Vigilance Committee War

by Bill Sheehy

  Shaking his head, Buck smiled. ‘We’ve been hired to do something about the gang calling themselves the Vigilance Committee. Been told some of the local folks think this gang is doing good work. One of your editorials was read to us but didn’t name any names. So can you tell us who you think believes hanging rustlers is a good thing?’

  ‘Ah, yes. I heard someone was coming to town to clean out this Committee. I’d like to interview you about that. Why you’re doing this kind of work, how you’re going to do what they hired you to do and what will you do when you catch some of the gang members. That would make a good story for the paper.’

  Buck shook his head. ‘Can’t see how it would help us, telling the members of the Committee what we’re doing. All we’re trying to do is get a start on this Vigilance Committee. But can you answer our questions?’

  ‘I for one don’t think they are good for the area, so go ahead. I’ll tell you what you want to know, if I can.’

  Bass held up a hand. ‘Wait a minute, gentlemen. If I may interrupt. I’m new to all this. Born, raised and educated in the big city. Now you’re talking about vigilantes and rustlers. I have a general idea what those are but not more than that. Can you help me out here a little? What exactly are you talking about?’

  Sinclair chuckled. ‘Jason is the intellectual half of the team. We met at college. He was just getting his doctor programme completed when I had to come out to Auburn. We’ve been, well, kind of partners so, not having a practice, he decided to come with me.’

  The doctor nodded. ‘A chance to see a part of the country I’ve only ever heard about,’ explained Bass. ‘It’s all brand new to us, and I must say, a little exciting. But there is so much we don’t know. Toby is more familiar with a lot of it, more than I, and I apologize for being so inquisitive.’

  Buck shook his head. ‘No reason for it. I reckon things are a mite different out here. You have to understand, once you get away from the city you won’t find many lawmen. Here in town you’ve got Sheriff McDonald. But there isn’t much he can do outside the town’s limits. Over at Fort Rawlins there’s a federal territorial marshal, however he’s got the whole territory to cover so there’s not much he can do either. Until something major happens. But he’s still only one, or if he’s got a deputy, maybe two men. That means out in the country the law is scarce. Louie and I were Texas Rangers. So we’ve had some experience. Cause of that, we’ve been hired by the folks here to put a halt to a gang calling themselves the Vigilance Committee.’

  Bass nodded. ‘And this Committee, they are stopping rustlers? Those being cattle thieves?’

  ‘Yup. Again, you have to keep in mind there’s a whole lot of open country out here. Prairies with few people. The livestock on most of the larger ranches simply roam around, feeding and getting fat. Oh, yeah, the hands will ride around during the year, checking the stock, cleaning waterholes and generally keeping an eye on things. That leaves a lot of country and a lot of cattle or horses that only get seen or tallied come round-up time. This makes it good pickings for someone wanting to steal another man’s stock.’

  ‘Back in Arkansas we’d have the police or possibly the Army to protect someone’s livestock. I can see how that wouldn’t work here. So this Committee is doing the lawman’s work for them. What do these rustlers do? Simply drive the cattle or horses off?’

  Buck nodded. ‘Sometimes. Rustling can be done in a number of ways. Down in Texas there are thousands of head running wild. A fella might simply register his brand, hire hands to go out and round up as many as they can, put his brand on them. Those cattle then belong to him. Driven up north to the railhead he can make pretty good money. Now this isn’t exactly rustling, branding wild stock. They’re called mavericks. But not all cattle roaming out on open range are wild. Around here there’s a couple big spreads with stock doing just that, roaming around putting on weight. So let’s say a couple men come in, gather up a couple dozen head and walk them on out to the nearest rail road. That is another kind of rustling.

  ‘You have to remember, the ranchers don’t know exactly how many head they’ve got. But come round-up time, when they go to branding and getting a herd together for a drive, they can pretty much tell if they’re missing stock. Oh, a few head here or there might not be missed, but rustlers can’t make money by taking only a few head. It’s when the rustling gets too big that something must be done. The sheriff can’t go chasing around and the marshal can’t either. The territory is just too big. That’s when, often, to protect themselves the ranchers will get together and try to catch the rustlers. We were hired because the problem here is with a gang who not only hang rustlers but have strung up a few men who might not be thieves.’

  ‘And now you’ve got the job. How can you catch them? I mean, you would have to be lucky to find them hanging someone, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. Unless someone knows something that’ll help us identify who’s on this Committee, they’ll be hard to stop. That’s what we’re hoping Mr Sinclair, uh, Toby, can help us with.’ Turning to the newspaper man, he smiled. ‘That’s our question; do you have any idea who is on the Committee?’ When Sinclair shook his head, Buck went on, ‘How about who is all for the vigilantes?’

  ‘I still say it don’t seem fair,’ said Sinclair, ‘you’re wanting information but not willing to give me any. However I can see your point. All right. Let’s see, top of the list I’d say would be the big ranchers, Jacobson and Runkle. Those two just about run things around here. Then there’s Fitzwalter, he’s always talking about the good work the Committee is doing. A couple owners of businesses here in Auburn seem to like the Committee too. I can’t quite figure that out. Hmm, I’d say those were the main ones.’

  ‘Well, that gives us a couple names of people to talk to, a place to start.’

  ‘Glad I’m able to help. Tell you what, anything else I hear I’ll pass on to y’all. In trade, once you’re finished you’ll come in and let me interview you. Does that sound fair?’

  Both Louie and Buck laughed and nodded their agreement.

  Chapter 9

  Finding Mayor Winterbottom wasn’t difficult. Turned out he owned the town’s only general store. The first thing striking Buck when he walked into the store was the odour; an odd mixture of leather from the delicately carved high-cantled saddles on a rack near the door to the sugary-sweet aroma wafting up from a large barrel of colourful hard candies. Standing behind the counter beyond the barrel was an attractive young woman.

  More closely a girl rather than a woman, Buck figured she looked to be about twenty. Her face was framed by golden blonde hair hanging in long curls to the shoulders of her pale blue full-bosomed dress. The young woman’s eyes sparkled as she was softly laughing.

  ‘Good morning gentlemen,’ she said, smiling from ear to ear.

  Louie frowned. ‘What’s so funny? I buttoned my shirt crooked or something?’

  She appeared to be barely able to contain herself. ‘Forgive me, but I’ve been wondering what the two of you would say when you came in.’

  ‘You knew we’d be in?’ asked Louie, glancing sideways at Buck.

  ‘Oh, I figured sooner or later you’d want to talk to my father.’

  Buck nodded. ‘But what is so funny about that?’

  ‘Well, nothing. What I was thinking about was how you’d likely react when you found out where Rose Marie was heading when she almost ran you down yesterday.’

  ‘I can’t hardly see,’ said Louie starting to let his anger show, ‘how being run down in the street would be funny.’

  ‘No, and I am sorry for laughing. But when Rose told me, well, we started laughing and almost couldn’t stop. But you’re correct, it wasn’t funny. To you, anyway. You see, Rose is always like that; rushing from here to there. And she thinks because she’s Mr Jacobson’s only daughter it makes her someone special. Being the unmarried daughter of the wealthiest man in the area and having every single man in fifty miles sniffing around does that, I guess.’

>   Neither man saw anything comical in what the young woman was saying. ‘From what she said as she barrelled by us,’ said Buck seriously, ‘she had somewhere important to go. What was she late for, anyway?’

  ‘That’s what was so funny. She was coming here, to see me. That’s all. We get together every so often, to gossip and talk about the men who’ve found reason to visit the Frying Pan.’

  Still serious, Buck frowned. ‘Can’t speak for Louie here, but I fail to see how funny and exciting that must have been. But never mind, you’re correct. We are here to talk with Mayor Winterbottom. Is he anywhere around?’

  Suddenly sober, the woman looked from one man to the other. ‘Oh, yes, he’s back there,’ she pointed toward the rear of the store, ‘doing some paperwork.’

  Without another word the two men walked back and found the round-shouldered man hunched over a desk, studying a newspaper.

  Chapter 10

  William Winterbottom, mayor of Auburn and owner of the town’s general store, hadn’t always been the mayor. His family had once owned a cotton farm on the Brazos River in the old Republic of Texas. The family originally came from England, emigrating when they learnt of the availability of good farm land. With the use of Mexican farm labour, the Winterbottom cotton farms were very successful. When the southern states seceded from the north, the bottom fell out of the cotton industry.

  The youngest of four boys, when the last farm was declared bankrupt by the banks, William left the family. For a few years he worked on farms farther north and even at one point a cattle ranch. It was in Fort Worth he became a clerk in a clothing store. Life in the big city was good. When he married the store owner’s daughter, Tilly, it got even better. Until giving birth to their first child. Complications set in and while the newborn daughter was healthy, squalling so, the mother died.

  Taking his daughter, Mathilda, or Matty as she was called growing up, William left Fort Worth. Matty was just reaching womanhood when they got off the stage in Auburn, up in the Indian Territory.

  ‘Raising a daughter by yourself,’ he was heard to say at the time, ‘and hoping she’ll grow up to be a lady like her mother was is one of the hardest jobs a man can take on.’

  Arriving in Auburn with just enough money to buy the town’s only general store, the Winterbottoms put down roots. Actually, it was Mathilda who put her foot down.

  ‘We’ve been moving from place to place, Pa,’ she said in a voice that brooked no argument, ‘and it’s time to settle. It would have been better back in one of the bigger towns but Auburn will have to do.’

  Being one of the handful of business owners in town made William a big fish in a little pond. When the town’s mayor died, having been bit by a rattlesnake, William put his hand up and was quickly accepted.

  Over the next few years Matty developed into being a very attractive young woman. Not, it was true, as pretty as her friend Rose Marie Jacobson, but in a country with few unmarried women, attractive enough to have many suitors.

  ‘I look forward to the day my daughter accepts the notion of marriage,’ William remarked one afternoon to the town barber while getting his hair cut. Over the years William hadn’t missed many meals. Not being a big man to start with, and enjoying the beer brewed by the owner of the nearest saloon, he found himself almost regularly taking wool pants with bigger and bigger waists from the shelf. His visits to the barber became farther apart too, as his hair got thinner and thinner. But through it all, becoming bald, getting rounder shouldered and worrying about his daughter, he was able to keep a happy outlook.

  ‘Yes,’ he told the bartender, a man almost as round-bellied as he was, ‘having an unmarried daughter in the house does pose problems. Now, it isn’t her fault, no sir,’ he paused, then went on, ‘well, not really. Uh huh. It’s the men who come into the store. Not to make a purchase but to talk with Matty. Of course she likes it, but, well, you know. You got any children?’ When the bartender shook his head, William nodded. ‘Then you won’t understand what I have to go through. Sure wish she’d settle down and get hitched.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘Mayor Winterbottom,’ said Buck quietly, ‘don’t want to bother you but we’ve got a couple questions.’

  Winterbottom looked up, grimacing. ‘Have you seen the latest edition of the papers? This one comes over from Fort Rawlins. Dropped off by the morning stage. Here it is, front page, more about the vigilantes over here. Why would that be news to anyone over on that side of the mountains? I ask you. This is the kind of thing I was telling you about. Stories like this don’t sit well with those fools in Congress. Not when we’re trying to convince them we’re settled enough to become a state. Oh, damn!’ he exclaimed, bunching up the paper and throwing it to the floor.

  ‘Well,’ said Buck calmly, ‘if we can get a few answers maybe we can get busy and do something about that.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Winterbottom, calming down. ‘I’m sorry to get so upset. But it riles me to no end.’ Taking a deep breath he glanced first at Buck then the other man. ‘All right, what can I tell you that’ll help?’

  ‘First off, you mentioned thinking some of those helping put up the money to hire us don’t exactly see the negatives of the vigilantes. Can you tell us who that would be?’

  ‘Uh huh. Easy. Both Handley Runkle and Carl Jacobson put up the most money and both made it clear they thought it was a waste of time. Whoever they are, those calling themselves the Vigilance Committee, what they’re doing is good according to the two ranchers. Neither thinks they’re losing many head to rustlers. They don’t seem to understand what it means to the statehood proposal.’

  ‘Anyone else? Did these two put up all the money by themselves?’

  ‘Well, no. Fitzwalter added a little, and so did most of the business owners here in town. As mayor I felt I had to give even more. Both as mayor and owner of the store.’

  ‘This Fitzwalter, Sheriff McDonald and the editor of the local paper seemed to think he was one of the strongest supporters of the Committee. What’s his story?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t really know much about him. Doesn’t come into town all that much. Stays pretty close to the home ranch.’

  ‘Yeah, McDonald says he just recently bought the range homesteaded by a man who was killed. Can you tell us anything about that?’

  ‘Naw, just what people were saying. Happened out a couple miles from his main house. The ranch was put together by a fella named Price. Got hisself a good little herd of range horses, mustangs ya know. Called his spread the Mustang Ranch. Out there close to the mouth of the valley. Last spread up against the foothills. Found his body lying in the road. Fitz comes along a while later, having bought Price’s holdings. He goes on buying and selling horses, you know. Hired hisself a foreman who knows about horses. Fitz goes out on buying trips and comes back with a slew of half-wild stock. The foreman and a couple hands then work the animals into some kind of shape, saddle breaks them, you know. Sells most of that stock to Jacobson and Runkle. To look at Fitz you’d think he was straight out of the city. Wears city suits, not jeans and pointy-toed riding boots like most men around here do. Can’t tell you much more’n that. He don’t usually say too much. Just listens and then nods or shakes his head. Strange fellow.’

  Back on the street, after walking past the young woman at the front counter without saying anything, the two men stood for a moment.

  ‘Guess the next thing to do,’ said Buck, pulling gently at his hat brim, getting it comfortable, ‘is to go talk a bit with the big spenders. I’m guessing our best way to finding out anything about this Committee will be to let those fellows come to us. If we start digging, I’ll bet it won’t take long for someone in that gang to come calling. Maybe sending Yarberry to do his work. I don’t know, but if we can’t find them, let them come find us.’

  Louie frowned and looking up and down the street, nodded.

  ‘Can’t think of any other way to get the ball rolling. But, partner, we’ll have to keep our eyes open. If
that Yarberry does come calling, we better be ready.’

  ‘Probably goes for anyone in that Vigilance Committee, too.’

  Chapter 12

  Buck’s stud horse didn’t like it much when he threw a saddle on, inhaling and puffing up his belly when Buck went to buckling up the cinch strap. Buck chuckled and jamming a knee into the horse’s side, jerked the strap tight.

  ‘Damn fool horse. Give you a bit of freedom in the corral and you get stupid.’

  Louie, busy saddling his own horse, laughed. ‘Seems like your black horse would learn. He tries that about every time.’

  ‘Oh, he’s smart enough. Just thinks he’s smarter than me and has to be shown it isn’t true.’

  Being careful of the big teeth, Buck slipped the bit into the animal’s mouth and stepping into the saddle, swung aboard. ‘Guess we ought to stop by the sheriff’s office. Been so busy listening to people tell what little they know about the Committee, I never found out which way it is to Jacobson’s spread.’

  Stopping in front of the office, Buck was about to swing down when a horse came galloping down the dirt street. Bouncing in the saddle on the big, dapple grey horse was a boy about ten or so.

  ‘Sheriff, Sheriff,’ yelled out the youngster, hauling back on the reins and jumping to the ground. ‘Sheriff, there’s a man hangin’ from the bridge down by the river. Ya gotta come.’

  Before the boy could get to the office door it came open and Sheriff McDonald came out tucking in his shirttail. ‘Hey there, Freddie. Slow down and stop yelling. Now, take a deep breath and tell me what the excitement is all about.’

  The boy stopped and did what he was told; standing still and looking down, inhaled. Holding it for a moment, he looked up, exhaled and started in again. ‘There’s a man hangin’ from the bridge,’ he said patiently. ‘Ya gotta come see.’