Chapter 4

I'll tell you, the job of deputy marshal in Wichita in the winter time ain't a bed of roses. There was many a night that the temperature and the wind, combined, made me pine for anyplace that was warmer. It was too late to do anything about it this winter, but I vowed that I was leaving Kansas for warmer climes as soon as the weather would let me. Southern Texas, New Mexico, or Arizona began to look awful enticing every time the temperature dropped. Again, I must say, it wasn't really the temperature all by itself that got to me, a native of New Hampshire, but that damned cold wind. I started thinking that I would do anything to escape it.

It seemed like a hundred years of waiting for spring, but it finally came. I hated to leave the two men, Amos Harding and Jim Warner, who had been so nice and helpful to me, but, dammit, I'd had it! When pressed for my reason for leaving, I told them about the wind, and they had to agree that they sometimes felt the same way, so we parted as friends.

I outfitted myself in pretty much the same way as I had for my trip from Kansas City: two horses and a pack mule. I now had a nice nest egg saved up from my two most recent jobs, so I was more concerned than normal about highway robbery. I planned to be very careful on this trip south through Oklahoma and Northern Texas. I didn't know if I would stay in Texas or move on to the territories, the problem being that Texas had a bad reputation of being very torn up as a result of the war. For one thing, there was still a lot of trouble from the Comanches.

I wasn't expecting the same kind of Indian trouble in Oklahoma, but I was concerned about the possibility of bandits, both White and Red. Well, there was really no other choice if I was going to journey south, so I started out as soon as the last of the mud on the roads dried up. I left Wichita with the idea of heading toward Ft. Worth, which was essentially due south. Once there, I'd see what the prospects were in Texas and whether or not I should move on.

Well, I was right about highwaymen. I had hardly gotten well clear of Wichita before I encountered two bandits who wanted to help me on my way—lightening my load by relieving me of any gold I might be carrying. I was passing through a rare stand of trees when I heard on my left an order, "Stand and deliver!"

Two men rode out from the trees with their guns already drawn, but not cocked. I thought that was a bit foolish, but I wasn't about to tell them how to improve their business. The had the drop on me, so I had no choice but to raise my hands. One of the men said, "Use your left hand and carefully take your guns from their holsters and drop them on the ground."

Now there was the break that I had been hoping for. I was almost as good with my left hand as I was with my right, but the bandit didn't know that. Furthermore, my guns were double action, so the hammer did not have to be pulled back with my thumb as was normal for a single action pistol. Slowly, I reached with my left hand for the pistol at my right hip.

The holster was set up for a crossdraw, so the pistol butt was located in position for an easy draw with my left hand. I slowly pulled the pistol from its holster, carefully keeping my thumb back and in plain sight, well away from the hammer. Once the pistol was fully drawn, I whipped it around and fired off two shots as quickly as possible. I aimed for their chests, and they were so close that there was no way that I was going to miss. Moments later, they both were lying on the ground, quite dead. Further proof of the old adage, "Never assume!"

I relieved them of their valuables and horses and left them lying in the road for the convenience of scavengers and as a warning to all humans, honest or not. Apparently, they were more successful than I had expected, since I picked up $512 from their money belts. Hell, they should have quit while they were ahead!

To celebrate my good fortune, I spent the night in a hotel, instead of camped near the road. I really think that I made a poor choice, though I am sure that the bedbugs enjoyed their feast. I really itched the next morning, but I rubbed some horse lineament on the bites, and they quit itching.

My next encounter with road agents was a bit more exciting. I rode around a curve in the road and saw a disgusting sight. Four men were standing near a stopped wagon. There was a man slumped in the driver's seat, and two women were surrounded by the men. As I drew closer, one of the men grabbed a woman's dress at the neckline and jerked down, ripping the dress right off of her. Of course, she was naked under the dress, and two of the men were pushing the naked woman to the ground.

I could not help reacting violently to this obvious case of rape in the offing. I pulled my gun with my right hand and yelled a war cry as I kicked my horse into a full run at the group. The men had not known that I was there, so they were caught by surprise and were slow to react. It took only a few seconds to get close to the men, and I started shooting as soon as I was close enough to be sure that I would not accidentally shoot one of the women. Four men and five bullets did mean that I had to draw the other gun before I was satisfied that the bastards were truly dead, but I still had two bullets left in it when I was finished.

By now, the naked woman had collapsed in tears, I hoped from relief. I jumped from my horse and ran to cover her with my rain slick. She was lying on the ground, and the other woman was doing her best to comfort her. I left the two women alone while I climbed into the wagon to check on the man lying on the driver's seat. I quickly found that he was an older man, and he was quite dead from a bullet to the chest. There was very little blood, so I assumed that he had died rather quickly.

The woman had stopped crying and sat up by the time I finished my examination of the man in the driver's seat. I returned to the two women and asked what had happened. The second woman answered, "Our father was shot from ambush, and we barely got the wagon stopped before these four monsters ran up to us and ordered us out of the wagon. They wouldn't even let me check on my father's condition. They talked to us rather coarsely before one of the men suddenly tore my sister's dress off. Thank you so very much for the gallant rescue. Surely, we would have been violated and killed if you had not come along when you did."

"It was my pleasure to help you. I'm sad to report that your father is dead. As nearly as I could tell, he died from a bullet in the chest almost immediately, so he did not suffer.

"Do you live around here. If so, I would be pleased to escort you home. If not, perhaps I could escort you to the nearest town."

"We live on our farm about four miles from where we are now. We would be pleased to have you escort us home. If you will help me lay my father in the back of the wagon, I will drive, and you can ride beside us."

As we rode to the farm, I got to know the two women. Ann Meadows was the older one and Mary, who had been the first one attacked, was the younger one. They were not beauties, rather plain, to be honest, but the were both intelligent and pleasant to talk to once the shock of the recent violence began to wear off. Ann was 19 and Mary was 17, so I was a bit surprised that they were not yet married. It seems that they'd both had a number of suiters, but their father had been very choosy over who courted his daughters, so none had been acceptable. It turned out that the women had both been rather pissed over this, and there had been harsh words between them and their father on several occasions.