In This Issue
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If you just can't wait to read this month's stories one at a time, here they are - all the tales!
All the Tales
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Freedom Ford
by Ellen Gray Massey
As Walking Owl paddled around the bend in the icy Osage River, he was surprised to
see a woman wrapped in a faded comforter fishing from the river bank.
Quietly, the Osage nosed his canoe into the soft mud bank and stabbed his paddle
into the river bottom to arrest his movement. He did not want to startle her by his
sudden appearance.
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The Hanging
by Terry Alexander
Water flowed from the slanted roof, splashing in the torrent of the once dry dirt
street. Stray drops nestled in the wood, seeking out the nicks and depressions
in the material to ebb into the interior of the structure.
Nick Taylor stood in the down-pour. He stared at the body swaying in the howling
wind. Edgar Clifford twisted on the length of rope, driven by the strong air currents.
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Massacre at Guadalupe Canyon
by Michael Koch
Jim Craig ran a weathered hand through his sweat soaked hair. He held his hat above
his head shielding his eyes. Standing in the stirrups he watched the cowboys pushing
the dust covered cattle through the canyon. The place was called Guadalupe Canyon.
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Shadows on Pea Ridge
by C. Allan Butkus
"Shadows are getting shorter."
"Yep, it's about noon."
"You think there's any place in the world where there is no shadows at noon?" said
David Morgan.
"Suppose so. Just about any day that's real cloudy don't have no shadows," said
Cletus Jones.
"You know what I meant. Can't you just answer questions straight up? Or is it
just because you are a lying Arkansas Yazoo," said David.
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Massacre at Guadalupe Canyon
by Michael Koch
Jim Craig ran a weathered hand through his sweat soaked hair. He held his hat above
his head shielding his eyes. Standing in the stirrups he watched the cowboys pushing
the dust covered cattle through the canyon. The place was called Guadalupe Canyon.
Here he witnessed the cowboys driving wagons and a small herd of cattle until they
stopped for the day to camp. Their camp was in a deep depression near a “rock-built”
monument marking the borders of Arizona and New Mexico Territories as well as the
Mexican states nearby.
Craig rode in to their camp and introduced himself to the cowboys. He asked if he
could stay at their camp, just for the night. He was just passing through the region
on his way to buy some clothing at a nearby town. The cowboys stated, “Heck; we reckon so.”
Upon darkness the cowboys sat around a campfire, although it was a hot summer in 1881,
it still got very cool at nighttime in the desert. The cowboy’s swapped old-time
stories and spitted tobacco juice into the fire---interspersed with a few high pitches
of laughter from their vulgar talk. Craig thought they were probably bandits or
possibly cow thieves, but he had no evidence at the time of that. One of the cowboys,
Dick Lang, stated he had a ranch near Cloverdale, New Mexico Territory, and was taking
his herd of 100 to market. Another cowpoke, named Terrence Manning, was a dairy farmer
while a teenager, Dixon Gray, along with his friends; Billy Snow and Charley Byers,
were helping to get Lang’s herd through the mountain passes. All of the men would soon
be guilty of one thing for sure---being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As the hot burning rays of the morning sun awoke the cowboys, it stirred up the
pre-positioned Mexican troops hiding in the higher ground. They had waited all night,
not making a sound to stir the unsuspecting soon-to-be victims. As daybreak came
they set their sights, as they were a rifle squad, on their targets.
As the cowboys got up they noticed their herd was somewhat restless. This usually
meant someone or some carnivores were nearby.
One of the men stated, “They’re sure uneasy, watch out as they may stampede.”
Lang called to Manning, who was guarding the cattle, “Terrence, get your weapon; I
think there’s a bear in the hills, kill it.” Terrence galloped his stride up one
of the hills to see what was exciting the herd when the Mexican troops opened fire.
A bullet slammed into his torso and he fell off his mount onto the hot desert sand.
He was dead before he hit the ground. At the time of the first burst of gunfire,
three of the cowboys were just getting dressed while Craig and the others were completely
taken off-guard.
“Oh my God;” Craig exclaimed, “there going to kill us all!”
Some of the startled cowboys thought Terrence and some of the others had found a bear,
and were firing at it.
Craig looked for his rifle but could not locate it as the bullets kicked dirt around
him. He then grabbed for his Colt revolver. But upon seeing his newfound comrades
falling all around him, he decided to take-off running. Craig hadn’t ran but forty
yards when he felt a bullet hitting his back, blasting a large wound; blood squirted
all over the ground, but he kept running. After a few more steps, another bullet
smashed into his arm. The force of the bullet knocked him down. His pistol fell
from his hand. As he lay on the desert sand he saw Gray and Snow running past him.
Gray yelled out, “Come on---let’s get out of here!” Snow screamed, “We’re all going
to be killed!”
At that moment Gray fell, shot through the legs. He rolled over turning his pistol
loose, killing one of the Mexicans and wounding another. He was one hell of a pistolerer.
Gray had actually been one of the only cowboys that had done any damage to the Mexican
force who had assaulted the lonely cowboy camp.
Due to their positions, high above the camp, Craig could only see puffs of smoke from
the Mexicans firing from their excellent offensive positions.
Soon, Craig could see the Mexican troops running down from their previous hidden
positions. They were wearing large sombreros that initially hid their weather beaten
faces. They began stripping what they could from the dead carcasses of the cowboys.
They took boots, belts, clothes and weaponry.
Thinking he needed to do something immediately; Craig immediately took off what
clothes he was wearing, even a ring on his finger. He rested stretched out on the
sand with his face in the ground. He was completely covered in fresh blood from his
own wounds and felt the Mexicans would pass by thinking he was deceased, and already
undressed. Thankfully Craig was not mistaken, for they never touched his lifeless body.
One of the Mexicans rode his horse close to him as he wanted to make sure the cowboy
was truly dead. He drew his handgun, fired one shot, which grazed his head. Then he
fired several other shots all around Craig’s prone body, but the figured never stirred.
So the Mexican rode by and Craig whispered to himself, “thank God.”
The other Mexicans stripped the deceased cowboys, cut open the valises, taking all
the horses and saddles, and anything else they could see. Total count would be around
$2,000 in cash. They also gathered the herd of cattle after some had ran-off due to
all the gunfire.
As Craig watched the Mexicans riding off in the sun, he decided to wait long time,
thinking they may come back. Finally, he felt safe enough to move, so he crawled
over to his pistol. A sound reached his ears, thinking it was another bandit that
had returned, he rolled over and pointed his revolver at a startled man standing over
him. Luckily it was a nearby rancher who had heard all of the shooting and came to
see what had occurred.
The young man put Craig on his horse and took him to a nearby canyon. “I’ll have
to come back for you at night, when it is safer,” he explained, but he didn’t return.
So Craig started for the ranch and was finally found the next day.
Pauletta, a young good looking Spanish woman, entered the room the wounded cowboy was
resting in. Craig had lost a lot of blood and thought for sure his life was over.
Pauletta poured clean water over his wounds, placed some ointment on them, and then
wrapped bandages on them. Craig asked for the young lady to see the man of the house
so he could retell his adventure. She hesitated and told him to rest. Just then a
bushy headed man entered the small adobe room. The man stated he was the owner of
the place, but never mentioned his name.
As he listen to what had happened to Craig, the man know that these Mexicans were
just returning the favor to the cowboys. Apparently they had stolen their herd of
cattle from another group of Mexicans a few days before.
The border battles between the local cowboys and Mexicans went on until the 1890s.
Craig was just a lucky witness to one of these incidents as he lived to tell his
tale for years to come.
The End
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