Massacre at Crow Creek Crossing

by Charles G. West

  Outside the dining room, he walked down to the end of the hall to take the back stairs up to the second floor. When he reached the top step, he saw the door to the sheriff’s room standing open. He hesitated for a moment, reluctant to enter the room, before forcing himself to go on. When he walked through the open doorway, he was confronted by the four intruders, standing in a semicircle around the foot of the bed. Three of the four automatically reached for their guns.

  Knowing he was already outdrawn, Beecher held his hands up before him. “Hold on!” he cried out.

  Yarborough grinned, sensing Beecher’s reluctance to fight. He was the only one who had not gone for the .44 on his hip. “Howdy, neighbor,” Yarborough greeted the shaken Beecher. “Come to pay your respects to the sheriff, there? We did, too, but it looks like ol’ John Henry has done checked out on us.” He told his men to put their guns away.

  “Is he dead?” Arthur Campbell asked from the doorway behind Beecher, having been conscience stricken to follow the blacksmith upstairs.

  “Yes, sir, he is,” Yarborough answered. “We came up to see him just now and this is the way we found him. Near as I can figure, he musta had trouble breathin’ or somethin’ and he just cashed in.”

  “He wasn’t having any trouble breathing when I brought him his breakfast this morning.” Mary Lou, a step behind Campbell, was carrying the shotgun Maggie kept in the kitchen.

  Astonished to see the woman brandishing the shotgun, all four outlaws stood still while she went to the head of the bed to take a closer look at the deceased lawman.

  “What’s all this bruising around his neck?” she questioned aloud.

  Yarborough decided it would not serve his purpose to simply kill the three of them to stop their questions. He reasoned that he would have need for their services before he was through raping the town, so he displayed a friendly smile for Mary Lou’s benefit. “That’s what I was wonderin’,” he replied. “Right, boys? We noticed them marks right off. We was just talkin’ about ’em when this feller walked in.” He nodded in Beecher’s direction. “Near as I can figure, Sheriff Black couldn’t get his breath and he was grabbin’ at his throat to try to get some air. I’ve seen it happen before when a man’s about to die.”

  He saw the skepticism in the eyes of all three of the town’s citizens, but he knew there was little they could do about it. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to Black before he died,” he continued with his charade. “I came up here to tell him ’bout my plans to protect the town and how I was lookin’ forward to workin’ with him when he was on his feet again. I’m glad you came up here, Mr. Mayor. I was lookin’ for you, anyway. Wanted to let you know you didn’t have to worry ’bout your town bein’ without protection from outlaws.”

  It was a little too much for Mary Lou to swallow. She couldn’t help herself from commenting. “How are we going to believe you aim to help protect Cheyenne?” She pointed to Troy Womack. “That’s the man who shot Sheriff Black, when he tried to stop him from attacking a defenseless widow. Are you going to arrest him?”

  “That was a case of mistaken identity,” Yarborough quickly replied when he could not think of any reasonable explanation.

  “She wasn’t nothin’ but a damn whore,” Troy blurted.

  “Like I said,” Yarborough went on, “he thought she was somebody else. And it was Black’s fault that he got shot. He shouldn’ta pulled on Womack. If he was alive, he’d most likely admit that it was his fault. He pulled that gun and Troy didn’t have no choice but to protect hisself.” He glanced from face to face to see if he was getting away with his story.

  From the expressions he read, he had to conclude that he wasn’t. They ain’t as dumb as I thought, he told himself. But whether they believe it or not, there ain’t nothing they can do to stop me. “Sometimes things don’t turn out like they oughta. But all you folks in this town need to know is that we’re here to take care of you. I’m your new sheriff and I’ll be keepin’ an eye out for anything that don’t look right.” He looked at Campbell. “Now, I reckon you’d like to clear this body outta your hotel.”

  “Yeah, I reckon,” Campbell said while trying to hide his emotions of disgust and fear for his town.

  “Come on, boys,” Yarborough said. “We need to let the rest of the town know that everythin’s under control, and we’ll be takin’ care of the law from now on.” With a smug grin for Campbell as he walked by, Yarborough led his men out of the room.

  When they were back on the street outside, Yarborough split them up to inform the rest of the merchants that there was a new sheriff in town and it was going to cost them for their protection. “Troy, you and Tiny start out on this side of the street. Red’ll come with me. I wanna pay a little visit to the telegraph office. We don’t want nobody to get any ideas of wirin’ the army about what’s goin’ on here.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Not sure if his hunch was right or not, Cole pointed the big bay toward the stable at the edge of town. He figured that to be the best place to find out if Troy Womack and the men he had met at the cabin by the river had actually returned to Cheyenne. He was still berating himself for having gone on a wild-goose chase to Iron Mountain when he should have been more concerned about staying close to Mary Lou and the other folks in Cheyenne.

  Those were the thoughts that troubled him as he pulled up to the corral beside the stable.

  “Cole . . . Damn . . .” Leon started as he strode hurriedly from the stable to meet him. He looked back over his shoulder toward town as if afraid someone might have seen Cole ride in. “I’m damn glad to see you, but I ain’t sure you’ll be glad you came back when you find out what’s happenin’ here.” Before Cole could respond, Leon went on, spewing words in panic. “We thought you mighta been dead. That Womack feller is back in town and he’s brung three gunmen with him. He’s took over as sheriff, at least some feller with him has—”

  “Whoa,” Cole interrupted him. “Slow down. Who took over as sheriff? What about John Henry Black?”

  “They killed John Henry—said he died on his own—but everybody knows they murdered him. Mary Lou said he was gettin’ better every day till her and Arthur Campbell found him dead with them four gunmen standin’ around his bed.”

  “Is she all right?” Cole asked, and when Leon said she was, he asked, “Is Harley still here?”

  “No,” Leon answered. “Him and Carrie left here, headin’ for Gordon Luck’s place. I don’t know if they stayed there or not.”

  “Him and Carrie?” Cole responded, confused. “Go back and tell me exactly what’s happened.

  Leon went back to the beginning when Douglas and Martha Green found out about Carrie’s life before she’d married their son. Like most everyone else, Cole was amazed to learn of Carrie’s past life and was genuinely sorry to hear of the Greens’ reaction toward her. Leon told Cole the circumstances that enabled Yarborough and his men to take over the town and the dire straits the townspeople found themselves in.

  “What about the vigilance committee?” Cole asked. “The last time this happened, you folks got together and rid the town of that wild bunch.”

  “I don’t know, Cole,” Leon replied. “This time it’s different, I reckon. There’s four of ’em, and they all look like they’d just as soon cut your liver out as say ‘howdy-do.’ Nobody I’ve talked to wants to go up against ’em—and I reckon that includes me.”

  “Nobody?” Cole asked. “Beecher, Low, Campbell, Green—they’ve all got families and businesses to protect. What about Gordon Luck? He led the vigilantes before.”

  “I ain’t heard nothin’ from Gordon,” Leon said. “When Harley rode out with Carrie Green, he said he was gonna tell Gordon what was goin’ on here in town, but I ain’t seen him. Harley had to get outta town ’cause them four killers were lookin’ for him ’cause they saw that fancy saddle he had on his horse, remember? They think he’s the one who shot Womack’s two brothers.”

  Cole paused to consider the situa
tion. It was difficult to imagine that the town was in serious danger of being destroyed by a ruthless gang of outlaws. And he found it hard to believe the men of the town were not going to rise up to drive the unwelcome visitors out. He could understand the reluctance of an individual to stand up to four hardened gunmen alone. He didn’t care for those odds, himself. With safety in numbers, there should be a dozen men who could take up their weapons and overpower the four. Maybe they just needed a leader.

  He decided to go talk to Gordon Luck. Gordon had led the citizens before. Maybe he would lead them again. And if he would, Cole would be the first volunteer to go with him. He wasn’t a resident of the town, but there was someone he was concerned for. “You say these four men are stayin’ at the hotel?”

  “That’s right,” Leon answered. “They took a couple of rooms there.”

  “What about the hotel dinin’ room?” Cole asked. When Leon looked puzzled, Cole asked, “The women who work there, are they all right?” He was reluctant to let on that he was especially concerned for Mary Lou Cagle.

  “As far as I know,” Leon said. “Maggie shut it down, since there ain’t nobody in the hotel but them four outlaws, and they eat at the saloon. Leastways, that’s what she told Arthur Campbell, but the truth of the matter is she ain’t fixin’ no food for the likes of them four. Most of Maggie’s business comes from folks here in town, not just the hotel, so there’s more’n a few folks wishin’ she hadn’t closed up.” Leon shook his head when he thought about it. “I know I wish she hadn’t shut it down. It’s gonna make it hard on me. I never did care much for my own cookin’.”

  “They ain’t even cookin’ for themselves?” Cole asked, still trying to gain information about Mary Lou.

  “They ain’t even there,” Leon replied. “They decided it wasn’t safe for three women to stay there as long as Womack and his gang were upstairs over ’em. Maggie and Mary Lou went to stay with Beulah in that little shack she and her husband built up on Crow Creek.”

  “Good,” Cole replied at once, a great burden having been lifted from his mind. He had been reluctant to ride out to Gordon Luck’s sawmill and leave the women unprotected in town. That problem solved, he could ride out to talk to Gordon about organizing a lynching party for Troy Womack and his three friends. “I’ll get goin’. Maybe Gordon and I can get this thing started and clean your new guests outta here.”

  “Watch yourself, Cole,” Leon warned. “You’d best ride out the back. That one called Yarborough has set himself up in the sheriff’s office, and he might see you if you go out the way you came in.”

  * * *

  “Rider comin’!” Sammy Hill sang out. He dropped the drawknife he had been working with and picked up his rifle. Cooter, his younger brother, ran to the back of the shed to fetch his twenty-gauge shotgun. With all the trouble in town, Gordon Luck had cautioned his two young employees to keep an eye out for strangers. The boys were joined a second later by Harley Branch.

  “Where?” Harley asked, having not sighted the rider yet.

  “Yonder,” Sammy said and pointed to the willows down by the creek.

  Harley squinted, silently cursing his failing eyesight until spotting the lone rider coming up from the creek. A grin spread slowly across his face as he recognized the familiar figure riding in easy rhythm with the bay horse’s gait. He walked out of the shed and stood waiting by a stack of lumber, the grin still in place. “Well, I declare, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes,” he said as Cole rode up. “How come you’re on that bay? Where’s Joe?”

  Cole greeted his friend, then told him about the ambush that took Joe’s life. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you here. Thought you mighta gone back to Medicine Bear’s camp.”

  “I was thinkin’ about it,” Harley said, “but I had to change my plans.”

  “Carrie?”

  “Yeah. You heard?”

  “Yeah, Leon Bloodworth told me about it.”

  “I decided to stay on here a little while, just in case you showed up,” Harley said. “Tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure you weren’t dead when that other Womack feller rode back in town like he didn’t have nothin’ to worry about.”

  “I lost his trail after a little snow covered up his tracks,” Cole said. “Then I made the wrong guess and wound up sayin’ howdy to Raymond Potter up at Iron Mountain while Womack and his friends were headin’ here to Cheyenne.” He went on to tell Harley that he had ridden out there to see if Gordon Luck was ready to get his vigilantes together again and take back their town. “Where is Gordon?” He looked behind Harley to see the two young Hill brothers coming out of the shed to join them, but he didn’t see Gordon.

  “Say howdy to Sammy and Cooter,” Harley said and waited until Cole exchanged greetings with the boys before answering his question. “Gordon’s up at the church rebuilding all his pews. I reckon he’s plannin’ on doin’ some high-powered preachin’. Carrie’s helpin’ him with some curtains and stuff.” The grin returned and he winked at Cole. “Looks to me like they’re gettin’ along pretty good.”

  Cole nodded, aware of the implication.

  Harley’s face turned serious then. “Gordon ain’t plannin’ on ridin’ with the vigilantes again. He said the merchants have to learn to take care of their own business and not count on him to come save ’em every time a drifter shoots somebody.”

  “Seems to me this is a little bigger than a drifter shootin’ another drifter in a saloon fight,” Cole said. “I never figured Gordon would try to stay outta the trouble. His business depends on more folks comin’ in to build businesses—just like the stores and the saloons and everybody else.”

  “He’s up at the church,” Harley said. “Looks to me like he’s thinkin’ more like a preacher now than he did before. Thinkin’ he’s against hangin’s and such. Too much religion will do that to a feller. Go up and talk to him ’cause you’ll need all the men you can get to go up against that gang of killers.” He shrugged and added, “’Course you know you can count on me.”

  * * *

  Carrie held up a curtain for Gordon to see and give his approval. “I can make no claim to be a seamstress, but I think they’ll do the job.”

  “They’ll do just fine,” a beaming Gordon Luck responded. “That was what was missing—a woman’s touch. Fixin’ up the benches helps, but I never thought about hangin’ curtains on the windows.”

  Her smile told him that she was pleased by his approval.

  He paused to watch her as she walked back to the room behind the rough pulpit to prepare the other curtains. In the short time Carrie had been there, the two of them had become very comfortable together. He couldn’t deny having had concerns about her past, which she openly confessed to. He had prayed on the subject last night, and he decided his God would have already forgiven her for her sins, so how could he not do the same? She had expressed an interest in being baptized to wash away her sordid past so it would be as if she was all new again. He had been hit hard after Mary Lou Cagle first accepted his proposal of marriage, then changed her mind.

  For a while, he’d thought he would never consider marriage again, preferring to live without a woman. But the last couple of days had prompted him to think anew about someone to share his life with. Besides, Carrie was younger than Mary Lou. Further daydreaming was interrupted when he glanced toward the open door and saw Cole and Harley approaching the church. He didn’t have to guess the reason for the visit.

  “Howdy, Cole,” Gordon called from the doorway. “I’m glad to see you’re alive. Harley, there, was afraid harm had come to you.”

  “Gordon,” Cole returned. “Looks like you’ve been workin’ pretty hard on the church buildin’.” He noticed Carrie then, at Gordon’s elbow, having heard his greeting from the back of the church. “Carrie. Glad to see you.”

  Feeling that she owed him an explanation, since he had saved her from the fate Malcolm and Travis Womack had planned for her, she immediately came out with it. “I guess you know by now that I wasn
’t completely honest about who I was, and I owe you an explanation.”

  “I don’t see how you owe me anything,” Cole said. “I’m just glad to see that you’re all right.” He nodded toward Gordon. “Looks to me like you found a good place to light.”

  Gordon nodded in return. “That’s what I’ve been tellin’ her.” He was relieved to see there was evidently nothing between Carrie and Cole beyond a casual friendship. He had harbored some concern about the possibility, especially since Cole had rescued her from the men who had killed her husband. He would not have given it any thought had he known what everyone close to Cole and Mary Lou Cagle had figured out long ago—that those two were somehow fated to end up together.

  Getting to the purpose of the visit by Cole, Gordon asked, “Are things any better in town? I reckon that’s the reason you rode out here to see me.”

  “I reckon,” Cole replied. “To answer your question, no, things ain’t any better in town. Matter of fact, they’re worse to hear Leon Bloodworth tell it. I ain’t talked to anybody else ’cause I’m not ready to let Womack and his friends know I’m back. I figured we’d need to get up a sizable posse, so the odds would be too much for those four to put up a fight. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re right,” Gordon said. “You’re gonna need a right sizable posse. Trouble is, where you gonna get it? Jim Low came out to talk to me about the same thing, wantin’ to know if I would lead them. I asked him, lead who? And he said that so far he could count on John Beecher and maybe Leon, and himself. Arthur Campbell and Douglas Green are the main two that want those outlaws run outta town, and neither one is willin’ to put on a gun to help do it. The few folks that attend my church every Sunday don’t have a lot to do with Cheyenne. They’re farmers and ranchers, and they ain’t interested in risking their lives to save that sinful town. So I reckon I ain’t, either. I think the town folk are just gonna have to ride it out and before long those four gunmen will decide to move on before the army or the U.S. marshals come after ’em.”