Terrible Ted was an ex-Union soldier now living in San Francisco. Terrible Ted started his career with the US Army in 1845 just before the Siege of Mexico City and left the US Army shortly after the Civil War ended because he had had enough of being told what to do and where to go by the Army. He thought he would be happier as a civilian. Unfortunately Ted bounced around from job to job never really feeling like he fit in as a civilian either. He seemed to always get let go after only a few weeks of working or he would quit because he and the Boss Man couldn't see eye to eye.
Jay Bird was another drifter who now found himself living in the City by the Bay. Jay Bird was the son of a businessman who had done well selling building supplies to the rapidly growing San Francisco Bay Area. Jay Bird felt he wanted to make his own way so he left his father's business and struck out to be his own man. Without the experience of his father, things had not gone well for Jay Bird and soon he found himself with no work and nearly broke.
Word of the gold had made it to San Francisco and as most stories of gold go, it had grown. The talk in San Francisco was that gold nuggets lay in plain sight in the bed of the creek that followed the main street in some town in Coyote Valley named Little Creek. Coyote Valley wasn't more than 70 miles south of San Francisco and seemed to be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Jay Bird and Terrible Ted met one night in a saloon on the Barbary Coast. At this point they were both unemployed and running low on cash and figured that gambling with the remainder of their money was the best bet to turn it all around. Jay Bird entered a saloon near the piers around nine pm and started his evening with a beer. Terrible Ted entered the same saloon about thirty minutes later and went straight to whiskey. Each man stayed at either end the bar building his nerve with alcohol for what felt like one last run. There were six tables with active poker games but no empty chairs in sight. The pots on each table were big. Big enough that if gambling didn't pay off, each man figured he could draw his gun, grab the money on the table and make a run for the door before anyone could react. The problem was there were no open tables.
Finally, at the table in the middle of the saloon two gamblers went all in on a hand of Texas Hold'em. This hand would have to open a chair at the table so Ted and Jay both threw back one more shot of whiskey each and prepared to lay it all on the line. As the final card was played, one man sank in his chair as the man across from him sat quietly with his hat pulled down so all that could be seen from under the brim was a slight grin. The grinning man had hair as white as clean bed sheets sticking out below his hat. He wore black britches and a black sack coat over a white shirt and a red vest. As he reached out and pulled the pot towards him the loser went from whimpering to yelling. He began to accuse the winner of cheating. The room grew quiet and the winner slowly reached down and slid one of his two nickel plated Colts out of its leather and laid it on the table pointing towards the hysterical loser. "I suggest you leave slowly and quietly, Friend. No one forced you to make that bet and I didn't cheat ya," said the gambler. With that, the loser slowly stood, turned and walked out without making another sound.
Jay Bird and Terrible Ted both arrived at the table at the same time. Neither man was interested in being polite and they each carried a Colt's Walker on his hip. The tension in the saloon was already high from the episode with the loser leaving and now there was one chair and two armed men who wanted it. Due to their general bad mood and the handful of shots of whiskey in each of their bellies' they palmed their Walker's. There were five men sitting at the table when Jay Bird and Terrible Ted approached but as the scene unfolded four of the men decided no card game was worth a gunfight and having seen those Walker's they didn't want to be close when they cleared leather. Before the guns were drawn, the table gained four additional empty chairs. There was one man left at the table now with a deck of cards in his hands, the winner from the previous hand. He looked the two men over and said, "Them Walker's are pretty big guns for shoot'n indoors. Why don't you men sit and play cards instead of shoot'n each other." With that he shuffled the cards and dealt out a hand of Texas Hold'em to the two men. Terrible Ted and Jay Bird sat down across from each other and ante'ed up. The dealer slid his Colt back off the table and returned it to its resting place on his right hip and said, "I sure hope I don't need this again tonight!" With that the piano started playing again and slowly the volume of the room returned to it prior level. The three men silently played the first hand of cards and let the tension fade. "Frisco Bob is my name, gentlemen," said the dealer as he won the first hand and passed the deck of cards to Jay Bird on his left.
Jay Bird shuffled and started dealing the second hand and offered up, "People call me Jay Bird."
"Pleased to meet you, Jay Bird," replied Frisco Bob. "And your name?" he directed at Terrible Ted.
Ted checked his cards and continued to size up his new companions. Ted didn't trust people easily and didn't like meeting new people. "Terrible Ted," he grumbled as he called the bet.
Frisco Bob kept the conversation going, "Are you two men willing to finish something with those Walker's or only willing to start something? If you can finish, I might have a job for ya." That got their attention.
"Jay Bird is my given name, most people I work with call me Jail Bird Jay." Jay Bird offered to keep the conversation moving in the direction it was heading.
"I've been kill'n since the Seige on Mexico City. Seems like kill'n is the only thing I am good at." Terrible Ted continued with.
The men continued to play cards. Even though there were three empty chairs at their table, no one in the saloon dared to sit with them. They were fine with that though, it gave them time to talk about jobs pulled off in the past and fortunes stolen and lost. Frisco Bob told them how he had fleeced the gold fields of Columbia and knocked off the Bank of Sonora on his way out of the Sierras.
"70 miles south of here is a small town known as Little Creek." Frisco Bob offered. "Yeah, I heard of it. It's in the Valley of the Coyotes and there's gold in the river." Jail Bird Jay replied.
"I've been to boom towns before. I don't believe that talk about gold just lying in the creek. There ain't nothing but a lot of damn hard work in a gold rush town." Ted snapped back.
"There's gold there alright, but it ain't lying in the creek, it's in the bank safe. In fact there is so much that General U.S. Grant is coming with his troops to deliver the gold to the San Francisco Mint next week." Frisco Bob said. "One mine has hit a big strike and they have been storing it up in the safe in the bank until General Grant can get there to move up here."
"You're damn crazy if you think the three of us can take on General Grant and his troops. I fought under that man in the war, he's a hell of an officer." Ted said. "Besides, his men wear the uniform of the US Army. I got no problem kill'n men for money, but I ain't about to shoot men who wear the same uniform as I did. It was bad enough shoot'n Confederate soldiers."
"I'm not talking about hitting General Grant and his men, I am talking about hitting the Bank before the gold leaves Little Creek. Grant arrives in Monterey with his men on Thursday. The Sheriff and his deputy are riding out to meet the General and plan to be back in Little Creek Saturday morning to take the gold to the San Francisco Mint. I figure Friday night is the time to make our move and hit the bank. With the Sheriff and his deputy gone, the gold will be easy pick'ns."
Terrible Ted and Jail Bird Jay looked at each other and thought for a minute. "Almost sounds too good to be true," Jail Bird questioned as he took a sip of his whiskey.
"I'm sure they'll have local folks guarding the bank but they oughta be pretty bored and maybe even drunk by Friday night and not much of a problem at all," Frisco Bob replied.
"Where did you learn all this from Frisco?" questioned Ted.
"If a man spends enough time in saloons near the Mint, he can pick a number of things up," Frisco answered.
The hour was late and the three men had been playing cards, drinking and talking for hours now. They decided to head south in the morning and discuss the details of the bank job on the trail. Frisco Bob covered the bar tab as the men were heading for door. Before they reached the door they heard yelling coming from the back of the saloon. The saloon was mostly empty by now and quieted noticeably since the peak. The yelling came from the rear. The voice was familiar but not placeable by any of the three men.
It was the gambler who lost all his money to Frisco Bob earlier in the evening. He had come in the back door now drunk with his Henry rifle and was in no mood to talk. Yelling and screaming about being cheated, he swung the rifle from side to side threatening to shoot Frisco Bob and his new compadres who were slowly making their way to the door.
Frisco Bob reached the door first. Before walking out, he turnaround and said, "I didn't cheat you!" The irate loser didn't want to hear it, he actioned the lever on his Henry and went to shoot, but Frisco was faster and drew his Colts and started shooting. The entire saloon erupted in gunfire. Jail Bird Jay and Terrible Ted each dove out the windows on either side of the door as Frisco Bob stood in the doorway with a Colt in each hand shooting the place up.
Terrible Ted rolled on the walk after diving through the window and stood up near his horse where he grabbed his rifle out of the scabbard and started firing into the saloon as his walked back towards the window. Jail Bird grabbed his side by side and did the same through the window to the left of the door. When the weapons were empty there was too much smoke in the saloon to see anything so the three men, now bonded by this gunfight, mounted their horses and headed hell bent for leather out of town using the heavy fog as cover.
To be continued. . .
Monday, March 31, 2014
HOWL AT THE MOON — Chapter 1 LITTLE CREEK
Hidden away in the coastal range of the Santa Cruz Mountains some twenty miles inland from the Big Water lies Coyote Valley. In the heart of Coyote Valley stands the town of Little Creek. Mayor Tom founded this site in the hopes of establishing a better foothold for American Democracy to take root in the heart of the new Republic. Although Alta California was included in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848, much of the land was still controlled by the native Mexican population and was distributed under Land Grants.
When Mayor Tom established Little Creek he turned to his friend Bad Eye Bobolu and asked him to be the sheriff. Little Creek started with nothing more than a saloon and sheriff's office, both run by Bad Eye Bobolu. The town folk were mostly farmers and ranchers, good, hard working people who would lend a hand to anyone in need. The town was growing and with the addition of a school and church, families were steadily moving in and settling the Valley. Not more than a year after the town was established gold was discovered just downstream from Main Street. The discovery of gold can never be suppressed even in the remote area of Coyote Valley. All too soon Little Creek was showing up on hand scratched maps and before anyone knew it, the Stage Coach was coming to town regularly. As the word of gold traveled, the town flooded with miners and treasure seekers of all kinds who had simply grabbed a shovel and headed out to strike their claim. Only small amounts of color trickled out of a handful of holes dug by these desperate men. It didn't matter much though; all it takes is a little color anywhere to keep people coming. These would-be miners came with their heads filled with dreams of riches and visions of easy money. Some stuck it out but most grew discouraged quickly and abandoned these dreams of gold after just a short time of digging. Once spring passes the rains stop and most creeks dry up and all there is left to do is hard pan until late fall when rain might fall again. Many of those who keep mining through the summer find themselves with bloody knuckles and finger tips.
One of the early residents of Little Creek was a man who went by the name of Coyote Mann, at least that is what everyone called him since he wore a coyote skin on his head. He and his wife were descendants of the Chippewa Indian from the Sault Ste Mare Tribe in Upper Michigan. Coyote Mann was a trapper and learned to work with iron by making his own traps. His skills with a hammer and anvil became more valuable than the pelts he could trap so he eventually turned to blacksmithing for a living but continued to trap for food and furs. To escape the cold winters of Michigan, Coyote Mann headed out west where skilled craftsmen were needed to help tame and settle the west. A growing town is a good place for a blacksmith. As people build their homes and businesses they need hardware for building. Coyote Mann could take a simple piece of iron and with a little heat from his coal fired forge and the pounding of his hammer he could work magic. He happened upon the Valley of the Coyotes while hunting to feed his family. He learned quickly where the best places to hunt were to find game for food and fur bearers for trapping. When he discovered the town of Little Creek in that rich, beautiful valley he moved his family there and set himself up a makeshift shop under an oak tree at the end of town and has never left since.
RW Sloan was a long time friend of Bad Eye and a man with good business sense. Knowing he would bring only good things with him, Bad Eye could not wait to tell RW of the new town he and Mayor Tom were establishing. Once gold was discovered, Little Creek needed a bank and RW Sloan was just the man to put one in. He was a self made man with a bit of financial means. This is not to say RW Sloan was loaded but he had just enough backing to get a bank going. The first step was for RW Sloan to purchase a lot to build the bank on. He knew the Bank had to be in the middle of town on Main Street to be successful and he had his eye on the lot right next to the saloon. This was really the only vacant lot left on Main Street but was owned by Harlan Applebee. Harlan had given mining a try but had not struck gold and was none too happy about it. He had secured the Main Street lot with the hopes of opening a hardware store with all the money he was going to have from mining but now Harlan Applebee wanted nothing more than to sell the lots and say good bye and good riddance to Little Creek. With the town now bustling with gold seekers, Main Street dirt commanded a handsome price. Harlan figured if he couldn't make his money from gold he would get it for the lots so the only deal RW Sloan could strike with Harlan was to purchase the lot he wanted and the adjoining lot behind it. The additional lot really had no value because it was not on Main Street but Harlan Applebee wanted full value price for both. RW Sloan was stuck between a rock and a hard place and was forced into buying both at full price. The deal took more of RW's funds than he had anticipated and he was now concerned about having what it would take to complete the bank. RW Sloan was a tenacious businessman though, and when he started something he finished it.
Now that the land for the bank was acquired, RW Sloan approached El Vaquero to build the bank building for him. He explained the financial situation he was in and hoped for the best. El Vaquero could see the bind RW had gotten himself into and felt the need to help. RW may have been a good, or even a great businessman but he knew nothing about construction. El Vaquero explained to RW that constructing a building was a little more involved than just tacking up a few boards. A bank needs to be a secure building with bars on the teller window and a safe. But before any of this could happen a foundation would need to be dug and drainage established. RW Sloan went to the Mayor the next day and explained his situation and requested a town meeting. The town founders came together in the saloon and together came up with a plan. El Vaquero and Jose would take care of the foundation and the building itself and Coyote Mann would get to work on the required iron for bars and most of all, the safe.
The idea of building the safe excited Coyote Mann. He had never taken on a project as big as building a bank safe. He literally moved his blacksmithing equipment to the lot behind the bank and went to work. Coyote Mann, El Vaquero and Jose all knew RW Sloan would not be able to pay them what their work was worth but they knew the town needed a bank if it were to keep growing and lending a hand to someone with good intentions who needed it was really what Little Creek was built on. When the work on the bank was complete, RW Sloan met with the men to discuss payment. Since Coyote Mann had moved all his equipment to the lot behind the bank and he looked pretty comfortable there, RW offered the land to him as partial payment. Land off of Main Street in Little Creek carried little value but Coyote Mann was a fair man and he could see the town was growing so he took the lot on the speculation it would have good value one day.
With the bank complete, Coyote Mann moved his blacksmithing tools back under the oak at the end of town and resumed life as it was before the excitement of building the bank. He had been busy all day every day while the bank was under construction but now had time on his hands and little work to keep himself busy. With all the talk in town of gold, Coyote Mann caught a little bit of the gold fever and he started digging a mine behind the bank. After all, he owned the lot and had nothing else to do with it right now. He pounded a stick into the ground in front of his mine and nailed a sign to the stick that said "Coyote Den Mine." He had not dug more than twenty feet into the hillside when he hit pay dirt. It started as just a little color in the bottom of his pan but the further in he got, the larger the vein became. Coyote Mann was not a drinker so while the rest of the men in the town headed to the saloon in the evening to drink, Coyote Mann would head into his mine shaft. He continued to be a blacksmith by day and a miner by night. When anyone would ask him how the mine was treating him, he would just grumble and shake his head. Everyone was so used to seeing useless holes that they figured he was about as successful as everyone else at mining. Within a couple of months of mining at night, Coyote Mann filled a small pouch with gold dust. Not wanting anyone to know about his big find, he quietly met with the RW Sloan and arranged for the gold to be stored in the bank's vault. This would even out any debt RW Sloan owed to Coyote Mann and gave him a safe place to keep the gold. As he pulled more and more gold from the hillside, Coyote Mann was glad he had built the safe so well.
To be continued. . .
When Mayor Tom established Little Creek he turned to his friend Bad Eye Bobolu and asked him to be the sheriff. Little Creek started with nothing more than a saloon and sheriff's office, both run by Bad Eye Bobolu. The town folk were mostly farmers and ranchers, good, hard working people who would lend a hand to anyone in need. The town was growing and with the addition of a school and church, families were steadily moving in and settling the Valley. Not more than a year after the town was established gold was discovered just downstream from Main Street. The discovery of gold can never be suppressed even in the remote area of Coyote Valley. All too soon Little Creek was showing up on hand scratched maps and before anyone knew it, the Stage Coach was coming to town regularly. As the word of gold traveled, the town flooded with miners and treasure seekers of all kinds who had simply grabbed a shovel and headed out to strike their claim. Only small amounts of color trickled out of a handful of holes dug by these desperate men. It didn't matter much though; all it takes is a little color anywhere to keep people coming. These would-be miners came with their heads filled with dreams of riches and visions of easy money. Some stuck it out but most grew discouraged quickly and abandoned these dreams of gold after just a short time of digging. Once spring passes the rains stop and most creeks dry up and all there is left to do is hard pan until late fall when rain might fall again. Many of those who keep mining through the summer find themselves with bloody knuckles and finger tips.
One of the early residents of Little Creek was a man who went by the name of Coyote Mann, at least that is what everyone called him since he wore a coyote skin on his head. He and his wife were descendants of the Chippewa Indian from the Sault Ste Mare Tribe in Upper Michigan. Coyote Mann was a trapper and learned to work with iron by making his own traps. His skills with a hammer and anvil became more valuable than the pelts he could trap so he eventually turned to blacksmithing for a living but continued to trap for food and furs. To escape the cold winters of Michigan, Coyote Mann headed out west where skilled craftsmen were needed to help tame and settle the west. A growing town is a good place for a blacksmith. As people build their homes and businesses they need hardware for building. Coyote Mann could take a simple piece of iron and with a little heat from his coal fired forge and the pounding of his hammer he could work magic. He happened upon the Valley of the Coyotes while hunting to feed his family. He learned quickly where the best places to hunt were to find game for food and fur bearers for trapping. When he discovered the town of Little Creek in that rich, beautiful valley he moved his family there and set himself up a makeshift shop under an oak tree at the end of town and has never left since.
RW Sloan was a long time friend of Bad Eye and a man with good business sense. Knowing he would bring only good things with him, Bad Eye could not wait to tell RW of the new town he and Mayor Tom were establishing. Once gold was discovered, Little Creek needed a bank and RW Sloan was just the man to put one in. He was a self made man with a bit of financial means. This is not to say RW Sloan was loaded but he had just enough backing to get a bank going. The first step was for RW Sloan to purchase a lot to build the bank on. He knew the Bank had to be in the middle of town on Main Street to be successful and he had his eye on the lot right next to the saloon. This was really the only vacant lot left on Main Street but was owned by Harlan Applebee. Harlan had given mining a try but had not struck gold and was none too happy about it. He had secured the Main Street lot with the hopes of opening a hardware store with all the money he was going to have from mining but now Harlan Applebee wanted nothing more than to sell the lots and say good bye and good riddance to Little Creek. With the town now bustling with gold seekers, Main Street dirt commanded a handsome price. Harlan figured if he couldn't make his money from gold he would get it for the lots so the only deal RW Sloan could strike with Harlan was to purchase the lot he wanted and the adjoining lot behind it. The additional lot really had no value because it was not on Main Street but Harlan Applebee wanted full value price for both. RW Sloan was stuck between a rock and a hard place and was forced into buying both at full price. The deal took more of RW's funds than he had anticipated and he was now concerned about having what it would take to complete the bank. RW Sloan was a tenacious businessman though, and when he started something he finished it.
Now that the land for the bank was acquired, RW Sloan approached El Vaquero to build the bank building for him. He explained the financial situation he was in and hoped for the best. El Vaquero could see the bind RW had gotten himself into and felt the need to help. RW may have been a good, or even a great businessman but he knew nothing about construction. El Vaquero explained to RW that constructing a building was a little more involved than just tacking up a few boards. A bank needs to be a secure building with bars on the teller window and a safe. But before any of this could happen a foundation would need to be dug and drainage established. RW Sloan went to the Mayor the next day and explained his situation and requested a town meeting. The town founders came together in the saloon and together came up with a plan. El Vaquero and Jose would take care of the foundation and the building itself and Coyote Mann would get to work on the required iron for bars and most of all, the safe.
The idea of building the safe excited Coyote Mann. He had never taken on a project as big as building a bank safe. He literally moved his blacksmithing equipment to the lot behind the bank and went to work. Coyote Mann, El Vaquero and Jose all knew RW Sloan would not be able to pay them what their work was worth but they knew the town needed a bank if it were to keep growing and lending a hand to someone with good intentions who needed it was really what Little Creek was built on. When the work on the bank was complete, RW Sloan met with the men to discuss payment. Since Coyote Mann had moved all his equipment to the lot behind the bank and he looked pretty comfortable there, RW offered the land to him as partial payment. Land off of Main Street in Little Creek carried little value but Coyote Mann was a fair man and he could see the town was growing so he took the lot on the speculation it would have good value one day.
With the bank complete, Coyote Mann moved his blacksmithing tools back under the oak at the end of town and resumed life as it was before the excitement of building the bank. He had been busy all day every day while the bank was under construction but now had time on his hands and little work to keep himself busy. With all the talk in town of gold, Coyote Mann caught a little bit of the gold fever and he started digging a mine behind the bank. After all, he owned the lot and had nothing else to do with it right now. He pounded a stick into the ground in front of his mine and nailed a sign to the stick that said "Coyote Den Mine." He had not dug more than twenty feet into the hillside when he hit pay dirt. It started as just a little color in the bottom of his pan but the further in he got, the larger the vein became. Coyote Mann was not a drinker so while the rest of the men in the town headed to the saloon in the evening to drink, Coyote Mann would head into his mine shaft. He continued to be a blacksmith by day and a miner by night. When anyone would ask him how the mine was treating him, he would just grumble and shake his head. Everyone was so used to seeing useless holes that they figured he was about as successful as everyone else at mining. Within a couple of months of mining at night, Coyote Mann filled a small pouch with gold dust. Not wanting anyone to know about his big find, he quietly met with the RW Sloan and arranged for the gold to be stored in the bank's vault. This would even out any debt RW Sloan owed to Coyote Mann and gave him a safe place to keep the gold. As he pulled more and more gold from the hillside, Coyote Mann was glad he had built the safe so well.
To be continued. . .
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