Lawdog: The Life and Times of Hayden Tilden

by J. Lee Butts

  “Well, much to my regret, I’ve met the man and hope to find him here in Dodge. Want to take him back to Fort Smith for trial if he has a mind to go. I believe, however, he would resist. If such proves the case, I’ll show no mercy.” They all had to lean forward and strain to hear me over the noise inside Varieties and the town in general.

  “Dodge is a busy place,” offered Wyatt. “We can help you if you like or just move aside and let you do as you see fit. Whatever you decide, be aware that finding anyone not wearing a sign in this anthill might prove difficult.”

  Thought that over for a minute and said, “I wouldn’t impose on your hospitality, gentlemen. I can recognize Magruder and will find him. Just wanted you to be aware of my intentions in this matter, so there’ll be no confusion if anything wayward occurs.”

  Bat brought his chair back down to the floor. “Everett Lovelady made us aware of Magruder’s crimes against your family, sir. Rest assured we understand your feelings and will support you in any manner you require. As sheriff of Ford County, I’ll help any way I can.”

  “I appreciate the kind words, Mr. Masterson, and will call on you if the need arises.” My voice had lost all its power. Thought I was going to go to sleep in my chair.

  George dropped his knife onto the table. “I have a room in back away from the bar and noise. You’ll find it most comfortable, Mr. Tilden.” He motioned to his man again. “Show the marshal to number eight, Dave. See he gets anything he needs.”

  It took all the strength I had left to stand and follow Masterson’s man. He led me through one door and down a long hallway. He opened the room and placed the key on a table beside the bed. Offered a tip, but he silently held his hand up in rejection, smiled, and closed the door. Caesar jumped up on the chest at the foot of the bed and dropped off to sleep instantly. Fell into that bed wearing all my clothes and quickly followed him.

  Next morning, snow about a foot deep covered the ground. Locals told me at breakfast that such dustings weren’t unusual for that time of year, and they’d even seen some terrible blizzards in the middle of May. I counted myself lucky to have managed to make town before the icy weather made its appearance.

  I made notes on the locations of all the most popular and widely used saloons. My friends in Fort Smith reviewed places like the Gold Room, Long Branch, Lady Gay, and Main Street on a fairly regular basis.

  Most of the largest and better-known palaces of cards and women squatted along Front Street. But the alleyways and side streets also sported a heavy population of less-frequented establishments. Dodge boasted more such places than any town in the West. Even in the middle of the day, and with a foot of snow on the ground, the traffic of people and animals could amaze a traveling revivalist.

  Deputy Farmin accompanied me during the first few days. He loved talking about his town. “Cattle trade draws gamblers, whiskey peddlers, whores, pimps, gunmen, killers, and thieves. Poor dumb-ass cowboys are easy pickin’s. Not quite as easy as them poor stupid goobers still tryin’ to make a livin’ huntin’ buffalo, but close.”

  “What about the soldiers from Fort Dodge?”

  “Aw, they’re almost as easy to bamboozle as the cow punchers, but they’re here year-round and tend to have a better understandin’ of the resident bunch of toughs competin’ for their time and money.”

  It took some effort, but I got myself pretty familiar with the bartenders and swampers in those establishments where Saginaw Bob might turn up. Tried to avoid revealing my reasons for the inquiries and showed my badge only when necessary.

  About a week into my search Farmin and I sat at a table in the Lady Gay when several rambunctious types decided it would be great fun to hurrah the town before leaving. They’d barely got out the door when they started to fire their pistols in the air at anything in general and nothing in particular.

  Farmin flopped down under the table and pulled me with him. “By Godfrey, the party’s startin’ early tonight, Hayden.” He laughed and pressed himself closer to the floor when bullets whizzed through the air.

  Lawmen, bartenders, gamblers, boozers, and anyone else in his right mind ran for cover. But a drunk called Skunk Mulloy, whose name was more than descriptive, failed to see the urgency of the situation. He bravely guarded his place at the bar and derided everyone under a table.

  “Bunch of liddle girls. The whole damned herd of yah oughta be wearin’ dresses. Good God, ain’t met a Texian yet could hit his own bee-hind with a set of deer antlers and twenty jabs.”

  Farmin and I followed the Masterson brothers into the street and watched as they joined Wyatt in a glory-be-to-God free-for-all of shouting, shooting, and commotion. I stayed out of the fracas. Figured they had all the firepower they needed.

  During the course of all the confusion, someone in the crowd of lawmen actually managed to hit one of the fleeing riders. Must have been thirty shots fired. Maybe more. Some even came from windows of hotels facing the street.

  Farmin laughed and stomped slush off his boots. “They just wanted to contribute to the general hullabaloo. Them cowboys get back to Texas, they’ll tell all their friends what a great time a weary wrangler can have in Dodge.”

  Wounded man got extremely lucky. Wasn’t hit bad, but he lost blood freely from a sizable hole in his right buttock. Bunch of the drunks packed snow in his pants to slow the bleeding. A horse doctor named Gentry, with a nose the size and color of an apple, dug the bullet out of the wounded man’s behind. He sewed up the incision while bystanders poured more liquor into the screaming man’s mouth.

  When things calmed down, Farmin and I went back to our table. The other marshals joined us. “Why’s there so much shooting and fighting in a town where so many famous lawmen walk the streets?” I didn’t ask anyone in particular, but Jim answered.

  “We try to keep a tight rope on these fuzz-tailed fellers if we can, but we don’t want it too tight. Not good for business, you know.” He smiled and winked as cigar smoke curled around his neck.

  Earp thumped more ashes on the floor and eyeballed every man who passed. “You saw the sign posted at the edge of town about carrying guns. It’s effective to a point. Most of these boys will turn in their hip pistols, but a lot of them carry something hidden on their persons. I took an old buffalo hunter into custody one night that had six pistols, two bowie knives and a matched set of derringers under all that stinking leather he wore. Just never know what you’re gonna get. Best policy’s to approach every man like he’s armed, even if it appears he’s as nekkid as a newborn babe.”

  Bat pushed his glass around in a wet circle on the table. “Brother Ed thought he had Jack Wagner disarmed last winter, but the murderin’ scoundrel came up with another pistol and killed Ed. Wyatt’s right, you never know.” All the other lawmen at the table nodded and quickly became lost in memories of a brother and friend felled by a killer’s bullet.

  Next day, I stopped by the jail. Farmin let me peek in on that poor butt-shot feller. Deputy laughed and said, “Yeah, he woke up this morning afflicted at both ends. Couldn’t make up his mind which one vexed him the most.”

  Wounded cowboy just moaned and tried to roll over to his good side, but the extra hole in his behind kept that from happening. Felt sorry for him, but if you start shooting at men like Earp and the Mastersons such things can occur.

  Almost a month went by and I didn’t see hide or hair of Magruder. I’d kept in touch with Elizabeth and the Judge all along. Guess he got concerned enough to send Handsome Harry out to check on me. Anyway, after ole Handsome arrived things perked up mighty quick.

  10

  “AIN’T NEVER KILT NO MARSHAL”

  HARRY TATE HAD a way with people. Especially bartenders. I stuck close to the man. Listened to everything he said to them. But no matter how I approached the problem in the beginning, I never could get folks to open up the way he did. He would start talking about their wives, kids, and dogs, then before they knew it they’d let something slip that ordinarily couldn’t be pulled ou
t of them with a pair of horseshoe tongs.

  He’d managed to sneak away from me one night and the next morning came charging into our room, grinning like a cat with a belly full of mice. “Think I’m onto something.” He grinned and lit himself a smoke.

  “What, Harry? What’d you find out?”

  “Not sure, just yet. But tonight, we’re gonna meet a feller name of Champagne Jack Fletcher over at this bar I found just off Front Street. Think he might have something for you, Hayden.”

  Digger Scruggs Bar and Gaming House occupied a space about three times the size of my room in George Masterson’s place. The long narrow space consisted of nothing more than a plank bar on the left and four poker tables along the right next to the window. Several oil lamps hanging on the walls supplied some light, but not much.

  Harry stood with his hand on the bat-wing door. He studied every shadow then stepped inside. I followed him to the corner table, farthest from the entrance. A bland-looking middle-aged man, wearing a threadbare suit and stovepipe hat, pushed a chair toward Harry with his foot. Looked at me like I might be the biggest pain he’d ever had in his nether regions and let me get my own seat. ’Course, he sat up straight and got to talking real fast when Caesar strolled in, flopped down next to my chair, and gave him a serious looking over.

  “What is that? Is that ugly thing a dog? That your dog?”

  “When he wants to be.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Well, he goes and does as he pleases. ’Course, he don’t like it much if people touch me. Can’t imagine why. Couple of weeks ago, he bit a Texian’s behind clean off when the feller threatened me. If I was you I’d keep my voice down.” I winked at Harry and watched the gambler squirm. He shuffled some cards around on the table, but kept one eye on Caesar.

  “Come on, Jack. You told me last night you might have some information ’bout Saginaw Bob Magruder. Hayden here’s the man who needs to hear it, so get to talkin’.” Harry leaned over and nailed the man with his gaze.

  “Him and his bunch tried to get me to throw in with ’em. Gave it some thought at first, but found out pretty quick I didn’t want no part of their plans.”

  I reached down and scratched Caesar’s ears. “What kind of plans?”

  He dropped his cards on the table and started talking fast and low. “Him and them apes he’s ridin’ with worked this here table for about a month. They’d get the suckers loaded then cheat ’em at cards. If Bob couldn’t separate the poor bastards from their money at the table, couple of outside men’d catch ’em in an alley and get it that way. They’ve already killed at least three I know of—and maybe more. Bad folks, Marshal. I’ve met some scary ones in my time. Saginaw Bob’s bunch is the worst I’ve ever run across.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Three. That’s all I ever met. ’Course, there coulda been more I never seen, but three for sure. Bob called ’em his disciples.”

  Harry shook his head and pulled out a scrap of paper and a nubby piece of pencil. “Tell me their names.”

  “Look, Harry, I’ll tell you all I know, but you’ve gotta promise me it won’t go any farther than right here. That bunch finds out I talked to you, my life won’t be worth a sack full of buffalo chips.”

  By that point, we’d all three leaned in on the table and were talking so no one else could hear us. Caesar grunted, rolled over, and went to sleep.

  “When Magruder got to town, he had two men with him. Nate Stover and Josh Strieb. Stover’s a big, hairy, dumb ox with fists the size of rusty anvils. Bare-handed, he can crack a man’s skull like a peanut shell. He’s about as smart as a water dipper and deep as a Kansas riverbed in August. Never goes anywhere without his partner, Josh Strieb. Strieb lets Stover handle any violence unless there’s gunplay. If shootin’s necessary, Strieb’s a dangerous man. Carries a set of them Smith and Wesson .44s and can get off twelve shots faster’n any man I ever seen. Don’t have to be accurate, if’n you can spray that much lead and don’t care what you hit.”

  “You ever heard of these men, Harry?”

  “Yeah, both of them. I thought Stover got himself killed a while back. Separate, each man’s dangerous, together they’re a hell-made union I don’t even want to think about. Last I heard they’d killed twenty-seven people between them.”

  I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. “Bet they’re the ones who murdered those poor folks I found out in the Nations.”

  “You talkin’ ’bout a family livin’ in a sod house out in the Cherokee Nation?” Fletcher threw down a shot of whiskey and refilled his glass. His hand shook.

  “Yes.”

  “They bragged ’bout that killing the whole time they wuz here. Bet I heard that story fifty times.”

  Harry pulled at Fletcher’s sleeve. “You said he had three men. Did you know the third one?”

  “Valentine Gibson—smart and very dangerous. Them others killers feared the man, if you can imagine such a thing. Even Bob. Think he’d rode with Bob a time or two before. Anyways, while Bob gambled, one of the others would watch. If Magruder won, so much the better—if’n he lost or if a particular player at the table took more’n Bob, the lookout informed the two outside men. Then, they all followed the poor wretch and robbed him of his winnings, and in at least one instance I know of, his life.”

  I couldn’t believe they operated in such a casual manner and got away with it. “No one caught on to them?”

  “Hell, no! Poor dumb cow pushers what got robbed never saw who took their pokes. Magruder sat right here playin’ cards, while his men did all the dirty work. Besides, they never used any kind of reason to the thing. Some nights, they didn’t bother anyone. Then they’d grab ’em three . . . four nights in a row. They’re unpredictable. How would anyone have ever caught on?”

  “How’d you find out about what they were doing?” I asked.

  “I wuz broke. Needed money. Magruder staked me, and I sat in on the games for ’bout a week. Threw everything I could his way. He let me win two or three times a night just to keep up the right image. He kept sayin’ that this time he was gonna retire. Wanted to go back home to his family in New York. Needed a big stake for that. Conquerin’ hero come back home thing, you know?”

  Harry pushed his paper and pencil back into the pocket of his coat. “You said three.”

  “What?”

  “You said they’d killed three people.”

  Fletcher bent over and shielded his mouth like he was afraid the words would hurt. “Few nights ago something happened out at the cabin. But I ain’t sure what. Wasn’t there. All I know is that Nate slipped up last night and said his back hurt from havin’ to drag a bunch of rocks up to cover two bodies. Don’t know how he could even tell his back hurt. Man had the worst case of the grippe I ever seen. All of ’em except Bob had it. Hope the sick bastards didn’t give it to me.”

  I couldn’t wait for him to get around to the point any longer. “Where are they?”

  “The cabin’s ’bout five mile outside town. But they’re all gone right now. Heard ’em say something ’bout movin’ some horses over to Spearville. Think they’ll be back tomorrow or the next day. I could take you out there in the morning. You could set up and grab ’em when they get back.”

  I pushed my chair away from the table. “No, we’ll go tonight.”

  Harry looked surprised. Champagne Jack blinked several times and threw down another shot. “Tonight. I ain’t goin’ out in this stuff tonight. Tomorrow morning’s good enough, ain’t it, Harry?”

  Harry ignored the man’s pleading eyes, but took up his cause. “Hayden, he might be right. I’ve seen snowstorms like this turn into blizzards so fast I couldn’t believe it. Got caught in one of ’em back in ’seventy-three. My horse froze.”

  I twisted in the chair and bent so close they could feel my breath. “We’ll go tonight, and that’s my final word on the matter.”

  Turned out a bit more than five miles. Champagne Jack bellyached e
very foot of it. Eventually had to loan him my extra coat. Snow let up about half an hour after we left town. Clouds parted, and a moon big as a dinner plate lit everything up like daylight. The shack was easy to find. When we got there, smoke was curling from the chimney and a lamp burned inside. We hid our horses in a clump of trees about a hundred yards away. Harry crawled up on a high knoll with his glass while the gambler and I waited below.

  He slapped his arms against his chest and stamped his feet. “We gonna have to stand around out here in the snow all night long. I’m freezin’ to death.”

  My patience with the man had about reached its limit. “Jack, that coat you’re wearing cost me thirty dollars, and it’s the warmest thing I own. You won’t freeze to death, so shut up till Harry gets back.”

  We didn’t have to wait long. Harry came stumbling through the foot deep layer of snow less than five minutes later. “Well, there’s somebody down there. They’ve got makeshift curtains on the windows, but I could see ’em moving around against the light from inside. Don’t know how many, though. Counted seven horses in the corral, but that don’t mean much. They could be stolen. Hasn’t been any movement around the place lately. Moon makes this layer of white look like icing on a cake. No prints going in or out.”

  We stood there staring at each other. He didn’t say another word till I limbered up my shotgun. “I know there’s no way to talk you outta this, Hayden. But we need to ponder what we’re gonna do some before we go stormin’ in.”

  “I don’t think so, Harry. No one down there expects us. We’ll surprise them and won’t even have to fire a shot. I’ll go in first. You come in behind me. Bob and his boys find themselves staring down the barrels of these big scatterguns, they’ll throw in their hands pretty-quick.”

  I could tell he still didn’t like the idea, but he went along with it anyway. We left Jack with the horses.