One More Sunrise

by Al Lacy

  Dear Sheriff Hoffman,

  The Tag Moran gang plans to hold up both banks in Cheyenne, Wyoming, on Thursday, May 12.

  Sincerely,

  Someone who knows

  When Lucinda and Kathryn arrived in Fort Collins, they entered the general store, each carrying half the grocery and supply list so they could both pick up goods and place them in the handbaskets they carried.

  Kathryn immediately made sure to go as far as possible in the store from where Lucinda was picking up goods, and began looking for just the right person. She quickly spotted a well-dressed middle-aged man in the hand tools section who appeared to be some kind of businessman.

  Slipping up to him, she kept her voice low. “Good morning, sir. Are you a resident of Fort Collins?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I am. I own the Spalding Furniture Store. My name is Howard Spalding. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Kathryn moved a step closer, looked around to make sure Lucinda was nowhere in sight, then took out the folded slip of paper. “Mr. Spalding, will you please deliver this note to Sheriff James Hoffman as soon as possible? It is very, very important.”

  Spalding’s brow furrowed, and a quizzical look captured his eyes.

  “Sheriff Hoffman?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There is no time to explain. Will you do it?”

  “Why … ah … yes, of course.”

  Kathryn placed it in his hand. “Please, Mr. Spalding, don’t let on to anyone but the sheriff that I am giving you this note, or I will be killed.”

  Spalding’s face paled. “Really?”

  “Yes, sir. Really. Now I must keep moving. And thank you, sir.”

  With that, Kathryn hurried away and moved into another aisle between rows of shelves.

  Howard Spalding watched her disappear, then opened the note and read it. He gasped and hurried to the counter with his groceries.

  A moment later, Kathryn caught sight of him at the counter. She observed as he paid for his groceries; then carrying two paper bags, he hurried out the door.

  Biting her lower lip, she moved on through the store, picking up the items on her list. After a few minutes, she met up with Lucinda between two long rows of shelves. Lucinda rushed up to her with the day’s edition of the Rocky Mountain News in her hand. “Look at this!” she said, flashing the front page at her. The headline read: MORAN GANG MEMBER KILLED.

  Kathryn’s lips trembled. “I—I don’t want to read about Gib’s death.”

  “I understand, honey, but Tag and the others will want to read it.”

  It was almost noon when the two women arrived at the hideout.

  The men were glad to get their hands on the newspaper. While Lucinda and Kathryn were in the kitchen putting the groceries and supplies in the pantry, the men sat down in the parlor, and Tag read the article to them, which related the interview the reporters had with Dr. Dane Logan.

  The article told the reader that Dr. Dane Logan of Central City was engaged to be married to Miss Tharyn Tabor, daughter of First National Bank’s president, David Tabor and his wife, Kitty. Further information about the wedding could be found on page 6.

  While Tag was flipping back to the designated page, Lucinda and Kathryn entered the room.

  Tag looked up at them. “This article on the front page says that no-good Dr. Dane Logan is getting married to the daughter of the president of the First National Bank of Denver. Page six is supposed to give more details about the wedding. I’ve got an idea. Let me read it.”

  Tag quickly found the aforesaid article and read it silently, then told the others about the wedding that would take place at the Denver church on Saturday, May 21, at 2:00 P.M.

  Tag laid the paper down and grinned malevolently. “After you gals left for town this morning, I told the boys what Doke wanted to talk to me about alone yesterday. He asked me not to kill Logan because he couldn’t live with himself if he was responsible for the doctor’s death. I told him I would find another way to make the doctor suffer. It just came to me what we’re gonna do.”

  Jason grinned. “Tell us about it, big brother.”

  Tag chuckled. “We’re gonna break in on the wedding, snatch the bride at gunpoint saying we’re gonna kill her, and ride away with her.”

  Lucinda’s face pinched. “But if you kill her, Tag, Doke will still be responsible for her death. He’ll know it.”

  Tag shook his head. “Aw, Lucinda, we won’t really kill her. We’ll keep her prisoner right here in the cabin and make Logan think we’ve killed her. That will cause him grief. When I figure he has suffered enough for what he did to Darryl and Gib, we’ll let her go back to him.”

  “Well, that’ll go better with Doke,” put in Bart.

  “Everybody agree?” asked Tag.

  The other men, and Lucinda, nodded their agreement.

  Kathryn conspicuously remained silent. I can only hope Howard Spalding has delivered my note to the sheriff. Tag isn’t going to let me go. I know too much. If the lawmen don’t catch them in Cheyenne when they attempt to rob the banks, I must find a way to escape from this place. I’ll have to plan carefully, and I’ll need some money to live on. I’ll make my plans and bide my time until I know if they are captured in Cheyenne. Surely if my note was given to Sheriff Hoffman, he will alert the authorities in Cheyenne and have a trap set for the gang at the banks on May 12.

  At that moment, Kathryn let out a little sigh and looked up to see Tag looking at her stonily.

  “I didn’t hear whether you agree with my plan to kidnap the bride at the wedding, Kathryn.”

  Her throat constricted, and she couldn’t speak.

  Tag shook his head. “Aw, I’m sorry, Kathryn. You’re too upset over losing Gib to think about my plan.” He ran his gaze over the faces of the others. “We’ll move ahead as planned.”

  For the rest of the day, Kathryn Tully was quiet and only spoke when spoken to. She helped Lucinda prepare supper that evening, but ate very little.

  Later, when everyone was in the parlor discussing Tag’s plan to abduct Dr. Dane Logan’s bride at the wedding, Kathryn rose from her chair. “I’m really tired. I’m going to bed early.”

  Lucinda left the sofa where she was sitting beside Bart and put her arms around Kathryn. “I know you’re hurting deeply over Gib’s death, honey. You think you can get some sleep?”

  Kathryn nodded. “I think so. See you in the morning.”

  Tony called to Kathryn as she was heading for the staircase. “Good night, Kathryn. Sleep well.”

  Kathryn smiled at him and nodded.

  As she started up the stairs, Jason called out, “Good night, Kathryn.”

  Tag and Bart both called out the same words in unison. Kathryn reached the top of the stairs and turned. “Good night to all of you.”

  When Kathryn was out of sight, Tag looked at Lucinda. “I want you to keep a close watch on her. She could be dangerous for us if she wanted to. Her grief has her acting strange. Understand?”

  Lucinda nodded. “Yes. I’ll watch her. I don’t think we would ever have had to worry about her if Gib had lived, but she is acting a bit strange now.”

  Upstairs in her room, Kathryn hung up her dress in the dark and slipped into her nightgown. When she climbed into bed, she thought about the horror Tag Moran had planned for Dr. Dane Logan and his bride. Her heart went out to them.

  Soon she began sobbing over the loss of her husband, but after almost an hour, she finally cried herself to sleep.

  On Tuesday morning May 10, a telegram was delivered to Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman in Denver from Larimer County Sheriff James Hoffman in Fort Collins. Hoffman informed him of the note that was delivered to him by Howard Spalding, declaring that the Tag Moran gang was going to hold up both Cheyenne banks on Thursday, May 12. Hoffman explained in the telegram about the young woman who had given the note to Spalding in the general store and the fear that was in her eyes when she asked that S
palding not let anyone but the sheriff know, lest the gang learn of it and kill her. Spalding had told Hoffman that he had never seen the young woman before and had no idea who she was.

  Hoffman’s telegram also informed Brockman that he had wired Laramie County Sheriff Jack Polson in Cheyenne about the note, and that he had advised Polson that he was also wiring Chief Brockman about it.

  Brockman quickly wired Sheriff Polson that he received word from Sheriff Hoffman about the note, and that he and three deputies would arrive in Cheyenne on the evening train from Denver on Wednesday night. They would check into the Great Plains Hotel around nine o’clock, and Brockman asked that Polson meet them there so they could make plans to thwart the robberies and capture the gang.

  Lucinda Moran and Kathryn Tully were standing on the front porch of the old cabin, watching the gang ride away in the direction of Cheyenne.

  Kathryn’s hands were shaking. “Lucinda, why are they leaving so early? If they don’t plan to camp near Cheyenne until tomorrow night, why didn’t they wait and leave here this afternoon?”

  “I asked Tag the same question, Kathryn. He said they will be moving slowly because the law may still have men riding these mountains, searching for them. They’ll have to stay in the forests as much as possible and keep a sharp eye out for determined lawmen, who might just happen to be close by.”

  Kathryn nodded and placed shaky fingers to her temples. “Oh. I understand.”

  Lucinda noted Kathryn’s nervousness. “Honey, what’s wrong with you? You’re as edgy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Nothing can happen to Gib, now. He isn’t riding with them anymore.”

  Tears filmed Kathryn’s eyes. “I know. I know.” She stared off into space, knowing full well what was going to happen at the Cheyenne banks on Thursday if Howard Spalding delivered her note to Sheriff Hoffman—and she felt sure he had. Her heart went out to Lucinda. Bart was going to go back to prison for the rest of his life, or maybe even get killed when the lawmen surprised them at the banks.

  Kathryn could not reveal to Lucinda what she had done. She turned and looked at her. “What’s wrong with me, Lucinda, is that I’m worried about what’s going to happen to me. I don’t think Tag will ever let me go. I know too much. But—but I really do need to get away from the gang and this place and have a life of my own.”

  “Oh, Kathryn, if you can just hold on till we get to California, I’m sure Tag will give you Gib’s share of the money. Then you’ll be free to go and live wherever you want.”

  “Well, I hope you’re right. But in the meantime, I’ll feel like a captive.”

  Lucinda thought of Tag’s uneasiness about Kathryn, and of his putting her on guard to keep an eye on her. She could only do as Tag had commanded. “It’ll be all right, honey. Just hang on and let Tag and the others see that you are still a part of us.”

  Kathryn’s stomach was jumpy and full of butterflies. She let her gaze trail down to the last spot where she had seen the gang as they rode away, knowing what lay ahead of them in Cheyenne.

  Down below, the gang rode slowly and carefully through the dense forests, their eyes peeled for riders.

  On Tuesday night, they made camp amid a stand of trees beside Creedmore Lake, some fifty miles southwest of Cheyenne, but did not build a fire. They traveled just as slowly and carefully on Wednesday as they left the mountains at midday and moved onto the Wyoming plains. They were relieved to arrive just outside of Cheyenne as the sun was going down and made camp in a deep draw about a mile from town. Still they had no campfire.

  Wanting to let the banks have most of the day on Thursday to take in as many cash deposits as possible, Tag led his men into town just before two o’clock. First National Bank and the Bank of Cheyenne were at the town’s main intersection across the street from each other. It had been agreed that Tag and Jason would enter First National at the same time Bart and Tony entered the Bank of Cheyenne.

  Tag was excitedly talking about the big haul they were going to make when they drew up to the intersection. As he and Jason parted from the others, he said, “Okay, boys, let’s do it.”

  Tag and Jason drew up to the hitch rail in front of First National Bank and dismounted. When they looked across the street, Bart and Tony were out of their saddles, looking their way.

  Tag nodded to them and headed for the bank’s front door with Jason at his side. They both pulled their guns as they moved inside. They were barely in the door when four men wearing federal badges suddenly appeared, guns drawn and aimed at them.

  Both outlaws froze in their tracks as they recognized Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman behind one of the guns.

  “Drop those weapons!” snapped Brockman. “Now!”

  Moments later, when the handcuffed Moran brothers were ushered out the bank’s front door, they looked across the street and saw Sheriff Jack Polson with three of his deputies, standing beside Bart and Tony, who were handcuffed.

  Standing close by the sheriff was a reporter from the Cheyenne newspaper, making notes.

  Polson and his men ushered the shackled outlaws across the street, and Bart and Tony looked sick as they set their disconsolate eyes on Tag and Jason. When they drew up, John Brockman turned to Tag Moran. “Well, Tag, you and what’s left of your gang are going inside the Wyoming Territorial Prison this time. That is, after you face Judge Yeager again.”

  The reporter was making more notes while Tag and his men were looking at each other despairingly.

  Brockman and his deputies used a wagon belonging to the sheriff’s office in Cheyenne to take the Moran gang back to Rawlins with the reporter riding along so he could get the full story.

  They drove all night and arrived in Rawlins just after nine o’clock the next morning. They went immediately to the county courthouse and found Judge George Yeager in his office. When Yeager learned from Chief Brockman that he had the Moran gang in custody outside the courthouse, he sent his secretary to fetch the Carbon County sheriff and his deputies. He also gave permission for the reporter from the Cheyenne newspaper to be present in his office as the Moran gang was brought in.

  Once again, the outlaws faced a stern Judge Yeager, who already had the information on the bank robberies the gang had pulled since they had escaped and gone back to their old ways.

  As the outlaws stood glumly before the judge with their hands shackled behind their backs and the federal marshals flanking them, Yeager said evenly, “Bart, Jason, Tony—your sentences will remain the same; life in prison with no chance of parole.”

  All three men hung their heads.

  Yeager then put his cold gaze on Tag Moran. “And your sentence remains the same. You will hang. I am setting the time of the execution right now. Tag Moran, you will hang at sunrise next Wednesday, May 18. You have exactly five days to live. I could have you hanged before the sun sets today, but I’m setting it five days from now because I want you to have time to think about those people you have shot and killed during your robberies and the penalty you are facing for your wicked deeds.”

  With those words ringing in his ears, Tag seemed to cave in. His face went sheet white, his jaw slacked, and his knees buckled.

  One of the federal deputies grasped him to keep him from falling.

  The judge said thinly, “Mr. Moran, you should have thought about your fear of dying before you became a killer.”

  Tag Moran’s skin tingled with horror. His pulse pounded, his forehead dampened with perspiration, and his eyelids twitched nervously.

  Yeager looked at the chief U.S. marshal. “Chief Brockman, you can take your prisoners outside now. The sheriff and his deputies will be here shortly to take them to the prison.”

  When the trembling Tag Moran and his three gang members were taken to the prison by the Carbon County sheriff and his three deputies, Chief Brockman went to the Western Union office and wired the news back to his office to be reported to both Denver newspapers. He also wired Sheriff James Hoffman in Fort Collins to advise him of the gang
’s capture and to give him the date that Judge George Yeager had set for Tag Moran’s execution.

  With this done, Brockman, his deputies, and the reporter headed back to Cheyenne in the wagon. Brockman and his deputies would catch the next train to Denver.

  On Saturday, May 14, the stagecoach driven by Buck Cummons arrived in Fort Collins on its regular run from Casper.

  The Wells Fargo agent was quick to tell Buck and Doke the news, and showed them the story of the Moran gang’s capture in Cheyenne on Thursday as reported in the Fort Collins Gazette.

  Buck released a satisfied sigh. “This is great news! I’m so glad to hear that rotten gang is now locked up in the Wyoming Territorial Prison! They won’t escape this time. And their leader won’t escape the noose, either.”

  Doke’s voice quivered. “I know Tag deserves to be hanged, but it’s hard to think about it because it was him who saved my life years ago at the risk of his own life.”

  Buck nodded. “I can understand why it’s hard for you, Doke.”

  “Yeah,” said the agent. “I can understand too. The man who saved your life is about to lose his own.”

  Doke wiped a palm over his face. “Fellas, I’d like to go to the prison and see Tag before he’s executed. Would you give me a few days off so I can do that?”

  The agent nodded. “Sure, Doke. You all right about it, Buck?”

  Buck nodded. “Of course. I’ll get Clem Dobbins to fill in for him. When do you want to go, Doke?”

  “Tomorrow, if it’s all right. I’ll ride to Rawlins. That way I can see him on Monday.”

  “Sure. See you when you get back.”

  On that same Saturday, May 14, Lucinda Moran and Kathryn Tully went into Fort Collins to buy groceries and supplies as usual.

  As they hauled up in front of the general store and climbed out of the wagon seat, they heard people on the boardwalk talking about the Moran gang being apprehended again. This time it was in Cheyenne. They had been taken to the Wyoming Territorial Prison at Rawlins.

  Kathryn felt relief wash through her body. Her note had done it.

  Lucinda hurried to the nearby newsstand and bought the day’s edition of the Fort Collins Gazette. She opened the front page so both could see it, and they silently read it together.