The dusk of evening fell across the mountain range leaving those along the streets scurrying to their homes among the small town. Along the boardwalk, lights cast shadows of those passing. Pulling her shawl up around her chin Hannah Wilson stepped up on the porch of a small framed house. Sighing deeply, she knocked on the door and looked around suspiciously.
“Tillie, we need to talk," was all Hannah could say as a pretty young woman opened the door. “Maybe I should not have come, but things have been said that you need to know,” she said.
“Alright, come in. Tell me everything that you have heard,” Tillie said.
“Maybe, I should not have come,” Hannah Wilson said again.
“Hannah, I know it took courage coming here. Now you have to let me know what I’m facing,” Tillie Bonner said.
Hannah continued, “Tillie, I am sorry to bother you at a time like this, but I just couldn’t stand by while they did this to you.”
“Go on,” Tillie said.
“I went to work early this morning before Judge Hayes came in. I’m not usually that early, but today I was. The judge’s chamber was empty, so I decided to dust. The old judge sneezes up a storm if I dust while he’s there. I had gone into the back room to get my duster when the three of them came in. I heard the door to the judge’s chambers open. Then I heard Mira Bonner begin speaking rather loudly. Her voice is so piercing! I decided I’d better be quiet and stay put. The three moved into the room and I eased back in the linen closet. Through a crack in the door, I saw Mira’s face. It was hard and twisted, as usual,” Hannah said.
Hannah relayed what she had heard. ‘Judge Hayes, I expect you to follow my instructions to the letter. Hear me good; if you don’t, I will get myself another judge and don’t think I won’t!’ Mira said.
‘Mira, you can’t just slander someone like Tillie! Every decent person in this town will be up in arms,’ the sheriff said.
‘RD, I can do as I please. The two of you will do well to remember where your high living is coming from!’ Mira hissed.
Mira leveled a gaze at the small sheriff, and he began to squirm. ‘Sheriff, get hold of Dean French and tell him just what I told you to say and remind him nothing else will be necessarily said. That low life will screw it up if he is left to his own imagination!” she said with a huff.’
Hannah shifted nervously from foot to foot before she started again. “Mira told the judge what she expected of him, and if he didn’t deliver, she would get rid of him. Mira told that weasel of a sheriff the same thing. She told him to get that no count womanizer Dean French to do the dirty work and pay him for his trouble. Once it was over, the sheriff was to advise French to leave town and never come back if he knew what was good for him,” she said.
“No one would believe that I would have anything to do with the likes of French,” Tillie said.
“Miss Tillie, the women in this town envy your beauty and don’t think they wouldn’t wag their tongues!” Hannah stated firmly.
“What else did Mira say?” Tillie asked.
“She told them that she would wait a decent time after the funeral to mourn her loss, but not too long, so folks would still be shocked over the reason for Phil’s death,” Hannah stated.
“Why would anyone believe anything Mira says? Everyone knows the judge and her lawyer was behind the way she treated Uncle Buck,” Tillie said as she paced the room, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders. Tillie quietly looked into the bedroom where her children slept as she thought over what she had heard. “Hannah, on your way home, I want you to find Uncle Buck.”
“Ma’am, it’s awfully late,” Hannah said pitifully.
“Hannah, this can’t wait until tomorrow. You should find Buck in his room behind the school. Go to him tonight and tell him what you have just told me. Tell him I said it is worse than we ever dreamed and we must hurry. Can you do that for me?” Tillie asked.
“Alright, Tillie, I guess I don’t mind. You are a fine lady, and I count you as my closest friend,” Hannah said.
“Hannah, you must not talk of this to anyone, ever! If you do, that vengeful woman will make your life miserable. If Mira finds out you were in the judge’s chamber, neither you nor your husband will be able to find work here in Hunter. I need time to think this out. Keep quiet about this! Now hurry along and find Buck Bonner,” Tillie said.
Leaving the small house, Hannah Wilson hurried down the back streets of Hunter, Colorado. It was shift-change at the mill. Workers from the mill made their way to their homes. Hunter sat on the east side of Colorado, surrounded by a mountain range whose peaks disappeared through the clouds. Summer was almost gone, and the community was preparing for a long and cold winter. Stacks of firewood covered the sides of houses, as well as every available barn. It was a scenic town from any direction you looked.
The following morning, while a chill was still in the air, Tillie Bonner stood in the center of Hunter Graveyard. Her children, Mary and Danny, formed a close little band around their mother. Her late husband, Phil Bonner, lay in the freshly dug grave at her feet. A host of friends and neighbors stood about the graveyard. Emotionally numb, Tillie heard little of what was said by the lanky preacher in the long black coat.
Grandmother Bonner dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. She had a stern, cross look on her face when she said, “Tillie, I think you should consider what I asked you earlier.”
“Grandmother, I will tell you for the last time my children will be living with me. You will not mention it again,” Tillie stated emphatically.
“Tillie, you can’t take care of these children, and I can make sure they never need anything. Why the whole bunch of you might just starve to death! What will you do for money?” Mira asked.
Tillie stated with finality, “We will get along, so quit your worrying!” She quickly turned from the scene and moved out of the cemetery holding tightly to the hands of her children.
“Wait up a moment, Tillie,” a woman said as she hurried from a group of women as Tillie walked through the cemetery gate. “Tillie dear, we women of Hunter would like to assure you of our support during these trying times. Why don’t you let Mary come home with me? She is always welcome to stay with my Susan anytime you need a little break.”
“Thanks, Ethyl, but not tonight. We need some time alone,” Tillie said.
Ethyl Groggins quickly replied, “I know you do, dear. Just remember you can count on the ladies here in Hunter. Don’t pay no mind to Mira. She is just hurt and don’t know what she is saying.”
Tillie knew that Mira had wasted no time in spreading the hurtful gossip around town, and the women were quickly embellishing what they had heard.
“What is Mira saying?” Tillie asked with a questioning look.
A quick look of denial came over Ethyl’s face as she stammered for words. “We know you did your best by Phil. Why there isn’t a bad thing ever been said about you, honey. Well, you know what I mean. There was just no cause for Phil going and doing what he did. Poor Phil was a good man. Why he always had a kind word to say to anyone he passed on the street. The poor man must have been out of his mind,” she said.
Tillie considered the women standing in a tight bundle in the cemetery. They were always quick to tell her what woman her husband was with and just as ready to spread gossip around town. How quickly they had decided her poor husband was a man of integrity, and now she was the cause of his death.
Looking back at the woman in the cemetery, Tillie said, “Thank the ladies for me, Ethyl. You will excuse me. I need to get my children settled down. This day has been a trying one for us.”
Walking along the busy street, Tillie held tightly to a complaining Mary’s hand until a well-dressed elderly man stepped up on the boardwalk and scooped Mary up in his arms. He said, “Tillie, I want to extend my condolences to you and the children.” His bright blue eyes twinkled as he said quietly under his breath, “Everything is ready. You have the best outfit this side of the Rockies. Everything you need to travel by wagon is packed in a new Conestoga and waiting for you over in Harrison. I will pick you up in my buggy tonight after dark. You are wise to leave tonight before the wicked witch gets hold of the children here.”
Putting Mary down, he whispered, “Just like Mrs. Wilson said, the rumor is circulating that Phil killed himself because he caught you having an affair. It is the first step of trying to discredit you. You must not be here tomorrow,” Buck said.
“We will be ready to leave tonight. How can I ever thank you, Uncle Buck? I sure wish you would reconsider and come with us. Won’t you change your mind and come along?” Tillie begged.
Buck Bonner was the brother of the children’s grandfather, Jack Bonner, who had died years before and left his wife Mira his half of the family business. Jack Bonner and Buck had never needed a legal paper between them, and when Jack had died, Mira had suddenly provided a signed copy of the documents stating that Jack had been the sole owner of the mill and all that went with it. Mira had run the mill’s business affairs, and Buck had signed many a document Mira had held before him never bothering to look at its content.
The lust for money and control had corrupted Mira. Everything had been filed at the courthouse over the previous years without him even knowing what was happening. Suddenly everything he had was gone, including his own home.
“Tillie, are you sure about traveling by wagon? You know it is not wise this time of year,” Buck stated.
“Uncle Buck, it’s the only way we can leave here and have a prayer of getting away,” Tillie said.
“I will take you to Harrison to your wagon, but that is far as I dare go. I have a friend in Harrison who will help you with the team to Buckley. Sandy Crow will teach you how to drive the team, and by the time you get to Buckley, you will be able to handle those mules like a true mule skinner. I wish I could go! I wouldn’t last long, and you would be burying me somewhere down the trail. This medicine I put under my tongue is the only thing keeping me alive now,” Buck said.
“Buck, I wish--you would come with us,” Tillie stated.
“I wish I could, but that’s impossible. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me! You need to get as far as you can away from here. If you stay around here, Mira will win and get the children. What she wants--she gets,” Buck said.
“Where are we going, Mother?” Danny asked.
“We will discuss this later, Danny. I will explain it all to you, but for now, we need to get home. There are a lot of preparations to be made. Buck, I will be expecting to see you tonight,” Tillie said.
Tipping his hat, he walked down the boardwalk. Buck Bonner had a new spring in his step that had not been there for a long time.
A few days later, Tillie stood before the small campfire braiding her long blond hair and securing the end with a pink ribbon. Tired and worried, she stood watching the rain course down the muddy street. It had rained for two days steady, without letup, and she saw no end in sight. If winter hit, there would be no way to get out of this country until spring.
Sandy Crow had ridden the fifty miles from Harrison beside her, coaching her as she managed the team and encouraging her as they went along. Danny also drove the team, and at the end of the fifty-mile trip, they were both physically worn out from working the heavy leather reins guiding the six-mule team.
Before he left, Sandy stood by the big mules and looked at Tillie and Danny. He said, “Miss Tillie, you just aren’t big enough to handle a team like this, and Danny is still too young, but your heart is willing, and I suppose you will do alright. I’ll remind you one more time, there is a whip under the seat, and if you want them mules to mind, you better learn to use it.” He left that next morning headed back home on the stage with the instructions not to divulge what he had been doing in the past few days.
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The uncertainty of what could be behind them kept Tillie continually looking over her shoulder. ‘I’ll remind you one more time, there is a whip under the seat, and if you want them mules to mind, you better learn to use it.’ Sandy had said. Now she would take his advice. Occasionally the team would balk and that is when Tillie learned to use the whip. Walking alongside the team while Danny was driving the mules, Tillie became proficient with the whip. Before long, she could cut the top out of a thistle or a leaf out of a tree. The team realized she meant business and became easier to handle as her skills improved.
A rainy week had come and gone making forward progress slow. The mules were pulling good, but the sky had her worried. A well-worn wagon trail ventured off to their right and on impulse, Tillie reined the team off of their southern course. It was dusk and gas lights of a small town twinkled across a canyon before them. The mules took the slow descent into the canyon town as if they knew there were hay and grain ahead.
“Danny, this may be a place to winter! We have come a long way. This town must be one of the places Uncle Buck said we would see along the southern route,” Tillie said. In her haste to get as far away from Hunter as possible, she had passed much better places to winter. Looking at her son she said, “We will look this place over tomorrow and see if it is secluded enough for the next few months. Now Danny, knowing what we know about Grandmother, we must not trust anyone. We must not talk freely to anyone. I guess what I am saying is, we need to keep our business to ourselves. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Tillie asked.
Danny walking alongside the wagon grinned to himself, and in the disappearing light, he called back up to her, “Mom, I think so! I will just answer any questions with a simple yes or no or just shrug my shoulders.”
“Son, sometimes people stuck way out here, not seeing a lot of new folks, can get mighty nosey and like to know your business. Our business is none of anyone else’s business,” Tillie said.
As the wagon entered the west end of town, Pace Jacobson stepped from the Snake Bit Saloon. Looking up and down the street, he searched his vest pockets for a match. A minute later, the flash of sulfur flared and the poorly rolled cigarette he held between his lips came to life. He blinked in the thick smoke and stifled a cough as the harsh tobacco bit his lungs. Leaning against a post, he breathed deeply as a fine team of six mules moved along the street. Tillie would have asked him for directions, but she had smelled the livery stable at the far end of the main road long before she reached the man standing before the saloon.
Jacobson had just left everything but the change in his pocket on the card table. The god of good fortune had not been good to him tonight. Out of habit, he reached for his pocket watch. Touching his empty watch pocket, he remembered he had lost the most cherished possession of his gold pocket watch to secure the last hand. A cough from behind him got his attention. Looking around, he spied a figure standing in the shadows. “Doris, what are you doing back there in the shadows?” Pace asked.
“I was trying to get away from that smoke you men emit like smokestacks inside and get a breath of fresh air,” she said.
Pointing to a well-worn bench located on the boardwalk, he chuckled and said, “You don’t have to hide in the dark! There are benches for your convenience.”
“No thanks, Pace! I had rather stay back here in the dark and enjoy a little peace without every drunk that comes in and out of the saloon getting in my face,” Doris King said.
Doris often stepped from the smoke-filled saloon to catch a breath of fresh air. Life was getting harder and harder for her. The Snake Bit saloon was the center of all she had grown to hate in the last five years.
“It looked like you didn’t fair to well with Frank Bellow’s new card dealer, Chet Ringer. Had I seen you come in tonight, I would have warned you to stay out of the games,” Doris said.
“I guess I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. I know every time there are cattlemen in town, the fresh money will bring changes at the card tables. I guess I just got greedy and wanted to beat the odds,” Pace said.
“I’m not saying the dealers are crooked, but the house always wins in the Snake Bit,” Doris said.
Pace Jacobson considered what Doris said. Blowing the ashes of his cigarette, he shrugged and said, “Doris, I will get on a winning streak...my luck is bound to change. Too bad we don’t still have grandpa B. W. King as our town sheriff. Your old grandpa kept the games honest.”
“If he were still sheriff, I wouldn’t be working in the Snake Bit,” Doris said.
Pace smiled at her, waved back over his shoulder, and stepped down from the boardwalk. The street was well-lit and dry for a change. Jacobson made his way to the sheriff’s office and stopped before the town’s bulletin board. For a moment, he studied a poster before folding it up and placing it in his pocket. Stepping back in the street, he stood looking at the wagon in front of the livery.
Doris watched him for a minute. She was always interested in most anything that didn’t concern her. ‘Now what was Pace up to?’ she thought before stepping back through the swinging doors.
Down the street, Tillie pulled the wagon near the livery barn door and climbed down from the seat. A skinny young boy came from the dark interior of the barn pulling a suspender over his shoulder. Leaning a rake against the barn wall, he took in the situation. As the young boy pointed down the road, he said, “Ma’am, there is a fair size stream down there out of town where you can camp. If you would like, I will walk down and help you unhook your team. I can bring your stock back and give them a good bait of oats and hay.”
“Thank you,” Tillie said, nodding a tired yes. She looked down the road at the stream in the distance. Having a campsite with a clean stream of running water elevated Tillie’s spirit.
From inside the barn, a gruff voice called to the boy. Hearing that, the young boy turned back in the barn, and his smile quickly faded. From inside the barn, Tillie heard a loud voice yelling, “Boy, I told you to get these stalls cleaned an hour ago! Now get it done, or I will take it out of your hide. You expect me to pay you for nothing?” the voice asked.
The young boy replied quickly, “Mr. Price, I’m working on the stalls. You have a customer out front, and I was trying to get them settled, and their mules cared for!” A loud slapping sound on flesh came from the barn.
“I didn’t ask you for any of your lip! Now get busy! I’ll be back in a few minutes, and if the stalls are not done, I will take my belt to you!” the voice exclaimed.
The boy walked back from the inside of the barn holding his hand over the side of his face. From the back of the barn, the sound of a barn door slamming echoed in the air. Danny was shocked at what he had just witnessed and asked the boy, “Is that your pa?”
“No, my Pa is dead. He was killed in the war. After he died, Mother just cried all day long. She never got over Daddy dying and died two years ago. The stable is the only place I could find a job. No one around here wants a 14-year-old boy. So...I work for Mr. Price, and he lets me sleep in the hayloft,” the young boy stated flatly.
“I don’t think I will be boarding my mules with this stable. Is there a place down by the stream where I can graze them tonight?” Tillie asked.
“Yes, Ma’am! For this time of year, there’s plenty of good grass by the stream. Lots of fish, too!” Looking at Danny, the boy’s eyes brightened, and he said, “When I finish the stalls, I will come fish with you. I have my fishing poles hid down by the stream. The catfish always bite best at night. That stream is where I get most of my meals these days,” the boy said.
Tillie was deep in thought as she considered the skinny boy they had just met. “What is your name?” she asked.
The young boy responded, “My mother named me Abraham Lincoln Cole after the President of the United States. That’s why most of the people around here don’t want anything to do with me. They still sympathize strongly with the Confederacy.”
“I think it’s a great name! If you are not kin to the man that owns the stable, why don’t you quit?” Danny asked.
“I don’t have any place to go. I sleep in the barn loft,” Abraham repeated.
Danny’s eyes immediately went to his mother’s face, and the two were thinking the same thing. “Why don’t you come down and have supper with us after you finish the stalls. I would like to talk to you about your situation,” Tillie said.
Across the street, Pace Jacobson rolled another cigarette while studying the family as their wagon headed out of town. Removing the paper from his pocket, he looked around at the telegraph window down by the railroad station. Being a creature of habit, Pace reached for his pocket watch. Grimacing, he missed not knowing what time it was. His mind was calculating if he could make it to the telegraph office before Walter Snow called it a night. ‘The light was still on, and if I hurry, I might get a telegram off before Walter gets off his shift. For a silver dollar, Snow could always keep a secret.’ Purpose was evident in his step as Pace made his way back along the boardwalk.
Inside the saloon, Doris had walked back to the swinging doors and was watching Pace down the street. Suddenly he turned and came walking down the boardwalk. “Where are you going in such a hurry? I didn’t know those old legs could carry you any faster than a slow shuffle,” Doris said as he passed the saloon.
“Doris, aren’t you supposed to be running the Snake Bit for your boss? Surely you have more to do than keep an eye on me. For your information, it’s none of your business,” Pace said as he passed the front of the saloon.
“Well, slow down! I’ve never seen you move so fast. It don’t look natural, Pace!” Doris said with a laugh. As he marched on down the street, she cast an eye back the way he had come. Whatever was motivating him must concern the notice he had taken from the town's bulletin board. She had read the bulletin board this morning and stood trying to remember a bulletin that would be of interest to Pace. He had been mighty interested in the wagon that just came through town. Behind her, a tap on her shoulder broke her concentration.
“Doris, you need to come talk to Betty. She is at it again. I told her not to drink the hard liquor with the customers, but she is getting loud and her red face is not from the rouge she wears,” the owner of the saloon stated.
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Tillie helped Danny unhook the mules, and together they set up camp. Back at the stable Abraham Lincoln made fast work of the stalls. Placing the rake and shovel back in the tack room, he ran back to Tillie’s campsite. She saw the smile on his face as he came into the campfire light. It was evident he needed friends in his lonely existence, and for an instant, her eyes started to tear up.
“Abraham, supper will be a while. Why don’t you join Danny and you boys try and catch some fish to go with these biscuits? Danny found a boat like thing over on the other side of the stream, and he is sitting on it cooling his feet in the stream,” Tillie said.
“Miss Tillie, that’s not a boat, it’s a barge my daddy Sgt. Jackie Cole and Mr. Walley built. Downriver there is a place where people come to cross. Pa and Mr. Walley were ready to put the barge in this stream and float it down to the big river. They were going to charge people to ferry them across. Then nightriders came and burned our house and barn down. That night Pa and Mr. Walley snuck off and joined the Union Army,” he said.
“That sounds like a fascinating story. Go and find Danny! Tonight, I would like to hear more about your father and Mr. Walley,” Tillie said.
The two boys explored the stream for several hundred yards having the time of their lives. The water was high for this late in the year, but even the cold water didn’t hamper their enthusiasm. Tillie realized it had been too long since Danny played with a boy about his age. The two came back to let Tillie know they were going to Abraham's favorite fishing hole and quickly dashed away, chatting excitedly. “Tomorrow, I will take you to my favorite hiding place. It’s too far upstream in the dark. If we go early enough, we might get to hear the angel sing,” Abraham said excitedly.
‘Angel sing,’ Tillie grinned, knowing the tall tales boys can dream up. She called after the boys as they ran downstream, “Danny, if you hear my whistle, you both come a-running. Supper will be ready.”
Tonight, there wouldn’t be any fish to go with supper, so Tillie cut some salt bacon to fry. It was going to be a late supper. As cold as the water was, Tillie intended to take a good bath. It had been days since she had been able to bathe and above all wash Mary’s hair. It was late when things settled down where Tillie could get to know Abraham. It was apparent Danny had taken him as his best friend.
“Tomorrow, we will catch some fish for sure! Just wait and see. I always catch fish when the moon is full!” Abraham said excitedly.
“Abraham, you are very young to be on your own. When did your mother die?” Tillie asked.
“Mother died last winter. She just never got over losing dad. After the nightriders burned our house, Mother and I stayed with her friend until mother died,” he said.
“One day, I was going through the garbage cans behind the eating place. The Chinese cook came out and brought me food. Every day I go by the backdoor of the eating place, and the Chinese cook feeds me. He told me an angel was paying him to feed me. Then I started cleaning the stable for Mr. Price, and he let me sleep in the barn loft. When Mr. Price is drunk, I go to my hiding place down by the river where the angel sings. Nobody can find me there. The angel still feeds me every day,” Abraham said.
“Tell me about your father and Mr. Walley,” Tillie asked.
Abraham Cole sat looking into the campfire. A moment before he had been all smiles, but now his face was pained. “When the war talks finally got to this town, the people never talked about anything else,” Abraham related. “It became their passion. When Pa and I walked down the street, Pa avoided the groups of men standing around in long-winded conversations. There were loud discussions on every corner of town. Strange men came to town and kept the men all stirred up. Pa and Mr. Walley just spent all their time building the barge. When the stream was high in the spring, they planned to float it down to the river and start a ferryboat business—ferrying folks and goods from one side to the other. I was young and didn’t understand, but momma told me Pa and Mr. Walley didn’t like the talk and tried to stay away from the people like Mr. Price. He was for the Confederates and was always stirring up trouble. A troublemaker is always full of hate.”
“Mother said the devil wants us to hate each other and be ugly to one another. God has for us a special kind of love for Him that helps us get along. Both love and hate are powerful passions that can rule a person’s heart and ruin their lives. She told me I was young, ‘but I best know what she was telling me is true. Either love or hate will have a lot to say about how we folks live our lives.’ ”
One night dad and Mr. Walley snuck out of town and joined the Union Army because they refused to join the Confederate Army. They were both killed at the end of the war. That’s all Mother ever told me except to say my father was a mighty good man,” Abraham finished his story, and his eyes came back into focus and looked at Tillie.
“I can’t believe someone in this town doesn’t want a nice-looking boy like you. How would you like to stay with us for a while, and let’s just see how things work out? You and Danny get along well, and I think I would like to have two sons,” Tillie said.
Abraham was beside himself with joy, but then a cloud came over his face.
“What is it, Abraham? Don’t you want to come with us?” Tillie asked.
“I surely do, but Mr. Price will be mad and beat me if he finds out I am not going to work for him anymore,” he said.
“Abraham, as of right now, you no longer work for Mr. Price. I want you and Danny to stay here in camp and let me handle the problems that Mr. Price might start. You are now part of my family, and when we leave, you will be with us,” Tillie said.
Danny was happy with what his mother had said, and the two boys started making plans.
“Boys, I need to get the smithy to attend to the mules. Tomorrow I will take two mules at a time and have the blacksmith check their hooves. I want you two to take care of Mary while I’m in town. If I see Mr. Price, I will explain to him that you no longer work for him, and that will be that,” Tillie said confidently.
Morning came too quickly for Tillie when the day started with all six mules braying at the same time. The Conestoga wagon was the biggest wagon Uncle Buck could find for Tillie. He had known they might have to live in it and made sure she had the best wagon and mules he could find. Tillie and the three children had slept comfortably. Now she needed to go about finding out if this was a safe place to winter away from the grandmother. Danny would have to explain the ornery nature of the mules to Abraham and how to handle them without getting kicked or bitten. Abraham would be a great help for Danny and Tillie.
Across the misty morning, not yet daylight, the sound of the blacksmith's hammer rang loud and clear across the mountain valley. As she walked through the town, she thought, ‘I will get all the supplies we need and always be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.’ Tillie felt at ease. Cutthroat Creek, although the name of this town was unnerving to Tillie, was a remote valley town that could not possibly have any connections with the town of Hunter.
Doris King was an early riser, and this was her free time from the Snake Bit Saloon. She had just visited the sheriff’s office, where she had gone through a stack of bulletins on the desk. Doris found what she was was looking for in short order. Jacobson was like most of the men she knew, a snake-in-the-grass. He had found a way to recoup his losses at the poker tables and then some. As Doris lifted her dress to cross the dirt street, Tillie Bonner was leading the first set of mules down to the blacksmith shop.
Tillie had seen this woman last night as she passed the saloon. From her dress, Tillie knew this lady was one of the saloon women. It was not in her to be uppity or snobbish, so Tillie extended a warm “Good morning! It looks like you and I are the only early risers!” she said.
This kind greeting took Doris by surprise. She had to grin at the enormous mules that were being led by such a petite woman. “Those mules look awful imposing to me, but they seem to follow you with not a bit of reluctance. I would say they know you are their master,” Doris said.
Tillie held up the whip in her right hand. “This is what gets their attention!” she said.
The two women laughed. Doris not wanting to lose such a warm conversation with a bright and friendly lady went on to say, “I normally get out early because this valley in the cool of the morning has a soothing effect that warms my weary soul.”
“My name is Tillie Bonner, and I know what you mean! It’s hard sometimes with the busy life we women lead to get a moment of peace and quiet. We cherish each moment.”
“Well, Tillie Bonner, you just made my day. I will let you go because I can see you are in a hurry but thank you for your kind words this morning. I hope we can talk again,” she said. Doris had not offered her name to Tillie because a woman in her trade was not someone that a lady consorted or conversed. Crossing the street, Doris went directly to the rooms above the saloon. Looking at the three women sleeping, she shook a sleeping woman and said, “Shirley, wakeup! Wakeup, I said!”
Groggily the woman responded, “Doris go away. It’s not even six in the morning. I just got to bed a couple of hours ago.”
“Answer my questions, and you can go back to sleep,” Doris said.
“Okay, what is it you want?” the Shirley asked.
“Where is Betty? That’s all I want to know,” Doris asked.
“Well, why didn’t you say so. Room five at the end of the hall.
A few minutes later, Doris unlocked the door to room number five. The room was dark. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke made her queasy. “Wake up, Betty! I need to talk to you. I need to talk to you right now!” Doris said.
Betty didn’t respond coherently, and it took a while for Doris to get her awake. “For goodness sake, Doris, what in the world do you want at this early hour?” Rolling over, Betty grabbed a pillow and covered her head.
“Betty, I want to know where you came from when you hired in here at the Snake Bit?” Doris asked.
“Why do you want to know that? It’s none of your business anyway. Go away and leave me alone!” Betty said.
“If you want to get some sleep today, answer my questions, and do it now!” Doris said emphatically.
Raising her head and opening one eye, she tried to think. “All right, let see, there was a town called tent city…where cowboys unloaded cattle all the time. That was…oh I can’t remember! Wait...from Tent City I went to River Bend then there was this sawmill town. It was a sawmill town in the north it was. Lord, Doris, I can’t remember the names of the towns I’ve been in. I ain’t no spring chicken, you know. Oh, I remember it was Hunter, that’s it…Hunter,” Betty said.
Doris unfolded the bulletin she had in her hand. “Tell me about Hunter,” she said.
“Doris, what can I tell you about a town I was in a year ago?” Betty asked wearily.
“You can start at the beginning. Now tell me about Hunter!” Doris insisted.
“It is a sawmill town. Everyone there works for the mill. A mean old woman owns the entire town and makes everyone’s life miserable,” Betty said.
“Tell me what the men you knew said about the town,” Doris said.
“Doris, this is highly unusual!” Betty said. “I didn’t like the place. The men that worked in the mill didn’t like it either. There was one old man that seemed to be the most respected in town. I liked him.”
“What was his job…a judge or something?” Doris asked.
“No, as a matter of fact, he was the town’s garbage man. He was nice to me. He carried my packages down the street when the nice folks of Hunter crossed to the other side. He was the janitor for most of the businesses there. I met him one day as he was sweeping the boardwalk. He was very polite and even tipped his hat to me as I passed by. Funny, he had the same last name as the woman who ran the mill,” Betty said.
“What was his name?” Doris asked.
“Bonner. Now can I go back to sleep?” Betty said.
Looking at the bulletin, she muttered, ‘Tillie Bonner,’ “Now you can go back to sleep,” Doris said.
ααααααα
Earlier that morning, Tillie had passed the livery barn and on impulse had entered to let Mr. Price know upfront that Abraham would not be working for him anymore. Not finding the man, she wrote a note and left it on the sign-in table to that effect. Tillie had continued along the street, leading the mules to the blacksmith's shop. The sign over the door said, Jake Burns-Buggy Repair-Smithy. The blacksmith stood looking at a wagon wheel with a busted spoke. Seeing Tillie with the two big mules, he smiled. The smile creased scar on the side of his face added an odd expression to his otherwise jolly face. “Ma’am, can I help you?” he asked. The deep voice was smooth and had a friendly effect on Tillie.
“I need you to look my mules over, especially their hooves. I’ve come a long way and have far to go before the snow,” Tillie said.
Walking around the mules, he said. “This is as nice a pair of mules as I’ve seen come thought here. When I finish this wheel, I will check the hooves. They look to need a bit of work, but I don’t see any splitting. I should have them ready for you in about an hour.”
Tillie responded, “I have a six-mule team and will have my boys bring you another pair to look over in about an hour. I will bring you the last pair and pay you for your work before noon.” The man nodded his agreement and returned to his work on the wheel.
Tillie paused for a minute and turned to ask the smithy, “Excuse, but if I may ask a question. This town is a quiet, pleasant one for a name such as Cutthroat Creek. Could you tell me how the town came by its name?”
The blacksmith stopped his work again and with a distorted grin simply said, “Named after the cutthroat fish in the creek!”
Tillie smiled and said, “Thank you! That’s a relief!” She was pleased the blacksmith didn’t ask any questions. Now to get the supplies she needed just in case she had to leave in a hurry. She felt secure. No one had asked where she was from or where she was going. The day was warm as she moved along the street.
Stopping in the General Store, Tillie’s new cautious nature took in the three people standing around. A lady behind the counter raised her head from the list she was adding to and said, “We will be with you in a minute. William is out back, loading a wagon.”
“I’m in no hurry!” Tillie said, walking around the store.
After a while, the proprietor came in from the back, wiping his brow. Tillie presented her list and waited for the man to read through the list. “I should have everything on this list. I don’t see a wagon outside. Do you want me to stack the grain bags out on the boardwalk?” he asked.
“I am camped down by the creek. Can I get you to deliver everything down there today?” Tillie asked.
The proprietor replied, “I will be glad to. I can have it there this morning. I can head out that direction as soon as I finish getting my wagon loaded.”
Tillie paid for the supplies and headed back to the campsite. An hour had passed, and it was time to round up the second pair of mules.
Across the street, Doris King looked out of a second-story window watching Tillie’s progress through town. A puff of smoke caught her eye, and she saw Pace Jacobson light a cigarette. He was watching Tillie from the other side of the street. Mumbling to herself, she said, ‘I don’t want to get involved in this. I would surely like to help her stay free of that weasel’s plan, though.’ Closing the curtain, she retreated into the apartment she had called home for the past five years. Sitting down at a table, she read the bulletin one more time and rolled over in her mind what Betty had told her concerning Hunter. Doris reconsidered her earlier statement and thought, ‘On second thought tomorrow morning, I think I will just walk down to the stream and look around.’
Tillie walked back to the campsite. Looking around, she smiled. Danny had taken to camping well. He had banked the campfire. The boys already had a supply of sticks piled high for campfire cooking. The water barrel was full, and they had hung a clothesline for her. Two of the mules stood three-legged dosing in the morning sun ready to be taken to the blacksmith. Walking down to the stream, she waved to the three sitting across the stream fishing off the barge.
‘I like this place,’ she thought. ‘With some work, we will be able to weather the cold winter. A high bank would be the perfect place to place the wagon from the north wind. Water was at hand from the creek with plenty of fish’.
“Boys come over here!” Tillie called over the sound of the flowing water. Quickly Danny and Abraham waded across the stream with Mary sitting on Abrahams's shoulders. “Boys take these mules down to the Blacksmith’s shop, and when he’s through with the first two mules, bring them back,” she said.
“Okay, Momma,” Danny said. He lifted Mary onto the gentlest riding mule, Bandit. Danny and Abraham each lead a mule heading into town. It was a happy time for the kids.
ααααααα
The day started roughly at the stables. Nursing a bad head, George Price stood in the middle of the livery barn looking at the stalls that were emitting a repugnant odor. Where was that blasted boy! Abraham was usually way ahead of cleaning the stalls. He never let them get this bad. By this time, the boy would have moved the horses to the corral before Price had even awakened. This morning he was nowhere to be found. ‘He will get his ears boxed for this!’ Price swore as he started moving the horses out of the stalls cursing the useless son of that blue belly sympathizer. A customer brought Price to the front of his livery and, in the process of checking in the customer’s horse, noticed the note Tillie had left. He had become accustomed to having the boy take care of his business, and the thought of not having Abraham to do his work angered him greatly.
Pace Jacobson lit a cigarette he had just rolled and blinked through the smoke that swirled around his face. He was smoking too much these days but had no will to quit. He watched Tillie until she was out of sight before heading to the blacksmith’s shop.
“Jake, that is a fine pair of mules. I couldn’t help but notice them coming through town last night. A lady driving a six-up is quite unusual,” Pace said.
Jake thought it was unusual for the town slacker to be interested in a pair of mules, but he answered. “Pretty young thing with a couple of kids. Said she had come a long way and needed the mules checked out. Said she has a long way to go before the snow flies.”
“Where is she headed this time of year?” Pace asked.
“She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask,” Burns said.
“Well, I ask too many questions. Just making small talk,” Pace said. Leaving the blacksmith shop, he headed for the telegraph office. ‘It sounded like the woman would be pulling out soon. I haven’t gotten a reply to my telegraph message I sent last night,’ he thought.
“Morning, Pace,” Walter Snow said as Pace stepped onto the boardwalk.
“Well, Snow?” Pace asked, looking around suspiciously.
“I received a telegram just a few minutes ago. If we had a sheriff, God rest his soul, you could have gotten him involved, then all you would have to do is claim the reward,” Snow said.
“Walter, you are way too interested in my affairs. We don’t have a sheriff and that is why I need to keep this quiet. It is an inquiry to the whereabouts of a lady and her two kids and I have claimed the reward,” Pace said.
Pace stood and read the telegram to himself.
The Honorable Judge Herman Hayes of Hunter, Colorado, is deploying Pinkerton agents. STOP
Local authorities are to discuss guardianship of Danny and Mary Bonner. STOP
Judge Hayes will arrange for their return to Hunter. STOP
“Now Walter, this don’t concern you. In your position, you cannot get involved. If you keep your mouth shut, I will make it worth your while. There are no authorities in this valley until the circuit judge shows up to handle the town's legal affairs. He is not due for another week. If she runs, no one in this town has the authority to stop her. That will knock me out of the reward. The Pinkertons will not be here for several days with the judge’s papers. I need to figure a way to delay her departure,” Pace said.
ααααααα
Tillie clipped the lead ropes onto the last two mules. She would meet the boys coming back with the first set of mules. She wanted the mules back and ready if they needed to leave. When she reached the main road of town, she could see the boys leading the mules her way. Each was holding one of Mary’s hands and swinging her between them. She smiled to herself and considered Abraham. He was a lot more complicated than was visible, and she wanted to know all about him. He hadn’t told her his complete story. She thought he had issues that he had buried deep in his heart and mind.
It was a pleasant day, and she was grateful not to be sitting on that big wagon. The weather still worried her, and the idea of wintering in a wagon was not a good idea. Suddenly she heard a shrill scream Tillie knew well. It was Mary’s scream. Looking up, she saw the mules the boys were leading running down the road towards her. Dropping the lead ropes, she started up the road at a full run. The mules passed her galloping headed back to the campsite. The sight on the main street was of citizens standing around as a horror unfolded in front of them. As the boys and Mary had passed the livery, the hostler had caught Abraham and was beating him unmercifully with a wide belt that he had jerked from his pants. He was drunk and crazed, and the only person that stepped in lay against a water trough. Her dress covered with blood, and one shoe was missing. She had tried to stop the beating, and the hostler’s massive fist had smashed her nose and lips. Tillie came up in a state of rage for what was going on and instantly put the whip into action. The first lash took the tip of Price’s nose off. Tillie knew that the nose was a sensitive body part and any cut, no matter how small it would bleed profusely. Three more times, the whip lashed out. The ear and the hand holding the belt lost hide. She had become a master at the whip. The crack, crack, crack echoed off the town buildings as it inflicted pain on the drunken man. With every lash of the whip, the people standing around cringed and then cheered. In a rage, Price turned to face the small woman with the whip. He had forgotten the belt holding his pants up had fallen to the ground just as did his pants. Tillie knew that the best way to finish this fight was to take advantage of the exposed organs below his waist. The whip lashed out, and the dingy undergarment split. Instantly a high-pitched moan that could only signify excruciating pain parted his quivering lips. The fight was over, and time stood still as the people stood horrified as the young boy Abraham Cole struggling to stand. He back was wet with blood from the severe beating he had taken. Abraham did not cry but limped over and fell at the stricken woman who had helped him. Tillie was now down by him, and she heard his weak cry. “Miss Doris get up. Please get up.” Suddenly, the blacksmith was on the scene, and he lifted Doris to her feet. At that moment, Abraham wrapped his arms around her, and then he wept. Someone was explaining to Jake what had taken place, how the drunken hostler had beat the young boy of Jackie Cole’s and Doris King unmercifully when she tried to stop Price's brutal attack. What the young mother with the mules had done to him was justice, and he received much worse when she applied her bullwhip. Price’s nose was still bleeding, which was the least of his worries. He had managed to get his pants up over his bloody undergarments begging for the doctor's help.
The blacksmith looked around at Price laying on the ground. “You beat a woman! Worst of all, you beat Doris. I should hang you in your barn for that!” Jake stated in a guttural tone.
Price knew fear. Looking into Jake’s eyes, he began to beg for mercy. “I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing!” he cried.
Tillie touched the blacksmith's arm, and she had a calming influence on the big man. Still looking at Tillie, Jake Burns said, “A couple of you men roundup this lady’s mules and take them to my shop. Miss, I will get your mules to you after we get this straightened out.” Pointing to two men, he said. “Now you and you, take Price over and lock him up in the jail. He will stay there until the circuit judge hears what has happened here. Until we get a real sheriff, I will act as such. Heaven help anyone who ever does anything like this in this town while I am acting sheriff. I will be judge, jury, and executioner. Picking up Doris King, he headed down the street. Abraham, Tillie, and her kids followed along.
As they walked along, Doris moved a bloody rag from her lips and said, “Jake, you know I’m able to walk.”
“Well, I like carrying you. I think I would like to do it often,” Jake Burns said.
“Jake, if I had known all I had to do to get you to carry me is get the stuffing beat out of me, I would have done it a long ago!” Doris said with a painful smile.
“I’m sorry that I haven’t come back and said I was sorry, but if you forgive me, I intend to make up for all the hurt I have caused you. I bought that place out south of town. I am hoping you would want to live there with me,” Jake said.
“Jake, what are you asking me?” Doris asked.
“I’m asking what I should have asked you years ago,” Jake said.
“Jake, you are the biggest and strongest man in town but afraid to state your feelings for me,” she said.
“Okay, Doris, will you marry me?” Jake asked.
“Finally, you said it…I will, but the conditions are still the same. Do you agree?” Doris stated.
Jake looked around at the boy. “Abraham, you are part of this arrangement. Doris was your mother's little sister, and she called Doris Angel. Doris and I want you to be our son. That was what your mother and father wanted, and we want it, too. How do you feel about coming to live with us?” Jake asked.
Abraham was all smiles and turned to look at Tillie. “Abraham, it sounds like you are getting a ready-made family, and you know who the angel is now. I think your dad and mom will rest in peace, knowing God has placed you in a good home,” Tillie said lovingly.
In all the confusion, Doris forgot about what the conniving Pace Jacobson had been doing. Tillie helped them get the wounds taken care of, and with Danny and Mary headed back to camp.
Standing in front of the saloon, Pace watched the family walk back to their campsite. ‘This complicates things,’ Pace thought. ‘That fool Price has brought far too much attention to the woman. Now Doris King and Jake Burns would make things sticky for me. At least now, Doris would not be around the Snake Bit for a while, if she ever comes back. If she stayed out of sight nursing her injuries, that might give the Pinkertons time to arrive. If Jake is the sheriff, he will have to do what the law says.’
ααααααα
Four days passed without incident. One afternoon before dusk Doris decided her face had healed enough. She would return to the Snake Bit and let the owner know she was quitting her job and would not be returning. Walking down the street, she noticed the stagecoach pulling up before the station. From the stagecoach, three well-dressed men all heavily armed disembarked and stood while they unloaded their luggage from the coach. Smiling broadly, Pace Jacobson came down the street as he headed for the station. A sudden chill went over Doris as she realized Pace had been waiting for these men. They were here to take Tillie's children from her. It was Wednesday, and the circuit judge would be arriving tomorrow, and Tillie had no clue as to what was about to happen to her. Turning swiftly, she made her way back along the street.
Pace Jacobson stepped up on the boardwalk and introduced himself to the Pinkerton men. “Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Jacobson. I am the person you have instructions to contact upon your arrival here in Cutthroat Creek!” Pace said.
The head Pinkerton man said, “Mr. Jacobson, my name is Shiver. My partners are Bart and Cecil. We’ve had a long trip. We need a place to stay, and right now, a few drinks to unwind a little.”
“We can do all that as soon as our business is complete. The circuit judge will be here tomorrow evening on the stage. I say we make sure all is well, and then we can have a few drinks,” Jacobson said.
Shiver interjected, “Jacobson, we are not legal marshals. We are private detectives with no authority here or anywhere else. You will just have to wait until tomorrow to complete our business.”
Pace frowned and said. “Well, I guess they will not be going anywhere in a wagon pulled by a bunch of mules. The only way out of this town is straight through the main street. I guess we can wait until tomorrow. I assume you have the money for the reward?”
“There is no reward until the judge settles this up, Jacobson, and we take possession of the children,” Shiver stated.
ααααααα
Before she reached the cabin Jake had bought for his new family, Doris called to Abraham. Abraham was tying new artificial baits for him and Danny to use. “Abe, I need you to run an errand for me,” Doris said. “Go down to the campsite and give this piece of paper to Tillie. Tell her I need to talk to her but to stay away from town until we talk. As a matter of fact, take her and the kids to that hideout of yours. Tell her I will meet her there. Here take your cane fishing poles. You are just going fishing. Do not talk to anyone about anything, now go,” Doris said.
Abraham saw the stress and heard the alarm in her voice. He started down the street with the poles over his shoulder.
Doris walked behind the buildings on the main road; taking the back way would take her unseen upstream of Tillie's campsite. A few minutes later, she paced back and forth, waiting for the others to arrive. She knew there was no way out except straight down the middle of town. The mountain behind the stream blocked any other way for a wagon to leave. Mules, a wagon, and trace chains would make a lot of noise if Tillie tried to go late at night under cover of darkness.
Tillie was beside herself when she got to where Doris was standing. “Doris, this paper is totally untrue. I am a good mother, and we are fleeing the kid’s grandmother because she is trying to take my kids from me!” she exclaimed.
“I have figured that out already, Tillie. Now let me tell you what is happening. A man by the name of Pace Jacobson contacted the grandmother, and she has hired Pinkerton detectives to find you and hold you. The grandmother has a Judge Herman Hayes in Hunter that has made a legal paper to present to the circuit judge who will be arriving tomorrow afternoon,” Doris related.
“We will leave as soon as we get the mules hitched to the wagon. Knowing Grandmother, I have kept the wagon ready at all times,” Tillie said.
“That won’t work. Jacobson knows you will have to come straight down the main road. They will be waiting for you. I can’t get my husband involved because it’s his duty to make you stay until the judge arrives tomorrow. The judge will have to go with what the papers say from Judge Hayes.
Tillie walked along the stream and sat bewildered on a large boulder. “What can I do? What can I do?” she moaned.
Abraham motioned to Danny, and the two turned from the group and disappeared into his cave. In a minute, the two came out dragging large bundles of rope. “Miss Tillie, this is the rope Pa and Mr. Walley was going to stretch across the river to pull the ferryboat back and forth. We can use the mules to pull the barge off the bank and down the stream to the open water. After that, we will load your team and wagon, and you will float down the river. I don’t know where you will end up, but no one will ever think you got away floating down the river,” Abraham said.
Tillie looked at the rope and considered the plan. “It’s the only way. The only thing we don’t know is what’s downriver. Abraham, if we do this, you will lose your father's barge. No telling where it will end up!” Tillie said.
“I know, Miss Tillie, but it is the only way,” Abraham said.
“Boys, the stream is not deep,” Tillie stated. “We can harness the mules in pairs, and they can walk along in the shallow stream pulling the barge with the wagon. That will not leave any tracks to follow. Now, Doris, we need you to make sure the Pinkertons and Pace Jacobson do not come down to the river.”
“I think I can take care of that,” Doris said.
Before dark, the boys and Tillie had erased all signs of there ever being a campsite. The barge was in the creek, and the mules appeared to like the cold water as they stood dozing in the stream. Two sets of harnessed mules walked along the creek bank ahead of the two mules that were pulling the barge. There was nothing left of the campsite, not even the campfire. Tillie and Mary stood on the barge and took one last look around. The stream was wide enough to accommodate the barge, and with the strength of the mules the going was easy.
From the bank Doris stood looking at Tillie and Mary. She said, “I don’t know what to say, Tillie Bonner, except I am losing a great friend this day. Go with God! Abraham and I will pray for you every night.” Abraham and Danny stood in the waist-deep water; one was leading the forward teams and one leading the pulling team. Doris grinned at the boys and said, “Boys, this idea of yours is a great one. Abe, I will see you back at the house.” Looking back at Tillie, she said, “Now I have a job to do.”
ααααααα
Pace was nervous and drummed his fingers on the bar. “Mr. Shiver, we need to go down to the stream and inform the woman she is not to try and leave,” he said.
Betty stood face to face with the Pinkerton detective. His derby hat on her head. Shirley and Amy also were strung out around the Snake Bit with the other two detectives.
Outside Doris looked through a window and grinned. ‘Those Pinkertons would not be going anywhere for the rest of the day,’ she thought.
“Jacobson, I told you we are not lawmen. You said the wagon would have to come through here if they were to leave. We would hear them a mile away,” Shiver said.
Pace sat at the end of the bar and nursed a hot beer. Since he did not want to warn the woman of what was happening, he had not been to the stream. Besides, he had not heard the wagon move out, so they had to be down there. Tomorrow would be time enough. Shiver was right. The judge and acting sheriff had to take care of this.
“Jacobson, come play a hand with me. There are no players out tonight,” Chet said.
“Sorry, Chet. I haven’t got enough money to play penny-ante,” Pace said.
“Come on. I’ll stake you for the first hand. I’ll take your IOUs tonight,” the gambler said.
The mules took to the barge as if they had ridden ferryboats before. Tillie and Danny used long poles to keep the barge moving down the river. The water was slow, but they were moving steadily. By morning they were miles away from Cutthroat Creek. “Mom, while we are going so slow, I think I will feed the mules. This boat ride is a lot smoother than bouncing in that big wagon.”
For two days the going was excellent and the river was deep. On the third day, they began to drag the bottom. In most cases, they could pole the barge around the shallow fast running water, but it was getting more and more difficult. For the last two days, they had seen wagon ruts alongside the west side of the river.
“Danny, I have been enjoying this riverboat journey, but it looks like we are about to run out of water deep enough to continue this river journey,” Tillie said. No sooner had she said it, it happened. Before them, the river spread out wide and shallow. It would take a springtime flooding to get the barge moving again. Letting down the gangplank in the middle of the river, they crossed over the shallows to the riverbank. The mules were ready to pull, glad to be off the barge. It was early in the day when they finally got lined out and moving south again.
Tillie knew her little family was being cared for by a benevolent, loving God. He had used them in the lives of those they had been in contact with over the past week. Now they had been spared again.
ααααααα
Daylight found Pace sleeping in the loft of the livery barn. He had played on IOU’s all night, and after a short winning streak lost his room and board money plus some. The IOU’s would not be a big deal when he collected the money owed him by the Pinkertons. He went back to sleep, and the noonday sun woke him through a knothole in the barn roof. It was time to march down to Cutthroat Creek and let the little woman know the judge had just arrived on the stage. Walking out of the barn, Pace gasped for a good breath of fresh air. What a nasty place to spend the night. That had to be the last time for that. He must never let liquor and the game of chance master his superb ability with the cards.
The Pinkertons had already been to see the circuit judge, and the four men all dressed in black suits plus the blacksmith made a highly impressive sight walking down the road headed for Cutthroat Creek. It just so happened that Pace stepped from the barn as they passed.
Shiver glanced over and saw Pace in all his glory of straw and said, “Judge, this is Mr. Jacobson, who is claiming the reward for finding the people for whom Mrs. Mira Bonner is searching.”
Pace stood there with hay sticking out of every pocket and laced through his scruffy hair. Judge Carr had, at one time, been a colonel in the Union Army. The man standing before him had been one of his field officers. The relationship had at best been brief after the Colonel had mustered the shiftless man from his command with a dishonorable discharge. “I thought that name sounded familiar. We meet again, don’t we, Jacobson?” the Colonel asked with a glare.
Pace had been so shocked upon seeing the Colonel he jerked to attention and saluted him. The all-night poker game had played havoc with Pace’s appearance. The Pinkerton men fought hard to stifle all-out laughter.
The procession now six-strong made their way down to Cutthroat Creek to stand on the sandy bank looking around. “All right, Mr. Jacobson. Where is the family we are supposed to see camped here? A family of three, Conestoga wagon and six mules are surely hard to hide. There hasn’t been a wagon on this site since the last rain.
“I don’t understand, sir! The wagon and a six-mule team were here five days ago. They could not have just disappeared!” Pace exclaimed.
Turning abruptly, the Judge stormed back up the long grade headed for his office.
“Jake, you know there were mules here!” Pace called after the retreating group. “What about my reward?”
Knowing his short term as sheriff of Cutthroat Creek was over, Jake grinned to himself as he made his way back to the little house behind the blacksmith shop. Doris and Abraham stood watching him come down the lane. “Alright, you two, I want to hear the entire story and especially the part where you make six mules AND a Conestoga wagon disappear into thin air!” Jake said with a smile.