The Journal of Robert Cassidy (April 7, 8)

Sunday April 7, 1875; Several hours outside of Independence
Today was a peaceable day. All three preachers spoke, making for a long morning. The first preacher was like to induce snoring, but Reverend Smith perked things up again. Their zeal for spreading the word to the benighted indians out in the territory was clear; it reminded me that we’re on a holy mission.

The afternoon was quiet, with a lot of light chores. I cooked a quiet meal, not too sharp or heavy. I baked a cake in the dutch oven fresh; tomorrow we can resupply. Malachai debated taking off for town with the gold today, but decided to wait for tomorrow when the bank will be open.

Evening services were restrained, quick and to the point. They could ha’ run on longer… my belly was full and my thoughts were comin’ slower. Some peddlers came on the camp after services, but the preachers shooed them away. Guess we’ll see ’em tomorrow.

Monday April 8, 1875; Camped in Independence
What a day! Let me tell it in some kinda order, instead of jumping ahead to the exciting part.

So, round about 2 am, Malachai was checkin’ his cattle when he come upon a man in buckskins in the middle of his cattle. He had the drop on the man, so when he telled him to clear out, he high tailed it.

After our watch last night, Malachai and Jesse gathered their cattle and started off for town before first light. When the rest of us got to town, he had already had the bar assayed and had talked to his banker friend. He was just back in town from the ranch with a paper in his pocket with the banker’s credit. Walked up to us when the train rolled into town. He gave me directions to a good wagon maker while he and James went off to negotiate on the second bar.

I looked over the wagons, talked with the shop keeper looking for a likely pair of wagons. After a while, I settled on two. Malachai came with his bank paper and signed over for ’em. Then we headed to the cattle yards, where we picked out some oxen teams. It was hot and tiring; Malachai was still dressed for the bank and wouldn’t go in the pens. The next coupla hours I was in and out of pens, chalking cattle for purchase. We lined up 24 oxen for the follow-on teams, two full teams of eight, with four spares apiece.

We were bone tired from our early start, and I was filthy with ox muck, so Malachai led us to a bath house. The three of us were well soaked and the water just starting to turn cold, when three men walked into the room. They formed a line, dangerous fellas; the bandit in the center leveled a gun at us as demanded money. Malachai asked them what they heard, asked them to step outside and we’d talk with them in a few minutes. The bandit just smiled and told us he liked things this way.

I stood up and Malachai grabbed a towel. Instead of drying hisself, Malachai threw it at the gunman. I leaped forward to grab the bandit on my side’s gun, wrestle him for it. I must ha’ been moving fast, cause my gunman shot wide. I grappled and wrested with him, there was a boom from over my shoulder and the gun dropped to the ground. I grabbed it up quick and backed away, shot wild, then hit him in the arm. He dropped, moanin’ and screamin’ for his mom.

Malachai was standing in the tub, beating the middle gunman with James’ shotgun. James had mostly disappeared, sunk low in the tub, clutching his shoulder. James’ man saw me lookin’ and turned from James and Malachai to me. Man, it was like ice– me, naked, drawing a bead on him, him movin’ quick and droppin’ his hand low. There was a shot, and I must say I’m glad my pecker was curled up in cold and fright– if it had been danglin’, it woulda been blown off.

I got myself under control and walked up on him as he tipped up a bench, tried to reload. James came out’a the water, a nasty red fountain pouring from his shoulder. My ears were ringing from all those shots in that tiny space, but I swear I heard shrieking women as I walked up.

My shot went wild, smashed into the side of the building. James though grabbed his gun down from the hook, sighted careful, and drilled the last bandit with a shot into the gut. I turned and saw Malachai drive that shotgun into the fallen bandit, right over the rim of the tub. No man could walk away from that.

The next moments are blurry, but a couple of lawmen came in. I dropped my gun and realized what happened– it all caught up with me. With us naked and them armed, it was obvious what done happened, but they asked to speak with us later. A doc came on the double and pressed a cloth over James’ wound. Malachai’s man was dead, James’ guy was out, bleeding hard from his gut, and my guy was screamin about his arm, which was bent unnatural like.

The doc took James away to dig out the bullet; the lawmen took the two surviving bandits to follow to the doc’s. Malachai and I got ourselves straight, dressed, and headed to dinner.

Word got there faster than us, but it took Malachai tellin the story to make them connect the gunfight and us. The lawman came and took our statements, then we walked with him to the doc’s. James was patched; I took his arm and guided him back to the hotel. When I was leavin’, the doc had pulled the sheet over the gut shot bandit, and was marking the last bandit’s arm for the saw.

We got James settled in bed, laudanum drunk, and legs swung up into bed. He went out like a candlewick pinched. Malachai and I went back downstairs where we told the story a couple more times, got some good liquor down our gullets. I left Malachai looking for company, while I returned to the wagon, to sleep ready should more people come thinkin’ to make off with my things.