The Double Take
by Mary Jackson

High on the ridge of the heavily treed mountain Ben Macky sat the winded horse that was not his and scanned the valley below. Entering the stream at the base of the slope minutes before, he pushed the horse hard for a mile downstream and then picked his way up the rocky terrain, hoping to make it harder to find his trail. He wanted to buy some time, but he harbored no doubt the two Cheyenne trackers riding with the sheriff and his posse would find it. If all went as planned, he would be off the mountain and well down the valley before they did.

Macky's trail was easy to follow, but when they came to the stream, they lost it. Sheriff David sent the trackers on and gave the rest of the posse time to water the horses and let them drink. With the exception of the sheriff, his deputy and the trackers, the posse consisted of farmers and merchants who were already grumbling. The sheriff knew he wouldn't have them long.

When Ben came to a small outcropping of rock that formed a ledge above a grassy meadow, he reined the horse in and sat silent, listening and searching the darkening surroundings. After a few minutes he led his horse to the stream, let it drink and filled his canteen, all his senses alert. He carried the rifle that came with the horse and staked the horse out to graze on the new grass, unrolled the saddle blanket, and huddled under the ledge. He planned to be gone before the sun came up. He knew his life depended upon his ability to outride and out think his pursuers.

Before Ben drifted off, he thought of the circumstances that caused him to be a fugitive from justice, an improbable outcome for a highly decorated Civil War cavalry officer who fought for the Union because he couldn't abide or condone the practice of slavery. He remembered his conversation with his unit commander when the war ended and he mustered out. "Where do you go from here, Ben?" asked Col. Samuel Scott. "Are you headed back to Springfield?" The colonel knew Ben was a journalist and left a job back home writing for a newspaper before joining the army. He watched as Ben scratched out impressions and events from the war in his worn black journal whenever he could.

"You know, Sam, I've been thinking about that. When it's not so raw for people to read about what happened in this war, I plan to write it all down, maybe try to publish a book. But I've always wanted to go out west and be a cowboy on one of those big ranches… find something fresh to write about. It's where I was headed before getting caught up in this war. I think it's just what I need now. I've gotten so used to a horse and the good one does a man that I'll buy one in town and tip his head to the west. I think it'll be peaceful to listen to the quiet sounds of the earth as I go and let the clamor of battle fall from me on the way."

"Captain Macky, it's been my honor to serve with you. You can talk to the corporal about buying a horse from the Army. And I'll watch out for that book of yours." "Colonel Scott, there are only two men in my life I would have followed anywhere without question because I knew their character made knowing the reason unnecessary. One was my father, and the other is you. The honor is mine, sir," Benjamin stated, as he offered up what he hoped was the last salute of his life.

Within the hour he left the Army mounted on the bay horse he rode for the last six months. In town he purchased whatever tack he thought he would need for the long trip out west. He took a room at the hotel, ate dinner, bathed, and went to sleep in a real bed for the first night in a long time. In the morning he ate breakfast and picked up his horse from the livery stable. His last stop was at the general store to buy provisions for his journey. He loaded everything he could into the saddlebags and tied a gunny bag onto the saddle to carry the rest. He stepped up in the stirrup, swung his leg over the cantle, and headed out.

With no set destination, Ben traveled with no hurry wherever he felt drawn, but always west. He met people along the way who offered their barns for the night, fed him and his horse, and sent him on his way with food bundled for lunch. Other times he stayed in a hotel in town or under the stars in the hills, wrapped in his blanket. As he rode he felt the fatigue and horror of war slip away, replaced by his faith in the humanity of people and a building excitement about his trip. It was exactly the experience he had hoped for when he left the army and, though he had never been further west than Illinois, it felt like he was heading home.

Ben's family came to America from Scotland when his father was a teenager and they settled in Ohio. Other members from the Macky family arrived over the years, spreading out in the east and Midwest. Ben knew he had a cousin about his age, Andrew Macky, somewhere out west. He also knew, from what his family told him, that this cousin looked remarkably like him. Their fathers were brothers and their mothers were sisters, making them "double cousins," but the families were not close and Ben only met his uncle's family once, when he was small. Something happened between the brothers that caused a permanent riff, but his father would not say more than that. Ben did hear that his cousin had gone west to escape being questioned by authorities about a robbery, but that was all he knew.

Ben's parents died after he left for the war, leaving him with no immediate family. He was not a superstitious man, but he did acknowledge to himself that all his experiences during his travel west were good signs that he had made the right decision to leave journalism behind, at least for a time, and seek this new adventure. But every night, wherever he stopped, ended with him recording the day's events and impressions in his journal. He knew he would indeed write a book some day.

In Missouri Ben started traveling northwest, crossing into Nebraska Territory, where he knew there were large cattle ranches that hired on hands with no experience if they were willing to work for next to nothing and learn the skills needed to be called a cowboy. He was looking forward to doing both and was more than ready to get started. His cavalry assignment made him a skilled horseman, but he knew nothing of roping or working cattle. Fortunately, learning new skills had come easy to him his entire life and given him a sense of self confidence far beyond his years, even as a child.

During dinner in a small town his first night in Nebraska he overheard a man talking about his cattle ranch. Ben introduced himself and learned he was the cattle boss at the Triple J Ranch, a large cattle operation nestled in the foothills of the rugged mountain range to the east. "Name's Tobias Pike," he said. "Pull up a chair and join me." Ben said, "I'm looking for work. Is the Triple J hiring hands?" As they talked the two men sized each other up. Tobias was a gruff-talking middle-aged man, and Ben liked his direct way of speaking and the quality of his questions, a skill Ben valued from his newspaper days. Tobias seemed to warm up to Ben as the conversation went on, and his voice lost the rough edge Ben first noticed. "We're always looking for good help," Tobias offered. "What we ain't looking for is someone we spend a lot of time training who ups and leaves the outfit as soon as he gets good enough to earn his keep cause he thinks he'll get paid more down the road. We're a fair operation, our bunks ain't saggy, the cook's damn good, and the pay's respectable once you're of value. Does that just about tell you what we expect?"

Ben tried hard to keep the excitement out of his eyes and the smile from his lips. "Well, then, I guess you found your man because it sounds like just what I'm looking for. When do I start?" Tobias laughed and said, "Whoa there cowboy, I ain't offered you no job yet. You ain't told me what brings you out here from…where was it you said?" Ben filled him in on the war and his trip out from Virginia. Tobias asked more questions and finally said, "I ain't never met a Union soldier before — not many around these parts — but we kept up with the war news. If you lived through that Godforsaken war, I'd say you got what it takes to cowboy on our ranch. Welcome aboard. We'll leave for the Triple J as soon as I finish Miss Jane's gooseberry pie, one of the reasons I come to town ever now and then." Ben could hardly contain himself when Tobias pronounced him hired and, as he sat there waiting, he judged Tobias to be the slowest pie eater he ever met.

Six weeks later Ben sat on the bunkhouse porch and reflected on his new skills. He could head or heel-catch a calf and knew his horse would back up and hold the rope taut as he doctored, castrated, branded and ear marked. He had a knack for finding cattle out on the range that were brushed up and determined not to gather. After one particular roundup one of the other cowboys said, "Good eye finding those mamas and their calves. They like to stay hidden when their babies are small, and it's hell to pay trying to get 'em in by themselves later if we already got the herd in." Compliments were seldom given on the ranch because everyone was expected to do their jobs and do them well. Ben took it as a sign that he'd been accepted as one of the hands. At that moment he couldn't imagine ever wanting to do anything else.

A few months later Tobias told Ben and the Walker brothers to take the cull cattle into town. "Should take you four days, give or take," Tobias said. "Spend a night in town and come back the next day." The men were excited, as trips into town were infrequent and rotated among all the hands. The town, small as it was, offered a welcome diversion from the isolation and quiet life of the ranch.

The trip into town was without incident. The men pushed the cattle fast enough to get them there before the buyer but not so hard that they lost weight. They were careful to spend the nights in areas with lush grass and plenty of water so the cattle had more than enough to eat. On the fourth day they delivered the herd to the holding corrals. Once they turned them over and got the bill of sale, they made their way straight to the saloon, took seats at the faro table, ordered whiskeys, and lost some wages. "Looks like it's time for dinner," said Joseph Walker. "Pretty much lost all my bettin' money. Let's go to Josie's Café on the edge of town. She makes the best pot roast around. You coming?" Noah Walker stood to join him, but Ben said, "I'll be along later. Gonna play a little more and then check on my horse." The Walker brothers left and an hour or so later Ben finished playing and left also.

As Ben crossed the street and headed for the stables he saw the door of the bank fly open and a man run out yelling, "The teller's been shot. The shooter took all the money he could get and ran out the back door! Get the doc and the sheriff."

The sheriff and his deputy ran to the bank to talk to everyone there who saw anything. As they pieced the story together they learned that the killer stole everything in the vault and the teller drawers before he ran out the back door. The teller followed him out, holding a shotgun he grabbed from under the teller window. He wildly fired the shotgun, causing the shooter's horse, tied to the back hitching rail, to pull back and run off. The shooter turned around and took a wild shot, dropping the teller where he stood.

The sheriff took all the descriptions of the shooter he could from the witnesses then took his deputy and as many men as he could round up to search the town. "He's on foot so check every building in town. He has to be here somewhere."

Ben watched the excitement until everything settled down and then continued onto the livery stable. No matter where he ended up each night he didn't turn in until he fed his horse and made sure he had water. Every evening Ben talked to him about the day and the plan for the next one. He felt a deep communion with the horse, which rolled its soft eyes toward him and nickered whenever he approached or left. They depended on each other, and neither one had ever let the other down.

Nearing the corral Ben didn't see his horse or hear him nicker. He confirmed the corral gates were securely shut and was heading out to find the blacksmith when the deputy sheriff came around the corner and drew on him. "Put your hands up. You better have one hell of a reason for being back here," the deputy shouted. "Someone stole my horse," Ben shouted. "It must have been the killer. We've got to go after him." "Hold on there," the deputy said, as Ben stepped into the light. "You match the description of the shooter we got from the bank people, 'cept you're not wearing the black slicker they described. Probably find where you left it around here somewhere."

The deputy kept his gun pointed at Ben and marched him to the sheriff's office. On the way there Ben tried to explain who he was and why he was in town. The deputy told him to save his breath, and when they got to the sheriff's office he yelled, "Sheriff, I caught us the killer!" The sheriff rushed out of his office and, after carefully checking Ben against the descriptions, shoved him into a jail cell in the back of his office. "You'll stay here 'til the marshal comes through in three days. You can try explaining yourself to him. Right now I'd say you're looking at a fast trial and a quick hanging. The townspeople here won't take kindly to having you drawing breath when the bank teller can't. But I won't abide a lynching. If it gets too dangerous, we'll take you to the county seat to intercept the marshal and turn you over to him there."

"Sheriff if you'll just check with Joseph and Noah Walker, they'll verify I rode into town with them yesterday to deliver some cattle for the Triple J Ranch and Tobias Pike, the Triple J cattle boss, will confirm my story," Ben protested. But Ben matched the description so closely the sheriff was sure he was guilty and, more importantly, he was relieved to have the crime solved so quickly. His was a peaceful town, and he wanted to keep it that way.

By that evening angry men and women were standing in the street yelling for justice. The bank people were called in to identify Ben and they all agreed he was the man. They were calling for a hanging. The sheriff dispersed them and said again there would be a fair trial under the supervision of the judge. But he was worried about the level of agitation he saw. He thought some of the more hotheaded men might try to break Ben out of jail at night and lynch him, so he decided to sneak him out of town before daybreak. He left his deputy in charge and went home to make preparations for the trip.

Just after midnight Ben heard a rapping on the cell window. When he looked out he saw Noah Walker in the window pointing to the back door to the jail. Ben nodded and stood waiting. Joseph Walker went in the front door of the jail to draw the deputy onto the porch while Noah went in the back door, snatched the cell key off the wall and let Ben out. Joseph's horse was tied to the hitching rail in back. Noah handed Ben a canteen and a note just before he stepped up on the horse. Ben tipped his hat to him and long-trotted the horse until he was out of hearing distance, then he kicked him into a full gallop. He knew his only chance of proving himself innocent was in finding the real killer.

Just before Ben drifted off, huddled in the blanket, he remembered Noah's note. Lighting a match, he read that the sheriff refused to believe the Walkers when they tried to convince him Ben worked with them, so anxious was the sheriff to have the case over and done with. Because they overheard some men planning to grab Ben that night and hang him, they knew they needed to get him out of jail. The Walkers promised to get back to the ranch and let Tobias know what happened in the hope he could convince the sheriff he had the wrong man. It was all they could do. Ben appreciated the efforts of the Walkers, knowing it would create problems for them with the sheriff, but he knew Tobias and the sheriff were friends, and he hoped Tobias could straighten things out.

Ben awoke before the first rays of sun broke the sky. He saddled and watered the horse and was on his way, hoping to double back in a wide arc, avoiding the posse and looking for signs of his own horse and the killer, hoping he had been holed up, waiting for the posse to pass. He wanted to bring him in and clear his name, and he also wanted his horse back. He rode hard to find them. In his time on the Triple J he covered a lot of ground on and off the ranch, wanting to get the lay of the land. He remembered a wash that ran parallel to the regular road out of town. He had a sense that the killer also knew it and took it to avoid his pursuers.

Crossing over a mountain ridge, Ben dropped down from the high side of a wash and stilled the horse to listen. He was almost ready to continue down when he heard the sound of hoof beats going through the wash itself, just slightly to his left, headed away from him. He urged the horse back up the hill, chose a high path, and galloped the horse on, hoping to pass the rider below, cut back down the hill, and take him by surprise. Even though the man was wanted for murder, robbery, and horse theft, Ben believed with all his soul that he deserved a fair trial. He planned to take him alive and deliver him back to the sheriff.

When he reached the wash he found a rocky outcropping that jutted into the wash and backed his horse behind it. He drew the rifle and waited. When he heard the hoof beats nearing, he held his position until he judged the rider was almost to his hiding place, then urged his horse forward, aimed his rifle, and ordered the rider to stop. The rider looked into Ben's rifle and pulled the horse up. When he did he lifted his head to stare squarely at Ben, and both men recoiled with the realization they could have been looking in the mirror.

Confused, they continued to stare at each other without saying a word. Finally Ben said, "Take your left hand, reach over the saddle, and toss your rifle on the ground." When the outlaw dropped the rifle, Ben continued. "Now, step down from the horse, but keep your hands above your head where I can see them." The rider dropped down from the horse and stood there, hands held high.

I don't know who you are, but you must think I'm someone else," the outlaw said. "I'm just on my way to the Johnson Ranch. Been looking for a stray bull. What's this all about?" Ben demanded, "What's your name?" The rider replied, "It's Andrew Macky and I cowboy for the Johnson's. You can ask anyone on the ranch and they'll vouch for me." At that Ben took a step backward as he realized that this man was his long-lost cousin.

In the war Ben had seen brothers fighting on opposite sides because even though they came from the same family, they differed on their opinions about the union or slavery. He had noted in his journal about how difficult that must have been for them and their families. Now he understood something of that, for while he did not know his cousin, he was family. And he was about to turn him over to the sheriff for what he was sure would be a death sentence.

Ben tied Joseph's horse to a log and approached his cousin. Ben's horse nickered to him and nudged him with its nose. Ben searched his cousin, then tied his hands in back and sat him down on the ground with his back against the bank. "That's my horse you're riding, Andrew. You're lucky nothing happened to him because, if it had, I would have shot you myself. A mob in town almost strung me up because they thought I was you. As it is, I aim to take you back to town and let the law take care of you."

"Who are you?" Andrew asked. After Ben told him, Andrew slowly shook his head. "I haven't been home or seen any of my family for years. They pretty much disowned me after I disgraced the family name. I came out here for a fresh start, but nothing I tried panned out, so I started robbing trains and moved on to banks. I never hit more than one in a town and always stayed ahead of the law. I never killed anyone before and didn't plan to this time, but when I swung around to fire off a warning shot, the bank teller was just coming out the door and caught the bullet. I'm no killer, but that doesn't make him any less dead. And I only took your horse because mine got away.

Ben stared at his cousin, working over what he said in his mind. Now this was a twist in what had been a clear-cut mission of capturing the real outlaw, clearing his name, and getting his horse back. Ben knew his cousin would pay for his crime with his life, and he deserved to. But it didn't sit well with Ben. He desperately tried to come up with a solution to make his decision not be what it was, but he couldn't. "I wish there was another answer to what needs to be done," Ben said, "but I can't summon one. I based my life on doing the right thing, even when it's not easy. And this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, not because I know you or because you're innocent but because you are, in the end, family. There's no way around it though. I've got to take you in. Your fate will be up to the judge, not me."

Andrew nodded his head. "It's good one of us turned out to be a decent man," he said. "You honor the Macky name. I chose a different path. I'm not proud of it, but I have to be willing to accept it and the consequences. Let's go. I'm sure the sheriff will be happy to see us coming." Ben left his cousin's hands tied behind his back and helped him up on Joseph's horse. He reached over to untie the lead rope and just as he did, Andrew kicked his boot into the back of Ben's head. It was a hard blow that connected squarely with its target and laid Ben to the ground, unconscious. Andrew managed to climb off the horse and free his hands. He picked up the rifle, took Ben's pistol, remounted and looked down at Ben. "Sorry, cousin, but this saves us both from a decision you didn't want to make. I don't ever plan to sit in a jail cell, go through a trial, or swing from a tree. I'll take my justice out here somewhere, or maybe I'll just disappear and keep on going. Either way, I figure you'll get yourself cleared. And to show you I'm not totally depraved, I'm leaving your horse. Least I could do."

With a last glance at Ben, he rode up the side of the wash and was just starting uphill when he heard horses galloping up and gunshots behind him. He spurred the horse back down into the draw and up over the other side, crashing through a stand of dense trees and down into the valley below. He was headed for the next ridgeline when he heard the gun shot, felt a burning sensation near his eye, saw the blood dripping onto his shirt and realized he'd been shot. He rode on until he felt himself start to slide from the saddle. Despite what he told Ben before he rode off, dying was not in his plans. Lying on the ground, looking up at the cloudless sky, his last thoughts were about a little meadow he knew that was close by where he could hide out until the coast was clear for his escape. He was already planning his next adventure as he drew his final breath.

The sheriff carefully approached Andrew's body to see if he was still alive. After he confirmed he was dead, he waited for the posse to catch up with him. Only his deputy and the trackers were left. When they came out of the trees and into the meadow, they were leading a bay horse with a body tied across it. They filled the sheriff in about finding Ben on the ground in the wash at the foot of his horse. They got Ben off the horse and laid him next to his cousin. "What in Sam Hill is going on here?" the sheriff asked. "These two could be twins. They must have been in on this together and we were just lucky enough to get them both."

Just then Ben moaned and tried to sit up. "Easy there," the sheriff said. "You're still under arrest. Who's this other outlaw I just shot?" Ben's head throbbed as he tried to clear his mind. After a few minutes he told the sheriff the story, fantastic though it was. He didn't expect the sheriff to believe it. He had no proof he wasn't the killer or, at least, in on the crime. His cousin, the only one who could clear him, was dead. Then he thought of something he hoped might convince the sheriff.

"I have a bill of sale for this horse, the one my cousin stole, back at the Triple J Ranch. It shows when I bought him and Tobias Pike will confirm how long I've worked for him and that this was the only time I've been away from the ranch since I hired on there. He can confirm when I left the ranch to bring the cattle to town and the Walker brothers will confirm my whereabouts while we were in town. From what I heard while I was under arrest in town, the man you were looking for was responsible for a string of bank robberies up and down this territory. I haven't been out here long enough to have committed those crimes. You can match my discharge from the Union Army in Virginia with my hire-on date at the Triple J to confirm it."

The sheriff was just about to speak when they heard horses galloping up. It was Tobias and the Walkers, riding hard. Tobias said, "Sheriff, you've got the wrong man if you think Ben Macky is an outlaw." He started to go on but the sheriff stopped him. "I appreciate all of you coming out here, Tobias. I think I've got the picture on what really happened in town. If this isn't the damndest story…I'll document my report with the information from Ben here and with your supporting evidence. It looks like Andrew Macky met his fate and his cousin, Ben, is innocent. He'll be free to leave after we tie up the loose ends back in town."

That night Ben, Tobias, and the Walkers ate dinner in the hotel and made arrangements to head back to the ranch in the morning. Ben's head still throbbed from being kicked, and he felt a real sadness about his cousin's death, but he was relieved to have his name cleared. After checking on his horse he turned in for the night. He drifted off to sleep, thinking maybe the book about the Civil War would have to wait. He had another story to write, one he wasn't sure anyone would believe.