by Lou Bradshaw
Within a half hour we found the dead horse. It was still warm. Its skull had been crushed and its throat cut. From the looks of its right foreleg, it had been cut badly and possibly some other damage. It probably just got worse and worse. They would be riding double and carrying an extra saddle, so their remaining horse wouldn’t go far. My guess was they were going to set up and wait for the other two.
Sundown found us still on the trail, but not far behind. We made a cold dry camp that night taking shifts at watch. We could definitely smell smoke, and it wasn’t just a taunting whiff now and then but smoke. During the early part of evening I heard the sound of what seemed to be a pan or coffee pot clang against something hard. When Andy woke me for the midnight till two o’clock watch, I told him that I was going to Injun my way down the trail. If they had a fire going, maybe I could get a location on it.
The moon was at its half stage and up. It wasn’t as good as a full moon but it was all I’d need to follow that trail. In less than a half mile I came to a point of rocks, and easing my way around it I could see their fire. I was sore tempted to move on in and give ‘em an early wake up call, but I thought better of it. The night was pretty chilly, and one of them would be keeping the fire going. I’ve found that when it’s getting cold like that a body never really sleeps well in the open. Or at least I never did. So I went back to let Andy know what I’d found.
We led our horses to within a hundred yards of that point of rocks, and then picketed them up on the slope off the trail. Then I took Andy to that outcropping of rocks where some long ago geologic upthrust had shoved a huge chunk of a different kind of rock out of the mountainside. That point of rock was actually the western most part of a quartz like monolith. We waited for the sun to start making his self known again. We took turns catching little naps while we waited. Waiting was hard enough, but waiting in the cold was no fun at all. There had been overnight frosts for some time now, but it was getting colder by the day. We both were wearing sheepskin coats.
When the eastern sky started showing gray, I woke Andy and we took a better look at what we had in front of us.
Going back to the point of rock, we found it to be blind corner. I didn’t much want to go wandering out around the little jut of rock for fear that I might run smack into ‘em. So taking off my hat, I eased my head up between some rocks and peeped around the corner. There was a cove of sorts with a sheltered overhang. Beyond the sheltered spot there was another blind corner. The overhang and the ledge looked for all the world like some giant had come along with a shovel and taken a couple of scoops out of the mountainside. I suspect that a whole slab of rock had split off and fallen away just below the ledge. The rest of the mountain was steep, but covered with timber for quite a way up. Below that ledge it was sheer rock face for about two hundred feet straight down.
I backed out of those boulders and away from that blind corner. They had set up camp, not fifty yards from where we stood. The first thing we did was get up above them and plan our move.
From higher up the side of the mountain, it looked like the cove was the product of a huge chunk of rock which had split and cracked several times in several directions. I knew that rocks had seams and layers and would crack and split from ice and roots mostly, but I didn’t know much else.
There was plenty of cover from both east and west for us to get right into their back yard before they knew we were even in the neighborhood. They only had one horse and were probably low on grub, so my best guess was they were going to sit there and wait for a while for the others to catch up.
We worked it out that Andy would go over to the far side and come in from the east, while I would come in from the near side. There was only about a twenty five foot area without cover for either of us. Since this would be close work, we wouldn’t need rifles, rather we would use hand guns. Andy passed me the express gun, which he had been carrying in his deputy duties. He told me that I’d need it more than he would.
Moving slowly down the slope, I watched as Andy worked his way across the top of that bare rock and disappeared back into the timber. Then I had to wait until he was in position before I could make my move. Sometimes waiting can be mighty hard on a man, especially when he knows that any minute guns could be going off and any of us might die… any of us or all of us. I waited.
If our luck held out, we would be able to have them all buttoned up before they were even awake and had the cobwebs cleared. Our luck didn’t hold. I heard some fearful cussin and it was coming from two different voices. Some of those words I had never heard let alone knew what they meant.
Finally, I saw Andy among the rocks on the far side of the overhang. We were both in position to take them, when Poke got up and stalked out from under the overhang moving toward me. If I were to make a move now Andy would be helpless because I’d be in his line of fire. I let the judge move on past my position, trusting that Andy would cover or shoot Gentry. I didn’t care which.
When Poke had passed by me, I stepped out and drew back both hammers of the express gun saying, “US Marshal. You’re under arrest.” He froze with his back to me.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Clyde Gentry coming up on my right and slightly behind me. I just swung that shotgun around and hit him with a backswing somewhere on the side of the neck below his right ear. He went down.
Andy was there with gun in hand. I told him to watch Gentry. I doubt if he even heard me, all he could see was Poke. What happened next, happened so fast that I still can’t quite get the straight of it. I looked back at Gentry and back at Poke, who was facing Andy, and each had a gun pointed at the other. Glancing back at Gentry I saw him coming up with a gun in his fist. I started to swing my shotgun around when he shot Andy. Almost at the same half or third of a second, I blew most of Gentry’s head away. Either Andy or Poke got off a shot; at that instant I didn’t know which.
Swinging back around, I saw Andy stumble and lurch forward. He must have been the shooter because Poke’s right wrist was a pulp and his gun was gone. He stood dumbly looking at his sleeve, when Andy fell into him. The back of Andy’s head was a bloody mess. He was already dead as he fell. His knees folded, and he hit Polk with a glancing blow as he toppled over the edge. Poke was knocked to his left into a cedar sapling.
The Judge managed to grab a branch and hold on to keep from falling, but he only had one foot on the edge. The rest of him was suspended in mid air about two hundred feet above where that fractured rock had landed when it split off from the ledge. I looked over and saw Andy’s body hung up in a cedar some fifty feet down. He wasn’t moving, and I didn’t expect him to. I would mourn and grieve his death for years to come, but right now I had to make that fat son of a bitch suffer and earn every second he had left.
Poke was screaming about his wrist and about his predicament. He was pleading with me to help him, begging me to pull him up, and trying to bribe me. I said, “Amos Poke, you’re still under arrest, and as my prisoner it’s my duty to take you in alive… if I can. Just hang on and I’ll get a rope.” I went over to their gear and found a length of rope, and took it back to the edge.
I asked him, “Judge, you don’t even know who we are, do you?”
So while I took my time getting that rope tied off to the base of that little cedar, I told him the story of what had happened that day so long ago, and how we had managed to dispose of every one of his gang. And now there was only one left. “Your Dishonor,” I said, “I don’t know if I feel any too comfortable reaching out there and wrapping this rope around you. I’m a little skittish about heights…Oh, I think this will work.” And I shook out a loop and tossed it over his head. Then I snugged it up real nice and tight around his fat neck.
“Now, you just stay right there, and I’ll be right back. I gotta go get our horses and some more rope… Oh… Don’t worry, if you lose your grip the rope will break your fall in about thirty feet or so.” And I went back to get our horses. As I walked away, I could hear him begging and pleading then he started
crying. I kept on walking.
When I came back with the horses I took a coil of rope from my saddle and tied it to a stout cedar directly above where Andy’s body was hung up in that tree. Poke was still hanging on, but he was sweatin and sniveling.
“I’ve got money.” He said. “I’ve got twelve thousand dollars in my saddle bag. If you get me out of this, you can have half of it. No you can have it all.”
“Is that how much was in there? I didn’t stop to count it… I’ve already got it.” I didn’t, but he needn’t know that.
“Please man.” He wailed. “You can’t just kill me in cold blood. It’s your duty to take your prisoners in safely.”
“No, the oath I took didn’t say anything about that. And it sure didn’t say anything about me jeopardizing my safety because you got yourself in a damned fool situation. No sir, it didn’t.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to climb down here and retrieve my brother’s body.” And I dropped the rope down to where Andy waited. With hands on the rope and feet against the rock face, I went down to Andy’s body.
I didn’t want to look at it, but I had to. He was pretty well broken up, but I managed to get a sort of harness on him, and got it securely tied. Then back up I went hand over hand and foot over foot. I was sure thankful that my life had been full of hard work because I was plenty fagged out when I reached the top.
Using Andy’s horse, I ran the slack rope over his saddle horn and sort of used it like a pulley. I led him a few paces and went back to check. His body was free of the tree and in the clear. So I just walked the horse toward the overhang going back every ten feet or so to make sure there wasn’t a problem. When we got him within a few feet of the top I took hold of the harness and pulled him the rest of the way.
I got his blanket and ground sheet and wrapped his body up real snug, and tied it all together with piggin string. It was plenty cool; for the most part the temperature was below forty. Then I carried him to the overhang.
The judge was getting pretty panicky; I was surprised that he had hung on as long as he did, what with losing all that blood from his wrist. His grip had to be getting weaker and weaker. I could see that he was just hanging on. Some folks just hate to let go of things.
“Are you gonna go to that much trouble for my body?” He asked sarcastically.
“Only thing I’m gonna do about your body is cut it down.” With that I walked over to where Gentry’s body lay, and went through his pockets. His personal effects, I dumped into one of the saddle bags. Then I grabbed his foot and drug him to the edge of the cliff and rolled him off.
The judge started moaning and sobbing. He was slipping and I could see it in his face. I had never seen such terror on anyone’s face, and I pray I never do again. I said, “Poke, you’ve murdered, raped and stolen all across the country. There’s no tellin’ how many bodies you’ve left behind, but if you’d like to make your peace with the Lord, I’ll help you.”
“There is no God!” He yelled at me. And his last tiny bit of strength slipped away.
He screamed and disappeared. The rope went taught, and then it went limp. I looked over the edge and uttered an epithet that surprised me. His body was twisted and crumpled on the jagged and broken boulders, but his head was nowhere to be seen. I guess thirty foot of drop is more than a neck is capable of taking. Live and learn. “You better hope there isn’t a God.” I mumbled looking at the wreckage that was Amos Poke.
I went back to the overhang and threw more wood on the fire, and watched as the flames licked it and then nibbled at it. There was only numbness from my neck up. I must have sat there for hours feeding wood into the fire and watching it burn. I don’t recall having one thought while I sat there.
Finally, I got my feet under me and stood up because sitting there forever wasn’t my way. I was the planner the one who always made decisions. It was my job to make sure we knew where we were going and what it would take to get us there.
It had been a long time since we’d had a home, but we had one now. We were going back to the MB connected. It was my home, and it would be Andy’s home forever. I was going to get him there for burial no matter what.
I messed around the camp for a while, but really didn’t know what I was doing except passing time. I made a pot of coffee, which I really didn’t want. I unsaddled the horses took all three, including the one that Poke and gentry had been sharing, to a little stream, and then picketed them on some grass. Next I sorted through our gear and supplies, making sure everything was in good repair and in ample supply. I was doing anything to keep from thinking.
Andy was gone… and he wasn’t coming back. There was no way around it. Could I have done things differently? Could I have gone the long way over the top and let him go down the way I’d gone. It wouldn’t have made any difference. When Andy had focused on Poke that was all he could see. I should have given Gentry more of my attention at that point, but… It was too late for second guessing.
Strangely, the killings of Gentry and Poke didn’t affect me the way others had. I didn’t feel the same kind of guilt or remorse. I didn’t feel the need to worry about their souls. Was I becoming hardened? Didn’t the loss of life mean anything to me anymore? I had actually been downright mean to Poke. I could have saved him at any time, but I never even considered taking him back for trial with Andy lying in his grave. It just wasn’t about to happen. Furthermore, too many things could happen to keep him from hanging, and I wasn’t taking that kind of chance. He was going to miss the week or so of fear waiting for the walk to the gallows, so I gave him the experience all crammed into about a half hour of extreme panic.
All in all those two men needed to be squashed like bugs. There was no way of knowing how many lives Poke and Gentry had ended or ruined or made a living hell in their march across the country. How many women had disappeared from their farm homes never to be seen or heard from again? That was the same fate they had planned for Aunt Alice on that day?
No, I didn’t regret anything I did this day, except not paying enough attention to Gentry. Otherwise, the day had been one of public service.
I spent the night under the overhang, trying not to think about Andy lying back in the corner of the shelter cold and lifeless wrapped in a blanket and ground sheet, while I was warm by the fire. I had brought the horses in close to the fire out of the wind. The fire would give them comfort even if it didn’t give them much warmth. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, but I had a feeling that I wouldn’t get much this night either… and I was right.
The next morning after taking the horses to water and picketing them, I fixed breakfast. I didn’t have much appetite, but ate because I had to. The coffee was good and strong, and I sorely needed it. Then I went to the business of making a travois. I went up into a stand of lodgepoles and cut two long saplings with my Bowie and a number of smaller ones. Then I went back to the overhang and worked at lashing the crosspieces to the two longer poles. With that finished, I tied Andy’s body onto the travois, and went after the horses. It just didn’t seem respectful to take him home tied across the saddle.
I had the horses saddled and ready to go. I had just finished securing the travois pole to the stirrups of Andy’s saddle, and I’d gone to the fire to clean up and finish off the coffee, so I could pack the pot. Not being one to waste, I had tied their extra saddle onto the one already on their horse. I was just getting ready to kick dirt on what was left of the fire, when two riders and a pack horse came around that blind corner.
They were surprised to see me and pulled up short. I was half hidden behind Dusty, and I slipped the thong off my Colt. Looking over my saddle I said, “How do boys. You’d be Ledge and Simmons?” They nodded their acknowledgement. They were a ragged pair, one tall and running to fat the other was smaller and wore a full black beard. Fatty said, “I’m Simmons, an he’s Ledge.” pointing to his bearded companion.
“Got a message for you,” I told them, “from Poke, or Pickering, if
that’s how you know him. Say’s to tell you they couldn’t wait. You go ahead and follow em on in to Colorada.”
They looked at each other and mumbled something back and forth. “Who’re you?” Ledge asked.
I walked on around my horse and said, “I’m Blue… Ben Blue. Come on down and have some coffee.” I had my rifle in my left hand and they were both watching it. I was holding it with my finger in the trigger guard but not on the trigger. I wanted them to keep an eye on that rifle.
The other one, Simmons, said, “What kind of double saddle rig you got there?” as he was dismounting. “Hey! Ain’t that Clyde’s hoss?”
“Yeah,” I said, “he didn’t need it no more.” They both gave me a curious look.
Then the one who had just spoken said, “Ben Blue, ain’t you the one who runs with Hickory Jack Moore?”
“That’s me.” Was all I said, and they were both looking around. I got the notion that they were trying to see if Hickory Jack was around and had them covered.
“How come Clyde ain’t gonna need his hoss no more?” Ledge asked.
Suddenly I was feeling downright salty and said, “Fellas, I gotta confession to make. Poke and Gentry didn’t leave a message for you… They’re both dead.” And I pointed to the cliff edge.
Fatty looked at me like a moron, but Ledge walked over to the edge and looked down. He stood there for about a half minute and then burst out with, “Gawd Dayam! He ain’t got no haid! What happened to his haid?” Then he said, “And looky there, Clyde ain’t got much haid left.” Then he turned back toward me.
Fat boy walked over and stretched his neck to peek over the edge. I got the idea that he was afraid of high places, that was something good to know. He quickly moved away from the brink and asked, “Hickory Jack git ‘em?”
“No,” I said. “I got ‘em… Poke kinda got all worked up there at the end… I reckon he just sort of … lost his head.” While I was talking I was walking to their horses. I patted the big sorrel that black beard had ridden in on. And the big fella gave me a nudge.