CHAPTER 16
Bannack found it very interesting to see the difference between the two deputy marshals who rode into Glory to transport a prisoner to the county jail and the two wise-cracking good ol’ boys who welcomed him to Jacksboro. The back-and-forth banter between them and Lucy Tate was harsh at times but always good-natured. She always gave as good as she got. When they finally called it quits, and prepared to adjourn to the Wildflower Saloon for that drink of whiskey they promised him, he was surprised when she grabbed Clayton by the sleeve. “You’d better not show up at my door drunk and smelling like that cheap perfume those sluts at Wildflower bathe in. You’ll find the bar on my door.”
“You got no cause to say that,” Clayton replied. “John ain’t much for drinkin’, and we’ve gotta be in court in the mornin’. I’ll be home early.”
Bannack was surprised even more when she caught his arm as he started to follow them out. Turning serious for a moment, she said, “Bill told me you saved his and Conrad’s necks down in Glory. Thank you for that. I’m glad I got to meet you.” Her frank statement left him speechless. Seeing him trying to think of how to respond, she said, “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”
When they left the hotel, they walked a short distance up the street to the Wildflower Saloon. They paused before going inside when Priest pointed to a large single-story wooden building with a two story wing on the back. “That’s the courthouse,” he said. “That two-story part on the back is the jail. That’s where Virgil Dawson is. I reckon they told you to report to the Marshal’s Office at eight or eight-thirty, right?” Bannack said that was so. “That’s just to kinda officially tell you what to do and where to go when the trial starts at nine o’clock.” He pointed to another small building next to the larger one. “That’s the US Marshal’s Office. That’s where we’ll be in the mornin’, and we’ll go to the courthouse with you.”
“Right,” Bannack replied. That settled, they went inside the saloon and walked up to the bar.
“Howdy, boys,” Gus Welch, the bartender greeted them. “Where’d you two get this big ol’ feller? I hope you ain’t arrested him ’cause if you’re fixin’ to buy him some whiskey on the way to jail, he’s liable to tear this place down if he gets drunk.”
“You talk too much, Gus,” Clayton said. “This is a friend of ours from Glory and we’d like to buy him a drink of your good rye whiskey.” He paused then to check with Bannack. “Rye whiskey all right, or do you prefer corn?”
“One’s about as good as the other to me,” Bannack answered. “Just pour me whichever one you’re drinkin’.” He really wasn’t much of a drinker, never had been. Whiskey just wasn’t available to him when he was growing up. On the one occasion when he and his brother decided to see what it was like to really get drunk, it turned out to be a very unpleasant experience. He didn’t like the way he seemed to lose control of his muscles, and it was much worse later on when he seemed to have lost control of his stomach and his bowels. It was effective enough to cure both him and his brother from ever wanting to be that way again. As he grew a little older, he found that he could enjoy a drink but never more than two. He didn’t care to lose that control of his body again.
Gus poured three shots and Priest picked his up and said, “Here’s to stompin’ snakes like Virgil Dawson. I hope they hang his sorry behind.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Clayton said and tossed his down, too.
“Amen,” Bannack said softly and took his drink in one gulp as well. But while Clayton and Priest slammed there glasses down hard and upright, signaling for Gus to pour again, he seemed distracted.
“You really gonna stop after one drink?” Priest asked.
“No,” Bannack answered, still distracted, “I’ll have one more, but that’s all.” Maybe one more will clear my vision, he thought and put his glass on the bar for refill. But the second drink was no help.
“Is something eatin’ at you?” Priest asked.
“I’m lookin’ at that table over in the dark corner. If I ain’t mistaken, I think I’m lookin’ at the man who shot you, Conrad.” Both Priest and Clayton braced immediately, both dropping their hands to rest on their six-guns.
“Where?” Priest asked.
“Don’t shoot anybody,” Bannack said, “in case I’m wrong. But I’m lookin’ at four men sittin’ back there at that table in the corner. The one facin’ this way looks like Henry Dawson. The other three are his sons, Junior, Gilbert, and Johnny.”
“Are you sure?” Clayton asked, he and Priest having never seen their faces. “What the hell are they doin’ here?”
“I’m sure now. They came to go to Virgil’s trial,” Bannack replied.
“That was dumb on their part,” Clayton said. “We can arrest ’em right here.”
“Arrest ’em for what?” Bannack asked. “This is the first time you’ve ever seen their faces. You can’t identify them as the men who attacked you.”
“Hell, maybe not,” Priest said, “but you can identify ’em.”
“I didn’t see ’em shoot you,” Bannack said. “I wasn’t there. I just know in my gut that they are the four men who attacked you. I can’t prove it, neither can you. I know we found Virgil at his father’s house, but that just proves he went home. I found your horses wanderin’ near Razor Creek, not at Dawson’s farm. And that’s why they’re sittin’ up here waiting to go to his trial. They know we can’t prove they had anything to do with it.”
“Why are you sure the father is the one who shot me?” Priest asked.
“Just goin’ by what you said,” Bannack answered. “You said that one man gave all the orders and the other three called him Boss. It just makes sense.”
As tense as the situation was for the three men standing at the bar, it was even more tense for the four men seated at the table in the corner. Feeling trapped and naked due to a ban on the wearing of guns on Sunday as well as on weekdays when the court was in session, they sat helpless. This was especially so when the three men that captured their attention were all wearing sidearms. “They’re all wearin’ guns,” Johnny Dawson declared. “Why is that? We can’t wear no guns.”
“Because they’re all three lawmen, dummy,” Junior told him.
“We’re in trouble,” Gilbert warned. “How are we gonna get outta here?”
“Just set still, damn it!” his father ordered. “The law ain’t got no reason to bother us. They can’t prove we ever done anything. They know we wouldn’ta come to this town full of lawmen if we was guilty of anything, so don’t act like a dog caught in the henhouse. The one I’d really like to catch out by himself is that big devil, Cochran. He knows it was us that sprung Virgil loose. I’d like to tell him he was right, we done it, just before I blow a hole in his head.”
“Pass that bottle back over here,” Johnny said.
“Yeah, Pa, pour Johnny another drink,” Junior said. “Maybe he wants to get likkered up enough to go over there and say howdy to his old friend, Marshal Cochran.”
“You go to hell, Junior,” Johnny responded. “You act like you ain’t never got drunk.”
“I ain’t never got so drunk till I staggered into the jailhouse and said, ‘Lock me up!”
“Shut up! Both of ya!” Henry Dawson snapped. “Let’s get outta here. We’ll take the bottle back to camp and you can finish it there. I wanna go to that jailhouse and see if we can talk to Virgil. When we walk outta here, act like you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, ’cause you ain’t.” He got up then and started for the door.
“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Clayton quickly warned Priest when the four Dawsons got up and approached the bar on their way out. “But you just hold steady and let ’em go. You’ll be in a world of trouble if you do anything right now. It could cost you your job.”
“Evenin’, Marshal Cochran,” Henry said as they walked past the three lawmen while pretending not to know the two men with him. “I reckon you’re in town for the trial.”
“Mr. Dawson,” Bannack acknowledged but offered nothing more.
When the Dawsons went out the door, Priest turned back to the bar at once and said, “Pour me another one, Gus.” Then, with his hand trembling with rage, he tossed it back.
“I reckon I’ll see you in the Marshal’s Office in the mornin’,” Bannack said. “I’m gonna go see how that bed in my room sleeps. I wanna be sure I’m rested up good for that trial. I hope the judge wants to get it done as fast as I do and I can get on back to Glory.” He thanked them for the drinks, bade them a goodnight, and walked back to the hotel. Priest and Clayton carried their drinks to a table and sat down. In a few minutes, a couple of the wildflowers sat down to join them.
On the opposite side of the courthouse from the hotel, Henry Dawson and his three sons walked in the fading evening light around behind the two-story wing that was the jail. They called out Virgil’s name until they were answered from one of the windows upstairs in the middle of the wall. “Hey, Pa, you come to bust me outta here?”
“Hey, Pa, bust me outta here, too,” an unfamiliar voice called out, followed by the sound of chuckling.
“Shut your damn mouth,” Virgil threatened, “or I’ll shut it for you! Move over this way, Pa. I see you. You got the boys with you, too. If you’da brought a long ladder and something to break these bars out of this window, I’d come down to see you.”
“They treatin’ you all right?” Junior asked, for want of anything else to say.
“Yeah,” Virgil replied. “They’re a little bit skimpy on the food, and I’m used to eatin’ fresh beef. Seems like the only animal they ever heard of here is a pig. You and the boys gonna be at my trial?”
“Yep, we’ll be there,” Henry said. “We’re camped over by the creek, and every time we come into town we have to turn our guns in at the sheriff’s office.” He figured Virgil already knew that, but he wanted to tell him again in case he was expecting him and his brothers to try to break him out of there. At this point, he didn’t know what he was going to do to save his son from prison or possibly hanging. If there was an opportunity at any point in the trial or during the trip when they were transporting him to prison, he was bound to try. But there had to be a good chance to succeed. He wasn’t ready to commit suicide in an effort to save his son.
“I ain’t never seen so many lawmen in one place before,” Virgil said. “But the one that done it all to me is that damn town marshal in Glory. I don’t know if you know it or not, but it was him that came out to our place that night and knocked me off my horse. Them two deputies didn’t have nothin’ to do with that. And he’s the one that told them to sneak me outta that jail and go to Jacksboro in the middle of the night, and he went with ’em.”
“I suspected that,” Henry responded, “and we waited half a damn day for them to show up when he said they was gonna take you up here.”
“Pa,” Virgil said, “if you don’t get a chance to help me, please promise me you’ll square things up for me with that big son of a whore.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Henry said. “I promise you he ain’t gonna die of old age.”
“I gotta go now,” Virgil said. “It’s time they do their headcount for the night. I’ll see you in the courthouse in the mornin’.”
* * *
“Good morning, Marshal Cochran,” Robert Fraiser greeted Bannack when he walked into the dining room for breakfast. “Your server last night, Lucy Tate, asked to serve you this morning when you came in for breakfast.”
“She did?” Bannack asked, quite surprised. “Well, that’s a first.”
“Is that all right with you?” Fraiser asked.
“Sure is,” Bannack replied. “I’d be glad to have her wait on me.” He suspected, however, that it was more likely that she was assigned to take care of him because she was tough enough to handle the drifters and the untamed looking creatures. When she first saw him at supper, she even mentioned the fact that she waited on a lot of drifters. He didn’t care. He was accustomed to women giving him a wide berth. Fraiser showed him to the same table he had eaten supper on.
When Lucy came out of the kitchen and saw him there, she grinned, spun on her heel, and went back for the coffeepot and a cup. When she came back out, she widened the grin and put the cup on his table and filled it. “Good morning, John Cochran. Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“I did,” he answered and tried to copy her smile. She smiled even wider at his obvious effort, thinking a welcoming smile just looked pitifully out of place among those chiseled features. “How ’bout yourself?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, this time with a little more impudence in her smile. “I always get a good night’s sleep.” She motioned toward his coffee. “If I remember correctly, you take it just like it comes out of the pot, right?”
“That’s a fact,” he said. “I reckon that’s because I never seemed to have any milk or sugar to put in it. I reckon I just got used to it.”
“Bill said you didn’t hang around the Wildflower very long last night.”
“No, ma’am, I reckon I didn’t. I was anxious to try out that bed in my room, and it didn’t disappoint me. I woke up with an appetite. What have you got to take care of that?”
She laughed at his enthusiasm. “How do you feel about a stack of flapjacks, scrambled eggs, and link sausage with some genuine blueberry syrup.”
“Sounds perfect to me,” he responded. “Can’t think of a better way to start the day than that.”
“They’ll be right up,” she said. “And Bill said to tell you he’ll see you at the Marshal’s Office. He had to be there early this morning.”
“Did he eat breakfast?” Bannack asked.
“Yes, he came with me to open up this morning. You didn’t miss him by much when you came in. And Conrad eats breakfast at the boarding house he lives in, if you’re wondering about him.” She went to the kitchen then to give Molly Mayes his order. When she returned with it a few minutes later, she heated his coffee with some fresh made. When he commented that it looked like a lot of food, she said, “You’re a lotta man to fill up. I bet you can handle it.” She started to walk away then but stopped to say one more thing. “Bill said you were the finest lawman he’s ever seen, and he’s known quite a few.”
“He’s being overly generous, I reckon,” Bannack remarked, thinking Clayton was genuinely impressed by his assistance in recapturing their prisoner when, as a town marshal, he was under no obligation to do so. It was obvious that both Bill Clayton and Conrad Priest seemed to be intent upon building a reputation for him. And a reputation was something he did not want. With Wanted papers out on John Bannack, he didn’t like the prospect of law officers starting to compare John Cochran to descriptions of John Bannack. It might be too easy for some inquisitive marshal or ranger to check into John Cochran’s past history and find there was none before Glory, Texas.
The thought caused him to question his decision to hide in plain sight when the town marshal’s job was so openly handed to him. Maybe the best thing for him right now was to hand the signed witness statements to the judge, then get on his horse and continue on to the northwest. Luckily, he had spent a little time rubbing some of the peach fuzz off Daryl Boyd. Maybe Daryl was ready to grow into the marshal’s job. He shook his head, knowing Daryl was not ready to have that responsibility dropped in his lap. It might destroy the young man. Ah, hell, he thought, I can’t leave the town without a marshal again. I just need to get back down there as quick as I can get away from here, and keep my head down.
“What were you thinking about?” Lucy asked. “You looked like your mind was a hundred miles away.”
“What?” He recoiled slightly and recovered. “I was wishin’ I didn’t have to go sit in a courtroom all mornin’. I need to get back to my little town. But if I know what’s good for me, I reckon I’d best get on over to that marshal’s office before they send Bill back here to arrest me. I wanna thank you for that fine breakfast. The flapjacks were perfect, and the service wasn’t bad.” She laughed and warned him not to drift off to sleep while the judge was talking. “I ain’t gonna guarantee it,” he said.
* * *
US Marshal Calvin Turner stood up and extended his hand across the desk to shake Bannack’s hand when Bill Clayton escorted him into his office. “Damn, Clayton, he’s as big as you said he was.” He grinned at Bannack then. “Marshal Cochran, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Deputies Clayton and Priest tell me they might not have gotten back with the man they’re tryin’ today without your help.”
“I’m mighty glad to meet you, sir,” Bannack said. “I just tried to help Clayton and Priest any way I could. But I think the reason they got back here with Virgil Dawson was because they refused to give up when they ran into some real bad luck.”
“I expect they might have been a little modest in their report,” Turner said. “They’re good men. I understand you have a couple of written witness reports with you, signed by the witnesses.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And verified authentic by a notary,” Turner continued.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, you just hand those over to the judge when he asks for them. You’ll also be called to the witness stand to testify, since you are the arresting officer. Just answer the prosecutor’s questions truthfully, and that’s all you have to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Bannack replied respectfully. He could have told Turner that he had participated in many court trials while in the employ of the late Judge Wick Justice, back before he was John Cochran.
“Have you got any questions?”
“No, sir,” Bannack answered, so he and Clayton did an about face and left the office.
“We might as well go on over to the courtroom,” Clayton said to Conrad Priest, who was waiting outside Turner’s door. “I don’t know how much the judge will want from you and me, just the part about resistin’ arrest, I reckon. John, you’re the one who made the arrest both times, in the café and at the house by the creek. So they oughta be questioning you the most.”
“Reckon so,” Bannack replied. “I just hope they get this thing done quick. I need to get back to Glory. Daryl might be havin’ the nervous sweats if I’m gone much longer.”
“John, you ever think about movin’ up to a higher job in the law business?” Priest asked.
Here it comes, Bannack thought. “You mean try to get hired as a Deputy US Marshal like you and Bill? I ain’t sure I’d be any good in a job like that. I kinda like stayin’ in one spot like Glory.”
“I swear, John,” Priest insisted. “I don’t think a little town like Glory can hold you for very long. I ain’t ever seen a man go after a criminal like you went after Virgil Dawson. You could be doin’ the county and the state a lot more good, if you were authorized to go anywhere.”
“I gotta agree with him, John,” Clayton said. “You might find out you like bein’ able to cover more ground, instead of bein’ tied down in that little town. You oughta talk to Calvin Turner to see if they’re lookin’ for more men right now.”
“I ’preciate what you’re sayin’, and I’ll think it over. Maybe I’ll talk to Calvin Turner before I go back to Glory,” he told them, although he had no such intention.
They walked around the jail and entered the courthouse through a back entrance into the single story part of the building. They followed a hallway, past an entrance to the two story jail wing and Clayton said, “That’s where they’ll bring Virgil out of the jail. They’ll take him right down this hall to the courtroom.” They continued down the long hallway, passing several doors until reaching an open door that led into the courtroom, which reminded Bannack of the courtroom in Austin. The two deputies were very instructive in educating him on the way the courtroom was set up, what each section was called, who sat where and so on, everything that he was already well familiar with. He accepted the education politely and refrained from telling them that he had often set up a courtroom where there was none, when he worked for Judge Justice.