CHAPTER 2
When they rode back into Waco, Hank paraded his prisoner down the middle of the main street to the cheers and comments of the spectators they passed. John speculated that his arrest had helped secure Hank’s job as sheriff, whether he improved Warren’s situation or not. When he got out of bed that morning, going to jail would have been the last thing he could have possibly considered he might be doing before dinnertime. Had he been given more time than the brief few minutes between the time when Warren rode into the barnyard with the sack of money and the sheriff galloping in right after him, maybe he could have thought of something else. But the sheriff was already placing his brother under arrest when it occurred to John that there was only one way to save him and his young family. Now that he had done it, he was glad that he had thought to take the blame. He could not imagine Kitty with those two sons and no husband and he was doubly sure he did not want to step in to take Warren’s place at home. So now he was resolved to cause as little trouble as possible and see what the law would decide to do with him. He would just bide his time for however long they decided to imprison him and maybe it wouldn’t be too long, since Warren hadn’t shot anybody and the bank got all the money back.
They pulled up in front of the sheriff’s office and Hank’s deputy, Tiny Sowell, stepped outside the office to meet them. “Hot damn, Hank, you got him!” Tiny whooped. “I was down at Springer’s gettin’ my hair cut when I heard ever’body hollerin’ that the bank was robbed. By the time I ran back here to the office, you was long gone. So I started seein’ about gettin’ a posse together, but everybody said you was on that feller like a rooster on a June bug. Looks like they was right. It didn’t take you long. The only way it’da been any shorter woulda been if he hadda just run from the bank, straight to the jailhouse.” The sheriff dismounted, so John threw a leg over and started to slide off his brother’s horse. “Ain’t nobody told you to get down!” Tiny snapped, drawing his six-gun as he spoke. John just managed to hang onto the horse.
“Take it easy, Tiny,” Hank told him. “He ain’t give me a bit of trouble. I didn’t even bother with the handcuffs. He confessed to the robbery and said he was sorry he done it, and he’s willin’ to take his punishment. You can go ahead and get down, John.” Tiny holstered his six-gun, and John dropped down from the horse. “Let’s take him inside and get him in a cell, then you can take his horse to the stable and on your way back you can tell Myra we need to feed a new prisoner. I expect while you’re doin’ that, I’d best take this sack of money back to the bank and set James Feldon’s mind at ease.”
They walked John into the cell room behind the sheriff’s office. He waited while the sheriff’s oversized deputy opened a cell door and held it for him to enter. “Welcome to your new home until your court date,” Tiny said. “You make it easy for us and we’ll make it easy for you. Ain’t that right, Sheriff?” Hank said that it was.
“That sounds fair to me,” John said and started to enter the cell, but Tiny stopped him.
“I almost forgot,” Tiny said. “We better have a look at what you’ve got in your pockets before I lock you up.” Since John had been doing nothing but chores at the farm all morning, he had nothing in his pockets but a pocketknife. “I’d better take that from you and put it in a drawer in the office. If you need it for anything, one of us’ll get it for you.” John handed him the knife, then went inside the cell. Tiny locked the cell door after him. “Don’t know how long you’ll be with us,” he said. “There ain’t nobody else in here right now who’s waitin’ to go to trial. I expect you’ll have some company before long, but they’ll most likely be drunks or rowdies that’ll just be here overnight. You’ll probably be here until we get another one who has to go to trial. It depends on the judge who tries you how long they’ll leave you here if they don’t get nobody pretty soon. When they think they’ve waited long enough, they’ll finally go ahead and schedule your court date. But don’t worry about it, if they leave you here a long time. It’ll still count against the days you get sentenced to serve.” He and Hank walked out of the cell room.
“We’ll bring you something to eat when we come back,” Hank called over his shoulder.
“Much obliged,” John answered. After they left, he looked around his temporary home to see what he had to live with. This was the first time he’d ever seen the inside of a jail cell. The first thing he checked was the cot. Not bad, he thought when he sat down on it. It would have to be pretty uncomfortable to be worse than the straw mattress he slept on at home. Under the cot he found a chamber pot, and there was one small stand with a pitcher and basin on it. Just like a first-class hotel, he japed to himself.
* * *
Other than the fact that he was locked up twenty-four hours a day in a small room with iron bars, John Bannack could not complain. He was treated very well by both the sheriff and the sheriff’s deputy. They, in turn, appreciated the fact that he caused them a minimum of trouble, serving his time without complaints or conversation of any kind unless in answer to a question. There was only one other prisoner in one of the other cells on his second night in jail. A drunk, he was released the following morning. It was the third morning of his imprisonment when his brother Warren came to visit him, a visit that John had been hoping would not occur.
“Hey, John, you got a visitor,” Tiny announced when he led Warren into the cell room. “Sez he’s your brother. Is that a fact?”
“Yes,” John answered, “he’s my brother, Warren. Good mornin’, Warren. He’s the law-abidin’ one of the family,” he said to Tiny.
“I shoulda guessed he was your brother,” Tiny said. “You two look a lot alike.” He took no notice of the slight wince in Warren’s face when he made the remark. “Don’t get your hopes up ’cause I checked him over for weapons and he ain’t carryin’ any,” Tiny japed. “Ordinarily, with a prisoner waitin’ for trial for armed robbery, I’d set down in that chair over in the corner of the room just so I could keep my eye on you while you was visitin’. But I think I can give you two some privacy. Right, John?”
“That’s a fact, Tiny,” John answered, “nothin’ to worry about.”
Tiny left them alone to talk then but Warren could not seem to find the words to even begin a conversation. So John said, “Warren, you look like hell. What’s done is done. Your job now, your responsibility, is to carry on for your family. Don’t spend any more time worryin’ about me. I’ll be just fine. You and Kitty can make it now without me to feed and house.”
Warren looked as if he was not so sure. Finally, his words came. “I don’t know if God will ever forgive me for what I’ve done to you. I know I never will. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just standing there, seeing them through the window with no one else in the bank. The money was right there, and we needed it so badly. I don’t know what came over me. I thought I could get away with it.” He couldn’t say any more, so he hung his head and shook it back and forth in his misery.
“Like I said, it’s over and done now,” John told him. “You owe me nothing. Your responsibility is to Kitty and the boys. Is she standing by you?”
“She is,” Warren answered. “Lord knows, it musta broke her heart to know that I’d do such a thing. But she forgave me and I swore to her I’d never do nothin’ like that again. It’s just so bad what I done to your life can’t be fixed unless I tell the sheriff the right of it.”
“Don’t you even think about doin’ something like that,” John quickly reacted. “It would destroy your whole family if you were to go to prison. I’ve got nothin’ to lose. I’m still young enough to start over again when I get out. Just promise me you’ll take care of Kitty and those two boys and you won’t ever get any more wild notions like this again.”
“I promise,” Warren said. “Like I told you, I just worried myself to the point where I wasn’t thinkin’ straight. I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ it up to you when you get out.” He went silent again for a few moments, then asked, “Have they told you when you will be goin’ to trial?”
“No, they ain’t set a court date. I do know the judge’s name, though,” John said. “His Honor, Judge Raymond Grant. I don’t know anything about him except they say he likes to try two or three prisoners on the same day, so I might be in jail here until he gets some more cases.”
“Maybe they’ll let you know when they do set a date and we can come in to hear your trial,” Warren speculated.
“I wish you wouldn’t even consider that, brother,” John told him. “Tiny said it’s a one-man show. There ain’t no jury, and there ain’t no defense. The sheriff caught me with the money, I gave it to him and confessed that I stole it. So the judge decides how many years that’s worth, and that’s all there is to it. So there ain’t no use in you trying to be there. Don’t worry about it. I’ll write you a letter from prison.” When it was time for Warren to go, and he was still in a state of despair, John told him to make up his mind to make peace with it because he already had. “Now go home and take care of your family.”
* * *
A day after Warren’s visit, a US deputy marshal brought in an odd little fellow with a bushy white beard and a black patch over one eye. He was arrested for cattle rustling. Tiny put him in the cell next to John’s and informed him that he would be getting a plate of supper in about an hour. Then he said, “John, brought you some company. This feller’s name is George Capp. He’s goin’ to court for stealin’ cattle. Maybe ol’ Judge Grant will go ahead and try the two of you.”
“Judge Grant?” Capp grunted. “Raymond Grant? Is that the judge who’s gonna sentence me? That ain’t hardly fair. He’s the crotchety ol’ buzzard that sent me to The Unit last time.”
“Well, it don’t look like it cured you of your habit,” Tiny responded with a chuckle. “How long did he sentence you to?”
“He gimme five years for stealin’ five cows,” Capp complained. “Five puny little stray cows, he gimme a year for each cow,” he snorted, “but they cut me loose after four years.”
“How many did you steal this time?” Tiny asked.
“I didn’t steal a one,” Capp insisted. “That damn deputy marshal arrested me because a little bunch of about twenty strays wandered across the Brazos where I had a camp. Hell, if he hadn’t arrested me, I woulda drove ’em back across the river the next mornin’.”
Tiny looked at John and grinned. Then to Capp, he said, “Ain’t many of them deputy marshals that know cows gotta mind of their own. Maybe you can explain that to Judge Grant.”
“Hell, Judge Grant is worse than the dang marshals,” Capp said. He looked at John then and asked, “What’d they arrest you for, young feller?”
“Robbin’ a bank,” John answered.
“Did you shoot anybody?”
John shook his head and said, “No.”
“Well, maybe they’ll go easy on you, but don’t count on it with Judge Raymond Grant runnin’ the show,” Capp commented.
* * *
The trials for both John Bannack and George Capp were completed in short order, just as Sheriff Bronson predicted. Since the court for the Western District of Texas was located in Waco, the prisoners remained in the Waco jail and were transported to a courthouse holding cell during the trial, then returned to jail in time for supper. Capp’s trial was first, so John got a pretty good idea of the compassion he might receive from the judge during his own trial.
After Judge Grant read the charges against Capp, he asked George how he pleaded, and George promptly pled, “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
“When you were apprehended by Deputy Marshal Forrest Bacon on the eastern side of the river, which is the western boundary of the Double-D Ranch, you were in possession of nineteen cows bearing the Double-D brand,” Judge Grant said. “Do you want to change your plea to guilty?”
“No, sir,” Capp replied. “’Cause you see, Your Honor, I didn’t steal them cows, like that deputy thought. And I don’t hold no grudge against that deputy for thinkin’ that. Truth of the matter is I crossed over to the other side of the river to get away from that bunch of cows. And damned if they didn’t chase right across it after me. It was too dark to try to do much with ’em that night, so I was plannin’ to chase ’em back across the river where they belonged in the mornin’. If that deputy hadda waited till mornin’, he’da seen that’s what I was gonna do.”
“You were going to drive the cows back in the morning?” Judge Grant responded.
“Yes, sir, that was what I was gonna do.”
“Did that include the cow that Deputy Bacon found you in the process of skinning and butchering when he made the arrest?” Grant asked.
“Your Honor,” Capp insisted, “that was just a piece of bad luck. Like I said, it was plum hard dark by then and I saw that calf in the bushes and I thought it was a deer. I’d already seen a heap of deer sign around the river that day and I ain’t got but one eye, and it don’t always give me a good look at somethin’. I was plannin’ to do the right thing in the mornin’ and tell somebody from the Double-D about shootin’ that calf by mistake. But since it was dead, it’ da been a sin not to eat it. That woulda just been a waste of a good cow.”
The judge just looked at the comical-looking older man for a few minutes before he sentenced him. “Looking back in my records, I saw that I sentenced you to five years in the Huntsville Unit for stealing five cows, one year for each cow. The prison staff saw fit to release you after only four years. So you still owe me for one cow and it appears that five years wasn’t long enough to cure you of your bad habits. So George Skinner Capp, by the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I hereby sentence you to be incarcerated in the Huntsville Unit of the Texas State Prison System to serve a term of ten years.” He banged on the desk with his gavel. “Court’s closed until after dinner.”
It struck John that it was such quick work to try the little man for stealing cattle. There was no jury, no lawyers, just the simple ruling of one man designated to act as God. They talked about Capp’s sentencing. “It was about what I expected,” Capp said. “Any other judge mighta just give me another five-year sentence. Not Grant, though. I shoulda known he wouldn’t go light on me. But what the hell, I can think of a lot worst places to spend the time.”
John considered Capp’s attitude. It wasn’t a bad attitude to take to prison with you, but he was not sure he could adopt it. He had no idea what an attempted bank holdup would call for as far as the number of years to be served. But he hoped for a sentence of no more than ten years. He would still be twenty-eight when he got out, not too late to start a new life. “What kinda sentence do you think Grant will give me?” he asked Capp.
“Hard to say,” Capp answered. “You held that bank up, so it was an armed robbery, but you said you didn’t shoot anybody and you gave all the money back.” He paused to think. “Have you got any record before this? Or maybe I oughta ask if you’ve ever been caught committin’ a crime before this one?”
“Nope,” John answered. “This was my first attempt to commit a crime.”
“You ain’t a very lucky feller, are you?” Capp asked.
“Reckon not,” John said with a chuckle.
Listening to their conversation, Tiny was prompted to comment. “Both of you woulda been luckier if you’da got Judge Justice.”
“Who?” John asked.
“Judge Wick Justice,” Tiny answered. “He don’t hesitate to render a harsh punishment when he’s convinced one’s called for. Judge Grant is more apt to hand down a tough sentence for everybody who breaks a law. He wants to teach ’em a lesson. Don’t matter what the circumstances were.”
“I ain’t never been up before Wick Justice, so I’ll just take your word on that,” Capp said. “But I don’t doubt he’da been more reasonable than Grant.”
“Wick Justice,” John repeated. “I know I like the sound of the name a lot better than Raymond Grant, but I don’t reckon they’ll ask me if I’d like to wait for another judge.”
* * *
After dinner in the holding cell, Hank Bronson put handcuffs on John’s wrists and delivered him to the courtroom. The same deputy marshal who walked John and Capp over to the courthouse accompanied Hank as well. Sharply at one o’clock, the bailiff commanded all to rise, and Judge Grant entered the courtroom through a door behind the bench. After everyone was seated again, John noticed three men seated off to one side of the room. There had been no one sitting in those chairs during Capp’s trial. He wondered if they had anything to do with his trial or were just spectators. The judge banged his gavel and ordered John to stand up. Then he read the charges filed against him and asked his plea. John said that he was guilty. “Since we’re not using a prosecutor on this case, I’ll serve in his stead,” the judge said. He motioned to the three men seated off to the side and one of them stood up and took a few steps forward. The bailiff walked over and led him to a witness stand and swore him in, then went back to stand beside the bench.
Judge Grant directed the witness to state his name and occupation. “Yes, sir,” the man said, “my name’s James Feldon, I’m the manager of First Bank of Waco.” John almost gasped aloud. He hadn’t thought about having to meet eyewitnesses to his crime.
“Is this the man who walked into the bank and demanded money?”
Feldon hesitated as he stared at John before he said, “I think so, Your Honor. It certainly looks like the same man. He was wearing a bandanna over his face and wore his hat down low on his forehead, but he was the same size and build.”
“Was he threatening you with a weapon?” Grant asked.
“Yes, sir, he sure was,” Feldon answered. “He said if we didn’t give him the money, he’d shoot us.”
“These two men with you witnessed the robbery?” Grant asked. When Feldon said that they did, the judge asked one of them to step forward. The two men acted almost in competition to be the chosen one. “Just one of you will do,” the judge said. “Bailiff, swear him in.”
Wilbur Davis was the quickest to step forward so the bailiff swore him in. When the judge asked his name, he said, “Wilbur Bertram Davis, Your Honor. I’m a teller in the bank and that’s the man right there that robbed us.” He pointed to John.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Judge Grant said. “You may sit down now.” He turned his attention toward Hank then. “Sheriff Bronson, you were the arresting officer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is this the man you pursued from the bank?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was he in possession of the stolen bank money when you arrested him?”
“Yes, sir, he sure was,” Hank said. “There ain’t no doubt he stole it, and I’d like to say that he made no effort to resist arrest. He said he was guilty, and he came peacefully. And he ain’t caused no problems since he’s been in my jail.” John gave a silent thanks for the sheriff’s kind comments.
“All right, Sheriff,” Judge Grant said. “Your remarks are duly noted. You may step back now.” He nodded to the bailiff and the bailiff led Hank back to his chair. Ready to issue his sentence then, the judge addressed John, who was now standing before the bench. “Well, Mr. Bannack, it would appear that this is your first appearance in a court of law.”
“Yes, sir,” John answered, “and I intend to make it my last one as well.”
“Glad to hear you have good intentions,” Grant said. “John Boyd Bannack, by the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I hereby sentence you to be incarcerated in the Huntsville Unit of the Texas State Prison System to serve a term of twenty years.”
For an instant, he felt like his knees were going to buckle. They didn’t, but he was unable to stop himself from blurting, “Twenty years?” He was anticipating ten years at the most. “For my first occurrence and no one was hurt?” Both the deputy marshal and the bailiff came at once to take an elbow to control him. He made no effort to resist.
“I’ll remind you that this is a court of law,” Judge Grant informed him, “and not an auction. Maybe when your sentence is served, you will have more respect for the law.” He banged his gavel a couple of times and ordered, “Get him out of here.”
While the sheriff and the deputy marshal walked George and John back to the jail, Hank couldn’t help commenting. “Damned if ol’ Raymond Grant didn’t decide to make an example outta you, John. I thought you’d get off with a lighter sentence than that.”
“That’s typical of Judge Grant,” the deputy marshal remarked. “He likes to stop you in your tracks and at the same time show all the other young fellers out here what’s liable to happen to ’em if they decide to break the law.”
“I reckon you just have to take whatever life’s got waitin’ for you,” John said. At this point it might have been the natural reaction to hate his brother for making such a foolish decision. But he still felt that it was better that he should live with the results caused by Warren’s moment of insanity instead of witnessing the destruction of his brother’s family. “I ’preciate your kind words on my behalf, anyway,” he said to Hank, although he wondered if Grant might have added a few years just to spite the sheriff’s efforts.
“I gotta hand it to ya,” Hank said. “You’re takin’ it pretty calmly now. But for a moment back there, when he sentenced you, I thought you was fixin’ to explode.”
“That woulda been another brilliant decision, wouldn’t it?” John said, already resigned to the fate that was obviously designed for him. “You mighta had to shoot me down right there in the courtroom.”
“There’s that possibility,” Hank replied with a friendly grin.