Sam Bass

by Bryan Woolley

  The river had dropped some, and Sam and Jackson offered to help the ferryman fix his cable. They set out in a skiff and pulled the cable across the river and tied it on the other bank. Then the ferryman carried us and our horses across. “You boys has been so nice I’ll just charge you half the fare,” he said.

  “Why, you old robber!” Sam said. “You ought to let us ride free!”

  The ferryman grinned and said, “Well, son, even robbers has to make a living.”

  And Sam said, “You’re right, old man,” and he paid him.

  The sun was so hot and the air so steamy it was hard to breathe, and flies was everywhere. They drove me crazy, and the horses, too. It wasn’t no day for traveling. But there was a nervousness in Sam’s manner. He was looking to make a strike, and looking hard. I knowed I had to get a message to the Rangers soon, for my belly told me Sam wouldn’t back down from killing somebody now if he was crossed, and maybe all of us would be killed, too.

  We hadn’t went far when this dude on a mule come up to us at a crossroads. He was wearing a fancy brocade vest, kind of gold in color, and a black string necktie. His coat and shirt was frayed, and the vest was dirty, and his pantaloons was patched in several spots. His mule was a poor, spavined thing. The man rode bareback, and his legs hung a considerable ways toward the ground. He give us a friendly smile. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “Headed for Ennis?”

  “Yep,” Jackson said.

  “So am I. Mind if I accompany you?” And he fell in beside Jackson and stuck his hand out and said, “Claudius Parker, schoolteacher.”

  Jackson introduced hisself as Frank Allen and give some names for the rest of us. “Where you teaching at?” he asked.

  “Well, I happen to be between appointments now,” Parker said in a prissy voice. “But I’ll have a school by fall. That’s why I’m going to Ennis.”

  “Does teaching pay good?” Jackson asked.

  “Oh, no,” Parker said. “Barely enough to keep me and Achilles alive.”

  “Achilles?”

  “My mule, Mr. Allen. Poor beast. He’s weak in more than the heel, I’m afraid.”

  “So you taken his name from Homer,” Jackson said.

  Parker looked at him in surprise. “Do you know The Iliad, Mr. Allen?”

  “Why, yes,” Jackson said kind of proud. “Matter of fact, I happen to have The Odyssey on me.” He unbuckled a saddlebag and pulled out a little book and handed it to the teacher. Parker looked at it and made gasping noises like a woman about to faint, and him and Jackson commenced the goddamndest conversation I ever heard. They went on and on about one-eyed monsters and women that turns men into hogs and all sorts of outlandish things. I thought the sun had taken hold of them, and Sam and Barnes looked at Jackson like he was a lunatic. But Jackson and Claudius Parker didn’t pay no mind. They rattled on and on, passing the book back and forth between them. Parker even started talking in tongues, and Jackson acted like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Nothing wears on you like somebody talking about something you don’t understand, and finally Sam couldn’t take it no more. Next time we come to a crossroads he stopped and said, “Well, Mr. Parker, we got to go down this road and look at some cows, so I guess we part company here.”

  Parker looked disappointed. “Oh,” he said. He closed the book and handed it to Jackson. “It’s been a rare pleasure, Mr. Allen. A rare pleasure.”

  “Same here,” Jackson said.

  “Well, gentlemen.” Parker tipped his hat and kicked the old mule so hard that dust rose out of his hide. The broke-down old thing hustled hisself into a trot that was painful to watch, and we turned down the other road.

  “Christ, Frank!” Sam said.

  “There ain’t nothing wrong with book-learning, Sam. And old Claudius has got plenty up under his hat.”

  “Yeah, plenty of slop,” Sam said. Then he laughed. “I wonder what old Claudius would say if he knowed he was riding with Sam Bass.”

  We camped about a mile above Ennis, and Sam and me went to town to look around. We got us a fancy dinner at the hotel, then taken our ease, walking up and down the streets, looking at the stores and offices. We stopped into one of the stores and was looking at a fancy cartridge belt. “What do you think of it?” Sam asked.

  “It’s a fine belt,” I said.

  “All right, I’ll buy it for you. To make up for the hard time we give you back there.”

  I said, “Aw, that’s all right. You was just nervous.”

  “Well, we was wrong about you, and I feel bad about it, so take the belt. A present between friends.”

  So I agreed. He also bought hisself a nice pair of little saddle-pockets made out of cashmere goatskin. “Ain’t they pretty?” he said. “Just right to carry money in.”

  We found the bank and went in, and Sam stepped up to the teller’s cage and cashed a five-dollar bill. When we was back on the sidewalk he said, “There ain’t no use trying that one. The bannisters is too high. We’d be killed before we could get behind them.”

  “Well, where now?”

  “Waco,” he said.

  Jackson and me rode into Waco and got shaved, then went to a hotel to eat. We done these things nearly every time we come to a town now, for we was a long way from Denton County, and the boys ain’t seen a posse in almost a month. They enjoyed walking around in the open and not worrying about somebody recognizing them and taking shots at them. They was having a good time being just ordinary people.

  While we was eating, Jackson smiled at me and said, “Jim, are you going to betray us, or not?”

  His question, coming right out of the blue, scared the hell out of me. I knowed if Jackson didn’t trust me no more, I was dead. I said, “Frank, it pains me that you ask that. I thought you knowed me better. No, I ain’t going to betray you. I joined up with you boys in truth.”

  Jackson kept on smiling. He said, “Well, I believe you, but I think you joined up with the losing side. If I was in your boots I’d go back to Tyler and throw myself on the mercy of the court. You got a family and you got land and you got money, and you ain’t done no robberies yet. Even if you was to spend some time in jail you’d be better off than us. We’re going to get killed. I know that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve knowed it since Salt Creek,” he said. “When I seen how many Rangers was against us and I seen Arkansas fall, I knowed that’s what’s going to happen to all of us. It’s that or the rope anyhow, and my preference is Arkansas’s way. I wish I was you. I’d be riding for Tyler now.”

  “Well, I’ll think on it,” I said.

  “You’re running out of thinking time. We’re going to do something soon. We got to, because we’re just about broke. We might do it right here in Waco, and if we do, then the law’s going to be on us again. And once them Rangers comes after us, you’re sunk with the rest of us.”

  I said, “Why don’t you get out, too?”

  His smile turned kind of sad. “I got no place to go that’s better than where I am. I’ve went too far to turn back now, and Eph and me… Well, we’ve been through too much to split now. I wouldn’t know what to do without the little son of a bitch, and he wouldn’t be nothing without me.” He looked at the white china dishes on the table and the crystal lamp hanging from the ceiling and said, “This is putting on a heap of style for highwaymen, ain’t it?”

  “It’s getting up a little,” I replied, and I knowed we was through talking about anything that mattered. I felt lower than a snake’s belly. Being trusted by Jackson made me feel worse than not being trusted by Sam and Barnes, and it was hard to look him in the eye during the rest of the meal. I was glad when he pulled out that tinkling watch of his and said, “Well, it’s time we done our duty.”

  We strolled around Waco real casual. It was the biggest town we’d been in during our travels, and it was pure pleasure seeing the pretty, well-dressed women and several fine horses and carriages mingled in amongst the farmers and
the mule wagons. We found out there was three banks, and Jackson decided he’d check them all before we returned to camp. He’d go in and change a bill and look the place over while I waited on the sidewalk. I kept trying to think of a way to get away from him and send a telegram to Major Jones, but I couldn’t think of no way without Jackson asking questions and getting suspicious. I didn’t have nothing to tell the major nohow, except where we was. We still didn’t have no plan.

  When Jackson come out of the third bank, the Savings Bank, he was excited. “If we mean business, this is the place to commence,” he said. “They got piles of greenbacks and gold just laying on a big table in there, and the bannister’s low. We can get it easy as pie.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “All these banks is in the middle of town, and we’d have a lot of town to ride through to make our getaway. We’d have plenty of chances to get ourselves killed.”

  “I don’t think there’ll be no trouble,” he said. “We’ll map us a getaway ahead of time.”

  His enthusiasm scared me. If Sam decided to tap a bank in Waco, the deed would be did before I could get a message off, and certainly before the Rangers could get to us. And I knowed if Jackson was in favor of the idea, Sam probably would be, too. On the way back to camp I tried to persuade Jackson that Waco was too dangerous. He listened polite, but just said, “We’ll let Eph decide.”

  He give Sam a real excited report, and Sam’s eyes lit up when he heared about the piles of money in the Savings Bank. But I tried again. “Frank’s too excited over what he seen there,” I said. “We’d have a devil of a time getting out of that town. Maybe you better go up and have a look yourself.”

  Next morning Sam and Jackson went to town, and I was stuck in camp with Barnes looking daggers at me. Sam come back as excited as Jackson. “Boys, we’ve struck gold if we work it right,” he said.

  He sent Jackson and me back to buy coffee and bread. While he was busy with that, I sneaked to the post office and bought some paper and envelopes and stamps and stuck them in my pocket. Later, as we rode through the streets, I pointed out all the danger spots I could find, places where our run could be cut off, places where we would be exposed to fire.

  Jackson didn’t buy none of it. “Hell, Jim,” he said, “we’ll take that bank easy as a drink of water. If you’re sticking with us, you got to know there’s a mite of danger in our business. But we’ll scare this town so bad they won’t know what’s up till we’ve took the money and gone.” I didn’t say nothing, and Jackson said, “If you’re going to strike for Tyler, now’s the time. It might be your last chance.”

  I wondered what would happen if I was to turn and start. Would he just watch me go? Would he shoot me in the back like Barnes would? I wasn’t about to try, and I made no answer.

  When I started to tell Sam about the dangers in the town, he interrupted me. “Hell, Jim! We can take that bank easy. Hell! Don’t get scared. I’ll get you some easy money in a few days, as soon as little Jenny rests up for the run.”

  There wasn’t no use talking anymore, so I shut up and got very serious, staring into the fire. “Jim, hold your head up,” Sam told me. “Keep in good spirits. Old Eph’s going to get you some money.”

  Sam and Jackson and Barnes was in good spirits, all right, and we had a deal to drink. They was still laughing and carrying on when we rolled into our blankets.

  So you could’ve knocked me over with a feather the next morning at breakfast. Sam turned to me and said, “Well, Jim, if you think there’s too much danger in Waco, we won’t hit it. We’ll go wherever you say.”

  Jackson and Barnes went on eating, so I knowed they already knowed, and I become suspicious. Why had they changed their minds? But I said, “Well, I’m glad, boys. I was afraid you all would be hard-headed and run us into danger and get us killed. So we’ll go down to Round Rock and pull the Williamson County Bank.”

  They agreed to that, and we rode out to get on the road south to Round Rock. The day was hotter than hell, and as we was riding through Waco Sam said, “Let’s get us a cold beer while we got the chance.” So we stopped at the Ranch Saloon and had several. When we was ready to leave, Sam taken out a double-eagle and dropped it on the table. The bartender heared it and come and taken it, and Sam watched him walk away. “Well, boys, there goes the last piece of ‘77 gold I had,” he said. “It ain’t done me the least bit of good. But let it gush. It all goes in a lifetime.”

  “You going to fool around and miss that boat?” Jackson said. “Don’t you worry,” Sam said. “I’ll have me some more gold in a few days.”

  “What boat?” I asked. I was jumpy, I guess. I feared maybe the Round Rock plan was just a trick and we was heading on down to Galveston.

  “Sam’s taking to the water,” Jackson said. “He’s even got hisself a captain’s lady waiting.”

  Sam raised his glass. “Maude,” he said. “It ain’t going to be long now.”

  The bartender come back with his change, and he started to get up. “Wait,” I said. “Tell me about the boat.”

  “It ain’t nothing,” he said. “Just a little joke that Frank and me has.”

  We camped that night on a high hill near Belton. Next morning Sam chose me to go into town with him to check for banks, in case we might be interested. “I got to shit first,” I said, and I walked off among some bushes some ways from camp and dropped my pantaloons and hunkered down like I was taking a shit. I pulled out my pencil and the paper I’d bought in Waco and wrote two letters, both the same, to Dad Egan in Denton and Major Jones in Austin.

  SB on way to Round Rock to rob bank. For God sake come quick.

  I signed them “J. W. Murphy,” then wondered if they would know who “SB” was. Then I thought, hell, who else would they think I’d write about? I knowed Major Jones would have the best chance to get to Round Rock, since the town is only about twenty miles from Austin, and Dad Egan probably wouldn’t have no chance at all. But if Sam wasn’t caught and the law decided to haul me to court, I wanted Dad to testify that I’d did my best. I stuck the stamps on the letters and folded them and put them in my pocket. Sam was mounted and ready when I come out of the bushes.

  Belton wasn’t much of a town, and I knowed it wouldn’t take long to find out whether there was a bank or not, and I had to figure a way to get to the post office, so I said, “Sam, if this burg has a bank it’s probably in the back of some store. Why don’t you take one side of the street, and I’ll take the other?”

  He agreed, and I went into the first store I come to and asked where the post office was. The man told me it was way down at the other end of the street, on my side. I walked as fast as I could without seeming to hurry, for I seen Sam some distance ahead of me on his side. My heart was going thumpity-thump the whole way, for I knowed if Sam seen me sticking them letters in the slot, I was gone. I found the store where the post office was, way back in the back of the building. When I come in the door, I almost run to the back. An old man was standing in the post office window with a newspaper spread out in front of him. The mail slot was right under the window. I’d just dropped my letters into the slot when Sam come in. “What the hell you doing?” he asked.

  “I was trying to buy this man’s newspaper,” I said. The old man must’ve thought I was talking to him, for he said, “Eh? I won’t sell it, but I’ll let you borrow part of it.” “You want to hear some of the news?” I asked Sam. “No. Let’s get moving.”

  My belly was going flippity-flop, but I done my best to be calm, and when we was on the sidewalk I asked, “Did you find a bank?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a pitiful little thing. We’ll wait for Round Rock.”

  So we moved south to Georgetown and rested a day, then moved on to Round Rock. We come in by the San Saba road and made camp in a cedar brake not far from town. We could see the whole town from there, and Sam said, “I been through here with Joel, but it sure has growed since then. A whole new town’s coming up there in the east.”

  “It’
s the railroad,” I said. “The railroad missed the town, so they’re building over there now.”

  Sam laughed. “God bless the railroads. They’re good to everybody, ain’t they?”

  Sam and Jackson went off to find the bank, and Barnes and me went to Mays and Black’s store in the old part of town and bought some horse feed. Sam and Jackson got back before we did, and they was sitting on their blankets drinking a jug of whiskey when we come with the feed. Sam rushed up and shook my hand. “Damn it, Jim, you was right about coming to this place,” he said. “We can take that bank too easy to talk about.”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” I said.

  “You did, you old son of a bitch. You got the makings of a real highwayman.”

  We drunk the rest of the jug that night, and everybody was in good spirits. Next morning Barnes said he wanted to look at that bank, too, so I offered to go with him, just to show I wasn’t worried about him. We rode in and got a shave, then walked over to the Williamson County Bank. It was a busy one, and they had more greenbacks in sight than a tree has leaves. Barnes cashed a bill at the window, and when we was walking to get our horses he said, “I wish we had fresh horses. We could take that bank this evening.”

  “I do, too,” I said. “But if we go to stealing horses now, the law will get on us before we get mounted. The best thing to do is stay here four or five days and let our horses rest and play like we’re wanting to buy cattle.”

  “Yeah, that’s the right idea,” he said.

  Sam and Jackson had their plan already set. As soon as we dismounted, Sam stood up and said, “Well, she goes about half past three o’clock Saturday evening. And here’s the way we’ll do it. Seab and me will walk in first. Seab will throw down a five-dollar bill and tell the banker he wants silver for it. While he’s getting his change, I’ll come in and throw my pistol on the banker and tell him to get his hands up. Seab will jump over the counter, and Jim and Frank will show up at the door and get the drop on whoever comes in after us. Anybody got questions?”