Tales from the X-bar Horse Camp: The Blue-Roan Outlaw and Other Stories

by Will C. Barnes

  THE SHOOTING UP OF HORSE HEAD

  By permission _The Argonaut_, San Francisco, Cal.

  The town of Horse Head had turned over a new leaf. There was to be nomore "shooting up" of the village. Patience ceased to be a virtue whenthe "Cross J" outfit shipped their last train of steers, and everybodyin the gang came into town for a big time, which culminated in a general"shooting up" of the place.

  The lights in all the saloons were bored full of holes, the solitarystreet lamp-post, standing in front of the "Apache House"--and the prideof the heart of the old woman who kept the place--was riddled over andover again, and every woman in town scared into a fit of hysterics. Thenthe town people rose up in their wrath and called on the marshal to puta stop to it, or resign his office.

  Now Jenkins, the marshal, who held the position by virtue of his abilityto shoot quick and true, was something of a diplomat. He was not anxiousto have a row with any of the boys, if it could be avoided, and he wasstill further anxious not to lose the confidence of the townspeople, anominating convention being due before long. Jenkins was a candidate forsheriff on the Democratic ticket, and in Colorado County, a nominationon that ticket was equivalent to an election. Accordingly, being of adiplomatic turn of mind, as aforesaid, he decided that a little schemingon his part might work to his advantage. To this end, he rode down tothe little cottonwood "bosque" a few miles below town, where the Cross Joutfit was camped, busily engaged in shoeing horses for another tripinto the mountains, and overhauling the wagon generally.

  The result of his visit was that he was authorized by the guilty"punchers" to enter into negotiations with the town justice, and makesome sort of terms with him, based upon their pleading guilty andpromising good behavior for the future. All this Jenkins successfullyaccomplished, and about three o'clock the next afternoon the wilymarshal rode into town accompanied by eight or ten of the boys.

  Being arraigned before the town barber, who upheld the dignity of thelaw as justice of the peace, they gravely plead guilty to disturbing thepeace and dignity of the place, were fined one dollar and costs each,which they promptly paid, with many promises of future good conduct.

  But alas for such promises! "Cow punchers is pore weak critters, shore,"old Dad, the cook, used to say; and before sunset that day every lastone of them, unmindful of promises or pledges, was again full ofenthusiasm and cheap whiskey.

  "Tex," the bartender at the "Bucket of Blood," had all theirsix-shooters behind the bar, and for safety had slyly removed all thecartridges and inserted empty shells in their place.

  About sunset the gang started for camp, their weapons returned to themwith many warnings from Tex not to shoot until clear out of town. Theymounted their ponies and struck out on a dead run down the main street,whooping and yelling like a bunch of coyotes, but carefully refrainingfrom firing a shot. About half a mile below town, however, the white"Yard Limit" sign of the railroad company was too good a mark for thecrowd to pass unchallenged. True, the heavy piece of boiler iron, somethirty inches across, was pierced in a hundred places from previousattacks, but a few more wouldn't hurt it, and Baldy Peters, the crackshot of the camp, drew his revolver and, spurring his pony into a deadrun, took quick aim at the black spot in the center and pulled thetrigger. No answering shot came, and, although he tried all five of thechambers (no true cowboy or frontiersman ever carries six cartridges inhis revolver) they were all silent.

  Baldy jerked his pony up on its haunches, and carefully examined thecylinder. Sure enough every shell was there, but empty. Jack Gibson, whohad followed Baldy, had the same luck, and when the rest came up ageneral investigation followed. It did not take them long to see thatthey had been tricked by some one. Their indignation knew no bounds."Jes to think," said Big Pete, "s'posin' one of us ud a got inter a row,and some blame town galoot had a drawed a gun on him, wouldn't he 'a'been in a fine ole fix to 'a' jerked his 'hog-leg,' and nary a bean inthe wheel?"

  The more they thought about it the madder they got. Revenge they musthave. What its form, they scarcely knew, nor cared. Without more talk,they all reloaded the weapons from their well-filled belts and turnedtheir horses' heads toward town, speculating as they rode along as tojust what they would do to show the town of Horse Head the danger ofmonkeying with a cow puncher's weapons. As they rode, they hatched up aplan, suggested from the fertile brain of Mac, the horse-wrangler,which, they thought, if successfully carried out, would give them therequisite amount of satisfaction for their wounded dignity.

  It was on Tex, the bartender, and Jenkins, the town marshal, that theypoured out the vials of their wrath. Who else than they would haveremoved the cartridges from all those cylinders and replaced them withempty shells?

  Now, they knew that Tex was the marshal's right-hand man when it came toany trouble, and that, during the shipping season, when the outfits werearound town a good deal, each of them kept a horse in the corral back ofthe "Bucket of Blood," ready for any emergency. Arriving in town, theyproceeded to get gloriously full again, while Tex and Jenkins, secure inthe knowledge of those empty shells they had placed in their revolvers,enjoyed the fun and allowed them full play.

  Along toward ten o'clock the boys drifted down to the only restaurant inHorse Head that kept open all night as well as all day. It was kept by"Chinese Louie," an almond-eyed celestial who ran a store, restaurant,wash-house, and the village photograph gallery, all under one long roof.

  Now, when a puncher gets into a restaurant, the only thing he craves isham and eggs. Of beef he has a surfeit. The menu of the round-up wagonis coffee, bread, and meat three times a day, with awful regularity.Therefore, the gang was soon busy, seated on high stools at the longcounter. After they had eaten their fill each wadded up his paper napkinand fired it at the cook, lit a cigar from the case at the end of thecounter, and paid his bill.

  Then the fun opened by some one pulling a revolver and taking a shot atthe big kerosene lamp that hung from the ceiling. In an instant twentyshots were fired; every lamp in the place was out and bored full ofholes; the fancy water cooler that sat in the corner was riddled; andthe coffee and tea pots on the big range behind the counter, as well asa lot more tempting marks in the way of copper cooking utensils thathung overhead on a rack, were turned into sieves.

  Poor Chinese Louie and his assistant lost no time in making themselvesscarce; and, after it got too dark, for want of lamp-light, to see toshoot anything more, the now hilarious punchers swaggered out to theirponies, standing quietly at the "snorting post" in front of therestaurant, and with a parting volley up the main street toward the"Bucket of Blood," rode furiously out of town.

  Instead of going straight on down the railroad track they turned sharpto the left, at the first corner, and headed for the county bridge whichspanned the river at Horse Head, a wooden structure with huge beamsoverhead, and some six or seven spans long.

  Just as they turned the corner out of the main street a couple of shotswhistled past the bunch, proving that Tex and the marshal were aliveand in pursuit. This was what the boys wanted, and they gave shrillyells of defiance as they pounded through the heavy sand that coveredthe road to the bridge. They slowed down a little along here to givetheir pursuers a chance to catch up a little; and when the officersannounced their coming, by more shots, some of which came rather closeto the bunch of riders, they fired a few in reply, and thundered acrossthe bridge at full speed, in spite of the warning sign that promised allsorts of fines and imprisonment for any one "riding across the bridgefaster than a walk."

  Along about the center span four of the boys, Baldy Peters, Jack Gibson,Dutch Henry, and Long Jim, dropped from their saddles, their ropes intheir hands, and two on each side of the roadway, in the shelter of thehuge beams, hastily made loops in their ropes, and awaited the coming ofthe two men. The rest of the gang clattered across the bridge withshrill whoops, and out on to the hard rocky road beyond, with the fourloose horses following them, as if their riders were still on theirbacks.

  Now, the four men on the br
idge were the most skillful rope-tossers inall that range. Rope-tossers, instead of swinging the rope around theirheads before throwing, spread it out behind and to one side of them, andwith a quick, graceful throw, or toss, launch it with unerring aim overthe head of the animal at which they throw. This method is used almostentirely in catching horses out of the "cavyyard," and also in catchingcalves out of a herd, as it is done so quietly and easily that theanimal is snared before it has a chance to dodge or move.

  Tex and the marshal were not quite so foolhardy or ignorant as to feelthat they could capture and arrest the crowd they were after, but themarshal wanted that nomination in the fall, and felt it was a goodchance to make a "rep" for himself. Tex was to be his chief deputy, ifelected, so he was also eager to do something to prove his valor. Theiridea, therefore, was to make a sort of grandstand play, follow the boysout a ways, fire a few shots after them at parting, and come back totown. Hearing them rattle across the bridge and out over the rocky roadbeyond, they feared no trap or ambush, and so kept riding in their wake,firing a shot every few seconds, as much to show the townspeople whatthey were up to, as anything else.

  As they passed the spot where the four boys were awaiting them, foursilent ropes settled down over the heads and shoulders of the lucklessofficers of the law. Going at full speed as they were, there was nochance to throw off those snakelike coils, and the two riders werejerked backward over their horses' hips and landed heavily upon the hardplank flooring of the bridge.

  The marshal's six-shooter went off into the air as he wildly threw uphis arms to clear his body of that python-like embrace, while the oneTex held in his hands flew off into space and dropped into the muddywaters below. Both men were stunned by the force of the fall, and lay asif dead on the bridge; but no sooner had they struck than they werepromptly covered by the four men.

  The avengers first took their small "hogging ropes" (a short piece ofrope about six feet long, which every well regulated puncher carries,either in his saddle pocket, or around his waist, to be used in tyingtogether the feet of any cow or steer he might have to tie down on theranges), and secured their prisoners' wrists firmly behind their backs;then they took a lariat rope and wound it round and round the men'sbodies from shoulders to heels, so that moving their feet or arms was animpossibility. To do this was not hard, for both men were stunned fromtheir fearful fall, and lay like logs, while the boys worked on them.

  The end of another lariat was passed through under their arms, aroundthe body, and tied in a "bow-line hitch" behind the back. The twoluckless officers were by this time regaining consciousness, and beganto curse and struggle, but to no avail. At first they feared they wereto be hung, and begged for their lives like good fellows; but as theywere swung off the edge of the bridge and found how they were lashedwith ropes, they pleaded even more fervently, for it looked as if theboys meant to drown them like rats in a cage. All to no avail. The boysnever answered a word, but went ahead with their work, in the mostmatter-of-fact way imaginable. The ropes, tied as they were, suspendedthe men by the arms in such a way that they hung fairly upright, andwithout any particular pain or suffering from them.

  Now, the water of the Puerco is about as vile-smelling and oleaginousstuff as any one ever saw, tasted, or smelled; indeed, the offensivenessof the water suggested the name of the river--"Nasty." Especially intime of floods does it deserve its name. The water then is more likethin gruel of a yellowish red color, and smells to Heaven. Into thismess the conspirators slowly lowered the two officers of the law,regardless of their prayers, entreaties, threats, or curses, of whicheach of the two men poured out a liberal supply in tones to wake thedead.

  A turn of the rope about one of the bridge rods served to check thespeed of their descent, and while Baldy Peters got over the railing anddown on to the stone abutment, that he might the better see how far tolower the men, the rest held onto the ropes and let them down.

  Baldy, crouching low on the abutment, peered down into the darkness andgave orders for the work, so that when the two ropes were tied to a rod,each man was swinging in the water breast deep. He clambered back ontothe bridge, and the four punchers hastened out into the darkness afterthe rest of the gang, who were waiting for them not far off.

  The next morning about daybreak, four horsemen rode out of the camp andheaded for the New Mexico line, across which they felt themselvesreasonably safe; for they well knew that the marshal would never followand bring them back to relate in court the way they outwitted him andTex. All they feared was that he would take a shot at them the firsttime he got sight of them, as he certainly would have done had he ever"met up with" either of the guilty four.

  The boys were "drifters," anyhow, as much at home in one place asanother, and good hands were always in demand on the ranches in thosedays, so it mattered little where they brought up.

  As for the marshal and Tex, their first impression was that they were tobe lynched; then they thought that they were to drown, which was evenworse; finally, however, when they realized what the boys really meantto do, their rage knew no bounds. The marshal would almost havepreferred to be hung, for he quickly foresaw that when they wererescued, the ridicule the affair would cause throughout the county wouldeverlastingly kill his chances for any office. Had they been hung, oreven drowned, they would have been heroes, even though dead ones; butthis trick would turn a laugh against them as long as they lived.

  Luckily for the two unfortunates, right below the place from which theywere lowered, instead of the river running in its regular channel, therewas a great eddy, or swirl, where the water had cut a deep hole in thesandy river bed. Here the water was quite deep and had but littlemovement, except a slow circling motion. In this they swung at anchor,from midnight until broad daylight. The water caused the ropes to shrinkand draw until they suffered a great deal where they cut into theirwrists, making it an utter impossibility for them to untie the knots,although they worked diligently trying to get them loose in some way.The water was cold and their limbs soon became so numb that they couldhardly move either hands or legs. They wore their voices out calling forhelp.

  The boys, in lowering them down, had been cunning enough to fasten themfar enough apart so they could not aid each other to get loose, andwhile from the motion of the water they occasionally bumped against oneanother, they quickly drifted apart, as helpless as if in twostrait-jackets.

  About sunrise, a Mormon boy, belonging to a freighter outfit, which wascamped over in town, going out after the horses which had been takenacross the river the night before to graze, came whistling down the roadto the bridge, and started to cross. As soon as his footfalls were heardon the flooring of the structure, the almost helpless men below rousedand began to call as loudly as they were able with their numb lips andjaws chattering like castanets. It took him a minute or two to locatethe voices.

  The lad took one hasty look over the railing of the bridge, and, with ashriek of horror, fled toward town as fast as his feet could carry him.Here he told the first man he met that he had seen two bodies hanging tothe bridge, and a crowd was soon on the way to the river, expecting tofind the results of a vigilance committee suspended from the stringers.

  The two men were quickly pulled up on to the bridge and the ropes thatbound them like steel bands were cut from their bodies. Both men were sostiff that they had to be carried to town, and the doctor and severalmen worked over them for more than an hour trying to restore thecirculation in their stiffened limbs and almost frozen bodies. The storyof their capture set the whole town to laughing, and the more peoplelaughed, the more ridiculous the happening grew. Nor did it loseanything in the telling and soon the entire county was also laughingover the misfortunes of the two peace officers. Jenkins' chief politicalopponent naturally made the most of it and under such conditions thatgentleman was literally laughed into political obscurity.

  About that time the Wells-Fargo Express Company feared a hold-up on therailroad, and Jenkins and Tex, glad to leave the scene of theirwater-cure adven
ture, secured positions as guards and soon dropped outof polite society in Horse Head as represented by the gang around the"Bucket of Blood" and its immediate vicinity.

  "_They gave the money to Jackson, the Cross J wagonboss_"]

  The next time they came to town the "Cross J" boys chipped in a dollareach and gave it to old "Dad," the cook, counted the luckiest "wheel"player in the bunch, who took the coin and with a burst of good lucksoon ran it up to something over a hundred dollars at the roulettewheel. This entire amount he gave to Jackson the wagon boss, who wentdown to Chinese Louie's place, and poured it out on the counter beforethe heathen's astonished eyes, as a peace offering from the "shoot 'emup" crowd that had wrecked his place.

  That night about midnight Louie and his assistant set out to the boysthe very swellest "feed" his culinary abilities could prepare, and theaffair of the shooting up of Horse Head and the putting of the marshaland his aid-de-camp to soak under the bridge in the cold nasty waters ofthe Rio Puerco was thus amicably settled over the viands that theChinaman furnished.

  Transcriber's notes:

  The following is a list of changes made to the original. The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one.

  she's a-grazin' and' it's a sure shot the calf's hid away in she's a-grazin' an' it's a sure shot the calf's hid away in

  It was the end of the road for the blue roan. It was the end of the road for the blue-roan.

  like videttes on guard over the canyon. like videttes on guard over the canyon.

  deep box canyons impassable for miles. deep box canyons impassable for miles.

  It brought very man in camp to his feet, for high above It brought every man in camp to his feet, for high above

  the Little Colorado River 'bout the mouth of the Canon the Little Colorado River 'bout the mouth of the Canon

  "I'll never miss them spurs, said Bob pointing to an "I'll never miss them spurs," said Bob pointing to an

  steer round up" he asked of the new comer. steer round up?" he asked of the newcomer.

  burst from my eager lips." burst from my eager lips.

  I sent one of the boys back with the hoss, an tole him to I sent one of the boys back with the hoss, an' tole him to

  "Then the captain he sort of grins an' sez. 'That's "Then the captain he sort of grins an' sez, 'That's

  Then the captain, he bein' a fine old sojer man, with "Then the captain, he bein' a fine old sojer man, with

  iver seen in all his life. 'Twas sure no fault wid thim steers iver seen in all his life. ''Twas sure no fault wid thim steers

  of the Stars and' Stripes a-flyin' overhead. I was busy of the Stars an' Stripes a-flyin' overhead. I was busy