The Two Sams

by F. M. Worden

  Sam fed the horses, cooked his meal, saddled and headed west on the river road.

  By noon he had reached Colbert’s Ferry, he crossed the river on the ferry into Texas, stopped and paid for a meal from a vendor on the Texas side. He then rode on the Colbert road south. At sundown he started looking for a spot to make camp. Finding none he liked, he rode on.

  After dark he spotted a fire off the left side of the road in a group of trees. “Must be a good spot to camp,” he said to himself. He turned off the road and approached the fire.

  He called, “Ho, the camp, comm-n in.”

  In the dim light he could see two men setting facing his way at the fire, a man yelled back, “Come on in friend.”

  Drawing closer he saw things he didn’t like, he slipped the Schofield out of its holster and down by his right leg. Two dirty, scroungey looking men, one had a pistol laying on his stomach, his feet stretched out to the fire. The other one was leaning against a large rock, a winchester rifle leaning against a tree to his left side. Sam saw a pile of blankets just in the light of the fire. There was motion and much movement in the blankets. Whimpering and groaning sounds were coming from there.

  The man with the pistol spoke, “Get down friend, we have fresh coffee, meat and beans on the fire, come and have some.”

  Sam tightened the reins, squeezed with both legs and started the Dunn backing up. “No thanks, just passing thru, I’ll be move-n on.”

  “Don’t like our company, Friend? That’s a nice pony your-a ridden, I’d like to make you a deal for him,” he said as he pulled up his knees.

  “He ain’t for sale,” Sam almost yelled.

  “I ain’t a buy-n, I’m a taken,” the man called back in a loud harsh voice. He started moving the pistol up and pointed it at Sam. The Scohfield spoke, fifteen inches of fire and a half ounce of lead. The bullet hit the center of the man’s chest, sending him reeling back into the ground. The other man reached for the winchester, the bullet hit him just below the right ear angling down, tearing away most of the left side of his neck and face, a red blood mist filled the air above his limp body. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw movement coming from the blankets. A man threw off the blankets and fired a shot over Sam’s right shoulder, it made a swishing sound as it passed his ear. The Schofield spoke again, the bullet hit the man in the right arm pit, killing him instantly.

  At the same time Sam could see in the dim moon light a white bare naked woman had jumped from the blankets and started running thru the trees screaming. “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!”

  Sam was off his horse and after her in a flash, in a short chase he caught her, knocked her to the ground, picked her up, threw her onto his left shoulder and carried her back to the fire, kicking and screaming. He tossed her on to the blankets and said in a commanding voice, “Shut up, I ain’t gonna kill you. Please, shut your mouth, cover yourself with a blanket.”

  She was still whimpering as she wrapped a blanket around her bare body. She kept on crying. Sam kneeled down and tried to console her.

  Looking at this woman he saw she was in bad shape. Her face was bruised, her lips split and bleeding, her eyes blacked and red, her sandy blond hair was dirty and matted.

  “I’ll go get you some clothes,” he told her. He went to his war bag and came back with wool pants, a shirt and a pair of wool socks. As she dressed he could see her arms, legs and body were a mass of black and blue bruises, her feet cut and bleeding.

  He asked, “What in the hell is going on here?”

  Thru her crying, she told him she had been stolen by these men after she started to calm a bit, Sam asked if she was hungry. “I ain’t had nothing to eat in days, they gave me some water this morning, they been taken turns beat-n and rape-n me, I hoped I would die.”

  Sam was so mad he said, “I ought to go shoot them low down dirty bastards again.”

  For one minute she thought he might, he walked over to where they lay. He then pulled the dead men out of the fire light and laid them side by side. Then set about his horses needs.

  He returned and fixed a meal of beans, bacon and coffee for the woman and himself, as she ate she told him her story. “I worked in a dance hall and saloon in a town on the Arkansas and Texas border, the older one you shot last, came in the saloon and tried to make me go to his room. I had the bar keep throw him out. Early the next morning they came, gagged my mouth, tied my hands and stole me from my room, they took away my shoes and clothes and said I would be shot if I tried to run away.”

  Sam asked her name.

  “Sylvia Loveless, I can never thank you enough for coming to get me.”

  Sam sat there shaking his head in disbelief. He told her, “I have never heard a story like yours. These men must be the worst lowdown dirty white trash in the whole damn world, how does God let people like these live?”

  Sam used his blankets, made a bed, lay back in his saddle, and asked her to come and lay down, she did. He put an arm around her, she laid with her head on his chest, they both fell into a fitful sleep.

  Sam got up at sunup, fed his horses and looked to the three dead men’s horses. They had been tied to trees all the time and were still saddled, he fed each with the last of the grain he had.

  Sylvia told him, “Those men hardly ever fed the horses, only saw them watered once.”

  Under his breath Sam cursed the men. “Dirty, low down, no good for noth-n snakes, lousy sons-a-bitches, a man who treats horses that way needed kill-n.”

  Sam made coffee and breakfast. After eating, saddled his horses, and loaded the three dead men over the saddles of their horses, with Sylvia riding double with him, rode south a few miles to the little town of Denison, Texas.

  Entering the town, this procession attracted a crowd. Sam asked for the sheriff, a citizen told him. “We only got a deputy, he’ll be down at the saloon, I’ll go fetch him.”

  A young man in his late twenties came out to meet Sam, Sylvia and seeing the dead men over the saddles asked, “Where’d you get them dead men?”

  Sam paid him no mind. “Where’s the sheriff’s office?”

  The deputy said nothing, he ambled back to look at the dead men.

  Sam asked a citizen standing there about the sheriff’s office.

  “It’s down in Sherman, the county seat, it’s 8 or so miles on south.”

  Sam asked if anyone with a team and wagon would take them there. The man he was talking to said he had a team and wagon. “I’ll go hitch up, be right back.” He returned in a few minutes.

  They loaded the dead, tied the horses to the wagon and with Sam and Sylvia on the seat with the driver, they headed for Sherman. Sam had to hold her, to keep her from falling, she was so weak, she had a hard time keeping her head up.

  They drew a crowd as they entered the town. The driver pulled the wagon up in front of the sheriff’s office. Sam hopped down and carried Sylvia into the office and sat her in a chair. The sheriff with his feet on a desk asked, “What can I do for you stranger?”

  “I have three dead men in a wagon outside, you want-a go take a look?”

  The sheriff got up and walked slowly out to the wagon, looked over the side board. “Wa’ll, I’ll be dammed, them boys been around here before, I”ll bet money there’s a price on their heads.”

  “Can we find out?” Sam asked.

  The sheriff yelled to a man standing in the office door. “Bring them wanted posters out here LeRoy.” Looking over the posters the sheriff said, “I knowed I was right, that one.” He pointed to the older one, “He’s got a price of five hundred dollars, dead or alive, the other two worth fifty, dead or alive. Looks like you made a right nice bit of change, mister.”

  Sam asked, “You got a doctor in town?”

  “Right across the street up them stairs above the barber shop,” said the sheriff as he pointed.

  Sam went in and picked up Sylvia and carried her to the top of the stairs. On the door a sign read, “Doctor B.S. Sanders MD - knock before entering.”
Sam kicked the door lightly with a booted foot.

  An old man with a grey beard and long grey hair opened the door, spectacles sat on the end of his nose, looking over them he said, “Come on in.”

  Seeing Sylvia he asked, “Is she hurt?”

  “No. She’s been beat up pretty bad, I want you to look her over.” Sam laid her gently on a table.

  “I’ll call my wife,” the doctor said.

  As Sam held her hand the doctor said, “This gal is shore pretty, ain’t she?”

  His wife came in, a friendly looking heavyset woman. “My goodness, what do we have here?” Sylvia looked like a waif in men’s clothes.

  “She’s been beat up, this man wants me to look her over,” the doctor told his wife.

  Sam turned to leave, Sylvia grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me Sam, please don’t leave me alone.”

  Sam told her, “These people won’t hurt you, they’re gonna help you, I’m just going across the street, be back in a minute.”

  Sam asked the Doctor’s wife if she would go buy Sylvia some ladies clothing. He gave her a twenty dollar green back.

  “I’ll be glad to,” she told him.

  Sam walked back to the sheriff’s office.

  “There’s an undertaker come-n to get them boys, I telegraphed Austin and told them to send the rewards money.”

  “What about the horses, saddles and guns of the dead men?” Sam wanted to know.

  “I reckon they’re yours, ain’t nobody gonna claim em, you gonna sell em?”

  The sheriff and Sam walked outside. Sam answered him, “Yeah, I plan to sell them all.”

  The undertaker drove up in a spring wagon with a young black boy. He asked, looking at the three dead men, “Who’s paying to bury these men?”

  The sheriff told him, “Greyson County ain’t got no burying money.”

  Sam asked how much it would cost. The man put his left hand on his chin, rubbed his face, looked at the sky, looked back at the black boy and finally said, “Five dollars a head.”

  Sam told him to load up and put em in the ground. “Come to the hotel this evening, I’ll pay ya.”

  Just then a man came running and gave the sheriff a telegraph.

  “Wa’ll you’ll be a get-n six hundred dollars reward in the morning, Austin is a sending it right up.”

  The undertaker heard, he wanted more money. “I’m too cheap, them feller’s worth that kinda money needs to be put in a box.”

  Sam turned on him with fire in his eyes and in his voice he said so everyone there could hear, “You better get your ass down the road and put them boys in a box and in the ground before I give you one hell of a butt kick-en you money grub-en jackass.”

  The undertaker loaded the dead men and drove off grumbling. “Man’s only trying to make a dollar.” When he looked back, Sam shook his fist at him. He drove on a little faster, still grumbling.

  The man with the wagon that drove them down started to leave, Sam stopped him. “How much do I owe you pardner?”

  “You don’t owe me a thin dime, I was proud to bring you and the little lady down here.”

  “I thank you kindly,” Sam told him.

  The man flipped the reins, clucked to his team and drove away, he turned in the seat and waved goodbye.

  Sam asked the sheriff, “Will you put the guns and horses up till I find a buyer.”

  “I’ll take care of em and find a buyer.” The sheriff was getting friendly.

  Sam went back to the Doctor’s, Sylvia sat in a chair with a big smile on her face, she had been cleaned up and had new clothes on, her hair was all clean and combed. Sam told her she sure looked pretty.

  The Doctor took him in the other room. “We treated her cuts and bruises, she should heal up real good, her problem is gonna be in her head, take a long time for her to get over what they did to her.”

  “I know, she’s a strong girl, I think she’ll handle it okay.”

  Sam asked the Doc’s wife, “Did you have enough money for the clothes?”

  “Sure did, got her a night gown too and slippers, have some money left.”

  “You keep it.”

  He picked Sylvia up and carried her down the stairs, she wanted to walk. When he set her down her feet were so tender she couldn’t walk. He picked her up and crossed the street and set her in a chair back in the sheriff’s office.

  The sheriff told him the livery stable man had come and got all the horses, for the three the dead men’s horses, he’d give twenty dollars apiece and ten dollars each for the saddles.

  “He took mine to the livery stable?” Sam asked.

  The sheriff shook his head yes.

  “I’ll see him later, I’m gonna take this girl to the hotel and get her something to eat.” He picked her up and walked to the hotel and rented a room with two beds. He took Sylvia to a café and had supper. When they returned to the hotel the undertaker had sent a boy for his money, Sam paid for putting the three dead men in the ground.

  He told Sylvia to go to bed, he had to go get his war bag at the stable. When he returned, she was in bed fast asleep.

  Next morning he sold the guns and collected the horse and saddle money, with Sylvia and his two horses they took the Missouri, Kansas and Texas railroad train to Austin.

  In Austin they got a hotel room. Sam went to Ranger headquarters, she stayed at the hotel.

  At Texas Ranger Headquarters Sam was ushered into the office of John B. Jones, Major in charge of the Frontier Battalion, a man in his late thirties. He was well dressed, in a frock coat, white shirt, black tie sporting a well groomed mustache, dark set brown eyes. He came form around his desk with a friendly smile, and a hand shake.

  “Sam Duncan, I believe. We had word you were coming, I hope you’re here to join the Rangers? We need men of your caliber.”

  Sam was a little taken back to hear his coming preceded him, he thanked him and said, “Hope my age won’t be held against me?”

  “Why hell no, my Grandpa forked a horse at eighty-five, my Pa is as good a shot as any twenty year old, he just turned ninety. Sam you’re not that old, I heard how you handled yourself on the trail. I want to tell you about the Rangers, we have six Companies of about forty men each, we’re to uphold the law and peace in Texas, we don’t give badges. I’ll give you a Warrant of Authority you should have it with you at all times. Captain Leander McNelly has a special force and needs more men, he’s operating down in the big bend country along the Rio Grande River on the Mexican border, I plan to have you join him. Cattle and horse thieves come in from Mexico and steal and rob at will. I think you’ll like the man he’s a real straight shooter.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Sam felt good hearing from the Major.

  “This woman you rescued, is she with you now?”

  “Yes she is, I have no idea of what to do with her.”

  “Sam, why not bring her and come have supper with my wife and me. My wife has had some experience with women captured by Indians. She’s done real good helping them get over their ordeals. She might do some good for this woman.”

  “I’d shore be thankful if she could.” Sam was happy to get some help with Sylvia.

  “Sam I’ll have the lady in the outer office give you my home address, come around six this evening.”

  Sam returned to the hotel and told Sylvia of their invitation, she was pleased as she could be.

  Six o’clock found Sylvia and Sam in the setting room of Major Jones and his wife. Mrs. Jones and Sylvia took to each other right off, Mrs. Jones was a very handsome lady in her late twenties.

  The supper consisted of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, mixed fresh vegetables topped off with sliced peaches and cream. Sam told Mrs. Jones he had never had a meal as good, Mrs. Jones told the couple most of the food Mr. Jones had grown or raised.

  After the meal Mrs Jones and Sylvia retired to the sewing room to have a chat, the Major and Sam went to the setting room to have coffee, a smoke and some conversation.

  “Afte
r you left my office I had some news you might be interested in, did you ever know a man named Bill Hickok?” the Major asked.

  “I shore did, worked for him as a deputy near on two years in Dodge City, Kansas, why do you ask?”

  “I have bad news, the man was shot and killed last week up in the Dakota Territory, in the town of Deadwood, shot in the back while he was playing poker.”

  “Good lord he must have forgotten all he taught me, he always told me, ‘keep your back to the wall.’ Damn he was a good friend, some called him Wild Bill, he was never wild when I knew him. The law lost a good man.” Sam buried his head in his hands. “I shore hate hearing that.”

  The Major told him, “We’re all sorry to lose a good law man, I have more news, looks like the Comanche problem in Texas is over.”

  “What’s that about?” Sam asked.

  “The U.S. Cavalry with Colonel Mackenzie in command and a company of our Rangers put a war party of Comanches back on their reservation. The Indians were playing havoc with whites in the panhandle, my report states as many as fifty Comanches were killed.”

  “Was there a mention of a black man with the Indians?” Sam asked.

  “No, do you know of such a man?” the Major inquired.

  “Yes, I have a friend who was with the tribe, he was with them in the panhandle.”

  “How do you know this man Sam?”

  “I was raised with him on my Pa’s farm over in Louisiana, I sure hope he wasn’t killed, he saved my hide a while back.”

  “I’ll try to get news of him and let you know, Sam things have changed since we talked this morning, I have a different job for you, the sheriff and his deputy have vanished in the west Texas town of San Angelo. They’ve been gone five or six days, the town council have asked for rangers to come and provide law enforcement until they find out what happened to theirs or they can hire new ones. You’re just the man to fit the bill, since you’ve been a lawman, will you take the job?”

  “Sure I’ll go and see what I can do.”

  “Great, I’d like you to go soon as possible.”