The Adventures of Bass Reeves Deputy US Marshal

by Charles Ray

  Feeling better, she headed for the house to get supper started.

  ***

  That evening, supper done, and the pace of activity around the ranch settled for the evening, Belle and Sam sat on the porch of their ranch house, enjoying the sound of crickets in the reeds along the river and a cool breeze that blew in from the northwest.

  Belle was surprised to see a rider approaching from the road. She hadn’t expected company so late in the evening. When the rider came into the glow of the lanterns hanging from the porch rafters, she saw that it was their neighbor, Joseph Crow. The old man rode hunched over, in the Indian fashion of riding ‘small in the saddle’ to make yourself a smaller target for an enemy who might be lying in ambush.

  He stopped his old gray horse a few feet from the edge of the porch, but didn’t dismount.

  Sam stood. “Evenin’, Joseph,” he said. “What brings you over here this late?”

  Crow looked nervous, and hesitant. “I hate to bother you, Sam. Evenin’, Miz. Belle. It’s them horses you left in my corral, Sam. There’s a problem.”

  “Problem? It ain’t some kind of sickness, is it?”

  Crow shook his head. “No, ain’t nothin’ like that. It’s just . . . well, Sam, after you left, I was muckin’ out the stables, ‘n I happen to notice a couple of them horses you left with me got brands on ‘em I recognize. One belongs to Andrew Crane, ‘n one belongs to Sam Campbell. Neither of them white men been selling stock lately, so I was kinda wonderin’ how horses with them brands got in with the horses you brought to my place.”

  “I bought them horses legal from a man up in Muscogee,” Sam said. “I got the papers to prove it. You sure you ain’t mistaken ‘bout them brands?”

  “I’m dead sure, Sam. Look, I wouldn’t bother you with this, but I can’t be caught with no stolen horses on my place, ‘specially horses stolen from white men. It’s one thing to deal with the tribal council, but this could bring in the federal marshals, ‘n you know that ain’t no Indian gonna get a break in the white man’s court. I hate to ask you this, but can you hold up on sellin’ them horses until this can be checked out?”

  Sam turned and looked up at Belle, who sat, transfixed, in her chair. She didn’t know at that moment what to believe.

  “Maybe we should wait, Sam,” she said.

  “Sure, Belle, honey, we can do that.” He turned back to Crow. “Okay, Joseph, you go on home, and don’t fret it. I’ll take care of this tomorrow.”

  Crow touched a gnarled finger to the brim of his hat. “I’m much obliged, Sam, much obliged. Let me know what you want to do soon’s you can, okay?”

  “I’ll do that, Joseph. You can count on it.”

  The old man wheeled his horse around and rode away. Belle sat in her chair, looking at her husband’s back, and wondering what was going on, afraid that she knew.

  ***

  The following morning, Belle rose early, not surprised to find Sam’s side of the bed empty, for he, too, was habitually an early riser.

  She made her way to the kitchen where the cook, a large-breasted Cherokee woman, was preparing a breakfast.

  “You see Mr. Sam this morning, Mary?” she asked.

  “He ate breakfast already, Miss Belle. Said he had some business to see to.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No, ma’am, he just said he had business.”

  Belle felt a cold ache in the pit of her stomach. Sam was up to something, and she had a sinking feeling that something was not good. There was, however, nothing she could do about it but wait.

  She waited until midday, the ache in her stomach turning into a real, hot, stabbing pain. At noon, she found herself standing on the front porch, pacing back and forth, her eyes on the road. She sighed when she saw Sam come riding up the road.

  When he rode into the yard, she was still standing there, a worried look on her face.

  “Where have you been, Sam?”

  He dismounted and walked up onto the porch. “I had some business.”

  “What kind of business?”

  He reached into his coat and pulled out a thick stack of currency. “I sold ‘em, Belle, every dang one of ‘em, and got top dollar, too.”

  She gasped. “The horses, you sold the horses? But, you said you’d wait until we sorted out the problem with the brands.”

  “I know I did, honey, but the buyer wanted ‘em right away, and he was payin’ good money. Hey, don’t fret, it’ll be okay.”

  Somehow, though, she knew that it wouldn’t be okay.

  CHAPTER 9

  Bass suspected the moment that he saw Marshal Fagan waiting at the hitching posts behind the courthouse that something was wrong. As he got closer and saw the pained look on the man’s face, he was certain that something was wrong.

  “Took you a while to get these five, Bass,” Fagan said, as Bass dismounted.

  “Yeah, that little fella there gave us a run for the money. Had to chase him near all over the territory ‘fore we cornered him.”

  “Other than that, no trouble, I assume?”

  Bass hesitated before responding. The question was so out of character for Marshal Fagan, especially in his case, he wondered just how bad things were, or were about to become. Fagan had never questioned him in this manner before.

  “No, sir,” he said finally. “No trouble. I had to hit the little fella on the head to keep him from hurtin’ himself with that pig sticker he carries, but, other than that, everything went fine. You ‘spectin’ any trouble?”

  Now, it was Fagan’s turn to hesitate. He tugged at his beard, and seemed to be considering his next words carefully.

  “Well, Bass, I reckon it depends on how you look at it. I got one special warrant, and I’d like you to be the deputy to serve it, but I’m wondering how you’re gonna take it.”

  Bass frowned at his boss. “I’ll be takin’ it just like I do any other warrant you give me, Marshal. You want a fugitive brought in, I’ll go get him. I don’t see no problem.”

  “The warrant is for Sam and Belle Starr, Bass. They’re wanted for larceny.”

  Bass frowned. “Larceny? What did they do?”

  Fagan pulled the folded warrant from his jacket, and studied it for a few seconds.

  “The way it was told to me,” he said. “Is that they sold a bunch of horses, and among the herd were some stolen animals belonging to a couple of white farmers, named Andrew Crane and Sam Campbell.

  “They got proof the horses was stolen?”

  “We have affidavits from both of them, and the man that bought the horses from Sam Starr also gave a statement. In addition to that, there’s a statement from a neighbor of theirs, a Cherokee, name of Joseph Crow. Seems Sam put the stolen horses up in Crow’s corral because he didn’t have room for ‘em at his place. Crow witnessed the sale, and he saw and recognized the brands on the stolen horses. I’m afraid we got ‘em dead to rights this time, Bass. Are you gonna have a problem serving the warrant? I know you’re friendly with ‘em, with Belle Starr, at least, and that’s why I’d rather it was you make the arrest. Less likely to be gunplay that way.”

  Bass rubbed at his jaw and locked eyes with Fagan.

  “No, Marshal,” he said. “Ain’t gon’ be no problem. You want me to bring ‘em in, I’ll go bring ‘em in.”

  He turned and started to mount.

  “No need to go right this minute, Bass. You can wait until tomorrow. Hell, man, you were gone a whole month. Your wife ‘n kids got to be missing you something crazy.”

  Bass paused, his left foot in the stirrup. Finally, he swung his right leg up and over the saddle. He looked down at Fagan.

  “Reckon you right ‘bout that, Marshal. I’ll go see to things at home, and head for the territory first thing in the morning.”

  Without further word, he wheeled his horse around and kicked it into a trot, riding tall in the saddle, heading north toward Van Buren and his family.

  Fagan stood by the hitching post, watchin
g as Bass rode away. The prisoner wagon driver, walked over and stood by him.

  “I didn’t mean to pry, Marshal, but I couldn’t help hearing what you told him. That’s got to be tough, him havin’ to arrest Belle Starr. She’s just about the best friend he’s got in the territory next to Henry Lone Tree. You think he’s really gonna being ‘em in?”

  “Yeah, he’ll do it. He won’t like it, but Bass Reeves puts the law above everything else. As much as I hated having to give him the job, he’s the best man for it.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Belle was dressed for riding, in a dark purple, almost black, velvet riding habit. On her head, she wore a man’s homburg with three turkey feathers stuck in the band, and on her feet, her black leather riding boots.

  As she headed for the stable to get her horse, Joseph Crow rode into the yard. He rode hunched over in the saddle, with a look of immense sadness on his sun-darkened face.

  “Morning, Joseph,” she said. “What can I do for you this morning?”

  Crow removed his hat, and stared sadly down at her. “Morning, Miss Belle. I come with some bad news.”

  Sam had ridden into the settlement, claiming he had urgent business to attend to, and her first thought was that he’d gotten into a scrap at the saloon. She hadn’t stopped thinking about the horse sale, and the fact that her husband had probably knowingly sold stolen horses. The fact that they’d been stolen from two of the territory’s white settlers raised two equally disturbing possibilities; one was that it would attract the attention of the federal authorities in Fort Smith, and the other was the possibility of Crane or Campbell, the owners of the stolen animals, seeking revenge. Of the two situations, the one she feared most was the first. She knew that Sam could take care of himself, and if either man challenged him, there was no doubt who would win in that confrontation. Killing white men would cause trouble, but if they provoked the fight, it was nothing that couldn’t be handled. But, if the federal law took an interest, it meant a possible visit from one of the deputy marshals with a warrant for Sam’s arrest. She only hoped that if that happened, the deputy wouldn’t be her friend, Bass Reeves. Sam being arrested would be bad enough, but to have Bass do it . . . she didn’t even want to think about it

  “What is the bad news, Joseph?” she asked.

  “You remember them horses Sam asked me to put up in my corral? Well, he done sold ‘em, you know.”

  She nodded, worried about where the conversation was going. “Yes, he told me that a few days ago.”

  “Well, you know I come here and told you ‘n him that I saw them brands on a couple of them horses, and I worried they might be stolen. Turns out I was right, ‘n Crane and Campbell done gone over to Fort Smith and complained to the U.S.Marshal. They think that peckerwood, old Wesley Cotton’s the one that stole ‘em, ‘n he must’ve sold ‘em to Sam. But, Sam’s in trouble for sellin’ ‘em without having legal right to ‘em, you know.”

  Belle’s mind churned. At least, it seemed, they weren’t accusing Sam of horse stealing, which carried a stiffer penalty—in fact, in some areas, locals didn’t even bother calling the law when they caught a horse thief, they just took him to the nearest stout tree limb and gave him a long trip at the end of a short rope.

  “I reckon Sam will be in a spot of trouble over that,” she said. “I’ll tell him when he gets home.”

  “That ain’t all of it, Miss Belle.” Crow tugged at the brim of his hat, an expression on his face as if he’d just sucked on a lemon.

  Belle slapped her riding crop against her thigh. “Well, what else is there, Joseph?” she asked, impatiently.

  “Well, they done asked me to make a statement; seein’ as how Sam put the horses up at my place ‘n all. I had to tell ‘em I told you ‘n him ‘bout seein’ them suspicious brands on the animals ‘fore Sam sold ‘em.”

  “Yes, you did,” she said. “How is that a problem?”

  “Well, you see, Miss Belle, the marshal, he said that means you knew ‘bout the horses bein’ stolen, so you are as guilty as Sam. They done issued a warrant for both of you.”

  Belle suddenly felt a cold stab of fear in her gut.

  Because of her long and close association with people on the wrong side of the law, beginning with her first husband and reinforced with her marriage to Sam Starr, Belle was accustomed to people assuming that she was not only aware, but complicit in their crimes. Her association with the likes of the Younger and James gangs only added to the rumors that swirled around her wherever she went. A stylish person by nature, and one who enjoyed the notoriety and attention her stylish dress, sometimes outlandish behavior, and the mystique that came with the title, ‘Bandit Queen,’ that had been bestowed upon her, she did nothing to either confirm or deny the rumors.

  Now, it looked like she would have to pay the price for her pride.

  ***

  Sam didn’t return to the ranch until late. Belle had eaten, and left a plate of food on the kitchen table for him, but by the time he rode into the yard, the food was cold. But, Belle, having gone through the chills of fear, was now hot with rage at her husband.

  When he walked into the sitting room, she was sitting on the big divan he’d had shipped in from St. Louis for her as a birthday present, a scowl on her face and fire in her eyes.

  “Sam, how could you do this to us?” she asked before he could utter a word.

  He stood there before her, his hat in his hand, looking at her through narrow slits. “What in blazes you talkin’ about, woman? What did I do?”

  “You know good and well what you did, Sam Starr. You sold those horses, and you knew some of them were stolen.”

  His attempt at a look of innocence fell flat.

  “Now, Belle, honey, I wasn’t sure. The fella I bought ‘em from swore up and down he was the rightful owner.”

  “Did you buy them from one-eyed Wesley Cotton?”

  “Uh, yeah, but how’d you know that?”

  “It doesn’t matter how I know, Sam. You know Wes Cotton’s nothing but a mangy horse thief, and a liar.”

  He cut his eyes away from her, looking down at the floor. She knew he was about to lie. He always avoided looking at her when he lied.

  “Honest, Belle,” he said. “I didn’t know. If I’d thought any of them nags was stolen, I wouldn’ta bought ‘em in the first place.”

  Oh, my Lord, she thought. He knew when he bought them that they’d been stolen. We are in a lot of trouble this time.

  “You know they got a warrant out for our arrest. They’re going to send a marshal after us.”

  He still avoided looking at her. “Yeah, but they got no proof we did anything wrong.”

  “That, dear husband, is where you’re wrong. They got a statement from the man you sold them to, from the original owner, and Joseph Crow told them he notified us about the brands before you sold them.”

  “Dang it, I can’t believe Joseph would sell me out to the law.”

  “You can’t expect him to lie to them, Sam.”

  The look on his face told her that he had, in fact, expected just that. The Cherokee culture placed family and clan above all else, so it wasn’t considered wrong to lie to authorities to protect a family member or friend. Unfortunately, in the white man’s court, such actions were frowned upon.

  “Well, what’s done is done,” he said. “You think maybe we ought to light out and hide until they get tired of lookin’ for us?”

  “You mean, leave the territory, leave our home? What about the children?”

  “We could get my folks to look out for ‘em for a spell.”

  “I suppose we could, but I don’t like the idea of going on the run. The marshals won’t give up that easy, and, besides, where would we go?”

  From the confused look on his face, he apparently hadn’t thought it out.

  “Well, what are we gonna do?”

  “I think we should sleep on it, Sam. Give it some serious thought.”

  He didn’t move. Just stood there
with that look on his face that Belle knew meant he had something else to say, and she feared that what he wanted to say was worse than just stolen horses.

  “Okay, Sam,” she said. “You’ve got something else on your mind, so spill it.”

  “Well, I was up at the general store in Puram Gap when I heard about the warrant. I also heard which deputy they’re sending to get us.”

  The cold was back in the pit of her stomach, stabbing like a sharp knife.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “They’re sending Bass Reeves after us, Belle.” He smiled. “That’s probably good news, you ‘n him bein’ friends ‘n all. Maybe we can talk him into lettin’ us go.”

  She glared at him.

  “Sam Starr, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. All the times Bass has come here, and you don’t know him at all.” She turned away from him. “I’m going to bed. I’m going to sleep on this problem.”

  She knew, though, that she would get no sleep that night.

  CHAPTER 11

  After breakfast, Bass spent some time parceling out chores to the older children, and then a few minutes with Nellie, reassuring her that on this trip he would be gone only for a few days, because he only had to arrest two fugitives, and both of them lived in the same place. He didn’t go into detail about the job, as was his usual practice, not wanting to upset her any more than necessary.

  By mid-morning, he was saddled up and on the road to Fort Smith, where he would meet his prison wagon driver and cook. Even though he didn’t expect the trip to take more than three days, he believed in being prepared.

  He took time for lunch at a small restaurant not far from the courthouse, and by 1:30 in the afternoon, they were on their way.

  They were about six miles from Younger’s Bend at 5:30, so Bass decided to stop and make camp, preferring to approach the Starr ranch in daylight.