THE DAY THEY HANGED HANNIBAL HEYES - Chapter Seven
BIG BEN, NEW MEXICO
A weary Marshal Bliss looped his reins over the hitching post in front of the Sheriff's office. He watched his horse take a long drink at the water trough before he pulled his hat off and slapped at the dust covering his clothes. He ran a quick hand through his hair before putting his battered hat back on his head. Bliss looked down at his Marshal's badge, taking the time to straighten it to make sure it was promotability displayed.
He knew Sheriff Slocomb. A good fair lawman that was quick to cut through folk's lies and not hesitate to tell them, with a gun to back it up if they took offense.
Sheriff Slocomb stood up from behind his desk when he saw Marshal Bliss enter.
"Marshal," he said, extending his hand out and pumping it several times. "What brings you here? Business or pleasure?"
Bliss laughed.
"Dumb question," the sheriff said as his eyes quickly ran over the lawman's haggard look and dusty clothes.
He waved Bliss to an open chair.
"So what business brings you to Big Ben?"
Bliss crossed his leg with a groan and took his hat off, placing it on the toe of his boot.
"Need you to bear witness for me."
"About?"
"The Turner family killings and rustling."
Sadness crossed the Sheriff's face as he shook his head. "Rumor has it that was taken care of…"
"Not within the law and not completely. Got two boys in jail saying they weren't part of it. Although them vigilantes chose not to believe them. They hanged one and shot up the other pretty good."
Sheriff Slocomb looked confused. "Thought you said two…"
"I did. The one got hanged but didn't kill him. Be a shame if he was lying and we had to hang him all over again. Just come up to check out their story. Need to go to the Ruby Rose and talk to the bartender there."
"Probably was Gus Jenkins, he's the owner. Does most of the pouring himself. Don't trust no one but himself when it comes to his money. Old Gus holds onto it so tight he could choke the eagle right off a ten dollar gold piece."
RUBY ROSE SALOON
Marshal Bliss looked up towards the batwing doors, before placing a foot on the first step. The sounds to the start of a rowdy weekend seemed to grow with intensity as the crowd got drunker by the minute. Bliss took the steps quickly with Sheriff Slocomb by his side. As he placed a hand on the door to push it open, he paused, sucked in a quick breath and held it for a long moment. It surprised the usually stoic lawman.
What if he couldn't verify their story? What if...Bliss pushed the thoughts from his head.
The lawmen pushed their way to the bar, ignoring the cold looks from the patrons who took offense from being pushed aside, but stopped their protests and lowered their fists when they saw the badges.
The sheriff raised his hand and motioned the bartender over with a wave of his hand.
"Gus this is Marshal Bliss," he said, nodding his head towards the Marshal. "He needs to talk to you." His voice kept rising to be heard over the noise.
"About?" The man asked suspiciously.
"Need to talk to ya about…," He stopped. "Let's find a quieter place." He turned and made his way to a table in the corner.
Gus wiped his hands angrily on a towel, and motioned to a man to take over before making his way around the bar.
"What's this about?" He said as he slowly took a seat.
"It's about two men that come through here 'bout a week ago. I'd say they're in their early thirties. One dark…one light. Light one has curly hair…blue eyes.."
Gus looked annoyed for being interrupted on a busy night. He anxiously looked towards the bar, focusing more on his help he had entrusted with running the bar rather than the Marshal's questions. Bliss didn't try to hide his anger, made sharper by his weariness. He suddenly slammed his hand on the table and leaned across the table. The man's head snapped around and turned frightened eyes on the Marshal. Sheriff Slocomb crossed his arms as a faint smile touched his lips. That got his attention, he thought with a nod.
"Do I have your attention now?" The Marshal's eyes narrowed as he glared at the man with a stiff stare.
The man choked out a weak yes.
"Good," he said as he settled back in his chair. "Might have been with this man," he pulled the wanted poster from his pocket, unfolded it and spread it on the table.
"Look at it," Bliss commanded the man.
The bartender pulled the poster across the table and held it close. He nodded his head before pushing it back towards the Marshal.
"Yep...them men all left together, but they weren't together when they come in. Pretty sure they'd never meet. The two were arguing about taking a job with that man on the poster. The dark one was trying to talk the light haired one into it. He wasn't none to keen about working cattle. But them men were so broke they couldn't even come up with the money for a beer…I was getting ready to chase them out and the other man stepped up and bought them a couple beers. Ask Sheriff Slocomb here…I ain't one to give things away. Some call it charity…I call it stupidity."
"I need to know exactly what day it was."
The man screwed his face up in concentration as he rubbed his chin," I think… Wednesday?" He said slowly. "No…no…," he said, correcting himself. "It was Tuesday. Yea…Tuesday. It was a miserable hot day."
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Marshal Bliss signed his name as witness to the written account with Sheriff Slocomb's name added to add credibility to its authenticity.
Slocomb saw the relief on the Marshal's face, with the slightest knowing smile crossing his lips.
Bliss carefully folded the paper and tucked it safely inside his vest.
"Let me buy you supper Marshal"
Bliss started to protest but gave the Sheriff a grateful nod.
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Bliss tossed his hat next to Slocomb's on the table before taking a seat across from the sheriff.
Slocomb studied the Marshal's face for a moment before saying, "I'm thinking you got the answer you were hoping for."
"Yeah…," Bliss said with a slight smile. "I was beginning to like them two. Kind of strange to find them likable…" Bliss looked up, not realizing he had spoken the last thought out loud.
He stopped when he saw the puzzled expression on the sheriff 's face.
"I'll explain later."
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After supper the two lawmen took a seat outside of the cafe. Bliss cupped his hand around the lit match and puffed on his hand rolled cigarette until the end glowed red.
"Ya sure?" He said
Slocomb shook his head, "But thanks for the offer."
Bliss kicked back and cocked his head as he watched the smoke slowly move through the night air.
"There was a day not so long ago when even the law didn't think twice 'bout taking matters into our own hands. Ya come across cattle rustlers and stolen cattle…the final cost to the state was ten rounds of 30 Winchester ammunition with no questions asked. Can't be like that way no more…not iffin' New Mexico wants statehood. Can't let anyone ignore the laws we got in place. Them boys are a good example. I'm be cutting them loose when I get back. No need to keep them 'til a Circuit Judge decides to ride through." He patted his vest pocket, "This paper proves they had nothing to do with the killings and rustling. Hopefully I can send them boys from Fort Thorne home when I get back too. They should have arrived by now."
"Ain't you heard? Fort Thorne ain't got no men to spare. They're all headed up north to settle some Indian uprising."
"Since when?" Bliss looked alarmed as he quickly straightened in the chair. "I requested help days ago."
"They come through headed south, but turned right around and headed back where they come from. I s'pect that was your help."
"Damn!"
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Heyes' eyes were wide with concern and fear as he dove onto the floor. He heard several bullets tear through the walls of the jail ping against the iron cell bars. Heyes quickly crawled to his partner and pulled him to the floor and towards the center of the cell. He flipped the cot and mattress on its side, trying his best to use it as a shield.
Where were they going?
The front door was their only escape. Heyes' mind was racing. The way he saw it, there was nowhere to go where the end result wasn't the same…death. It looked like the only choice they had was to decide how they were going to die…Bullet…Smoke…Fire.
He had grabbed the moist cloth that had been on Kid's brow off the floor and pushed it across his partner's nose and mouth, before he quickly moved on hands and knees to the locked cell door. Sheriff Pryor and the other deputies burst through the adjoining door that separated the office from the cells and slammed it shut. Heyes heard the jingle of keys as a deputy quickly unlocked the cell door. The smoke pushing under and around the door began to thicken and grow blacker. Heyes jumped to his feet and pulled the front of his shirt over his nose and mouth and held it tightly to his face with one hand.
"Where?!" Heyes managed to choke out.
Sheriff Pryor ignored Heyes' question as he hurried past the cells, bent and quickly threw an old worn rug aside. He grabbed his knife and ran the blade along the edge of one of the floorboards. He managed to work a side up, revealing a partially concealed trapdoor. With the help of another deputy he managed to break the other boards free to fully expose the hidden door. He tugged hard, the hinges creaked louding protesting their long lack of use, before it opened. Pryor motioned for Deputy Wallace to go down first. He grabbed the oil lamp and passed it down to him, who held it up quickly looking around.
"Tunnel is still here! Hurry!"
It had been a way station before it had been converted to a jail. Sheriff's Pryor's grandparents had built it and run it, years before Junction City ever had the hint of being a town. Fearful of Indians and marauders, his grandfather had the tunnel built as protection for his wife and young children. Few people knew that it even existed.
Pryor stepped aside and waved the other deputies down through the trapdoor. He helped an anxious Heyes drag his partner to the hole. They eased him down feet first, to the waiting arms of deputies
Once Heyes was sure Kid was safe, he rushed back to the cell. The sheriff caught his arm as he ran past,
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Heyes yanked his arm free as he grabbed a saddle bag. Using his fingers, he felt for what he needed as the smoke filled the jail. His fingers quickly found what he was searching for and pulled out the paperwork before shoving it in his shirt. He jerked the thin blanket off the cot before he fled the cell and dropped it down the hole before climbing down the wooden makeshift ladder.
It was cramped and stifling hot in the tunnel. Heyes spread the blanket within the tight confines on the tunnel and carefully rolled Kid onto the blanket, before kneeling beside him.
"How far does it run?" Deputy Wallace said, trying to peer down the darkened tunnel.
" 'bout twenty yards. Ends at that boarded up outhouse."
Sheriff Pryor fought back his fear and uncertainty about the stability of the tunnel or if they were condemning themselves to becoming buried alive.
As he saw it...it was there only choice.
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