Some Were Good Men With a Little Bad in Them
They had been on the trail for four days, avoiding towns, even ranches as they made their way west across the Wyoming territory where their names were well known, even their faces carried a higher level of recognition because of all the trains and stages they had robbed during their previous joint career. Kid hated anytime they were forced to travel anywhere in Wyoming and his watchful eye and keen senses were always on high alert during those times. This made Kid a very nervous fellow which in turn made him a very proddy one at that.
Heyes knew his partner well and he worked hard to keep the level of tension as low as possible. He avoided touchy subjects like amnesty and generally deferred all matters of safety to Kid, such as to what path to follow, what location to make camp, even where and how to bed the horses for the night.
This night Kid chose a wooded spot high in some foothills near a natural waterfall that flowed into a small pond. Here they had a good view of the lowlands and could water the horses, fill their canteens and coffee pot and enjoy the luxury of a bath.
"I'll get a fire started if you want to take care of the horses," Heyes said, already gathering bits of tinder from the ground.
Kid sighed, but nodded and led the horses to the pond for a drink before getting them unsaddled and fed. Once that task was done Kid lugged each of the saddles to the camp site, then returned to fill the coffee pot and gather the bedrolls and saddlebags he had left in a heap near the pond. Returning to the camp, he handed the coffee pot to Heyes and divided up the bedrolls and saddlebags into two piles.
"You hungry, or will hardtack and beans do?" Heyes asked as Kid sat down on a log that Heyes had pulled close to the fire pit.
"That sounds fine," Kid replied. "No sense taking the risk of being heard."
"You're not still thinking somebody might be following us, are you? I mean it's been four days and we haven't seen a soul."
"No, I think we're pretty safe right now, Heyes. In fact, I think I'll take a bath before supper," Kid replied and started fishing through his saddlebags for all the items he wanted.
"You want me to call you when supper's ready?"
"No, just keep it warm and I'll eat when I get back," Kid replied and started off toward the pond.
Fed by the runoff water of a mountain waterfall, the pond was almost frigid, but the thought of soaking in the water and ridding himself of four days of trail dust was incentive enough to bear the chilly temperature. Kid stripped down to the buff and once rid of his clothing, he waded into the cold water with no trepidation, bent his knees and submerged himself to his shoulders. Then he kicked off with his feet, splayed his arms, and with long, slow strokes, he swam the width of the pond to get his body acclimated to the cold water temperature. When he reached the other side, Kid rolled to his back and did a slow backstroke back to where he had entered the water. He reached for his cloth and bar of soap he had left on the edge of the bank and began lathering the cloth with the bar of soap. Then he set to work scrubbing the dirt, grime and sweat from his skin before washing his hair and finally shaving his face, using the water's reflection to guide the razor. Once done, he did another lap across the pond before returning to the point of entry where he clean clothes lay waiting.
"How's the water?" Heyes asked when Kid returned to camp.
"Cold," Kid replied, his face pink both from shaving and from the cold water.
Kid walked over to put his razor and things in his saddlebags and Heyes fixed him a plate of food and a poured him a cup of coffee and handed both to Kid when he returned to the fire. He waited till Kid was finished eating, then gathered his own clothes and sundries and headed down to the pond for his own frigid bath.
Kid used water from his canteen to clean the plates, then stored them back in the saddlebags. As he cinched the saddlebag closed, he stopped suddenly and listened when he heard the snapping of a twig that was not coming from the direction of the pond. Kid knew logically that sound was likely just an animal prowling in the vicinity, but he quietly and swiftly drew his gun and moved into the shadows of the trees and foliage, well out of view from the campfire.
Another twig snapped and this time Kid focused on the exact location of the sound, no more than a hundred feet away. Kid stayed motionless and ready until he could make out the image of a man emerging from behind some trees.
"Far enough," Kid said as he cocked his gun and watched as the man stopped in his tracks but remained still partially obscured by the trees and foliage. "Got a gun pointed right at you. Now take your gun out slowly and toss it in front of you."
The man made no sudden moves and did as instructed, the gun landing with a thud about twenty feet in front of Kid.
"Just walk into the camp, nice and slow and sit yourself down on that log by the fire."
Kid moved forward and picked up the man's gun, then followed him into camp. He gave a quick glance to his left and saw Heyes arriving back from the pond, entering the clearing at just about the same time.
"Who's this?' Heyes asked, observing Kid's drawn gun and carefully eyeing the man of a rather slight build and wearing the tattered remnants of an old Union Soldier's uniform."
"That's what we're about to find out," Kid replied."Why don't we start with a name."
"Crawford, John Crawford."
"Why are you dressed like that? War's been over for twenty years."
"I've been...out of touch for a while."
Heyes and Curry could both surmise what 'out of touch' meant and didn't need further explanation.
"Well John, are you hungry?" Heyes asked, trying to put the man at ease a bit. "We don't have much to offer, some beans and coffee, but they'll fill you up and warm your belly."
Crawford nodded. "Thank you."
"What are you doing way out here, alone and without a horse?" Kid asked as he holstered his own gun and inspected Crawford's.
"Heading home, and I had to sell my horse a couple of months back for money for food."
Heyes handed Crawford a plate of beans and a cup of coffee, but he glanced up at Kid suspiciously.
"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Crawford, just why are you wearing a Union uniform?" Heyes said.
Crawford glanced down at his tattered clothing. "What's left of a Union uniform anyway," Crawford replied and then sighed heavily. The truth is, I was captured by Union soldiers and imprisoned in Savannah. Got released about a year ago. Been making my way home ever since."
"So you were a Confederate soldier?" Kid asked.
"No. A Union soldier...A deserter if you must know."
Kid glanced at Heyes with some concern, but Heyes kept his attention focused on Crawford.
"How far you been walking?" Heyes asked.
"Sold my horse in Missouri. Been walking for a couple of months."
"How much further you got to go?"
Crawford smiled. "Not far now, just over the Montana border. A town called Bozeman."
"You got family? Are there people that know you're coming?" Heyes asked.
Crawford nodded. "My wife...I've been gone near on twenty years. Rebekah's been waiting for me all that time."
"Your gun, Mr. Crawford, is Confederate issue. How did you happen to come by that?" Kid asked.
"Bought it with the money the prison issued me when I got out. I figured traveling as far as I intended to go, that LeMat pistol would be a handy thing to have."
Kid turned the gun over in his hand and assessed the balance. " A .42 caliber," Kid said.
Crawford nodded. "Can hold nine rounds, and can fire a single shotgun round with a flip of that switch on the side. I figured that's like having two guns rolled into one...Now, you fellas mind if I ask you a question?"
"You go right ahead, Mr. Crawford," Heyes replied and gave him a friendly smile.
"You both know my name, what are yours?"
Kid glanced at Heyes but didn't volunteer any information as he remained unsure about the man.
"I'm Joshua Smith and my more quiet friend here is Thaddeus Jones," Heyes said with another warm smile.
Crawford offered Heyes a smile in return, then looked at Kid who offered nothing more than a nod of his head.
"More coffee?" Heyes asked.
"Thank you," Crawford replied and held his cup out for Heyes to fill.
"You don't mind if I just keep this for the night, do you?" Kid asked, referring to the gun.
Crawford didn't like being unarmed among strangers but he knew he was not in control of the situation so he simply smiled and gave his head a nod. "I suppose I'd do the same, being as we're strangers."
"Would you like some more beans?" Heyes asked.
Crawford held out his plate this time. "Thank you."
Heyes took Crawford's plate and filled it. He handed the plate back to the man, then topped off his coffee as well.
"You can use my bedroll tonight," Heyes told him. "My partner and I can share his. It gets a bit chilly up here in the mountains at night."
"I already discovered that," Crawford said with a chuckle. "And thank you. That's very kind of you. I wish I had a way to repay you."
Crawford quickly ate his second helping of beans. When he was finished, he set his plate on the ground and drank the last of his coffee, occasionally glancing at Heyes or Curry, trying to size up the matter of his own safety.
"By the looks of you two, I'm guessing you weren't much more than boys during that war," he said, trying to keep the conversation going and learn a little about the two strangers he was sharing a campfire with. He noticed the look Heyes and Kid exchanged at his comment.
"Well, you're right about that, Mr. Crawford. We were both too young to enlist," Heyes told him.
"How old were you?"
"Oh, let's see. I was twelve and Thaddeus was..."
"Nine," Kid replied.
"And we lived in what was considered a neutral state, that being Kansas, of course."
"I seen boys both those ages fighting right alongside the enlisted men. I once saw a Drummer boy no more than seven or eight. War ain't something a child should ever see," Crawford said and again saw the exchange of looks between Kid and Heyes.
"No, it's not," Kid said quietly but Crawford could sense a detachment in Kid's voice..
"So, you said your wife's been waiting for you all these years?" Heyes asked, changing the subject.
Crawford smiled. "She's a good woman. We was childhood sweethearts back in Ohio. She grew up to be the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on," he said with a melancholy smile on his face. "Chestnut hair, eyes like yours, Mr. Smith, dark and thoughtful, and the most sweet sounding laugh I've ever heard, and it came easy and often."
"She sounds lovely," Heyes replied.
Crawford sighed heavily. "She is. She wrote to me faithfully all through the war, and kept it up after she learned where I was imprisoned...She's the only thing that kept me going."
"Well, we're near enough to Montana that she'll be back in your arms within a month," Heyes said encouragingly.
Crawford smiled sadly as a range of self doubt washed over him. "Well if you fellas don't mind, walking is pretty tiring and I think I'll turn in," he said, now wanting the conversation to end.
Heyes reached for his bedroll and handed it to Crawford. "You get a good night sleep, Mr. Crawford."
Kid set to work to bank the fire for the night and Heyes rinsed Crawford's plate and cup. They wanted some time to pass so as to be sure Crawford was asleep before turning in themselves as they had a few things to discuss. They made their bed on the other side of the fire, and kept their voices at a soft whisper.
"Heyes, something ain't right about this fella's story," Kid said.
"I know. For one thing, the only soldiers still held prisoner after 1865 were those that were imprisoned for some sort of war crimes, either already tried by a jury or those waiting to be tried by a jury. Desertion is considered a war crime, Kid. In fact, a man can be put to death for desertion, if the Court sees fit."
"You think he was just a soldier, or an Officer?
"Sounds like maybe an Officer. They didn't put him to death for deserting, but they gave him twenty years, so they took what he done seriously."
"Like Bloody Kansas?"
"Surprisingly Kid, no one was held for war crimes for the Bloody Kansas massacre. But there were some cases of war crimes committed both in the North and the South. The ones that come to mind are the Centralia Massacre in Missouri and another in a place called Gallatin, Tennessee.
"Crawford said he was imprisoned in the South. Maybe he was involved in one of them."
"Most likely would be in Tennessee. There was a Union Commander, a General by the name of Eleazar Paine. He would interview and then release Confederate spies. Then he'd send troops out to hunt down and kill those spies. I remember reading about him. He had three Confederate soldiers executed in the town square."
"You think Crawford helped with something that horrible, Heyes?"
"I don't know. I doubt it. Maybe he deserted over something that horrible and that's why he spent twenty years in prison instead of being put to death. The lesser of two evils, so to speak."
"And you call that a fair amount of dues paid? Hell Heyes, we could do twenty years and we never killed nobody."
"No. But the Government apparently thinks that's enough time for someone like Crawford. Maybe he never killed no one either, Kid. At least not for the wrong reasons. Deserters that didn't get put to death got branded with a branding iron or a tattoo. He's probably got some marking on him somewhere."
"Heyes, how do you know so much about these war crimes?"
Heyes smiled sadly. "Remember that I was a little older than you Kid. After what happened to us, well I guess I just started doing a little research. Surprisingly, the library at the orphanage was a pretty good resource."
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The next morning Heyes and Curry woke to the smell of coffee brewing. They both got up, and saw Crawford moving the coffee pot around in the embers of the fire. They both shoved their feet into their boots, strapped on their guns, offered Crawford a simple morning greeting, and headed into the woods.
"Kid," Heyes said as they walked toward some bushes. "I was thinking last night and, well I know you don't like being in Wyoming so, I thought maybe we could help this fella get back to Montana"
"Why? You said yourself this man must have done some horrible things in his life. I ain't sure we ought to help him by making life any easier for him. He's walked this far, Heyes, a few hundred more miles won't hurt him."
"Well, I thought of all that too, Kid and here's what I came up with. First, he's paid for whatever he done, and second, well my second reason is selfish on my part. You see, I'm curious about what he done. I'd like to find out, if we can."
"Why would you want to stir up anything that's got to do with that war? It's in the past, Heyes. Let it be."
"Kid, I know from our perspective, nothing good came out of that war, but looking at the big picture..."
"The big picture? That's how you look at the bloodiest war this country has ever seen?"
"Well, there were good end results. The slaves were freed and you and I both agree that no man should ever be the property of somebody else."
Kid nodded.
"And if Crawford was on the Union side, well, he helped make that happen."
"He might have helped, but in a pretty despicable way... Alright Heyes, I'll go along with this for two reasons and two reasons only. Number one, it's something that for some reason you want to do, and number two, it gets us out of Wyoming which is something I always see as a positive thing. But I ain't doing it for that man, Heyes, not even a little bit."
When they reached the edge of the woods, they separated and each found a private spot to do their morning business before heading back to the camp.
Crawford was already drinking a cup of coffee when they returned so they poured themselves a cup and sat down near the fire.
"I could heat us up some more beans if anyone wants something hot. Otherwise, I got jerky," Heyes told Crawford and Kid.
"I'd just as soon get started on our way soon, so Jerky's fine with me," Kid said and Crawford agreed.
Heyes got up and got the Jerky from his saddle bags and offered it to each of them before sitting down with his coffee again.
"Mr. Crawford, my friend and I have been talking and well there's no place we have to be right away, so we thought being as you've got no horse, Thaddeus and me might help you get to Montana, back to your wife and all."
Crawford's eyes brightened but he didn't want to be an imposition and he silently questioned their motives for helping him. "Oh, I couldn't ask the two of you to do that."
"You didn't ask us. We volunteered, isn't that right, Thaddeus?"
"Sure," Kid replied and Crawford could see the reluctance in Kid's eyes which strangely reassured him a bit about the two men.
"Well, our place is just outside Bozeman and that's not far over the border."
Heyes smiled. "That shouldn't take us more than a few days, maybe a week," he replied.
Kid tossed his remaining coffee into the fire and stood. "Joshua and me will go get the horses saddled," he said, looking at Heyes to urge him along.
"Heyes, what about his gun? I ain't given it back yet." Kid said as they each threw a blanket over the backs of the horses, then lifted the saddles into place and set to work tightening the cinches.
"You afraid he's gonna kill us in our sleep, Kid?"
"No, because I figure we're going to be taking watches every night, Heyes."
Heyes stopped what he was doing and looked over the top of the saddle at his partner. "You are worried about him, aren't you?"
"Got an uneasy feeling about him, Heyes."
"Because of his past?"
Kid stopped and looked at Heyes. "That and he was lurking in the bushes last night when I found him. Spying on us."
"Maybe he was just sizing us up to see if it was safe to walk into camp."
Kid went back to tightening the saddle. "Maybe," he said.
"Well, if you're that nervous about it, hold on to the gun. I'll tell him something that will sound convincing.
When they returned to camp, Crawford had both the bedrolls rolled up and tied, the coffee pot emptied, and the fire doused.
"You can ride my sorrel," Heyes said. "Thaddeus and I will ride double."
"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," Crawford said as he climbed into the saddle and adjusted the reins. "I'll likely be sore tomorrow. I ain't ridden in a while."
"Just one thing, Mr. Crawford and I hope you'll understand, but until we all get to know each other better, I think we'll hold on to your gun. If we come upon a situation that you might need it, we'll give back to you but, well I hope you understand," Heyes said.
Crawford looked at Kid who was busy adjusting the reins in his gloved hands and did not look up.
"Of course I understand...Shall we?"
Kid waited for Crawford to take the lead before urging his chestnut forward.
They rode in relative silence. Heyes occasionally tried to spark a bit of conversation with Crawford, but riding in the saddle behind Kid made that a little difficult, and Kid was now busy keeping his eyes on the watch for anyone that might be following them, as well as on the man riding just ahead of him. But when they came to a road sign indicating Warland was just five miles to the east, they decided to stop there for lunch, and perhaps a few supplies.
They brought their horses to a halt in front of the saloon and Kid offered to go to the Mercantile for some provisions, telling Heyes to order a beer and a sandwich for him. Heyes and Crawford headed into the saloon.
The bell above the door rang when Kid walked in and he instinctively glanced around the store to see who might be shopping. His eyes landed on a man near the back of the store looking at hats and Kid noticed immediately the man was wearing a badge on his vest. He thought the man looked vaguely familiar, but could not place him. The man looked up when the bell rang but, not recognizing the new customer, quickly returned his attention back to his potential purchase.
Kid walk over to the counter and spoke with the woman working behind the register.
"Ah, two pounds of coffee and two pounds of flour, a quarter pound of sugar, small tin or lard, and a pound of bacon," Kid told her and glanced nervously toward the back of the store. Before the woman returned with the items, the lawman, with new hat in tow, walked up to the counter and gave Kid a pleasant smile.
"Just passing through?" the deputy asked.
Kid nodded. "Yeah. Just stopped for some supplies and lunch."
"Where you headed?"
"California."
The deputy smiled again. "Got a ways to go yet, then."
"Yeah," Kid replied as the woman returned with the items Kid had ordered. Kid tried not to appear impatient or nervous while the woman rang up the bill.
"That'll be three dollars and ninety cents."
Kid pulled a five dollar gold piece from his vest pocket and slid it across the counter. Once he was given his change, he quickly gathered his items, gave the deputy a friendly nod, and headed out of the store and across the street. He put the items in his saddlebags and headed into the saloon.
"Get everything we need?" Heyes asked.
Kid nodded and sat down and took a gulp of his beer followed by a bite of his sandwich. "Don't think we ought to sit around too long, though."
"Something wrong?" Heyes asked and immediately wished he hadn't. He didn't want to give Crawford the idea that he and Kid might have their own, private concerns or agenda about their safety.
Kid shook his head and took another gulp of his beer. "Just want to get as far as we can in a day."
Crawford watched the eye contact between the two men and could see that they were communicating without the need of words, but stayed quiet and appeared not to notice.
When they were finished with lunch Heyes did his best to hurry Crawford along, but when they got outside, Crawford stopped.
"If you don't mind, I think I'll just slip down the alley for a moment. Call of nature I'm afraid," he said but didn't bother waiting for a reply.
"Okay, so what's the matter?" Heyes asked Kid as they mounted the chestnut.
"When I was buying supplies, there was a deputy in the store. He looked familiar but I couldn't place him. Then it came to me."
"So, who is he?"
"Name is Johnny...something. He was one of Clitterhouse's deputies."
Heyes realized why Kid was jittery. "Wonder what brought him way out here. Did he recognize you?"
Kid shook his head. "Even talked real friendly. I think we're fine, Heyes. I just want to get out of this town as quick as we can. I told him we was headed to California."
"Good thinking."
By this time Crawford had returned and once mounted, Kid pulled the chestnut hard and rode briskly out of town, this time with Crawford riding behind.
Kid pulled his horse into a wooded area near a small stream for the night and Crawford followed.
"I'll get a fire going," Crawford offered as Heyes and Kid readied the horses for the night and brought the bedrolls and saddlebags into camp.
"I'll make biscuits if you get some coffee started and fry up the bacon," Heyes said and Kid nodded and picked up the coffee pot to make his way to the stream.
"He's not too comfortable around me, is he?" Crawford asked after Kid had disappeared from sight.
"Don't take it personally. I don't think he's too comfortable around any man in uniform," Heyes said.
"Why?"
Heyes pried open the tin of lard and reached back into the saddle bags for the flour and sodium bicarbonate. "Afraid you'd have to ask him that," Heyes said.
"And what about you, Mr. Smith?"
"Me? To tell you the truth, I'm curious."
"About what?"
"About what you done to get yourself a prison sentence. Having seen what little I did of that war, I might consider a lot more things crimes of war than the government does, because I know for a fact the government didn't trial and sentence too many people for war crimes after that war."
Crawford nodded. "I see. Tell me Mr. Smith, have you ever done anything in your life that you're ashamed of or that you deeply regret?"
"Deeply regret, yes. Ashamed, no, I can't say that I have."
"And were any of those things you deeply regret out of your hands? Did you have no control over those things, no choice?"
"A man always has a choice. It's the consequences that are important. Those are the deciding factors."
"And what if one of those consequences meant sacrificing your own life?"
Heyes stopped what he was doing and gave Crawford a hard look. "I've never been in the Army. I've never been in the kind of position you're talking about, though I've been close a time or two. But if you're looking for absolution, I'm not the person you should be talking to."
Crawford sighed heavily. "I've spent twenty years asking God for forgiveness...I've yet to receive an answer."
"Maybe that is your answer, Mr. Crawford."
Kid returned with the pot of water and and could plainly see that something had ensued during his absence. But he proceeded to make some coffee then placed the pot in the embers to heat and he asked no questions.
They ate supper with only rare interruptions of conversation, most of which centered around the planned route of travel. When the meal was over, Heyes gathered the plates and utensils and carried them down to the stream to rinse.
Kid busied himself with rearranging the things in his saddle bags. Crawford watched him carefully and Kid was aware of the observant eye, but said nothing. Crawford got up and poured himself another cup of coffee, then offered to fill Kid's cup.
"Thank you," Kid replied
"I get the impression that you are a bit... ill at ease with my presence," Crawford said.
"Kid shook his head. "Don't much matter to me if you're here or not."
"Then perhaps... disapproving might be a better word?"
Kid folded the flap over his saddlebag and rested his arm on the bag. "Look. Joshua is the one that suggested we get you to Montana. I'm doing that as a favor to him. That's it. That's the whole story."
"What was your experience with the war, Mr. Jones?"
Kid was about to light into the man for putting his nose where it didn't belong, but something made him hold himself back. "Like Joshua told you, we were just kids," he replied. "I ain't got no war experience...Just consequence."
Crawford thought it odd that both men spoke of consequence and he wondered just what those consequences were for the both of them. But he refrained from pursuing that specific area. Instead he put the coffee pot back into the embers and sat down across the fire from Kid. He held his coffee cup in both hands and gazed down into the liquid. Unbeknownst to either of them, Heyes had returned from the stream, heard the gist of the conversation they were engaged in, and stayed back in the foliage, out of sight.
"I was a Captain. My superior was Major Andrew Vern Emen Johnston. Have you ever heard of him?"
Kid shook his head but opened his saddlebags again and kept his hands busy.
"On November 11, 1864 a band of pro-Confederate guerrilla fighters led by William T. Anderson ushered twenty four Union soldiers who were on leave, off a train in Centralia, lined them up and shot them execution style. They then scalped many of those Union soldiers. You might recognize two of the names of those guerrilla fighters. Jessie and Frank James."
Kid set his saddle bags on the ground and continued listening to Crawford's story.
"My superior officer, Major Johnston, and I led one hundred and forty-six relatively new recruits of the 39th Infantry in pursuit of those guerrillas, but our weaponry of muskets against their revolvers was no match, and in the end one hundred and twenty three of those Union soldiers died. It is rumored that Jesse James himself killed Major Johnston... I fled, Mr. Jones. I abandoned my Infantry, those new, inexperienced and ill equipped men. That is why I was...rightfully imprisoned and mercifully not executed. I am not proud of what I did. I am in fact ashamed, very ashamed... But I didn't butcher or maim or murder as you may seem to think. I was rightfully branded...a coward and a deserter."
Kid slowly raised mournful eyes to look directly into Crawford's eyes. He didn't know what to say. Nothing about that war had ever made sense to Kid. He had experienced it though the eyes of a nine year old boy. He could imagine the scene Crawford had described because he had witnessed the aftermath of just such a massacre on his own family farm. But Kid had never felt a moment of cowardliness in his life and, at the moment, he was uncertain what to think of Crawford.
Having heard every word, and knowing his partner as well as he knew himself, Heyes took the ensuing silence as an opportunity to enter the camp and end the awkward silence.
"You got both saddlebags, Kid?" Heyes asked as he held the clean plates out to his partner and realized the mistake he had just made by referring to his partner as Kid.
Kid didn't respond to Heyes for several seconds as he continued to look at Crawford. Finally he jerked his head slightly and took the plates in his hand to stow them.
Following the same pattern they had the night before, Heyes and Curry waited until they were sure Crawford was asleep before they themselves settled in for the night.
"Heyes, he told me what happened, how he came to go to prison."
"I know. I was just outside of camp and heard everything."
"It's got me thinking...questioning things, you know?."
"Come up with any answers yet?"
"No. I do keep wondering if any of them soldiers might have lived if Crawford hadn't run off like he did."
"I know. But we've both heard those stories about Frank and Jesse James. I think most likely his staying wouldn't have changed nothing."
"Still, leaving them men to die..."
"Kid, that's what he went to prison for. That's the dues he paid for doing what he done."
"I can't imagine living with myself if I done something like that."
"We have no idea how hard it is for him to live with himself, to face his wife after all these years."
"She seems to be standing by him."
"Maybe. I mean she did while he served his time, but who knows once she sees him face to face, once she's living with him every day. You know she likely never thought she was marrying a coward."
"I keep thinking about us, too Heyes. Maybe when them soldiers came to our farms, well if just one of them soldiers had been brave enough to stand up to the others..."
"I think the list of maybes and what-ifs is pretty extensive, and don't really solve nothing."
"But what he done..."
"Kid, maybe's it's not ours to judge."
"You mean his time will come on judgment day?"
"Uh-uh."
"I hope you're right, Heyes. One way or the other, I hope your right."
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The following morning they headed next to Greybull and the day after that they reached Sheridan.
"John, Thaddeus and I usually spend the night in Sheridan when we're heading to Montana. We'll pay for a hotel room, but I'm afraid the three of us will be sharing one room. Thaddeus and I will sleep in a bed and you can have the other," Heyes told Crawford when they reached the town.
"That's kind of you. I haven't slept in a bed in...well even if you count the prison cot, it has still been nearly a year."
Kid pulled his horse up in front of the hotel and Heyes and Crawford dismounted while Kid reached for the reins of the sorrel.
"You get us checked in, Joshua and I'll take the horses to the livery," Kid said, handing his saddlebags to Heyes and waiting for Heyes to take the saddlebags off the sorrel.
Heyes and Crawford headed into the hotel while Kid went on down the street with the horses. Once in the hotel room, Heyes stretched out on the bed and slipped his hands behind his head. Crawford, feeling a bit nervous, simply sat in the chair at the table.
"You ordered baths didn't you?' Kid asked after unlocking the door to their room and walking in.
"Afraid we'll be making a trip to the bath house down the street," Heyes told him.
"Gives us time to buy cigars and have a beer," Kid said with a smile.
"John, you want a beer?" Heyes asked and saw Crawford hesitate. "My treat," Heyes added and John smiled.
"You treating for mine too?" Kid said in a more lighthearted mood than he had been since the trip began. Heyes attributed that to the fact that Kid was getting a hot bath.
"What the hell. Yeah, I pay for yours too," Heyes replied and pulled himself out of the bed.
An hour later the three men each sat in a tub of hot, soapy water, smoking a fine cigar. Crawford had no change of clothing, so Heyes had loaned him a pair of pants, a Henley, and a shirt.
"John, if you want to send a telegram to your wife, letting her know you'll be home in a couple of days, I think we can manage to pay for that."
"I thank you for the offer, but I'd rather not give her notice of my arrival."
"Why not?" Kid asked, taking a puff of his cigar.
"I want to see the look on her face, the look in her eyes... I want to see if she...wants me in her home, a part of her life again," he said with a look of uncertainty on his face.
Heyes and Kid exchanged glances. Neither had considered that Crawford may not be welcome in his own home.
"I don't want to be a burden to her, a hardship, an embarrassment. I'll see that in her face and eyes if she doesn't know I'm coming."
"A long time has passed, John," Kid said. "People can forgive an awful lot, John. They can learn to forget the past."
"They don't forget a coward, a deserter...A man shunned, punished by his own country. A man afraid to...to do the right thing."
Not even Heyes with his silver tongue had the words to change the truth, the reality of Crawford's situation.
They finished their baths and dressed in silence.
Walking back to the hotel with their dirty clothes tucked under their arms, Heyes suggested they drop off their laundry and get some supper, then return to the saloon. He needed to replenish his and Kid's money supply and Heyes thought a few drinks might help Crawford's frame of mind.
"Where you fellas from?" the bartender asked as he served them their beers.
"Southern part of Wyoming, but we're headed to Montana," Heyes replied.
"Where about in Montana?"
"Bozeman."
"You planning on leaving right away?"
Heyes looked at Kid as he wondered why the bartender was asking. "In the morning."
"Well, if it's not urgent business, you might want to stay here for a couple of days."
"Why?" Kid asked.
"Three days ago a wagon train came through here. About a dozen wagons left the train to head northwest into Montana. Indians attacked the wagons about thirty miles from here. Those settlers were outnumbered four to one. Every last one of them was killed."
"Where are they now? The Indians I mean," Heyes asked.
"Army sent troops by train from Fort Bridger that arrived yesterday and went out after them, but we haven't had any news back yet. Until we do, that route is not considered to be safe to travel."
Heyes put money on the bar. "Would you send another round of beers over to that table for us?" he asked and turned and made his way to an empty table against the wall. Kid and Crawford followed.
"So what to we do now?" Kid asked.
"I guess we wait."
"And if we don't hear nothing in the next day or two?" Kid asked, knowing the longer he and Heyes stayed in any town, the greater the risk of being recognized.
Heyes looked at Kid, knowing exactly what Kid was thinking. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," he replied as the beers arrived.
Crawford stayed in the saloon until Heyes and Curry decided to join a poker game. At that point, Crawford returned to the hotel.
Three hours later Kid and Heyes left the saloon, both with more money in their pockets than when they had gone in.
"Heyes, we can't risk going on to Montana until the Indian issue is settled. Even if we give Crawford back his gun, we can't count on him to be of any help if we need it, and I can't watch your back and his in an Indian attack."
"I know Kid. I suppose we could continue due west for a day or two, then turn north."
"How do we know that's not the route the Indians took? We can't risk it Heyes, and we can't risk staying here too long."
"I think we have to stay through tomorrow. We'll just keep a low profile. We'll get John some new clothes too. He ought to look as presentable as possible when he sees his wife."
"You think she'll take him back?"
"He said she had written him faithfully for twenty years. That doesn't sound like somebody that doesn't ever want to see him again."
"If she don't take him back, then what? Just give him some money and ride away?"
Heyes nodded. "It ain't like we owe him and it ain't like he's kin."
"Good. I know the story he told me, Heyes, but I just can't find it in me to condone or even tolerate what he done."
"Kid, I don't think either one of us has to do that. That's what prison was for."
"I know, Heyes. Paying his dues."
"That's right. He don't need people judging him for something he's already paid for. It's like if you and me get amnestied, or spend twenty years in prison for robbing banks and trains. When we get out, nobody's got a right to hold our past against us."
Kid thought about that for a moment. "I suppose you're right, Heyes. I shouldn't be thinking the way I have been. Crawford's paid his dues."
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Having not slept in a comfortable bed in a while, all three men slept well and late into the morning. Once up and dressed they headed to the hotel dining room for breakfast.
At the end of the meal, Heyes reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar coin and tossed it into the air in Crawford's direction.
"What's this?' Crawford asked as he caught the coin in his hand.
"I'm sending you on an errand."
"What kind of errand?"
"I want you to go buy yourself some clothes, however much that will pay for. You want to look as nice as you can for your wife, don't you?" Heyes asked with a smile. "Just meet us back in the room when you're done."
Crawford looked at Heyes appreciatively. "Tell me why the two of you are doing all this? I have no money. I have no means of income. I can't repay you anytime soon."
"We ain't doing it to see what we can get out of it in return. We're doing it because... because it's the right thing to do. When you do have a means of income again, and you see a man down on his luck, don't judge him for why he's down on his luck. Just help him back up again," Heyes replied with a smile.
"Obviously someone has helped the two of you in some way, somewhere in your past, right?" Crawford asked.
Heyes smiled. "Something like that."
Crawford smiled as he stood to leave. "I'll do that. I'll pass along the good will," he said and headed out the door.
"I'll pay for breakfast Heyes, but..."
"But what, Kid?"
"Were you talking to me and not just John, about not judging a man?"
"No, Kid. You might have your opinion about someone, but it doesn't stop you from helping him. I was just talking to Crawford."
They spent that day and the next in Sheridan, keeping a low profile. But that didn't stop them from visiting the saloon each evening, hoping for an update on the Indian situation.
"Sheriff got a wire this afternoon. The army troops met up with them about forty-five miles from here. Haven't heard the outcome as yet though," the bartender told them on their third night in town.
"So now what do we do?" Kid asked his partner.
"We'll see if there's any word in the morning... Then I think we head out."
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The next morning, having decided to start on their way regardless of the situation with the Indians, Heyes and Curry began packing their saddlebags.
"Saloon ain't open at this hour. One of us going to have to go talk to the Sheriff, don't you think?" Kid asked.
"Flip a coin to see who goes?' Heyes asked in return.
"Oh, no," Kid replied. "I ain't flipping no coin."
"Gentlemen, obviously talking to the Sheriff is not something either of you look forward to doing. So, why don't I take that responsibility?"
Heyes and Kid raised doubtful and uncertain eyes directed at the other which Crawford saw but didn't understand, and assumed it was somehow related to him..
"I promise I won't raise any suspicion."
"Alright," Heyes finally agreed. "When you get back, we'll go have breakfast and head out."
Crawford left the hotel room and Kid gave Heyes a questioningly look but Heyes shook his head.
"I only know of one slip up and it wasn't enough to even peak his curiosity. No, Kid, he don't know who we are."
Crawford returned about twenty minutes later. "Sheriff says the route is safe. Soldiers trailed what's left of that band into Idaho. He said they left a couple small groups of soldiers along the way to make sure there aren't any stragglers."
Kid had his back to Crawford as he unfastened the strap to one of his bags and gave Heyes a quick glance. Then he reached into his saddle bag and pulled out Crawford's LeMat .42 and Heyes could see the slight hesitancy in Kid's movements. Finally Kid turned and extended his open palm, the LeMat resting in his hand.
"I suspect three guns is better than two," Kid said.
Crawford was equally hesitant to reach out and take the weapon and before he did, he looked directly into Kid's eyes.
"I won't make a repeat of history," Crawford said and reached out and took the weapon.
"We'd best stop at the mercantile and get you a box of ammunition," Heyes said in a gesture of confidence that he hoped sounded sincere.
Kid tightened the cinch on his saddlebag, then picked up both his and Heyes' bags.
"You two stop at the mercantile and I'll go get the horses. I'll meet you at the cafe."
A little more than an hour later the three men walked out of the cafe and Crawford was surprised to find three saddled horses tethered outside.
"I've never tried it myself, but I've always heard riding double ain't a good way to escape Indians," Kid explained with a smile.
"I... Thank you," Crawford said, knowing that anything else he might say would simply be a repetition of words of appreciation he had uttered at least a dozen times since he had met up with these two men.
The trail was quiet, desolate throughout the day as no one had yet ventured out since the Indian skirmish with the settlers. If things stayed peaceful and uneventful, they would reach Bozeman the day after next. All three rode with ears to the wind and eyes to the horizon, cautious but ready for any threat of violence. Conversation was minimal and the pace remained steady.
They made camp fifteen miles before reaching the site of the Indian uprising. Kid chose an elevated spot with a three-sided rock buttress that also provided a panoramic view of the surrounding land. They built a smokeless fire and cooked biscuits, heated coffee, and chewed on jerky. This night, and tomorrow night they would take turns standing watch and even those that slept, did so with a sharp ear to the sounds around them.
In the morning they warmed the leftovers from supper, doused the fire, and started on their way, keenly aware of the devastation they were about to come upon.
When they reached the site of the massacre they stopped but remained saddled as they gazed upon the burnt wagons, the scattered remnants of what had been treasured possessions, the head of a charred porcelain doll whose body had been burned to ashes, broken shards of china plates, molded steel skeletons that had once supported canvas wagon covers, bits of jewelry and gold and silver coins lying in piles amidst the ashes of wooden storage boxes. Thankfully the soldiers had buried the bodies in unmarked graves evident only by mounds of dirt that would soon settle and obscure these final resting places. No one spoke as they paid their final respects, then nudged their horses forward and struggled to leave the tragedy behind.
They manged to travel another five miles before making camp for the night, each assuming the same responsibilities they had the night before as well as the same watch rotation throughout the night although they saw no signs of any Indians in the area. As night fell, they sat around the campfire for the last time, drinking coffee and engaging in conversation that eventually led to some candid enlightenment.
"Have either of you ever been to Bozeman?" Crawford asked and both indicated they had not.
"Been to Butte more than once," Heyes replied.
"And Red Rock, though I doubt I'll ever go back there," Kid added and shot Heyes an inside joke grin.
"Bozeman is likely a good deal bigger than when I was last there," Crawford said. "Rebekah was always writing about new people settling there, a new business opening. When we bought our place we were a good ten miles from town but Rebekah says it's inching it's way in our direction."
You have any other family in the area, besides your wife?" Heyes asked.
"My son...but he has never so much as added a line to any of her letters."
"How old is he?"
"He's twenty-four. He was just a child when all this happened...Probably doesn't even remember me."
"Give him some time, John. He might come around," Heyes said encouragingly."
Crawford gazed into his coffee cup, a habit of reflection they had come to recognize.
"I can't forgive myself for what I did. How can I expect my wife or my son to forgive what I can't even forgive?"
Heyes looked at Kid, his eyes filled with concern. "John, when we first started on the trip with you, you asked me if there was anything I had done in my life that I regretted. Well I can tell you in all honesty that there's a lot of thing that Thaddeus and me have both done that we wish we hadn't; things we're paying a price for now. I tend to think there's not many people in this world that don't have something they regret, something they wish they'd done differently, something that affected others not for the better."
"You can't dwell on those things, John," Kid added. "You face them, you do your damnedest to fix them or to somehow pay for what you done."
"And you did pay for what you done," Heyes said.
"So, now it's time to move on," Kid said, finishing the thought he and his partner shared.
"You sound like you talk from experience," Crawford replied.
Heyes and Kid again looked at each other. "We do, John," Kid said quietly. "We're still paying for things we done."
Crawford raised his head and looked first at Kid and then at Heyes. "There's more to your stories I'm sure, but I won't ask."
Heyes smiled almost sadly. "We can't tell you, even if we wanted to."
"No... I don't suppose you can."
"John, I know I had my doubts about you when we met up, and I know you were aware of that. But getting to know you...knowing that you paid for your mistakes, you owned up for what you done. That takes courage, John...You ain't a coward."
Crawford looked at Kid with an expression of honest gratitude. "That means a lot to me," he replied.
0-0-0-0-0-0-
They woke just as the sun was cresting over the horizon, ate hardtack and coffee for breakfast, then broke camp and started on their way, nearing Bozeman nine hours later.
Bozeman itself is a town typical of the west with a wide dirt street flanked on either side by businesses constructed of wood or brick. Covered wagons, tethered horses, and buckboards dotted the street that ran the length of two city blocks. Pedestrians strolled the boardwalks, and piano music wafted from the two saloons.
Situated in a valley, Bozeman is flanked on all sides by mountain ranges. The Bridger Mountain Range lies to the northeast, and on the western side of this range lie large, open meadows that stretch for miles. To the south is the Gallatin Range with majestic, snow capped peaks and to the east flows the Yellowstone River, one of only a few north flowing rivers in the country. To the southwest is the Madison Range that extends eighty miles and is flanked on the west by the Madison River, and the Absaroke Range runs southeast and stretches one hundred and fifty miles.
Into this majestic valley rode Crawford, Heyes and Curry. They rode straight through Bozeman without stopping, but Heyes and Curry slipped into their usual safety routine, noting the location of the Sheriff's office and his name on the wooden sign that hung above his office door, the location of the hotel, the livery, the two saloons, and they gave each other a glance of approval. At this point, Crawford took the lead and Heyes and Curry followed him nine miles west of town and down a long, winding dirt road, at the end of which stood a large log cabin. The three men pulled their horses to the hitching post, but Heyes and Curry remained mounted while Crawford climbed out of the saddle and stood looking at the front door entrance.
"Go on John, you've been waiting twenty years," Heyes coaxed him.
John took a deep breath and began walking up to the house, Halfway there, the door opened and out stepped a woman, wiping her hands on her apron. She stopped at the edge of the top stair, but as John neared the steps, she ran down an fell into his arms, crying, laughing, and kissing him all at the same time. Heyes and Curry watched the happy reunion and smiled.
Suddenly John remembered Joshua and Thaddeus and he wrapped an arm around his wife and led her toward the two riders.
"Becky, this is Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. They helped me get back months before I would have on foot."
Becky smiled and nodded but it was obvious she had only one person on her mind.
"Stay for supper, please," John said.
Both Heyes and Curry shook their heads. "No, you have a lot of catching up to do. We're going to head back into town. We'll stop by tomorrow before we head out," Heyes told him as they pulled on the reins to redirect the horses.
"Pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," Kid said, tipping his hat but got only a quick smile in return as he turned to follow Heyes back down the path to the road.
"Don't look like he's got much to worry about as far as his wife is concerned," Kid commented as they neared the road.
"No, I don't think so, Kid."
"Hotel and a hot bath?' Kid asked
"Followed by supper, beer, an poker," Heyes replied.
"You think him and his boy will..."
"Find each other?"
"Yeah."
"I hope so, Kid. I really hope they do."
EPILOGUE
The next day Heyes and Curry checked out of the hotel and around noon they rode out to the Crawford place. Knocking on the door, John answered and ushered them into the cabin.
Rebekah was preparing lunch, but stopped to greet them in a more proper fashion than she had the day before.
"I'm sorry I was so rude yesterday. It's just that I was so excited to have John home that I, well I just forgot all my manners."
"Oh, you weren't rude at all Ma'am. I can see now why John was so anxious to get back here," Heyes replied with a smile.
"Please, the three of you sit down while I finish making lunch. I'm making enough for all of us, with plenty to spare."
"Don't be too sure of that, Ma'am. Thaddeus has quite the appetite."
"John told me how kind and generous you both were. I'm so grateful to you both," she called from the kitchen.
"Weren't nothing, Ma'am," Kid replied.
Another knock on the door surprised them all.
"Now who could that be?" Rebekah asked. "John will you get that, I'm a little busy here."
John got up to answer the door. Heyes and Kid stood but didn't move from their locations.
John opened the door and was greeted by a young man of about twenty five years of age.
"Can I help you?" John asked.
"That depends, are you John Crawford?"
Heyes and Kid gave each other a questioning and hopeful glance, but the door blocked their view of the man standing on the porch.
"I am," John replied.
The young man smiled and Heyes and Kid saw Becky turn to watch the activity at the door.
"I'm Mark...father."
John's jaw dropped and he stood staring at the man through the screen door. "Mark," he whispered.
"Well don't just stand there, let him in," Becky said and walked over to a spot near her husband to watch the reunion.
John pushed and at the same time Mark pulled, and the door swung open and Mark stepped inside. He and John stood face to face for several seconds before both simultaneously wrapped their arms about the other. Heyes and Kid looked at each other and smiled.
"How did you know?" John asked as he and Mark stepped back to look at each other again.
"I didn't. I stop in to check on Ma everyday. When I saw two horses at the post I thought, well maybe...I mean Ma said you were on your way."
"Horses? Oh, come in, come in. I want you to meet two very good friends. Mark, this is Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. They helped hasten my journey.
Heyes and Kid both shook Mark's hand.
"John was very anxious to see you again," Heyes said, noticing the Deputy badge on Marks vest.
"Yes, he said you were about four years old the last time he saw you," Kid said nervously, also noticing the badge.
"You're the Sheriff?" John asked.
"A Deputy," Mark explained.
"Well, everyone come to the table before the food gets cold," Becky announced.
Heyes and Curry spent an hour in the company of John and his family, but finally made their excuses to be on their way.
"The lunch was wonderful Ma'am," Heyes told her. "And John, I think you finally got the answer to that question you've been asking all these years."
John smiled as he shook Heyes hand. "I have indeed."
"Ma'am. Mark. Been a pleasure meeting both of you. I can understand why John was so anxious to get home," Kid said. "And John, you make your family proud."
John smiled. "Oh I intend to, Kid," John said with a wink and Kid looked nervously at Mark who simply stood by smiling pleasantly.
"Hope to see you again someday," Heyes said as he and Kid walked out the door and down the walk to their horses.
"If you're ever around this way again, the two of you are always welcome in our home," John called to them and they gave John a final wave and rode off.
"Who'd of thought his boy would grow up to be a Deputy," Kid said as they headed south toward Idaho.
"Funny ain't it Kid that John's son would grow up to be a Deputy. I mean that's a job that requires a lot of bravery."
"That's what I was thinking. You can't say like father, like son in their situation, can you?"
"Well, when you think about it, Kid...You can't very well say that in ours, either."
Kid thought for a minute about their law abiding parents and his and Heyes outlaw careers. "Yeah, I guess you're right," Kid replied.
"After all Kid, it was your mother that was the crook," Heyes said and spurred his horse quickly ahead of his partners.
"Hey, you take that back!" Heyes heard Kid shout.
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Author's Note: At the end of the Civil War, most Union and Confederate soldiers were released through a prisoner exchange program. But the program broke down in in 1863 and 195,000 soldiers went to prison camps. 15.5% of those soldiers sent to Confederate prison camps died. More than 28% of those imprisoned at Andersonville died. In 1865, the Confederates sent an additional 17,000 Union troops home. War crimes were those acts so atrocious they were considered to exceed the standard tactics used in battles of war. Most found guilty of War Crimes during the Civil War were sentenced to death
John Crawford is a fictional character developed by this author and not a real Civil War soldier.
Major Johnston, William T. Anderson, Jesse and Frank James were real as was their involvement in the Centralia Massacre. Eleazar Paine was also a real officer.