Chapter 21
A Sunny Day for A Hanging At Fort Laramie Wyoming 1875
The next day he awoke to the bright yellow rays of sun, knifing through the window piercing his eyes. He went down for breakfast and walked around the fort watching the soldiers clean the grounds and repair their gear. The civilians were beginning to arrive for the hanging that started at noon. He decided He would attend thinking that if Olive were still around he would be there.
Yellow Hair paid his quarter and watched as the hangman, an old half-breed named Crow Dog, who used to scout for the Calvary before being shot in his left eye by a Shoshone arrow, prepare the noose and spring the trap door a couple of times making sure everything was working. At exactly high noon, Sheriff Tom Garcia and his deputy led Jim Averell out of the jail and up the stairs of the scaffold. Garcia was in his mid thirties and had been sheriff for the past five years. His dark eyes looked over the crowd as he led the prisoner to the gallows. Averell’s hands were secured behind his back. A sack was placed over his head and the noose draped around his neck. A preacher was up there with him and gave him his last rights. When the preacher finished, he walked down the steps and Crow Dog tightened the noose and stepped over to the trap door lever, looking at Sheriff Garcia. Sheriff Garcia nodded his head and Crow Dog pulled the lever. The trap door swung open and Averell’s body shot through the air, his head being torn from his body by the tremendous jerk of the rope. His head remained in the sack and fell into the pit, while his body dropped to the ground, quivering spurting blood on those nearest the scaffold. Women screamed and started to push back into the crowd.
A doctor stepped out of the crowd and bent over the twitching headless body and pronounced Jim Averell officially dead.
Well, I guess most folks could have figured that, Yellow Hair thought. He stood back and watched hoping to find Olive. As the crowd dispersed, he spotted a man fitting Olive’s description, short and overweight, walking toward the livery stable with two other men. One being a pretty big fellow, tanned and broad in the shoulders appearing to be well muscled. He was a man who looked like he made his living doing hard labor. The other was of medium build, well tanned and also a man who was used to hard work.
The blacksmith came out of the stable leading three horses, one a big Appaloosa gelding and the other two were big grulla geldings. After the three riders’ rode out, Yellow Hair approached the blacksmith asking him the names of the three men who just left.
“The short one’s I.P. Olive, the big ‘un is Major Walcott, Olive’s foreman, and the other is Tom Corlett.”
“Do you know where they are heading?”
“Not sure, but I suspect they’re headin’ back to Olive’s Circle L ranch. They’ve been in Fort Laramie for the past two days.”
“Where’s the Circle L?” Yellow Hair asked.
“Up river toward Bosler, then head east. You can’t miss it. Olive has fenced in most the land so’s nobody can get to any water. He’s been tryin’ to force all the sodbusters out of the area for a couple of years now. Ever since his daddy was kilt and he took over the operation. Not many folks like him much. I hear he is one mean little fella’.”
“Thanks, would you mind getting my horse ready? I’m going to pick up my gear. I should be back in about twenty minutes.”
“Sure will,” replied the blacksmith as Yellow Hair walked toward the barracks.
He now had an idea where they might be heading so he didn’t have to hurry to keep them in sight. He could pick up their trail easily once they left the area around Fort Laramie.
He climbed on Kodah and headed out toward Bosler to finish what he promised he would do four years ago. He was determined that he would kill Olive by the end of the week and he knew exactly how he would do it.