Understanding Murphy’s concern, Sam nodded. "Let’s move out to the barn and get our horses ready. Hardenson is right, no sense in getting his place all shot up."
All five gang men made their way to the corral and barn and saddled their horses. No one was particularly worried as there was a long open field between them and their antagonists. The posse men searched for advantaged spots, digging in for what they considered would be a long siege.
"If they shoot from way over there they won’t be able to hit a damned thing!" Underwood claimed.
"Let’s see if we can get their attention," Sam said and then pointed his Spencer rifle toward the hillside and fired off a shot. There was an immediate shooting barrage from the posse men’s rifles at near to four hundred yards distance with similar results to the confrontation a few days before. Sam and the others emptied their rifles toward the location. The posse continued their onslaught with no accuracy, except that one bullet hit the breech of Sam’s rifle and knocked it from his hands. Sam was startled and stood still for a moment, and then rallied. "Hell, boys!" he laughed. "They almost got me! Let’s get on our way before they get any luckier!" When the five mounted men began to ride away there were a few shots fired at them but neither man nor beast was hit.
Urging their horses to a run, the gang undertook a southern route. Later on they slowed their animals and rode at an almost leisurely pace without further confrontation.
Captain Peak, stung by the gang’s twin escapes, dispatched his men to Denton and Dallas saloons in the hopes the bandits would show up for an evening’s entertainment. After a few nights and no appearance at any of the establishments where the outlaws usually sought their carnal pleasures, Peak figured the gang had to be hiding out in the outlying areas, abetted – no doubt -- by the silence of the inhabitants. The farmers, ranchers and cowhands whose ranges covered that territory knew of every stranger who rode across their land.
Regardless, Peak sent his men into the surrounding countryside to question anyone who may have had contact with the bandits, but it did no good.
All who were questioned were close-mouthed, perhaps having an affinity to Sam Bass as one of their own. It seemed as if they were enjoying the fact they could socialize with such a notorious bandit. It was something they could brag about to their neighbors. One rancher, while being interrogated, declared Sam Bass was being falsely accused. "I always kinda liked Sam, he was helpful when he made his deliveries and he never did any wrong to me." A farmer noted, "Sam Bass, oh hell, he’s a good man. He gave my wife a twenty dollar gold piece for a pan of hot biscuits one time when we were flat broke! But that was awhile back, naw, I ain’t seen him lately."
Still, Peak arrested anyone who was suspected of harboring the gang. Hardenson Murphy along with his son Jim Murphy were taken in to custody though Hardenson Murphy had come down with pneumonia and needed rest and care. The worst place that the ailing Hardenson could be was in a cold jail cell. After listening to the pleas made by Jim Murphy for the release of his father, Peak decided to use the younger Murphy’s loyalty to his father as a method to obtain the information he wanted. It would be a gamble as to whether the distraught youth would balk or go along with what Peak would present.
"If you’ll agree to help us capture Sam Bass, we’ll drop the charges and allow your father to be released to the care of the town doctor," Peak bargained.
Jim Murphy wanted to be loyal to Sam Bass and the others, but felt stronger obligations were owed to his father. "How would I do that?" he asked tentatively.
Peak knew he had the boy hooked. "Work undercover. Join the gang if you have to, but you need to keep quiet, as if you don’t know anything. If and when Bass returns, you get word to us of his whereabouts and his intentions. I’ll give you a telegraph address to notify us of the where and what."
Jim Murphy stared silently at the floor.
"It’s either that or you and your father are both headed to prison for harboring fugitives," Peak declared, his tone firm. "I don’t think your father would survive very long in that atmosphere."
Visibly shaken, Jim Murphy nodded his understanding.
Chapter 9
A few days later Sam and the others had made a camp in a thicket near Hickory Creek which is south of Denton and north of Dallas some dozen miles from either locale.
Sheriff Egan was incensed at the escapes of Sam and the gang members. He had marshaled a large number of men and along with some of Peak’s Rangers they combed the country from Cove Hollow to Denton. They were now on the move south of Denton making their clean sweep toward Dallas and intent on running Sam Bass into the ground.
It was near dark when the lawmen found evidence of a hastily abandoned camp at Hickory Creek. Egan ordered the area encircled and began closing in on a thicketed area where he believed the bandits to be hiding. Hampered by the growing darkness a few shots were fired at shadows. In the confusion, Henry Underwood and Frank Jackson’s horses bolted away. Once more Sam led the gang on a daring escape that left the frustrated lawmen behind.
Frantic to get out of harm’s way, the men had doubled up to ride out of the thicket. Later on and throughout the night they rode some and then would walk awhile, resting the horses before riding again. The gang disappeared from Salt Creek and wandered into neighboring Stephens County. By morning it was evident that the posse had been left behind. Exhausted, they made for a thicket to try and rest up. One of the men stood guard while the others slept. By late afternoon they were determined to travel some more and hopefully find some horses to buy or steal.
It was completely dark when Frank Jackson spotted a dim light in a distant farmhouse. The men approached cautiously and walked into the yard. When no one came out or challenged them, Sam and Arkansas Johnson approached the front door with six-guns in hand. Sam tapped on the door. "Hello, the house. Is anyone there?" There was no answer so Sam tried the door and found it was unlocked. He stood beside the doorway, cautiously turning the knob with one hand, and then pushing the door wide open. Inside, a man lay on the floor. He was snoring loudly, a gallon-sized jug of homebrew sitting nearby. Sam and Arkansas Johnson scanned the single room for others but there wasn’t anyone else to be seen. They determined the man on the floor had simply downed enough shine to put himself into a stupor and was sleeping it off.
It wasn’t long before the men had their horses stripped of the saddles, led into a corral and properly watered and fed.
Inside the cabin, Sam and the others made themselves at home cooking bacon, eggs, fried bread and coffee from the sleeping man’s larder. They also helped themselves to copious amounts of his homemade whiskey.
Early the next morning Sam sat in a chair smoking a cigarette and sipping coffee when the sleeping man finally aroused. The man sat up and knuckled his eyes with both hands then looked around. His eyes grew larger when he spotted Sam sitting at his table. "Morning," Sam offered. The man nodded and then frowned, perhaps trying to remember the events of the previous night that had led to a stranger being in his house.
Sam stubbed the cigarette out in a sardine can. Then, keeping his tone neutral, he addressed his host. "We came in last night. You were sleeping and we saw fit to not disturb you. We made ourselves a meal and I slept here. The others slept in the barn. Don’t worry yourself. We intend to pay for what we use." To prove his point, he dug into this pocket and displayed a twenty dollar gold piece, which he laid on the table beside his plate.
The man rolled over on his hands and knees and then stood. He remained silent while he walked over and took a coffee cup in hand then poured it full. He sipped once and then took a chair at the table. "How many of you are here?" he asked then blew a breath onto the coffee.
"Five, all together," Sam answered.
The man nodded. "You're welcome here, strangers or not. I don’t get many visitors."
Sam stuck out a hand. "I’m Sam Bass." He looked into the man’s eyes when he gave his name, to see if the man’s orbs registered any fear or surprise. They d
idn’t.
"Homer Wiggins," the man announced.
Sam felt the tension leaving his body. "Well, Homer, my friends and I have a small problem. We lost two of our horses a couple nights ago and have been traveling doubled up. So now we are in need of more animals. I looked your stock over, but you only have the one old horse. Any idea as to where we might get a couple saddle mounts?"
Homer supped more coffee. "You fellas on the run from the law?"
Sam nodded. There was no point in denying it. "You might say we’re not too welcome over in Denton County. They chased us clear out of the county. Now we’re just looking to rest up a bit and find some riding stock."
Homer grinned. "It don’t matter to me if you’re on the dodge. I’ve been in that position a time or two myself. You tell your boys to rest easy, won’t nobody come out here looking. I’ve been here nigh on to ten years, preferring to stay away from towns and such. The only travelers that come around are somebody that has lost his way."
"Where are we exactly?" Sam asked.
"You’re about fifty some miles west of Fort Worth," Homer said. "The nearest town is Breckenridge, about ten, twelve miles northwest of here. I get my supplies from a store over by Caddo, two, three miles distance. As for horses, I’d try the Rocking C ranch, a few miles south of here. If you’re in a hurry, you could steal them easy enough but if you got the time and money, ol' Gill Huggins, the ramrod, is a fair man to deal with."
Sam levered himself up from the chair. "We’ve got time and money, Homer. I don’t want to raise anyone’s hackles in this county by taking what ain’t ours."
After a few days, at Wiggins' urging, Sam and the others settled into Homer Wiggins' place as if it were their own. Henry Underwood and Frank Jackson were able to pick out two horses when they made a trip to the Rocking C. They bought a pair of sorrel geldings and two used saddles from Gill Huggins. The man didn’t ask too many questions and seemed quite tickled to sell the animals. Arkansas Johnson and Seaborn Barnes made a trip to the store near Caddo and brought back a supply of cooking goods, tobacco and whiskey. Homer took a special liking to Frank Jackson, perhaps thinking of the young man as one near a lost son’s age. To Homer’s delight, Frank helped out with the cooking and took over feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs.
The other men spent their days seeing to the care of the horses and lending a hand to Homer with some of the heavier chores that needed doing, changing out a broken wheel on a wagon, patching the cabin roof, fixing a broken corral post and such. After supper their time was spent drinking and playing cards well into the night. It was a respite the gang seemed to relish.
On one such evening of heavy drinking, Homer, Sam, Henry Underwood and Frank Jackson sat around the table playing cards. Sam was the first to break the silence. "How’s that new horse you got, Henry?"
Underwood shrugged, his eyes narrowing. "That little sorrel is okay, but he ain’t the horse that those bastards took from me!" He scratched the week-old stubble on his chin. "But I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter."
Sam looked over to Henry and smiled. "Now that’s where you’re wrong, Henry. You do have a choice."
Henry eyed him and seemed amused. "How you figure, Sam?"
Sam laid his cards down. "Hell, we could go and take those horses back. That’s if we were of a mind to!"
Henry grunted and then smiled. "Why, hell, Sam! I do believe that I’ve a mind to." He laughed.
Sam grinned. "All right, then. We’ll take off in the morning and go get them. I’ll bet you ten dollars that we can take them right out from under their damned noses!"
The next morning Henry Underwood knew it wasn’t just whiskey talk when Sam walked out of the cabin carrying his saddle bags, bedroll, and rifle. Henry and the others were quick to get theirs.
In Denton County, folks rumored the gang had fled to Mexico and would likely never be seen in the county again. The fact there had been no activity in the past month seemed to affirm their reasoning.
Early on the morning of June 6th, however, the gang trotted their horses down the streets of Denton. Sam and Frank rushed into Work’s livery while Seaborn Barnes, Arkansas Johnson and Henry Underwood waited outside. It did not take long to find and take back the two horses that the men had lost at Hickory Creek. As the gang galloped away, Underwood shouted gleefully, "Damn them, anyway! They can’t steal anything from us that we can’t get back!"
In a short time the sleepy town and Sheriff Egan were advised of the gang’s raid. Egan was beside himself with anger. He rousted a posse and took immediate pursuit. The posse dogged the gang for three full days and nights giving no respite to the bandits. Twice the posse came close enough to exchange gunshots with the bandits only to find out afterwards that the gang had escaped again and ridden away, heading in a southwest direction.
Late in the afternoon of the third day, Sam and the gang members were still under constant pressure by the harassing posse. Sam thought they had given the lawmen the slip and halted for a rest. The weary men dismounted and were preparing to make camp at Salt Creek, hopeful for a respite. But that idea was short-lived as suddenly Peak’s Rangers almost rode in on top of them. Gunfire broke out immediately. Henry Underwood made a mad dash for the horses and managed to mount his animal and lead the other horses to a timbered area while his companions send a hail of bullets toward the Rangers. Arkansas Johnson stood his ground, pulled his six-gun and fired into the Rangers' midst. The Rangers returned a murderous fire. This time a Ranger’s bullet found Johnson, striking the man in the chest and killing him instantly. The Rangers advanced and almost rode on top of Henry Underwood. Under a hail of flying lead, Henry Underwood left the gang’s horses and fled. He managed to escape to parts unknown.
Sam Bass, Frank Jackson and Seaborn Barnes, caught without mounts, could only flee down the creek on foot. As they skulked away from the Rangers, it was apparent their only salvation would be the approaching darkness. So they waited, hopeful of not being found. Later on when it was fully dark, the three were able to elude the lawmen again but this time they were afoot. Their horses had been lost to the Rangers.
The three men knew that Arkansas Johnson had been killed in the incident but weren’t sure of Henry Underwood’s fate, if he had escaped or had been slain.
It took two days of hiking for the men before they stole some horses from a farmer’s corral. Sam and Frank Jackson were then able to make their way north and back to Cove Hollow. Seaborn Barnes had split off and headed to his home which was a few miles north of Dallas.
Back at the Murphy Cabin in Cove Hollow both the Murphys were surprised that Sam would dare come back since the many lawmen surely had the roads staked out. Sam had banked on the fact the authorities would figure it would be the last place he would go, and it was easy enough to get past prying eyes in darkness. Cove Hollow was the closest thing Sam had to a home and it was a focal point. In the lamplight of the cabin, Sam was elated when Jim Murphy indicated he would like to be a part of the gang. Previously Jim had declined membership. He’d thought what Sam and the others were doing was exciting, but had never held the idea of stealing as his chosen profession. Besides, he did not have the temperament or nerve to take those kind of risks. But things were different now, and he’d made a choice.
Jim Murphy did not harbor the grand illusions about quick riches Sam and the others seemed to possess. He had heard stories about others who had been shot or killed while doing robberies, and the majority of those men had robbed out of desperation and need. Sam, however, with all the money he threw around, gave the impression he enjoyed robbing and being chased.
And that part was true, Jim reflected. Sam was in his element, getting a rush from both robbing and running. The young man believed he was a good leader, and he was intent on filling the void that Joel Collins had left, all the time basking in the glory of having men look to him for direction.
In truth, Jim Murphy did not want to join the gang. But he had no choice. The threat of incarcerat
ion hung over his father like a dark cloud, the situation made even more intense by the older man’s fragile health. Deep inside, Jim knew he would do whatever he had to do to save his father, no matter the cost.
So he tried, as best he could, to act enthusiastic enough to convince Sam he was eager to join in the game. He flattered, he cajoled, and in the end the ploy worked. Sam accepted the young man into the gang, congratulating himself that he had not only found a convert, but had increased the ranks in the gang that had been left short-handed by the losses of Henry Underwood and Arkansas Johnson.
Sam had always liked both Murphys. Hardenson would always tell you exactly what he had on his mind and Sam respected him for his frankness. Jim was young and impressionable. Sam judged him to be about Frank Jackson’s age, which was twenty. That put both boys seven years younger than his own age of almost twenty-seven, young enough to bow to his will and to follow his orders.
As instructed by Ranger Captain Peak, Jim Murphy set out on his assigned task to find out when and where Sam was going to lead the gang on their next strike, and to somehow get word back to the Ranger. Murphy realized he needed to be very careful. After considerable thought, he decided to make a suggestion to Sam. He approached the bandit and laid out his thoughts. "You know, Sam," he started, "the law is everywhere between here and Dallas. I figure that they’re lying in wait at the train water stops, and the railroad has most likely put on extra guards, too. Maybe it’s time to do something different, something they aren’t expecting."
Sam’s attention was on young Murphy. "And what would that be?"
Murphy smiled. "Go south, clear on out of the county where the law isn’t all fired up and just waiting for you to make another move. Only this time, stay away from the railroad and maybe rob a bank!"
West of the Big River: Boxed Set of Eight Western Novels Page 66