Chapter20
Fort Laramie Wyoming 1875
Yellow Hair woke to a light drizzle and fog. Moisture hung in the air like a wet shirt on a man’s back. The spring rains had been heavy and the air was damp and fragrant. As he sat up, he noticed a herd of close to three hundred wild horses grazing on the other side of Horse Creek. Kodah and the wild horses would occasionally nicker back and forth while grazing. Yellow Hair took the hobbles off and led her under a stand of trees and dried her with his blanket before heading out toward Fort Laramie.
The skies were low and gray as he approached the Fort and it wasn’t long before a cold drizzle started to fall. He felt the steady drip of the rain on his head and shoulders as he rode along the dark and muddy trail. The dampness caused a stiffness in his shoulders that felt like a weight pulling at his muscles, trying to drag him down.
It wasn’t long after he rode through the gate, that the fog started to lift. Inside the fort was a self-contained community designed to survive long sieges. The barracks, livery stable, storehouses, kitchens and repair shops were built within a fort so they could be defended from hostile Indian attacks.
Esben heard hammers pounding and noticed a lot of activity going on in the north corner of the fort. They were building a gallows and a crowd of close to twenty people were milling around. The livery was on the west side of the fort and that is where he headed. He dismounted as the blacksmith walked out to greet him.
“I need a stall for tonight, if you have one,” Yellow Hair said
. “Sure, it’ll cost ‘ya fifty cents. That includes hay, oats and fresh water.”
After paying the blacksmith, Yellow Hair headed toward the civilian barracks. Fort Laramie was one of the few army forts situated on the western frontier that provided quarters for civilians passing through. After checking in the room and depositing his gear, he went to find someone who might have seen Olive. He walked over to where the small crowd was watching the construction of the gallows. Approaching an old man standing toward the back of the crowd he asked, “What’s this about?”
The man had long sandy red hair hanging down to his shoulders and had his hat pushed back on his head, showing a receding hairline. He had a beard and his shirt was stained and dirty with frayed cuffs.
“It’s our first legal hangin’ in these parts young fella”, he replied. “Ol Jim Averell from Medicine Bow was convicted of rustlin’ some cattle from the Carter Cattle Company. Sheriff Garcia is in charge as General Cook and his men won’t be back for a couple of days. They headed north to bring back Spotted Tail, that Brule Chief. They think that will calm down them Sioux who have been raidin’ settlers hear abouts. The Sioux were mighty riled up after them six Injuns were found dead along the Snake River a year ago. They been raidin’ ranches all over this territory and the General wants to put a stop to it.”
Yellow Hair was aware of the killing. One of the men was the father of Little Elk, his friend from when his father and his people would hunt the Big Horn Basin with the Brule. He was a quiet boy, but a brave hunter. They enjoyed many days together hunting and fishing with their fathers. Little Elk was one of the few Brule who didn’t seem to care that Yellow Hair was white. He actually came to his defense at times when other young braves challenged his right to be there. He never forgot that and felt sorry for Little Elk’s loss. By avenging Gray Wolf’s death he would be avenging the death of Little Elk’s father as well.
“The hangin’s at high noon tomorrow. It’ll cost ya a quarter to watch if you’re interested.”
“Might be”, he replied, “you know an Isom Prentice Olive?”
“Heard of ‘im. He’s the sumbitch they think killed them Brule’s. Nobody can prove it though. I hear he is as mean as they come.”
“You see him around here lately?”
He laughed. “They said he was down visiting Cattle Kate’s ladies. She’s ol’ Jim Averell’s woman. They think she’s a rustler too but they don’t want to hang her and have her women leave town. I didn’t see Olive up here though. He mighta been, I just didn’t see ‘im. I arrived late Sunday night and slept purty late Monday morning.”
“Where is Cattle Kate’s place?”
The old sodbuster chuckled and said, “You can’t miss it. The house is made out of pressed pink bricks. She calls it the ‘Old Homestead’. You won’t get nothin’ outa Kate. She protects her guests almost as much as she protects her girls. She is one tough woman.”
“By the way, the name’s Merle Miller, he said sticking out a big callused hand. What’s yours?”
“Esben, but most folks call me Yellow Hair.”
“Ya, I can see why. Nice meetin’ you, Yellow Hair. Might see ya’ tomorrow at the hangin.”
“You might, Merle. Nice meetin’ you as well.”
Yellow Hair had witnessed a couple of hangings and neither was very pretty. The last hanging he witnessed was Jack Ryan’s, a small rancher from Natwick, accused of rustlin’ cattle from the VR Ranch along Deer Creek. The rope was too short, breaking Ryan’s neck and he strangled to death. The other one he was with Grey Wolf and they saw the hanging of a robber by the name of George “Big Nose” Curry, a member of a gang of road agents and horse thieves called the Wild Bunch out of the Hole in the Wall by Chugwater. At his hanging, Big Nose struggled so hard at the end of the rope his ears were torn off.
Curry rode with the likes of Frank McKinney, Joe Manse, Jack Campbell and Dutch Burrs, all of them known throughout Wyoming and Montana. They robbed pay wagons and stages from Rattlesnake Canyon clear up to Carbon County Montana. Dutch Burrs was the first to be caught. He was dragged off a train and hanged from a telegraph pole just outside of Carbon.
As Yellow Hair walked away he was thinking that Isom would have to visit the fort to pick up provisions before heading out. He might even be staying around for the hanging tomorrow. If he was here, he probably wasn’t alone and Yellow Hair would have to plan where and when to kill him where no one would be around. He surely couldn’t do it in the fort.