
He scowled.
“I’m told they ride right into town and walk into the bank just as if they own it, which they do. The new Sheriff doesn’t even try to arrest them. They have the support of too many powerful people. And then, there’s the fact they’re armed and dangerous.”
“Again, it’s not our problem. I’m trying to get this department organized. I intend to establish regular patrols of the roads and little towns throughout Alta Vista County. I need my deputies out there earning a paycheck.”
Bob thought about my comment for about one second.
“John, sooner or later the Thorndykes will come after you. You should get them first, at a time and place of your choosing. Don’t let them bushwhack you when you least expect it.”
Bob always thinks in terms of violent action. He thinks like a hired killer, because it is what he was. Maybe, what he still is.
“I don’t have time to waste chasing them all over the country. I hear they own a saloon in Cheyenne. Maybe that’s where they are, Or Chicago, or Denver or Salt Lake. I’ve heard they attacked and killed a Mormon drover, over that way.”
Bob nodded.
“Yeah, I heard that too, but they do still manage to show up in Thorndyke, every few weeks.”
Eventually, Bob got too restless. When he heard the Thorndyke boys had shown up in Chaparral County again, he came to see me.
“You do remember the terms of our agreement, right?”
I nodded.
“What specifically are you referring to?”
“Well, you agreed I could take some time off occasionally, so I can work a job away from Alta Vista County. I want to do that. I want to go after the Thorndykes, on my own. They are worth one thousand dollars, each. I would find the additional financial resources to be of suitable motivation, even if they weren’t such terrible miscreants.”
I thought about my answe
r.
If I said “no” he could just quit and go do it anyway. He is a man hunter and predatory by nature. As long he was still technically my deputy, he might show some restraint.
“OK, but keep in mind they’re wanted alive. There’s no reward if they’re dead. You check in with Wilfred McCoy, the new Sheriff over there. Don’t step on his authority, or do anything that might undermine his position in Chaparral County.”
Bob nodded.
“Fair enough, John, but I don’t expect he’ll be much help. He strikes me as being entirely too diligent in his endeavors toward keeping the peace.”
“That’s his job, Bob. Wilfred McCoy is a peace officer, and a good one. Try to respect that. They’ve had enough bloodshed in Chaparral County.”
It was Saturday morning. I was having breakfast in the Bon Ton, with Tom and Becky.
“I’m supposed to be levying more fines and citations, to offset my department’s expenses. The politics going on in this town is getting so complicated, it’s just plain silly. Shoot, even though they changed my title to “Chief of Police”, everybody stills calls me ‘Marshal’. I’m the same man, doing the same job. I haven’t changed, the town has. It’s getting ridiculous, John. I have to be careful about saying or doing anything that might have a political implication. I could lose my job if, and/or, when we have a change in the political party currently governing this town.”
“I know, Tom, you’re hired by the Mayor and the City Council, and I’m elected by the people. Our political affiliations can make us or break us.”
“I had no idea what hoops my dad was forced to jump through, beyond law enforcement, how complicated it gets, trying to keep the local business people happy,” Becky said.
“That’s only a part of it. You know the new hotel and saloon being built over near the rodeo grounds? The two men who are behind it came to me and tried to bribe me into letting them have open gambling and ‘working girls’.”
I saw Becky blush.