Mildred had awakened earlier than usual and lay in thought in her bed, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes passed, she heard the familiar padding of Fionna’s slippered footsteps going down the hall. As usual, Mildred got up to join her mother-in-law to prepare breakfast. After she put on her robe and stepped from the bedroom, she found Fionna standing at the second floor, gazing out the window that offered a view of the eastern side of the farm.
“Ma,” Mildred said, walking up beside her. “What’re you doing here?”
“This is something I do sometimes when I’m of a mood to,” Fionna said. “I stand at this window and watch the sunrise.”
Mildred looked out and could see the first showings of the dawn just beginning to peek over the distant horizon. “Yes. It’s pretty and peaceful, ain’t it?”
Fionna nodded. “Watching the sun rise always gives me hope. It’s like the Lord is saying, ‘Here we go again. It’s a fresh chance for the troublesome things in life to be put right.’ He’s telling us to keep our faith.”
“You’re truly religious, ain’t you, Ma?” Mildred remarked.
“I believe,” Fionna said. “That’s it plain and simple. I believe.”
“I never went to church ‘til I come here,” Mildred said. “I’m afeared I don’t get a lot out of it. Maybe that means I’m a bad person.”
“It means no such thing, darling girl,” Fionna said. “Your heart will open up to the Lord when it’s ready.”
“Maybe it never will.”
“That could be too,” Fionna said gently without censure.
“I watch all them people at services and it seems strange to me that they all believe in the same way.”
“They really don’t,” Fionna said. “Folks worship the same way, but a body’s belief in God is a personal thing like a special friendship. I get comfort from my religion and knowing that the Lord is watching over me. That’s ever’thing to me. Without it, I don’t think I could stand being alive.”
“I don’t rightly understand what you mean when you use that word ‘faith’,” Mildred said. “I reckon the closest I get to it is hope. I hope and hope that ever’thing is gonna be all right with Silsby.”
“Faith is believing in that hope and praying for it,” Fionna said. “Folks show their faith in lots o’ ways. When a farmer’s plow bites into the dirt to make the first furrow in a new planting season, that’s his show of faith. When a nail is hammered into a board to start building a house, that’s faith. It’s the same when a woman brings her baby to her breast for the first time.”
Mildred smiled. “I reckon the way you fixed up that bedroom for both me and Silsby is faith.”
“Yes, darling girl,” Fionna said. She patted her daughter-in-law on the shoulder. “I think I’ll put the coffee on. Are you coming downstairs now?”
“I’ll be there directly, Ma.”
Mildred turned back to gaze out the window. The sun was off the horizon by then. The dark was fading from the night as the new day brightened into morning.
Chapter Forty-Four
Silsby McCracken sat on the cave floor and stared across at the smoke-blackened wall on the other side. Charlie Ainsley was beside him, idly rubbing a finger around the top of his boot.
“Ain’t this some shit?” Silsby remarked.
“Yeah,” Charlie said.
“The day I married Mildred was the day I should’ve just give up the wild life and started living sensible.”
“What the hell would you have did?” Charlie asked. “Get one of them homesteader claims?”
“They ain’t no more of ’em.”
“Maybe you should’ve took her back to your pa with you and worked on the family place.” When Silsby didn’t reply, Charlie continued, “You would’ve been a clodhopper again.”
Silsby remained silent for a few more moments before repeating, “Ain’t this some shit?”
Charlie shrugged. “At least we got a good place to hole up while we’re biding our time. That Jack O’Reilly got a first-rate hideout when he found this here cave. I cain’t think of a better place.”
“Me either,” Silsby said. He sighed. “You said both him and Dennis was blowed apart, huh?”
“They sure was,” Charlie replied. “I just got a quick glimpse out of the engine cab before I made a run for it. But they was a spray of blood and an arm and a head and God knows what else flying off. Prob’ly peckers and balls too. Them two took that shotgun blast together at the same time. I couldn’t stand to look at the mess. The onliest thing I wanted to do was get the hell out of there pronto.”
“Damn it all straight to hell!” Silsby said. “I never thought things would get this bad for us.”
“Yeah. First Tommy now Dennis.”
“I remember when I met ’em.”
“Yeah. It was at our camp when Mr. Harknell went to that hearing in Clarkville.”
“That makes a total of four dead after all that trouble with the Grasslands,” Silsby said. “I’m thinking on that feller Ed Byron who had the newspaper, and a friend of my pa’s name of Ratner.”
“Don’t forget them two cowboys that was kilt at that Boomer camp out there with ’em,” Charlie said. He counted on his fingers. “That’s six total.”
“Seven counting Mr. Harknell.”
“Things keep looking worser and worser,” Charlie said.
“As soon as it’s safe to leave here, I’m going straight back to get Mildred.”
“What you should do is get word to her to meet you someplace,” Charlie advised.
“How’m I gonna do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“The onliest way I can get to her is to find her personal.”
“That’s crazy,” Charlie said. “You’ll get caught as sure as shit stinks.”
“I’m willing to take a chance.”
“Well, I ain’t,” Charlie said. “You go on your own way and I’ll go mine.”
“Once I’m back with Mildred, I’ll have a lot of figgering to do. The main thing is to work out something that’s best for my wife and kid.”
“I don’t have no plans ’cept to get out of the territory and the Injun nations,” Charlie said. “Hell, I’ll prob’ly go to Mexico after all. It’ll be safe there.” He reached in his vest for a cigar then remembered he had smoked his last one the day before. “I think we ought to let another week go by before we leave here though. The posses should have give up and be back snug in their homes by then.”
“You’re right,” Silsby said. “If we eat once a day, we can make it.”
Charlie grinned without humor. “Our horses ain’t gonna have as heavy a load to carry when we leave this cave. We’re both gonna be a couple of slim jims.”
“This is worser than the line shack, ain’t it? At least we had plenty of grub up there.”
“Hell! I’d trade this cave for that godamn place even if I had to live with that crazy son of a bitch Angelo Kennedy again.”
They fell into another long period of silence. With nothing to do but wait for time to pass, they napped a lot between pointless conversation. Their only food was some canned items that O’Reilly had stashed in the cave. That meant a strict diet of vegetables and fruit for a couple of young men who normally lived on meat and potatoes.
“I changed my mind,” Charlie said. “I ain’t going to Mexico after all.”
“What about South America? That’s where you was going the last time you talked about it.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” Charlie said.
“What’s your plans now?”
“I figger Bill Doolin could use a man like me in his gang.”
“You’re gonna die an outlaw, Charlie,” Silsby warned him. “You’d best get off the owlhoot trail and start cowboying again.”
“It don’t appeal to me no more.”
“You could change your name and find work down in Texas.”
Charlie spat. “I’m sticking to what I’m doing now.”
“Y
ou’re loco!” Silsby exclaimed. “We’ve lost our two best pals and ain’t made a single dime trying to rob a bank and a train. Don’t you think they’s a message in there somewhere, Charlie?”
“We done perty good rustling horses.”
“That went to hell too.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “But I don’t want no more butt-busting work like branding or round-ups or nothing.”
“The easy life, huh?”
“Damn right!”
“Well, that’s what we’re doing now,” Silsby said. “Ain’t it a wonderful thing to be going through?”
“Or maybe I’ll go back with you and get Belle after all,” Charlie said. “Having her around means I’ll be able to get a grubstake together from the money she can make.”
Silsby frowned. “That’s perty low, Charlie.”
Charlie didn’t reply as they fell into another period of silence. The temperature in the cave was comfortable and constant toward the back where they had established themselves with their horses. The animals, feeding on some stale, damp hay left by O’Reilly and previous cohorts, rested comfortably without the burden of saddles.
“Silsby McCracken!”
The call from outside startled them to the extent that both leaped to their feet.
“Silsby McCracken! Charlie Ainsley!”
The pair looked at each other as they reached for their carbines.
“Silsby! This is Grant Hollings! Answer me!”
Without speaking, the fugitives walked softly up to the front of the cave. They took advantage of the brush and rocks that provided both protection and concealment at the entrance.
“We know you’re in there, Silsby!” Grant yelled. “Dennis told us where to find you! It took a long time to get him to talk, but he finally did! Silsby! Answer me! I’m here for your own good!”
Silsby leaned toward Charlie, whispering, “Hey! Dennis didn’t get hisself kilt like you thought.”
“I reckon O’Reilly got blowed up on his lonesome.”
“That’s good news,” Silsby said.
“Good news, hell! That son of a bitch Dennis told on us!”
“Yeah, but I bet they had to beat his ass ever’day for the past week to get him to talk,” Silsby opined.
Charlie calmed down. “I reckon you’re right. Dennis was always dumb as a corral post, but he had sand.”
“Silsby!” Grant yelled again. “Mildred is with your folks on the farm outside of Medicine Bundle! She’s waiting for you there!”
“Is she all right?” Silsby yelled back.
Charlie grabbed his shoulder. “Godamn you, Silsby! You just gave us away!”
“They know we’re in here,” Silsby pointed out angrily.
“Mildred is fine!” Grant hollered. “She lost the baby, Silsby! A doctor in Woodward took care of her!”
“Aw, shit!” Silsby said.
“She’s waiting for you to come back to her!” Grant yelled. “Come on out, Silsby! We’ll do the best we can for you! We’ll ask for leniency from the court! You have a wonderful home to return to, Silsby! Rebecca and Mildred are good friends! You have a niece and nephew now! It’s time to come back to your family.”
“I’m giving up, Charlie.”
“What if I don’t want to,” Charlie growled.
Silsby was thoughtful for a few moments, then he yelled. “I’m here alone, Grant! Charlie Ainsley has took off!”
Grant hollered, “Don’t lie to me, Silsby! The trail of two horses lead straight into that cave! You both come out with your hands up! We can help Charlie too!”
“Lying son of a bitch!” Charlie said under his breath, his eyes wide with fear and anger. A moment later the expression on his face relaxed. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s give it up, Silsby. Come on. We’ll hold up our hands and walk out.” He laid his carbine down.
Silsby, also abandoning his long gun, nodded. “The end of the owlhoot trail, old pard. Let’s go together.” He turned toward the opening. “All right, Grant! Hold on! Here we come!”
“Don’t shoot us now!” Charlie yelled. “You hear? We’re giving it up fair and square.”
“Just come on out!” Grant hollered back.
The two left the cave and kicked their way through the brush, climbing into view. They stopped with their hands up, and Charlie stepped back a couple of paces. A moment later Grant appeared from the nearby woods. He walked slowly toward them.
“I’m glad you’re showing some sense, Silsby,” Grant said. “We’ll work at —”
The shot was loud in the small space.
Charlie had reached behind and pulled the revolver he had stuck in the back of his belt, firing quickly. Grant took the bullet in the right side of the pelvis. The force of the impact whipped him completely around and dumped him on his back. Silsby ran over to him as Charlie followed, cocking the hammer for another shot. Charlie snarled, “Get out of the way, Silsby. This son of a bitch ain’t hauling me to no jailhouse.”
What followed was something Silsby would never understand for the rest of his life. No conscious thought made him take action; instead it was as if he were detached from himself, observing another person. He quickly bent down, grabbing Grant’s pistol, and turned it on Charlie, pulling the trigger twice. Charlie staggered under the slam of the bullets and regained his balance. He took two unsteady steps forward, then sank to his knees.
“Drop the iron, Charlie,” Silsby warned him. “I’ll shoot again! I mean what I say, godamn it!”
“You kilt me, Silsby,” Charlie said. There was no malice in his voice. It was as if he were calmly stating a fact. Then he fell over on his face.
“Oh, God, Charlie!” Silsby said, starting to cry, as reality swam back into his consciousness.
Nolan Sinclair came out of the woods, walking up to a spot between the two fallen men. He snarled his anger at Silsby. “It’s lucky you shot that son of a bitch, McCracken. Or I would have pumped lead into both of you. Godamn you! I would have!”
Silsby turned toward the lawman and dropped Grant’s pistol on the ground. “Charlie’s my best friend.”
“Best friend or not, you done for him,” Sinclair said. “And godamned good riddance too!”
“Grant is my sister’s husband,” Silsby went on in a monotone. “I didn’t want Rebecca to feel no hurt. I love her. She’s my sister. Charlie shouldn’t have did that. I knowed he was gonna shoot Grant again. I had to do something fast.”
“You was fast all right,” Sinclair said.
Silsby double up his fists in frustration. “Godamn that stupid Charlie!”
“I ain’t too impressed with none of your pards,” Sinclair said as he knelt down to examine Grant. “And you ain’t exactly the brightest lantern in the cabin your own self.”
Silsby looked over where Charlie lay sprawled on the ground. He wiped at the tears in his eyes and nodded a goodbye to his friend. “Poor ol’ cowboy.”
Sinclair snorted, “No good son of a bitch is what he is.”
Silsby came over and looked down at Grant. His brother-in-law bled heavily, a glazed look in his eyes.
Chapter Forty-Five
The trial of Silsby McCracken and Dennis Nettles was held in the Federal court in Guthrie, O.T. The fact that they’d attempted to rob an army payroll made their crime an offense against the U.S. Government. Judge Harold Ross from Wichita came down from his normal jurisdiction to be the presiding judge.
Since the prisoners faced serious charges, the state of Kansas forewent prosecuting the pair regarding the botched bank robbery in Clarkville. However, the prosecutors in Guthrie planned on having this thwarted crime read into the court records.
Luther McCracken dipped into his savings to hire a lawyer with a good reputation to represent both Silsby and Dennis. He was a Guthrie attorney by the name of Garfield Morrison who was originally from Wichita and had plenty of experience in defending clients before Judge Ross. He knew that Ross was a bad-tempered jurist who wished to surpass Hanging Judge Isaac Parker’s r
eputation in the Fort Smith, Arkansas Federal Court. When it came to handing out tough sentences, Parker was considered the champion, having hanged six men at one time. Ross was envious of that accomplishment and would have considered being referred to as a “hanging judge” as the greatest confirmation that he had performed his duties in a superlative manner.
When Silsby and Dennis, in a confidential interview, confessed their rustling activities to their lawyer, he was shocked. Morrison warned them to keep such past crimes to themselves. But when they mentioned that a Wichita attorney by the name of Marvin Waring ran the organization that disposed of the animals, his interest was piqued. “How do you know Waring was involved?” Morrison asked.
“A feller over to Lib’ral tole us,” Dennis said.
Silsby added, “We took the rustled herds to Waring’s ranch over there to sell ’em.”
Morrison mulled over the revelation in his mind. He was personally cognizant of Waring’s shady reputation in Wichita. Turning in evidence in a series of serious felonies could give the two unsuccessful robbers quite a bit more leverage in obtaining mercy from the court. The cessation of this felonious activity would also curtail rustling in both the Oklahoma Territory and the Indian Nations.
“Okay, boys,” Morrison said, “I’ll have affidavits drawn up for you to sign. And I’ll need every single detail you can recall about the incidents. Dates, people and places, boys. Dates, people and places.”
This action began a new investigation that delayed the trial on the original charges. While Silsby and Dennis languished in their cells in Guthrie, their accusations against Lawyer Waring were looked into. Unfortunately for the two former cowboys, nothing came of the effort.
Not one shred of evidence existed to implicate Waring. The lawyer had anticipated facing justice one day, and had organized all records of his transactions involving horses and cattle to indicate they were both purchased and sold in legitimate markets. These documents also indicated that most of these business dealings were conducted in Missouri and Nebraska. Additionally, Waring supplied his own affidavits from a half-dozen ranchers who claimed they had sold all the animals to him.
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