True Grit

  The riding was easy on the Texas Road. It was broad and had a good packed surface as Rooster had described it. The sun was out and the snow melted fast under the warm and welcome rays of "Old Sol."

  As we rode along LaBoeuf commenced whistling tunes, perhaps to take his mind off his sore arm. Rooster said, "God damn a man that whistles!" It was the wrong thing to say if he wished it to stop. LaBoeuf then had to keep it up to show that he cared little for Rooster's opinion. After a while he took a Jew's harp from his pocket. He began to thump and twang upon it. He played fiddle tunes. He would announce, "Soldier's Joy," and play that. Then, "Johnny in the Low Ground," and play that. Then, "The Eighth of January," and play that. They all sounded pretty much like the same song. LaBoeuf said, "Is there anything you would particularly like to hear, Cogburn?" He was trying to get his "goat." Rooster gave no answer. LaBoeuf then played a few minstrel tunes and put the peculiar instrument away.

  In a few minutes he asked Rooster this question, indicating the big revolvers in the saddle scabbards: "Did you carry those in the war?"

  Rooster said, "I have had them a good long time."

  LaBoeuf said, "I suppose you were with the cavalry."

  Rooster said, "I forget just what they called it."

  "I wanted to be cavalryman," said LaBoeuf, "but I was too young and didn't own a horse. I have always regretted it. I went in the army on my fifteenth birthday and saw the last six months of the war. My mother cried because my brothers had not been home in three years. They were off at the first tap of a drum. The army put me in the supply department and I counted beeves and sacked oats for General Kirby-Smith at Shreveport. It was no work for a soldier. I wanted to get out of the Trans-Mississippi Department and go east. I wanted to see some real fighting. Right toward the last I got an opportunity to travel up there with a commissary officer, Major Burks, who was being transferred to the Department of Virginia. There were twenty-five in our party and we got there in time for Five Forks and Petersburg and then it was all over. I have always regretted that I did not get to ride with Stuart or Forrest or some of the others. Shelby and Early."

  Rooster said nothing.

  I said, "It looks like six months would be enough for you."

  LaBoeuf said, "No, it sounds boastful and foolish but it was not. I was almost sick when I heard of the surrender."

  I said, "My father said he sure was glad to get home. He nearly died on the way."

  LaBoeuf then said to Rooster, "It is hard to believe a man cannot remember where he served in the war. Do you not even remember your regiment?"

  Rooster said, "I think they called it the bullet department. I was in it four years."

  "You do not think much of me, do you, Cogburn?"

  "I don't think about you at all when your mouth is closed."

  "You are making a mistake about me."

  "I don't like this kind of talk. It is like women talking."

  "I was told in Fort Smith that you rode with Quantrill and that border gang."

  Rooster made no reply.

  LaBoeuf said, "I have heard they were not soldiers at all but murdering thieves."

  Rooster said, "I have heard the same thing."

  "I heard they murdered women and children at Lawrence, Kansas."

  "I have heard that too. It is a damned lie."

  "Were you there?"

  "Where?"

  "The Lawrence raid."

  "There has been a lot of lies told about that."

  "Do you deny they shot down soldiers and civilians alike and burned the town?"

  "We missed Jim Lane. What army was you in, mister?"

  "I was at Shreveport first with Kirby-Smith -- "

  "Yes, I heard about all them departments. What side was you on?"

  "I was in the Army of Northern Virginia, Cogburn, and I don't have to hang my head when I say it. Now make another joke about it. You are only trying to put on a show for this girl Mattie with what you must think is a keen tongue."

  "This is like women talking."

  "Yes, that is the way. Make me out foolish in this girl's eyes."

  "I think she has got you pretty well figured."

  "You are making a mistake about me, Cogburn, and I do not appreciate the way you make conversation."

  "That is nothing for you to worry about. That nor Captain Quantrill either."

  "Captain Quantrill!"

  "You had best let this go, LaBoeuf."

  "Captain of what?"

  "If you are looking for a fight I will accommodate you. If you are not you will let this alone."

  "Captain Quantrill indeed!"

  I rode up between them and said, "I have been thinking about something. Listen to this. There were six bandits and two stock thieves and yet only six horses at the dugout. What is the answer to that?"

  Rooster said, "Six horses was all they needed."

  I said, "Yes, but that six includes the horses belonging to Moon and Quincy. There were only four stolen horses."

  Rooster said, "They would have taken them other two as well and exchanged them later. They have done it before."

  "Then what would Moon and Quincy do for mounts?"

  "They would have the six tired horses."

  "Oh. I had forgotten about them."

  "It was only a swap for a few days."

  "I was thinking that Lucky Ned Pepper might have been planning to murder the two stock thieves. It would have been a treacherous scheme but then they could not inform against him. What do you think?"

  "No, Ned would not do that."

  "Why not? He and his desperate band killed a fireman and an express clerk on the Katy Flyer last night."

  "Ned does not go around killing people if he has no good reason. If he has a good reason he kills them."

  "You can think what you want to," said I. "I think betrayal was part of his scheme."

  We reached J. J. McAlester's store about 10 o'clock that morning. The people of the settlement turned out to see the dead bodies and there were gasps and murmurs over the spectacle of horror, made the worse by way of the winter morning being so sunny and cheerful. It must have been a trading day for there were several wagons and horses tied up about the store. The railroad tracks ran behind it. There was little more to the place than the store building and a few smaller frame and log structures of poor description, and yet if I am not mistaken this was at that time one of the best towns in the Choctaw Nation. The store is now part of the modern little city of McAlester, Oklahoma, where for a long time "coal was king." McAlester is also the international headquarters of the Order of the Rainbow for Girls.

  There was no real doctor there at that time but there was a young Indian who had some medical training and was competent to set broken bones and dress gunshot wounds. LaBoeuf sought him out for treatment.

  I went with Rooster, who searched out an Indian policeman of his acquaintance, a Captain Boots Finch of the Choctaw Light Horse. These police handled Indian crimes only, and where white men were involved the Light Horse had no authority. We found the captain in a small log house. He was sitting on a box by a stove getting his hair cut. He was a slender man about of an age with Rooster. He and the Indian barber were ignorant of the stir our arrival had caused.

  Rooster came up behind the captain and goosed him in the ribs with both hands and said, "How is the people's health, Boots?"

  The captain gave a start and reached for his pistol, and then he saw who it was. He said, "Well, I declare, Rooster. What brings you to town so early?"

  "Is this town? I was thinking I was out of town."

  Captain Finch laughed at the gibe. He said, "You must have traveled fast if you are here on that Wagoner's Switch business."

  "That is the business right enough."

  "It was little Ned Pepper and five others. I suppose you know that."

  "Yes. How much did they get?"

  "Mr. Smallwood says they got $17,000 cash and a packet of registered mail from the safe. He has not got a total on th
e passenger claims. I am afraid you are on a cold trail here."

  "When did you last see Ned?"

  "I am told he passed through here two days ago. He and Haze and a Mexican on a round-bellied calico pony. I didn't see them myself. They won't be coming back this way."

  Rooster said, "That Mexican was Greaser Bob."

  "Is that the young one?"

  "No, it's the old one, the Original Bob from Fort Worth."

  "I heard he was badly shot in Denison and had given up his reckless ways."

  "Bob is hard to kill. He won't stay shot. I am looking for another man. I think he is with Ned. He is short and has a black mark on his face and he carries a Henry rifle."

  Captain Finch thought about it. He said, "No, the way I got it, there was only the three here. Haze and the Mexican and Ned. We are watching his woman's house. It is a waste of time and none of my business but I have sent a man out there."

  Rooster said, "It is a waste of time all right. I know about where Ned is."

  "Yes, I know too but it will take a hundred marshals to smoke him out of there."

  "It won't take that many."

  "It wouldn't take that many Choctaws. How many were in that marshals' party in August? Forty?"

  "It was closer to fifty," said Rooster. "Joe Schmidt was running that game, or misrunning it. I am running this one."

  "I am surprised the chief marshal would turn you loose on a hunt like this without supervision."

  "He can't help himself this time."

  Captain Finch said, "I could take you in there, Rooster, and show you how to bring Ned out."

  "Could you now? Well, a Indian makes too much noise to suit me. Don't you find it so, Gaspargoo?"

  That was the barber's name. He laughed and put his hand over his mouth. Gaspargoo is also the name of a fish that makes fair eating.

  I said to the captain, "Perhaps you are wondering who I am."

  "Yes, I was wondering that," said he. "I thought you were a walking hat."

  "My name is Mattie Ross," said I. "The man with the black mark goes by the name of Tom Chaney. He shot my father to death in Fort Smith and robbed him. Chaney was drunk and my father was not armed at the time."

  "That is a shame," said the captain.

  "When we find him we are going to club him with sticks and put him under arrest and take him back to Fort Smith," said I.

  "I wish you luck. We don't want him down here."

  Rooster said, "Boots, I need a little help. I have got Haze and some youngster out there, along with Emmett Quincy and Moon Garrett. I am after being in a hurry and I wanted to see if you would not bury them boys for me."

  "They are dead?"

  "All dead," said Rooster. "What is it the judge says? Their depredations is now come to a fitting end."

  Captain Finch pulled the barber's cloth from his neck. He and the barber went with us back to where the horses were tied. Rooster told them about our scrap at the dugout.

  The captain grasped each dead man by the hair of the head and when he recognized a face he grunted and spoke the name. The man Haze had no hair to speak of and Captain Finch lifted his head by the ears. We learned that the boy was called Billy. His father ran a steam sawmill on the South Canadian River, the captain told us, and there was a large family at home. Billy was one of the eldest children and he had helped his father cut timber. The boy was not known to have been in any devilment before this. As for the other three, the captain did not know if they had any people who would want to claim the bodies.

  Rooster said, "All right, you hold Billy for the family and bury these others. I will post their names in Fort Smith and if anybody wants them they can come dig them up." Then he went along behind the horses slapping their rumps. He said, "These four horses was taken from Mr. Burlingame. These three right here belong to Haze and Quincy and Moon. You get what you can for them, Boots, and sell the saddles and guns and coats and I will split it with you. Is that fair enough?"

  I said, "You told Moon you would send his brother the money owing to him from his traps."

  Rooster said, "I forgot where he said to send it."

  I said, "It is the district superintendent of the Methodist Church in Austin, Texas. His brother is a preacher named George Garrett."

  "Was it Austin or Dallas?"

  "Austin."

  "Let's get it straight."

  "It was Austin."

  "All right then, write it down for the captain. Send this man ten dollars, Boots, and tell him his brother got cut and is buried here."

  Captain Finch said, "Are you going out by way of Mr. Burlingame's?"

  "I don't have the time," said Rooster. "I would like for you to send word out if you will. Just so Mr. Burlingame knows it was deputy marshal Rooster Cogburn that recovered them horses."

  "Do you want this girl with the hat to write it down?"

  "I believe you can remember it if you try."

  Captain Finch called out to some Indian youths who were standing nearby looking at us. I gathered he was telling them in the Choctaw tongue to see to the horses and the burial of the bodies. He had to speak to them a second time and very sharply before they would approach the bodies.

  The railroad agent was an older man named Smallwood. He praised us for our pluck and he was very much pleased to see the sacks of cash and valuables we had recovered. You may think Rooster was hard in appropriating the traps of the dead men but I will tell you that he did not touch one cent of the money that was stolen at gunpoint from the passengers of the Katy Flyer. Smallwood looked over the "booty" and said it would certainly help to cover the loss, though it was his experience that some of the victims would make exaggerated claims.

  He had known the martyred clerk personally and he said the man had been a loyal employee of the M. K. & T. for some years. In his youth the clerk had been a well-known foot racer in Kansas. He showed his spunk right to the end. Smallwood did not know the fireman personally. In both cases, said he, the M. K. & T. would try to do something for the bereaved families, though times were hard and revenue down. They say Jay Gould had no heart! Smallwood also assured Rooster that the railroad would do right by him, providing he "clean up" Lucky Ned Pepper's robber band and recover the stolen express funds.

  I advised Rooster to get a written statement from Smallwood to that effect, along with an itemized, timed and dated receipt for the two sacks of "booty." Smallwood was wary about committing his company too far but we got a receipt out of him and a statement saying that Rooster had produced on that day the lifeless bodies of two men "whom he alleges took part in said robbery." I think Smallwood was a gentleman but gentlemen are only human and their memories can sometimes fail them. Business is business.

  Mr. McAlester, who kept the store, was a good Arkansas man. He too commended us for our actions and he gave us towels and pans of hot water and some sweet-smelling olive soap. His wife served us a good country dinner with fresh buttermilk. LaBoeuf joined us for the hearty meal. The medical-trained Indian had been able to remove all the big splinters and lead fragments and he had bound the arm tightly. Naturally the limb remained stiff and sore, yet the Texan enjoyed a limited use of it.

  When we had eaten our fill, Mr. McAlester's wife asked me if I did not wish to lie down on her bed for a nap. I was sorely tempted but I saw through the scheme. I had noticed Rooster talking to her on the sly at the table. I concluded he was trying to get shed of me once again. "Thank you, mam, I am not tired," said I. It was the biggest story I have ever told!

  We did not leave right away because Rooster found that his horse Bo had dropped a front shoe. We went to a little shed kept by a blacksmith. While waiting there, LaBoeuf repaired the broken stock of his Sharps rifle by wrapping copper wire around it. Rooster hurried the smith along with the shoeing, as he was not disposed to linger in the settlement. He wished to stay ahead of the posse of marshals that he knew was even then scouring the brush for Lucky Ned Pepper and his band.

  He said to me, "Sis, the time has c
ome when I must move fast. It is a hard day's ride to where I am going. You will wait here and Mrs. McAlester will see to your comfort. I will be back tomorrow or the next day with our man."

  "No, I am going along," said I.

  LaBoeuf said, "She has come this far."

  Rooster said, "It is far enough."

  I said, "Do you think I am ready to quit when we are so close?"

  LaBoeuf said, "There is something in what she says, Cogburn. I think she has done fine myself. She has won her spurs, so to speak. That is just my personal opinion."

  Rooster held up his hand and said, "All right, let it go. I have said my piece. We won't have a lot of talk about winning spurs."

  We departed the place around noon, traveling east and slightly south. Rooster called the turn when he said "hard riding." That big long-legged Bo just walked away from the two ponies, but the weight began to tell on him after a few miles and Little Blackie and the shaggy pony closed the distance on him ere long. We rode like the very "dickens" for about forty minutes and then stopped and dismounted and walked for a spell, giving the horses a rest. It was while we were walking that a rider came up hallooing and overtook us. We were out on a prairie and we saw him coming for some little distance.

  It was Captain Finch, and he brought exciting news. He told us that shortly after we had left McAlester's, he received word that Odus Wharton had broken from the basement jail in Fort Smith. The escape had taken place early that morning.

  Here is what happened. Not long after breakfast two trusty prisoners brought in a barrel of clean sawdust for use in the spittoons of that foul dungeon. It was fairly dark down there and in a moment when the guards were not looking the trusties concealed Wharton and another doomed murderer inside the barrel. Both men were of slight stature and inconsiderable weight. The trusties then carried the two outside and away to freedom. A bold daylight escape in a fat barrel! Some clever "stunt"! The trusties ran off along with the convicted killers and very likely drew good wages for their audacity.