in himself. Even at 46, after chasing outlaws on horses for years, he still stood erect and proud. The kids were in bed and this was their special time together. There were some clouds in the sky and the sun was painting them in beautiful shades of red and gold. He looked at her and felt really lucky to be home with her again.
Jennie had been educated in the mission schools in Indian Territory, while living in the Creek Nation and later working with Chief Opothle Yahola, chief of the Upper Creeks. She was gradually teaching Bass to read and write. He could already do numbers in his head. The ranch financials and their savings were all kept in his head.
The next morning Bass was greeted with biscuits and gravy along with fresh eggs and ham. Everything that they needed was produced on the ranch. In addition to the horses, they had chickens, turkeys, geese, goats, pigs and one mule. They used the mule to plow the garden. They owned pastureland in the valley below that produced good grazing and an ample supply of hay for the winter. They managed to raise enough corn to feed the children and all of the other livestock. The horses that Bass rode got corn and oats when they had them. The only thing missing was a dog. Bass missed Bandit and vowed to find another dog soon. Bandit would always wake him up if anything was wrong.
After breakfast, Bass made his tour of the farm on Rusty, riding alongside Green on another sorrel. He inspected the barns and stalls like a general barking out instructions about what could be done better to Green, who passed those instructions down to the kids. They were always happy to see him come home, but were somewhat relieved when he left. He kept them all running when he was there and expected perfection.
As they passed Green’s house, Bass’s sister Jane came out to greet him and let him know that she had a brand new suit of clothes for him to wear on his next trip. Some would say that it was silly for a lawman to wear a suit while in pursuit. Many times, he would have to cross waterways and sometimes crawl on his hands and knees to capture criminals, but he would not budge on the clothing. It made him feel special when he put on a suit that he knew took Jane weeks to finish. It made Jane feel special to have a brother that took pride in wearing what she made. It also made her proud that Bass trusted her husband with his prized livestock and with running his business and picking out the animals. Bass was gone for weeks at a time chasing bad guys, so he was happy to have someone like Green to take care of everything when he was gone.
After his tour, he sat down with Green to discuss the business. “It seems to me that we’re going to have to add to the stables,” Bass said matter-of-factly, “when we add those 10 horses to the herd. And we may have to move more horses down the hill to our other pastures. I’ve saved enough money to buy some more land if it comes down to that, but I think we’ll be O.K. for the time being.”
“I think we need to start checking around to see if we can buy some more land,” Green said, “we may not be able to find land for sale when we need it. We should probably add more land than we need when we have a chance. I heard about another 100 acres of pasture that might be for sale in a month or two that touches our property in the valley. The man who owned it died and his children are going to auction it off. They don’t live here any more and don’t care anything about the land or the house. We could either tear the house down, or use it to store hay. The metal roof looks like it is in good shape. We might have to tear a few walls down to make more room, but I don’t think they are load bearing. If they are, we can put up some poles for support.”
“All right,” Bass answered, “why don’t you keep an eye on that and go ahead and bid on it when the time comes. We can probably buy it for $5 an acre, but I’d go as high as $10 per acre, since it has a house on it. I plan on continuing to buy horses when I can and sell as few as I need to, as long as we make a good profit on them.”
“Speaking of that,” Green said, “the army wanted to buy 10 horses from us, for their officers to ride, but they only wanted to pay about $50 per horse for them. I didn’t think that’d be enough and told them so.”
“We don’t have any horses I’d sell for that,” Bass allowed, “they’ll either have to come up in price or look for horses somewhere else.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Green replied. “They’re still thinking about it. One of the officers really wanted Silver, but I told him Silver was not for sale for any price. He was willing to pay $50 more out of his pocket to buy that horse.”
“You were right,” Bass said, “he didn’t have enough money to buy Silver. He’s mine to ride and he’ll produce some really fine colts that we can get good money for. That makes him worth a lot of money to me.”
Bass really enjoyed being home for about a week. Then, something inside him that he could not explain, began to make him restless. He guessed he had become addicted to the excitement of being on the hunt. He enjoyed hunting outlaws as much as some men liked hunting rabbits.
After being home for about a week, he decided it was time to ride back to Fort Smith and see what Judge Parker had for him to do. Jennie always hated to see him pack up and leave, but she knew that was the way he was when they married, and knew that’s how he made a living. Jennie worried that he’d be hurt or killed. He worried about that a little himself. He couldn’t imagine making a living any other way and he never thought much about retiring, even though he knew that he probably had enough money saved and enough income from selling horses to support a good retirement.
There were tearful goodbyes as he left the ranch and headed to the courthouse in Fort Smith. He’d decided to give Rusty some time off and had Green saddle another one of his sorrels that he called “Midnight.” Midnight was such a dark brown that he was almost black. He had a white patch on his forehead that was shaped like a diamond. Midnight was not as fast as Silver but was a little faster than Rusty.
On his way to meet U. S. Marshal Colonel Thomas Boles, Bass thought back to the terrible smell that used to rise up into the courthouse and marshal’s office from the old jail cells below. The old jail in Fort Smith had long been known as “Hell on the Border”. It had been located under the courtroom and marshal’s office and was two large rooms about 29 feet by 55 feet each. The prisoners were allowed to mingle with each other in these two large spaces. The jail resembled a dungeon. It could hold up to 150 prisoners. There were white men and negroes and Indians all mingled together. Bedding was moldy and the place had smelled like urine and feces. Hell on the Border was a good name for it. Thankfully it was now empty and cleaner.
In 1877, a new three story brick jail was built for $75,000 next to the courthouse. Each floor had 24 cells, 5 by 8 feet, each having 2 iron cots, one over the other. Each cell had an iron door. The lower floor was designated “Murderers’ Row.” Judge Parker sentenced 172 men to be hanged, but only 88 were eventually hanged. Of the 88 who were hung, 39 were white, 26 were Indians and 23 were black.
Complaints against outlaws had to be made in person in Fort Smith. So if the complaints were by someone in Indian territory, they might have to travel two hundred miles to file it. Warrants were then sworn out and accumulated before taking them to the U.S. Marshal’s office to be served. An estimated 90 percent of the wanted men were murderers, cattle rustlers and horse thieves. The murders may have been committed in a bank robbery or a train robbery or in the process of theft. Many of them already had a reward offered for them. Sometimes, a marshal would arrest someone out in the territory and had to write to the marshal’s office to get a writ issued by Judge Parker before bringing them in to the jail.
It was common knowledge that Bass could not read or write before he married Jennie, but he managed to get others to write his letters requesting writs. He would also have someone read him the writs that he was serving. After arresting someone on a writ, he would find someone to identify them to make sure he had arrested the right person. He never arrested the wrong person. Over time, he had a good enough memory that he could identify enough words to be able to do his job. What he lacked in training to read and write, he made up for by his memory. He had never been accused of being stupid. And his wife, Jennie, who had been taught to read and write, was gradually teaching him.
Marshal Boles told Bass: “I have 11 warrants here that need to be served and the parties brought back to Fort Smith, live or dead. I have a warrant for Chub