Heresy

by Melissa Lenhardt

The men whooped and catcalled as Jed and I reacquainted ourselves. I heard Hattie say low in my ear,—You’re gonna stir up the others and there ain’t enough to go around, so I pulled back before I wanted to. Jed, the rascal, winked at Hattie and slapped me on the ass. Jed hollered to Eli he was buying a round, and a cheer went up. He told Domino to deal him out of a round or two and ushered me to the bar, where Eli had our whisky waiting. Out of the spotlight Spooner was always different, gentler and less of a braggart. We’d shared some conversations after lovemaking that I’m sure he’d rather I forget. It was one of the reasons I kept inviting him to my bed. I missed the closeness of a man as much as I missed the touch. Spooner had given me that for years. Of course, Luke wants the job full-time.

  But the man leaning against the bar was harder, and there was a different gleam in his eyes.

  —Good to see you, Jed.

  —And you.

  —You’re looking well. Mexico agreed with you?

  —Stayed in Texas, mostly. Ran into the James boys. They were cooling their heels after a bad Minnesota job. Don’t know why he insists on staying back east. Outlawing is much more lucrative out west. As I guess you’ve learned.

  —It is. I definitely understand the appeal of the outlaw life. I guess I learned a few things from listening to your tales over the years. I lifted my whisky.—Thank you.

  Jed drank his whisky and gave a tight smile.

  —How much have you pulled in?

  I shrugged. Something held me back from giving specifics, which turned out to be a good instinct.

  —Enough to help out the town, give money back to people Connolly cheated.

  —You only went after Connolly?

  —Yes.

  —You didn’t learn that from me. Never become predictable, Duchess.

  —They haven’t caught us yet.

  —No, because you’ve been giving me credit for your jobs, I hear. I suppose I should thank you. You’ve burnished my reputation.

  —Only for a couple. We’ve been riding unmasked for the last three. Still, no one wants to give us credit.

  —Hell, Margaret, that’s a damn blessing, not being in the papers. With that voice, how long until someone puts two and two together? There ain’t many Englishwomen in Colorado.

  —I lose the accent. Anyways, it doesn’t matter now. We’re done. Did our last job up by Marshall Pass a few weeks ago.

  —Now that I’m back.

  —No, that had nothing to do with it. I just, um … want to take it easy for a bit.

  Spooner’s eyes narrowed, but lost the hard glint.

  —You feeling all right? You look a little peaked.

  —I’m fine.

  He motioned for another whisky, and a muscle pulsed in his cheek.

  —How long have you been fucking Rhodes?

  —What?

  —Why else would he be glowering at me from underneath that stupid hat?

  —I hate to break it to you, but Luke has never liked you.

  Spooner laughed.—And why do you think that is, Duchess?

  Spooner lifted his glass and nodded at someone behind me, which I knew without looking was Luke.

  —Why would you care one way or another? We’ve never had that kind of relationship. Or have you been faithful to me while you were down south?

  Spooner motioned for another drink.

  —I didn’t think so.

  Over Jed’s shoulder I saw Valentine walk into the saloon. His bloodshot gaze roamed over the room until it settled on me and Jed. He grinned and came our way.

  Before Valentine got halfway across the room, Jed lifted his glass to me and said,—To Margaret Parker, the best …

  He paused, and there was a brief moment when I thought he was going to toast the gang’s accomplishments. I’d given him credit for inspiring us, after all. But the pause was fleeting.

  — … the best fuck I’ve ever had.

  He threw back his shot, his eyes never leaving my face, which I’m sure was a mask of astonishment. That turned to anger in a flash. In the silence that followed, Opal stopped playing, and I heard Luke Rhodes’s boots scrape the floor as if he was coming to intervene on my behalf. Even Valentine stopped in his tracks, a stunned expression clearly visible on his hirsute face. I lifted my glass higher and said in a strong voice,—To Jed Spooner, the second- or third-best outlaw in three territories.

  I slapped the glass upside down on the bar and glared at my former lover. Grace appeared, and damn, Luke Rhodes was right there behind her. I introduced her to both men, told her she could mark meeting an outlaw, a cattle rustler, and a sheriff off her list with one go, then went to the poker table and took Jed’s seat. I swept his money off onto the floor and pulled out my own coins. Salter smiled in appreciation, and Domino and Ought-Not stared at me wide-eyed.

  —What’s wrong, boys? You never seen a woman play poker?

  —No one so pretty, Ought-Not said.

  —Since when did you become a charmer, Ought-Not?

  He blushed.

  —I’ve always been a charmer. You’ve just been immune to them.

  —Much to my detriment.

  —He was quite the favorite of the señoritas down south, Domino said.

  Ought-Not’s face darkened.

  —Shut up and deal the cards.

  Ought-Not wasn’t a handsome man. In fact, he was fairly unmemorable all the way around. Average height, brown hair, brown eyes, thin lips, but a strong jaw. Soft-spoken and polite to a fault, he was the conscience of the group. Spooner got all the credit, but Ought-Not was his right-hand man, watching Spooner’s back and looking out for the pitfalls. But there was steel in Ought-Not’s jaw, and Spooner respected the Missourian enough to heed his counsel. I suspected Ought-Not was behind the outlaw code that Spooner had followed, which made it so difficult to imagine Dead-Eye’s riding with the gang sat well with a man like Ought-Not. Sly Jack came over, plopped a chair down backward next to Domino, sat, and leaned his arms on the back.

  —Good to see you, Margaret.

  —You, too, Jack. How was the South? I asked.

  —Hot.

  —Me, Jack, and Ought-Not didn’t get south of Fort Worth, Domino said.

  —Got on with an outfit west of there. Cowboying. Did a couple of drives to Abilene.

  —And Spooner?

  —Met up with the James boys and Dobbs in Fort Worth. He and Scab went south in search of a better-paying job.

  —Did they find one?

  Domino and Ought-Not exchanged a wary glance, and Domino said,—Yep.

  They clammed up after that.

  I’ll finish tomorrow. My hand is cramping up and Cassiopeia has traveled too far across the sky. Sun will be up before I know it.

  Sunday, June 17, 1877

  It’s dawn, and I’m sitting next to Grace on the gallery that circles the house, drinking coffee and watching the sun rise over the mountains behind the barn. I just finished helping Jehu tend the horses, but he’s still out there, piddling. I retreat to the mountains when I get back from being away, Jehu retreats to the barn. He’s angry at me, but it won’t last long. It never does.

  A few months ago, on the way home from my doctor’s appointment in Cheyenne, Jehu and I had made the decision to stop outlawing, and we were going to tell everyone together after the last job was done. Then Spooner had to go and bait me, to belittle what the girls and I have accomplished as luck or tall tales (he used both reasons, though they contradicted each other) and the next thing I knew we were in each other’s faces, throwing down the gauntlet. Our gangs were ranged behind us, some offering more vocal support than others. Ought-Not, Domino, and Jack’s support of Spooner was tepid at best. The rest of the town was on the edges of the room—though Valentine was behind Jed as if part of his gang—watching with mixed expressions. Rebecca and Harvey were concerned, Valentine looked at me with murder in his eyes. Luke Rhodes was nowhere to be found.

  The challenge was quickly agreed on: One job before the first snow.
No killing or violence. Biggest take wins. Winner gets the ranch. My ranch. Loser leaves the area and finds another place to outlaw.

  Let me tell you right now: we’re going to win this bet, we’re going to shut Jed Spooner’s mouth, and we’re going to finally get the credit for the jobs we’ve done.

  10

  WPA Slave Narrative Collection

  Interview with Henrietta Lee

  Thursday, September 10, 1936

  Where’d we leave off the other day? Surrounded by enemies. That’s right. The Spooner Gang rode back into town, six of them anyways, the ones who’d been with Spooner the longest, and the ones who didn’t have the intelligence to lead their own gang. That’s what Jed had done, left the James Gang in Missouri and came west. Used the same Confederate raider practices that old cracker Jesse and his brother Frank used. Guerrilla tactics, he called them. They’re the same ones we used.

  “Yes, I’m talking about Jesse James. No, I never met him.

  “Spooner’d never liked the violence of the James boys, which is another reason he came out west. Managed to be successful, too, without killing or hurting people. When Spooner came back from Mexico he wasn’t the same good-time fun-loving outlaw he’d been before. At the time I didn’t know what changed him, and it was a shock seeing this good-natured rascal turn into a steely-eyed killer. Turns out he’d met up with the James boys in Texas.

  “I heard tell later that what set Spooner off on Garet was Valentine, the town blacksmith who hated Garet something fierce, telling Spooner that Garet’d been going around saying she was a better outlaw than Spooner, that the town didn’t need him, that they relied on her now. He believed it easy enough because the town was much better off when he got back than when he left. It was down to us, sure, but like I said, the Hole was filling up, and business was good. Garet’s plan to retire wouldn’t have bothered people too much, I bet, since they were relying on her less and less. Though you never know; people love to get something for nothing. Course it ain’t money they want for nothing from a woman, is it?

  “Did I not mention Garet’s plan to retire from outlawing? Hmm. Thought I did. That was why she wanted Grace to tell the story, because she wasn’t going to be around to do it herself. Me write it? Hell, child. Even if I could get someone to print it, who would believe a Negro? You’ll see when I get farther along. It’s a hard enough story to believe as it is.

  “That was all put on hold when Spooner came back and insulted Garet in front of the town. Didn’t give her, or any of us, credit for what we’d done. Hell, we’d improved his reputation by giving him credit for the first two jobs. He didn’t care. All he saw was a woman doing a better job than him, and he couldn’t let that stand. He challenged Garet to a contest, both gangs pull a job, biggest take gets the Heresy Ranch. Loser leaves Timberline forever. We were all caught up in the moment and egged her on to take the bet. Not that she needed the encouragement. We should’ve stopped for a moment and considered a little more, but we didn’t. Spooner wasn’t playing fair, but he’d always been honorable, as far as outlaws go, and we didn’t count on his betrayal. We were all, Stella, Joan, and I, excited to be doing another job so soon.

  “When Jehu found out about the bet he was fighting mad. If he hadn’t been naked in bed with me when I told him, I think he would have gone right then and punched some sense into Garet. It didn’t make sense, you see. Jehu’d always been eager for the next job. I distracted him—easy enough to do—and after, he told me why he was so mad. He told me that Garet was sick, dying of a tumor in her gut, and that they’d decided this would be the last job, so she could live out her remaining days at home, at peace. Then it was my turn to be mad. One, that they’d made the decision without me, and two, that Garet hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me she was sick.

  “I’m a jealous person by nature, and the green-eyed monster got me. Jehu and Garet had a special bond. Nah, they weren’t lovers. It wasn’t like that, though I think before I came along Jehu was sweet on her. She never thought of him that way, and, well, when I found that out … I think I loved Jehu from almost the moment I met him. I saw in him a gentle soul who would never hurt me. Course, we would have still been just friends, sneaking glances at each other, trying to think of excuses to brush our hands against each other, if I hadn’t climbed up in the barn loft late one night. He slept there instead of the house. Said it was comforting. I knew why he slept up there, and I knew he would never approach me, though the air practically hummed with desire when we were around each other. He cried when I dropped my dress, and a woman with less confidence would have probably gone on her way. But I knew Jehu needed me as much as I needed him. You see, human beings can only go so long without feeling a loving touch, and that was something neither Jehu or I had ever felt. Going without deadens you, hardens you. I was tired of being dead inside. It was the most beautiful night of my life. I can’t think too much on it. It makes the hole Jehu left ache too much.”

  Mrs. Lee falls silent, and her eyes pool with tears until they run down her face. I don’t say anything; I don’t know what to say. She pulls a handkerchief from her pocket, wipes her face and eyes, and continues.

  “I got off course there. Jehu does that to me. Back to Garet. Of course, it all made sense knowing Garet was dying: kidnapping Grace, wanting her to “tell our story.” Garet saw the end of her life and wanted to make sure it had meaning, wanted to make sure she wasn’t forgotten. She sure as hell didn’t want men taking credit for our work. None of us did, though I don’t think Jehu cared. He’d gotten the idea of settling at the ranch, giving up teamstering, us waking up together every day for the next forty years into his mind, and there wasn’t anything that was going to change it.

  “I’ve thought on it a lot over the years, why Garet took that bet. It wasn’t just for the glory, or for the thrill of doing the jobs. She didn’t want us to be forced back to the life we’d left. Escaped from. She wanted to ensure our independence, if that’s what we wanted. In those days the best way to be secure was to marry a man, and most of the women who left our care, protection, whatever you want to call it, eventually got married. There’s plenty of good men out there, but child, there are times when it seems like they’ve gone extinct. None of us, though, wanted to be married. That’s why we stayed. That’s what Garet wanted to protect. Our choices.

  “We all thought if we started planning, Jehu’d go along eventually, but he never did. He wouldn’t stand in our way, but he wouldn’t take part in it.

  “Why? He said it was because he’d made a decision and he was sticking with it. That was part of it, no doubt. He wasn’t one to go back once his mind was made up. But when the stage we robbed finally got to Gunnison, the victims were questioned, they told their stories, and they agreed to keep silent on it being women. Except this time at the saloon after, Jehu ran into another teamster who said Jehu had the worst luck of any driver he’d ever known, being held up so much. Jehu worried that one more job and he’d be found out. He understood Garet’s reasons for wanting to do it, and mine, which were the same, and he thought not being involved would protect him. It would’ve, too, if he didn’t have a heart the size of the moon. You see, Toddy, the guard, overheard it, but Jehu didn’t know that until later.”

  GUNFIGHTERS & OUTLAWS

  by William Gibbons

  Published 1922

  Chapter Five

  The Spooner Gang, 1868–1877

  When people think of Old West outlaws, the same gangs come to mind: Jesse James (though he did all of his jobs in the Midwest), Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy. But there were dozens of gangs and twice that of individual outlaws and gunslingers who worked west of the Mississippi during the late half of the nineteenth century who get nary a mention.

  Jed Spooner arrived in Colorado in 1865 claiming to have ridden with the James–Younger Gang in Missouri. No one questioned him; he told detailed stories about their exploits and, as he was a generally pleasant fellow, men tended to take his claims at face value. No
w, nearly sixty years on, there’s no historical basis for his claim. Neither “Jed Spooner,” nor any variation of that name, comes up in research on the notorious James–Younger Gang, nor did any of the gang leave around the time Spooner claimed to have left. Jed Spooner wouldn’t have been the first outlaw to lie about his past, and he certainly wasn’t the last.

  We can confirm a good deal, since Spooner wasn’t one to hide his light under a bushel. He came west after the war for the same reason most rebs did, to start a new life and to hit it big in the mines. Spooner never hit it big. Pickax Johnson, a forty-niner who died in 1917 at the ripe old age of ninety-nine, worked with Spooner in the San Juan Mountains around ’65, and said the only kind of mining Spooner had any skill for was picking up chunks of gold from the riverbed. Since gold panning was mostly played out by then, Spooner lost interest soon enough and turned to gambling and whoring as his main occupations, though not necessarily in that order. He was a mite better gambler than miner, but not by much. He was a lucky son of a bitch for all that, because he lost his last coin to Hank Henry, a light-fingered safecracker who was looking to change his affiliations. Over the next few months, he and Spooner robbed a bank, a mining office and a general store. They gathered some others on the way, riverboat dealer Domino Jones, pickpocket “Sly” Jack Fox, and powder monkey Maurice “Scab” Williams. Other members came and went, but these five were the core of the Spooner Gang for a decade.

  They survived a decade of outlawing without one death and, despite a night or two in jail for drinking and rowdiness, were never caught for their thieving. The debate on whether or not Spooner rode with the James boys rests on this one fact: he was an expert at the guerrilla tactics the James boys learned as Missouri bushwhackers in the war. Though it is largely forgotten now, Spooner’s was the first gang to relay horses along their getaway route, a trick Butch Cassidy would use to great effect a decade after the Spooner Gang disappeared. But the best trick the Spooner Gang ever did was to disappear completely for months at a time.