CHAPTER 13
“Hey, Marshal Cochran, you ain’t gonna believe who’s coming to see us,” Daryl said. He was standing by the door, looking out at the street. When Bannack didn’t seem interested enough to ask who, Daryl said, “Mr. Henry Dawson is coming this way and he’s carrying a bottle of whiskey.
That was enough to capture Bannack’s attention. He got up and walked over beside Daryl to see for himself. Henry Dawson was in fact walking in their direction and when he turned directly toward their door, Bannack said, “Well, let’s make him welcome.” And he went back and sat down at his desk. Daryl opened the door for Dawson. “Well, Mr. Dawson,” Bannack greeted him. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I don’t know why not,” Dawson replied. “I heard you’ve got my boy in jail again.”
“Is that so? Where’d you hear that?”
“Buster Bridges,” Dawson answered.
“Buster Bridges,” Bannack repeated. “He seems to know just about everything that’s goin’ on in Glory, doesn’t he?”
“Too much to suit me,” Dawson said, “but is he right? Is Virgil back in this damn jail again?”
“Yes, sir, he sure is, but he just came back for a short visit. We’re only gonna keep him for a couple of days till they can send a jail wagon down here to take him back. You see, he still has to go to that murder trial in Jacksboro. As you know, he got delayed yesterday because some two-bit outlaws attacked the two deputy marshals who were transportin’ him up there. They shot deputy Conrad Priest and stole their horses. I’ll bet you were surprised when he showed up at your house yesterday. I was kinda surprised, though, that a man of your integrity didn’t bring him into the jail yesterday to set an example for the rest of your fine sons.”
“I expect if I was to ask him who arrested him this time, he’d most likely say it was you again, wouldn’t he?” Dawson asked. “The first time you arrested him, you broke his nose and damn near crushed his face. I suppose he got hurt this time, too.”
“Not too bad,” Bannack said. “I think he bumped his head when he fell off his horse. That was about it.”
“And you ain’t got no jurisdiction outside the town limits,” Dawson said. “You ain’t supposed to make any arrest out in the county.”
“Actually, it wasn’t my arrest. It was the deputy marshal’s arrest. He deputized me to work in the county, so I just went along for the ride. They didn’t need my help.”
Dawson favored him with a knowing smile. “Right,” he said. “So, whadda you say? Can I visit my son?” He held up the half-empty bottle of whiskey. “I thought I’d like to have one last drink of likker with him before they take him to that trial. Any harm in that?”
“I reckon not,” Bannack said. “That sounds like a fine way to wish your boy luck. Same rules as before, though. Leave your weapons out here and a fifteen minute limit on the visit.” Dawson unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to him. “It’s easy to forget about that little pocket pistol a lot of men carry,” Bannack reminded him.
“Yes, it is,” Dawson agreed and pulled his out of his vest pocket. “I forgot I had it.”
Bannack placed the weapons on his desk and told Daryl to open the cell room door. “You want me to go sit in the cell room?” Daryl asked.
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” Bannack told him. “We’ll just leave the door open so we can see them talkin’.” Daryl opened the door between the office and the cell room and told a surprised Virgil Dawson that he had a visitor. Virgil got up from his cot and came to the cell door as soon as he saw who it was.
“Papa!” Virgil exclaimed. “I didn’t think they’d let you come to visit me this time.”
“Why not?” Henry responded in a show of bravado. “Hell, I told that damn crazy marshal I wanted to take a drink of likker with my son before they haul you outta here again.” He held the bottle up for him to see. “Hell, maybe he’ll let you keep the bottle. Then if you don’t drink it all, you could take a drink with your brothers tomorrow, if they come to see you.” He passed the bottle through the bars, and Virgil took it.
“Ain’t gonna be no use for anybody to come to see me tomorrow,” Virgil said. “I ain’t gonna be here.”
“Why ain’t you?” Henry asked. “He said you was gonna be here a couple more days till they send a jail wagon down here to take you back.”
“I don’t know why he told you that,” Virgil said. “Daryl told me to be ready to go after breakfast tomorrow mornin’, ’cause them two deputies are takin’ me to Jacksboro tomorrow. They got their horses back and the one you shot said he was ready to ride.”
“How the hell did they get their horses back?” Henry asked. “We turned them horses loose after we turned off the Jacksboro road.”
“I don’t know,” Virgil replied. “The marshal brought ’em back. I don’t know how he found ’em.”
“That lyin’ son of a . . .” his father started. “He didn’t know that sissy feller, Daryl, told you you was leavin’ here tomorrow. He told me you was gonna be here for two more days, just to make sure I didn’t try anything tomorrow when they take you to Jacksboro. He knows damn well it was me and the boys that sprung you loose the first time. He just can’t prove it.” He lowered his voice, even though he knew they couldn’t hear him in the office. “This time, it ain’t gonna be no robbery. You might have to take a little trip for a while, but there ain’t gonna be no witnesses left to point a finger at us. And Marshal Cochran will know who set you free, but he still won’t be able to prove it.”
After approximately fifteen minutes had passed, Henry walked to the door and asked, “My time’s about up. Is it okay if I leave what’s left in this bottle with Virgil?”
“Yeah, I don’t care,” Bannack answered, “as long as there ain’t enough in it to get him drunk.”
“That’s mighty considerate of you, Marshal,” Henry commented as he put his pocket pistol away in his vest and strapped on his gun belt. “I don’t know any other sheriff or marshal that is as considerate as that.”
“Might as well make his last few days with us as comfortable as possible,” Bannack said.
“Good day to you, Marshal,” Henry said smugly and walked out the door. He could imagine he could feel Bannack’s frustration over having no strong evidence to place him under arrest. It added to his sense of control.
“Mr. Dawson,” Bannack replied, politely.
The rest of the afternoon was spent making sure everything was ready for their departure that night, especially the horses. Taking no chances, Bannack took Virgil’s horse to Jake Tracey, the blacksmith, to replace the shoes on the horse’s front feet. They were worn so badly that he was afraid the horse might throw a shoe. The two deputies returned to the hotel to again thank Fred Bradley for offering the two rooms free of charge for the night, but they told him they had decided to sleep in the jail. They were careful not to admit that they were not really going to sleep in the jail but were going to leave town in the middle of the night and take the marshal with them. As much as Marshal Cochran had done for them, they surely didn’t want to cost him his job. However, they did accept the hotel dining room’s offer of supper at no charge.
Bannack sent Daryl to the dining room as soon as they opened, so he could eat supper and bring Virgil’s supper back for him. Then Bannack and the two deputies went up to the hotel to eat. He was no longer concerned about questions they might have about his past. There were too many other subjects more important to discuss. Charley Riley welcomed them warmly and Carol and Dora both gave them plenty of attention. “I’ll tell you one thing,” Dora remarked. “If anybody’s ever thinking about trying to rob the dining room, I hope it’s tonight. We got three lawmen settin’ here waiting for trouble, even though one of ’em’s got a crippled wing.”
“I declare, Dora,” Carol said, “sometimes you say some of the dumbest things.” She filled their coffee cups for the third time. “You boys are sure drinking a lot of coffee. You might not be able to go to sleep at all tonight.”
All three men laughed. “Maybe not,” Clayton replied.
After supper, they returned to the jail to wait out the evening. Bannack suggested the two deputies could catch a few hours’ sleep in one of the cells, but neither one felt the necessity. “I’m sorry we can’t start out right now,” Bannack told them, “but I feel like I have to make sure the town’s all right before I leave it for the night. I’m about ready to make my early walk around while the shops are closin’ down, and I can take a look in the saloons to see if there looks like any potential trouble.”
So he went back outside and took a casual walk from one end of town to the other, checking to see if doors were locked or if anybody was working late. He walked in the River House saloon, the town’s busiest, to find a modest crowd, mostly made up of local men, stopping in for a drink on their way home. Buster Bridges was standing at the bar, talking to Smut Smith, the bartender. “Howdy, Marshal,” Smut greeted him. “Pour you a drink?”
“No, thanks, Smut,” Bannack replied. “I reckon not.”
“What’s the matter, John?” Buster asked. “You gettin’ short on cash? I’ll buy you a shot.”
“Thanks anyway, Buster,” Bannack replied. “I just ain’t cravin’ one right now.”
“I saw Henry Dawson in here earlier this afternoon,” Buster said. “Did you get a visit from him over at the jail?”
“Yes, I did, and I’d bet that you mighta had something to do with his decision to come visit his son.”
“He already had an idea Virgil was back in your jail,” Buster said. “All I did was tell him I’d heard the same thing somewhere.”
“He had a nice visit with his son,” Bannack said. “Brought a bottle of whiskey with him, and father and son had a quiet drink together. It’ll give them something to remember after Virgil’s gone off to prison or the gallows and Henry’s sittin’ at home by the fire with all the grandchildren his other three sons have fathered.”
“I swear,” Buster said, “you’re in a downright cynical mood tonight, ain’tcha?”
“Nope,” Bannack said. “I was just trying to paint a pretty word picture for you, so you wouldn’t think bad thoughts about the Dawsons. Anyway, things look peaceful enough here in the River House saloon, so I think I’ll go check on the other two saloons.” He turned around and walked out.
“I’ll tell you what,” Smut said after Bannack went out the door, “I feel one helluva lot safer at night ever since the town council hired that grizzly bear as the town marshal.”
His comment prompted Buster to once again tell the story of how he first met John Cochran before anyone else in Glory knew him. “I was haulin’ my barber chair here from Fort Worth, and I stopped to rest my horses. And these two jaspers had been followin’ me ever since the Fort Worth road, wantin’ to see what I was haulin’. I told ’em it weren’t nothin’ they’d be interested in. So they decided they was gonna have a look, anyway, and started pepperin’ my wagon with rifle shots . . .” Smut stopped listening at that point. He’d already heard Buster’s story enough times to know it word for word.
Bannack made brief stops at the Lucky Sixes and Riker’s saloon at opposite ends of the street and found them to be relatively quiet as well as the River House. So far, so good, he thought and hoped that the evening would continue that way. He returned to the jail then where he found Clayton and Priest killing time playing penny ante poker with Daryl. “I thought you two might be getting a couple hours’ sleep,” Bannack said.
Priest said he laid down on one of the cots and tried to sleep, but he wasn’t successful. “I didn’t even try,” Clayton said. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep. I’m too anxious to get on the road. I’ll sleep after we get that jasper to Jacksboro.”
“I reckon we can walk on up to the stable and get the horses now, anyway,” Bannack suggested. “Clem oughta be gettin’ ready to close up for the night any time now.” His suggestion was met with a considerable measure of enthusiasm from the two deputies, such was their boredom with the waiting. He was tempted to tell them it wasn’t necessary to wait any longer, but he wasn’t willing to leave the town until he saw the saloons closing down for the night.
Clem Shaw greeted them when they came into the stable. “Evenin’, fellows,” he said. “Still plannin’ on takin’ that ride tonight?” When Bannack answered that they were there to get the horses, Clem said, “Well, they’re all ready to go. Fed, watered, and that roan of Virgil’s is wearin’ new shoes. Jake brought him back a couple of hours ago.”
“Much obliged,” Bannack said. “We’ll take ’em off your hands now.” They led the horses out and picked up their saddles. “Let me give you a hand,” he said to Priest, who still had his right arm in a sling.
Clem saddled Virgil’s horse and Clayton saddled the packhorse. “I see you added some more chuck to what we had, John,” Clayton said. “I’m especially glad to see the coffee. I’m tempted to start a fire in this hay in Clem’s barn and build a pot right now.”
“I needed to get that coffee out of my packs and use it in the office, but I kept forgetting to do it. It oughta still be good. It’s some I bought just a little while back. At the time I bought it, I had no idea I’d be wastin’ it on a couple Deputy US Marshals,” he joked.
When all the horses were saddled, they led them out of the stable and Bannack reminded Clem that he didn’t want the word to get out that they were taking Virgil out of the jail that night. “And whatever you do, if you see Buster tonight, don’t tell him. He’s liable to come after us if he finds out.” Clem laughed and told him there wasn’t much chance he’d see Buster tonight because he was going to go straight home. He wasn’t going to drop in at the River House for a nightcap. So they said goodnight to Clem and rode the horses back to the jail where they led them around behind the building and tied them. The town closed down very quickly soon after that with only a couple of places with lights still on, since Riker’s saloon had closed earlier than usual. When Bannack returned to the jail after making his final round of the town, he reported everything was peaceful.
“What the hell?” Virgil protested when he was rousted out of a sound sleep by Deputy Clayton. “What are you doin’?” He squawked when the deputy rolled him over on his cot, pulled his hands behind his back, and clapped the handcuffs on him. “What’s goin’ on?”
“We’re gonna take a little ride,” Clayton told him. “It’s a nice cool night out with the moon still almost full. It’ll be a perfect night to take a ride.”
“I don’t wanna take no damn ride,” Virgil insisted. “Where’s that big cat? You ain’t supposed to disturb my sleep!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Clayton said, knowing who he was referring to, “he’s goin’ with us. Matter of fact, takin’ a midnight ride was his idea.”
Virgil wasn’t convinced that there was no evil intent on the part of the deputy marshals. His first thought was the taking of revenge for the ambush his father and brothers had staged to free him and the wounding of Deputy Priest and the theft of their horses, weapons, and money. He rolled off the cot, onto the floor, then tried to roll under his cot. When Clayton had a hard time getting him untangled from the cot, Bannack walked into the cell, picked the cot up off Virgil, then grabbed his belt and jerked him up on his feet. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” Bannack demanded. “We’re goin’ to Jacksboro to take you to the county jail. If you don’t behave yourself, we’ll let you ride belly-down on your saddle, like you rode into town.”
“I’ll behave! I’ll behave!” Virgil pleaded. “I thought they was fixin’ to hang me.”
“That would be a whole lot easier than havin’ to haul your no-good butt all the way to Jacksboro,” Bannack said, “but they are officers of the law, so they play by the rules. That’s something you and that den of wolves you come from don’t understand.”
Now that he was reasonably sure they were not taking him outside to hang him, Virgil let himself be led outside the jail by Deputy Clayton. Deputy Priest followed along behind him, his revolver drawn and trained on Virgil’s back. Bannack waited a couple of minutes to talk to Daryl. “You gonna be all right here till I get back in the mornin’?” Daryl thought that he would. “’Cause you can go home if you’d rather. Just lock the place up.”
“What time do you think you’ll be back?” Daryl asked.
“Well, if things go as I expect them to, I’m plannin’ on gettin’ back here in time to go to breakfast with you,” Bannack told him.
“I’ll just stay here tonight, then,” Daryl decided.
“All right,” Bannack said, “I’ll see you in the mornin’.” He went outside to join the others, finding them in a minor standoff behind the jailhouse. “What’s the problem?” he asked, since no one was on a horse yet.
“I gotta pee,” Virgil answered, “and they won’t let me.”
“That ain’t so,” Clayton declared. “We told him to go ahead and pee.”
“They got my hands behind my back,” Virgil complained. “I can’t do nothin’ with my hands behind my back. I asked ’em to help me out, but they won’t help me.”
“Hell, no, I ain’t helpin’ him,” Clayton said. “He can just pee in his pants.”
“Look, Deputy, why don’t you just cuff his hands in front of him for this trip?” Bannack suggested. “Then he can take care of business without anyone’s help. It’ll make it a lot easier for him to ride, so we can make better time. One of us will be leading him with his horse’s reins, so he can’t do nothing but sit there. And one of us can ride behind him, too, to shoot him if he does try something.”
Clayton looked at Priest and they both shrugged. “I reckon that would work all right,” Clayton said and unlocked Virgil’s wrists, then cuffed them in front of him. Virgil promptly took care of business, then dutifully climbed up into the saddle. When he was comfortable, Clayton took a short piece of rope, tied one end around one of Virgil’s boots, then pulled it under his horse’s belly and tied it to his other boot. “I was transportin’ a prisoner from Austin to Waco one time,” he said. “Had his hands cuffed behind his back. We was ridin’ along the top of this ridge and all of a sudden, he jumped off his horse, landed on the downslope of that ridge and tumbled all the way to the bottom. Broke his shoulder when he landed on that slope. I’ve been tyin’ their feet together ever since.”
“Interestin’ story,” Bannack remarked. “This is your parade, deputies. How do you want to do it?”
“Well,” Clayton responded, “it don’t make a lot of difference, I reckon. Why don’t we start out with you takin’ the lead, Marshal, and you can lead our packhorse. Then I’ll come behind you, leadin’ the prisoner’s horse. And ol’ one-wing Priest can bring up the rear and watch Virgil’s back. Is that all right with everybody?” No one objected. “We can switch around after a while if you want to.”
Bannack climbed up into the saddle. “Everybody ready?” Everybody was, so he guided the buckskin gelding out from behind the jail and led the somber procession up the deserted main street, heading for Jacksboro.