By the time Sam completed his chore, Jack had directed Mabel to a livery on the northern edge of the town. He drove the buggy right into the open barn. The owner of the livery didn’t seem too interested in the buggy or the worn mare for trade until Sam produced three twenty dollar gold pieces. "That’ll get you the one horse and a saddle. A second horse is fifty dollars. Those are good horses, too. I bought them off an outfit that was headed back to Texas. I don’t have another decent saddle but you might try ole Luther over at the Side Trail Saloon, sometimes he takes ‘em in on a liquor bill."
Jack paid the fifty dollars for a second sorrel cow pony.
"We’ll be back to get the horses in the morning," Sam said. Then he and Jack walked out of the livery carrying the saddle bags and their long guns.
Sam gestured toward the hotel. "Let’s get a room and get cleaned up," he suggested.
Once inside the establishment, they asked for and got one room with two bunks. When they reached the room, Sam set his saddle bag and rifle on the bed. "One of us needs to stay with the saddle bags while the other gets his bath and such." He grinned across at his partner. "You can go first if you want, Jack."
After both men were shaved and bathed, they changed into clean clothes. Sam moved his rifle and made himself comfortable on the bed, sinking into the two pillows he had stuffed behind his head.
"You think it’s safe enough to leave the bags and go get some food and drink?" Jack asked.
Sam shook his head. "I don’t have any trust for folks and places I’m new to. I believe that I’ll spend the night right here in this room. It sure as hell beats trail camping. Why don’t you go eat first, Jack? I’d like it though if you would bring me a bottle beforehand. Then when you come back after your meal, I’ll go eat."
Jack left and a short time later brought a bottle of rye whiskey he had purchased at a nearby store then slipped out the door again. Sam contentedly drank from the bottle while he waited.
When Jack returned, he sat down on his own bunk and began pulling off his boots. "Pretty good vittles at that little café. Sally’s, I think it’s called. It’s only two doors down. I didn’t go to the saloon yet, if you go after your meal, you might ask about that saddle."
Sam nodded and then left. No one seemed to notice the oddity of two men who traveled together yet dined alone.
Chapter 8
The next morning the two went to the livery and claimed their horses. Sam had paid fifteen dollars for the saddle from the bartender at the Side Trail Saloon. They saddled the horses, adjusted stirrups to fit and loaded their saddle bags onto the animals. Afterwards they walked the horses to a hitch rack directly in front of Sally’s Café then went inside for a window seat and had breakfast. Afterwards they made a trip to the mercantile and replenished their supplies for trail camping. By the time they had bought coffee, bread, potatoes, bacon, some canned goods, smoking tobacco and a coffee pot they had two gunny sacks full of goods. They saw a man with a badge across the street while they were loading the sacks onto the horses but he paid them no mind as they looked just like all the other cowboys that came and went.
It was mid-morning by the time they left town heading into the Indian Territories. Even by taking a directly southern route they had a two hundred fifty mile trip before reaching Texas.
The journey was uneventful, ten days in the making. By taking a slightly east by south direction, they veered away from the northbound cattle trails and purposely came to Denison, Texas in late October. Denison was just across the Red River from The Indian Territories. The town came into being in 1872 when the Missouri, Kansas and Texas railroad, commonly called the KATY, crossed over the Red River and established Denison as a railhead for receiving cattle for eastern markets.
The railroad's competitive move made it easy for Texas cattle owners to load their animals in Denison, saving the time and expense of having to travel all the way to the more distant loading points in Abilene, Wichita, Ellsworth and Dodge City, Kansas. Price dictated where the owners sent their cattle, so many still elected to go the distance to Kansas for a more favorable return.
Sam had been here before, three years earlier when he had struck out on his own as a race horse owner. He had left disheartened and almost broke after losing a good portion of his money on a race when Jenny had been bested by a big stallion. When Sam thought on his last visit here, it seemed to have been a millennium ago. Things were different now, he wouldn’t be betting on a horse race and he had money in his pocket.
Sam and Jack sat on their horses looking across the river at the cluster of buildings.
"Have you been here before?" Sam asked.
Jack shook his head. "It’s the first time for me."
"We can stay at the Crystal Palace Hotel," Sam suggested. "It’s the best in town, right on the main street. We can put our saddle bags in the hotel safe or leave them in the room, it should be safe enough either way because nobody knows what we are carrying. The hotel has a restaurant and saloon and a livery just for their guests. The next street over is Skiddy street, down in a ravine. You can drink, gamble, find a loose woman or get your throat cut if you're not watchful."
Jack laughed. "Hell, Sam, that ain’t anything new! We’ve been trying to get ourselves killed off ever since Big Springs."
Sam smiled. "I think we outfoxed them, Jack. I don’t believe that there’s anyone on our trail so I figure to get cleaned up and start living a little. It’s been a long dry spell for a drink of whiskey, a good cigar and a game of cards."
* * *
Three days later Sam was seeing Jack off at the depot. Jack had a train ticket to New Orleans. "I’m going to catch a freighter to South America, so I won’t be leaving any tracks," he boasted. "Sam, are you sure you don’t want to go with me? There’s got to be some new opportunities down there."
Sam shook his head. "I reckon to go on down to Denton and look up some old friends and see what card I’m going to draw next."
The two men shook hands and then Jack stepped aboard the train and was soon gone.
* * *
It was November 1, 1877 when Sam rode into Denton with a thousand dollars in his pockets. He had stopped along the way from Denison and stashed the bulk of his gold coins in a cluster of rocks that was hidden by a thicket of cottonwoods. The place was a favored stop of Sam’s where he would pull up and allow the team to water and rest when making deliveries for E&H Freighters a few years earlier. The pile of rocks hiding the loot, above the creek, blended with surrounding rocks and would not draw any undue attention.
Sam was jubilant when he rode to the open doors of Work’s Livery.
Joseph Work, a brawny man of Swedish decent, stepped forward and studied Sam as he dismounted. When recognition came Joseph smiled broadly and stuck out his hand. "Didn’t expect to see you, Sam, the last I heard about you was that you were off racing horses."
"I gave that up," Sam chuffed. "I turned to herding cattle for a while then went up to Deadwood looking for gold."
"Did you do any good?" Joseph Work asked.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I found some." He handed Joseph a five dollar gold piece. "The usual for my horse, scoop of grain and a rub down. I’ll check with you in a day or so."
Joseph bobbed his head. "Good to see you, Sam."
The clerk at Martin’s Hotel, a slim balding man, was someone Sam didn’t know, a new arrival he guessed. "I’ll take a room by the week," Sam declared. "Room Four, if it’s available, I had that one last time." Actually it did not matter that much to Sam, it was just that he considered the number four to be a lucky number.
He paid with a twenty dollar gold piece.
The clerk fingered the coin. "This one looks like it was newly minted," he noted and then made change.
When Sam walked into the Red Horse Saloon, the place looked different to him, smaller and dingier than he remembered. The bartender, another new face, was busy with others so Sam walked over and sat at the same table where he had played cards many times before. Sitting there, Sam
had a strange feeling come over him. Here he was back to where he had started. He wondered if this could be the end of the road or if it was the beginning of a new adventure? His thoughts dissipated when the bartender came to see to his wants then left and hurried back with a mug of beer.
Later Frank Jackson, Hardenson Murphy, and Henry Underwood all straggled into the Red Horse. They and Sam sat sipping mugs of beer that Sam had bought. It was the closest thing to a homecoming Sam could expect. Though others in town all smiled and said they were happy to see him again, these men who were his friends of long ago. Little did anyone know how starved Sam was for things such as a home, pals, a neighborhood to call his own, a family.
"You’re looking good, Sam. Where in tarnation have you been?" Hardenson Murphy asked. At forty-one years of age he was the old man of the group.
Sam lit a cigar, tipped his hat back and slouched in his chair. He would have to fabricate a story that these men and others would believe. "Well, as you know I left here with Jenny to try the race circuit. We did pretty good and won a number of races. Then one day she lamed in San Antonio. I put her to pasture and then being without a way to make a living, I signed on with an outfit to herd some cattle to Kansas, which we did. It took a whole summer to get those cattle to market. When the drive was done I partnered up with others and we went up to Deadwood and bought ourselves a gold mining claim. Let me tell you, it’s colder than all get out up in that country. Too damned cold to camp out, hell, the coffee pot would freeze up overnight and pan washing for gold in creek water is something to remember. But the mine turned out to be a good one. We all made a bunch of money before the gold started to peter out so we decided to sell out and go our separate ways. So I thought I’d come on back down here and see how you boys were doing."
"Well, you sure as hell look prosperous," Frank Jackson said.
Sam smiled. "Yeah, me and my partners got real lucky." He lifted a hand to get the attention of the bartender for another round of drinks.
It did not take long for Sam to resume living the way he did in Denton three years earlier and with more enthusiasm and restlessness. He spent money freely buying drinks for anyone and everyone. The girls who circulated in the saloon magnetically hovered near for drinks and tips.
Three days had passed and it was early afternoon when Sheriff Egan strolled into the saloon and walked straight over to where Sam sat alone at a table while playing a hand of solitaire. When Egan took a seat, Sam laid his cards down and sat up straight.
"I heard you were in town. I thought maybe you’d come by the office and say hello," Egan said.
Sam stuck out his hand. "I’ve been aiming to do that, Dad."
Sheriff Egan shook hands with Sam then settled back in his chair. "I didn’t figure you’d come back to this country but it looks to me like you’ve done okay for yourself." Egan knew that Sam was a natural rebel who resented having his life decided for him, that he was one who just had to get out and see what made the world go round. That told why Sam had left town before, but didn’t explain why he had come back.
"You want a drink, coffee or something?" Sam offered.
Egan shook his head.
Sam knew that the man wanted an explanation so he recited the not too accurate facts about the time spent racing, of retiring the mare then of trailing cattle to Kansas. He was careful to not mention the real owners of the cattle from San Antonio, just that it was a long trip. When he told of buying a mine in Deadwood, he didn’t bother to give the names of his partners either.
"Sounds like a sure enough strike you fellas made," Egan commented.
Sam nodded. "It truly was a once in a lifetime find. I saw lots of others leave with little to show for their efforts."
Sheriff Egan was skeptical when he walked out of the Red Horse Saloon. He knew by Sam’s short answers and averted eyes that the young man was fabricating his story as he went along. Part of Sam’s story was true enough. He believed Sam no longer owned the race horse and he also believed Sam most likely did drover some cattle on a trail drive to Ellsworth, like he had said.
What he couldn’t swallow easily was this claim to instant wealth, that Sam and others had bought a mining claim and then made an immediate discovery of riches. The previous owner had most likely gone over every inch of the claim before deciding the effort wasn’t worth the return. Things like that did happen, but so did getting struck by a bolt of lightning, and just about as often.
As a lawman, it was his nature to be suspicious of unlikely activity. The Sam Bass he had known three years ago was a hard working young man who loved gambling and the comforts of fast living and drinking, whenever he had the money to do so. He never seemed to worry much about anything or do much planning for the future. He was unpredictable and also prone to be easily led. Egan figured Sam for a fool who would forsake any responsibility in his quest for money and adventure, evidenced by Sam’s departure three years ago.
Egan wondered if whiskey or the gambling fever had gotten hold of Sam, if in his own weakness he had allowed himself to be led by others into doing something that was astray of the law. Time would tell, he figured.
* * *
It was the first day of winter, six weeks after Sam had arrived in Denton and late in the afternoon when Frank Jackson came into the Red Horse Saloon as usual. He stopped at the bar long enough to get a mug of beer then walked over to where Sam, Hardenson Murphy and Henry Underwood were seated at their usual table gabbing about a saloon girl that Sam now favored since Mary Beth had moved on. Henry Underwood poked Murphy in the ribs with his elbow. "Who was that overgrazed cow you were sporting with last night, Sam?"
Sam smiled broadly. "She said her name was Cherry. She might be a little meaty, but I’ll say one thing, she’s sure a lot of fun!"
"A lot of woman there," Henry Underwood grinned.
"A lot a lovin'," Sam quipped.
Sam had been drinking his favorite brand of whiskey since before noon. He had begun drinking earlier in the day than usual and had drunk late into the night before with the new girl, Cherry. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to drinking, of late he had grown used to it, unlike when he lived here before and would only drink more than one drink as he could afford it. One drink led to another and now he needed it.
Despite all the easy living the way he had wanted, Sam was becoming bored with the slow pace of things in Denton. He still hungered for excitement and had discovered the high he got from the exhilaration of the robberies and escapes was like a drug, and he was becoming addicted. He had also grown accustomed to rubbing shoulders with outcast men and women, the kind that infested the seedy saloons, dance halls, brothels, gambling joints and honkytonks on the lower side of towns. Places at night that with all the noise and smoke and dim lights excited the senses while at the same time repelling them. Darkened streets where one walked along with a hand on the butt of his six-gun, wary of shadows and trusting no one.
He recalled that on such occasions his heart pumped harder, but not from fright. He was committed to go where he chose in defiance to any or all who dared impede his path. But here, in Denton, he was trying to compel people to believe he was an upright man when he was actually as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. It would be like saying a mule was a horse. No matter how you disguised it, though, it would still be a mule.
Sam’s thoughts were interrupted when Frank asked "Did you hear about the train robbery last night, up at Allen Station?"
Sam straightened in his chair, seemingly greatly surprised. "Someone robbed a train?"
"Yeah, I just heard Joe Martin, the telegraph operator, talking to the sheriff about it. He said that it was the first train robbery ever done in Texas."
Sam grinned. "Hell, someone beat me to it!"
"How do you figure that?" Hardenson Murphy asked.
Sam’s grin widened into a big smile. He’d had more than enough whiskey to prime his tongue, although it had certainly dulled his brain. "Let me tell you three a secret. You’re all wondering how I
managed to make a strike in Deadwood. How much money I made and so on? Well, truth is, I didn’t make the money in Deadwood. Fact is, the others and I starved ourselves out in that place, so we took to robbing stages and when that didn’t pay much we decided to take on a train.
"I was part of the gang that held up that train at Big Springs, Nebraska that everyone’s been talking about," he boasted, his voice a hoarse whisper. "We got sixty thousand in gold coins. My share was ten thousand the same as the others.
"Two of my partners were caught and killed, two others headed to Missouri. I don’t know if they made it, I haven’t heard one way or the other. But my traveling partner and I made it all the way back to Texas with our shares of the loot. He went on down to South America, as far as I know, and I came here."
The others were silent while Sam confessed the source of his wealth.
Hardenson Murphy was slouched back in his chair, a beer mug in his right hand. He seemed to be studying the condensation on the side of the tankard, watching as it trailed down the glass to form wet rings on the table. "I guess I gotta believe you, Sam, but I don’t know how you got away with it," he said.
Sam sipped his drink and then sat the glass down. "We were careful, watchful and took advantage of every situation. We changed our looks and were able to elude capture." He told of buying the buggy and riding it to freedom by looking and posing as dumb shit farm boys.
Frank Jackson, the youngest of the group, was bug eyed. "That’s a hell of a tale, Sam! It sounds like it was a lot of fun outwitting those soldiers and even having coffee with ‘em, right under their noses all the time. Wow! I wish I’d have been along. I’m damned tired of working all day and getting nothing but enough money for a few beers and some smokes to show for it."
Henry Underwood nodded. "Yeah, Denton doesn’t offer much in the way of opportunity like that. You suppose you’ll do it again, I mean when your dough starts to run low?"
Sam leaned back in his chair. "Even if I had thought about it someone else has gone and stirred things up. Now the railroad and the law will all be leery. I wonder if they got very much loot?"
West of the Big River: Boxed Set of Eight Western Novels Page 64