Wanted Man

Wanted man in California

Wanted man in Buffalo

Wanted man in Kansas City

Wanted man in Ohio

Wanted man in Mississippi

Wanted man in old Cheyenne

Wherever you might look tonight you might see this wanted man

(Written by Bob Dylan, sung by Johnny Cash)

“Heard you’re looking for a cowhand.” The man with a limp approached Mr. Fredericks who was talking to his foreman Mr. Connors.  He looked directly at Mr. Fredericks and then a quick glance at Connors. 

“Could always use good help.” Lester Fredericks nodded before spitting a stream from the tobacco he was chewing. “Whacha name, Kid?” 

The question made him pause before answering, “Conway.  Earl Conway.” 

“Tell ya what Conway, Earl Conway, let’s see whacha can do.” Lester smiled and turned his head to where a couple of cowhands were goofing off with a lasso. “Ben and Jerod.”

“Yeah boss.” The lanky one still holding his rope answered as he walked toward the three men leaning on the coral fence. 

“Jerod, I want you and Ben to release Diablo.  We got us a new fella who says he’s looking for work.” Lester spit again, almost baptizing Jerod’s snakeskin boots. Jerod danced away from the spit and let it land in the dust.

“Diablo?” Jerod shook his head.

“Did I stutter?” Lester spit again this time he was aiming and hit his target.  Jerod looked down at his handmade boots as if his boss had just scribbled over the Mona Lisa. “Get that bull into the corral so Earl here can show us what he’s got.” 

“Yessir.” Jerod nodded and walked away as quickly as he could in case his boss let another stream fly in his direction.  “C’mon Ben, let’s get Diablo.” 

“All-righty.” Ben’s face reflected his fear of the bull they were about to bring into the corral.  

“Kid, this bull has killed about four of my men.” Lester spit, “And he’s mean and as crafty as a snake.”

“No problem, sir, I can handle him.” Earl mounted his horse, a Palomino known to have an even temperament.

“We shall see.” Lester glanced at Connors, “Whadda think, Doug?”

“I think the kid is using an alias.” Doug shrugged.

“How so?” Lester asked.

“I watched his face when he said his name.  His name ain’t Conway, Earl Conway.” Doug shook his head and then leaned against the fence as Diablo was led out into the corral.  True to his name, the bull fought Jerod and Ben who were mounted on their horses, both holding the rope tied around the beast’s neck.  As soon as they had him put where they wanted him, Ben and Jerod got out of the corral as fast as they could. 

Diablo shook his massive head from which two very sharp horns were anchored. Even from across the corral, they could see his anger and Ferocity as the bull shook his head.

“Go get ‘em, kid.” Lester pointed at his bull. Earl Conway did not waste a minute as he brought his horse into the corral and confronted the bull. Diablo let out a war cry as he lowered his head and charged the mounted cowboy.  His horse sidestepped Diablo who went rushing by like a train.  Trying to stop, Diablo’s horns battered the wooden fence.

Meanwhile, Earl sat mounted on his horse with a lasso dangling from his hands.  Diablo readied for another charge.  Reaching a few feet before contact, Earl dropped the rope over Diablo’s horns as his horse sidestepped the charging bull.  As Diablo charged by, the lasso slipped from his horns to his neck.  Seeing this, Earl pulled hard on the lasso.  Diablo fell, crying out as his head hit the ground.

Running to the stunned bull, Earl tied Diablo’s legs together.

“Looks like the kid knows what he’s doing.” Lester laughed.

Given some blankets and a pillow, Earl entered the bunkhouse where Jerod and Ben were playing cards.  They looked up at him when he entered.

“Ya done good, kid.” Jerod acknowledged.

“Yeah.” Ben concurred, “That bull is a mean one.  It takes a lot to bring that brute down.” 

“I’ve been doin’ this for a long time, fellas.” He put his blankets down on a bare mattress that appeared to be vacant. 

“Whacha name?” Jerod asked.

“Earl Conway.”  He shook Jerod’s hand.

“Glad to have part of the team.” Ben shook Earl’s hand after Jerod. 

“I’m Jerod and this here is Ben.” Jerod nodded.

“Good to metcha you both.  Looks like we’re goin’ to be sharin’ a bunkhouse.” Earl stretched out on his new bed.

“I hate to be the one to tell ya this, but things aren’t always so rosy around here.” Jerod tilted his head.

“Aw Jer, whacha gotta go strartin’ this for?” Ben sat on his bunk, putting his head in his hands. 

“C’mon Ben, the fella’s gotta know.” Jerod held out his hands.

“Range war?” Earl nodded.

“Howja know?” Jerod was shocked that the new guy knew.

“Heard about it when I was passin’ through town.” Earl put his hat over his eyes, “When you’ve been through what I’ve been through, you keep your ear close to the ground.” 

“Wise.” Ben acknowledged.  

“It is wise to know who’s shootin’ atcha.” Earl said as he fell asleep. 

“That new guy, Earl, seems to know a few things.” Connor said as he put his boots on the footrest.

“I gotta admit, I don’t trust him.” Lester put some chewing tobacco into his mouth, “We’ve got a sweet deal goin’ on and I don’t want some stranger ruinin’ it.” 

“He doesn’t strike me as the intelligent kind.” Connor put his arms behind his head as he viewed the picturesque sunset from where he was sitting. 

“I’m tellin’ ya, Mitch, this fella is trouble.” Lester spit over the porch rail like his wife Sarah had lectured him about.

“Why dija hire him?” 

“You saw what he did to that mean-tempered bull.” He spit again, but it did not make it over the rail, “Sarah is gonna have my hide. Anyway, it’s best to keep your enemies where you can see ‘em.” 

Earl had one of his nightmares again where he would speak to people who were not there.  Some of the others in the bunkhouse were light sleepers and woke up when he started shouting.

“Who were ya dreamin’ about?” Jerod asked as they all got ready for another day on the ranch.

“Did I shout?” He asked.

“Yup, kept tellin’ ‘em not to do it.  Do what?” Ben was checking his lasso.

“It’s just something that happened a long time ago.” Earl checked his saddle to make sure it was fastened properly. 

“What was it?” Jerod asked.

“I’d rather not say.  It happened a long time ago and I don’t like talkin’ about it.” He nodded his head to one side.

“Are you gonna wake us up every night screaming like that?” Jerod raised an eyebrow.

“Naw, I don’t have those nightmares very often.” He assured them.

“We got to ride up to Abilene.” Connor appeared as if he was a ghost. “It’s three days on the Chisholm Trail.  Be sure to pack your bags.” 

“It’s a heck of a haul.  We got about fifty head that need to be taken.” Jerod sighed.

“What’s the problem?” Earl asked after seeing Jerod’s despondent expression.

“Last few times on the trail, we got ambushed by Carson’s gang.” Ben explained. 

Earl began to understand why the doom and gloom had settled on the ranch.  He knew that ranchers could be greedy and being able to hijack some of the herd meant good money paid in Abilene regardless of where the cattle had come from and how.  

“Last time along the trail, we got bushwhacked and lost three good men.” Jerod mounted his horse.

“Cattle are ready to travel.” Connor appeared once again.  He was dressed for the drive with a Colt hanging from his holster.

“Let’s get them ready to move out!” Jerod shouted to the others who were milling about.

“So, where are you from, Earl?” Connor asked him with an iron gaze, “I have this feelin,’ I’ve seen you before.” 

“I kinda doubt it.” Earl mounted his horse, “This is the first time I’ve been in these parts.” 

“Where dija come from?” 

“St. Louis.” Earl answered without hesitation. 

“I have an aunt from there.” Connor smiled, but it was not from amusement rather from his natural suspicion of Earl. 

The first twenty miles were through the flat semi arid landscape of sage and prairie grass as well as the hard-baked soil and gravel.  After twenty miles, the horses began to struggle and stumble a bit.  Connor called for a short rest.  

“Hold your hands high where I can see them.” The man with the bandana pulled over his nose and mouth demanded.  He was holding a Winchester rifle as the two stagecoach drivers held their hands high like he demanded.  One of them made a clumsy move to retrieve his gun, but the masked gunman fired and the man fell from the stagecoach into the dried grass.  “He shouldn’t have done that.” 

“How are you doin’?” Jerod sat next to Earl on the ground.

“Fine.” He sighed, “This country is pretty rugged.” 

“Oh, it gets worse.” Ben pointed to the tablelands ahead. “We have to get up those canyons.” 

Earl looked to what Ben had pointed to.  The skies were dark and foreboding over the plateaus.  

“Sometimes it can rain like it did for Noah.” Jerod raised an eyebrow. “Chain lightning can be daunting when you’re on the trail.” 

When the man got to Tulsa, he had a bag of money in his saddlebags, but there was a wanted poster with his face on it hanging from the general store offering five hundred dollars for him dead or alive.  Walking up to the post, he ripped the poster down and wadded it up in his hands.

He never intended to be a desperado, but sometimes fate and destiny worked against God-fearing folks, putting them on the path in the opposite direction.  He could not blame anyone at this point.  It was his finger on the trigger that killed another man who would not make it home for dinner.  

He also knew if he kept following this trail, sooner or later he would come to the end of the trail eventually.  He did not look forward to that day, but knew in his heart, he had it coming. 

“Earl!  C’mon, we’re movin’ out.” Connor’s shadow fell over him as he lay prone on the ground.  He nodded and got to his feet.  

“Be right there.” He found his horse tied to one of the skeletal cottonwood trees.  

It wasn’t twenty minutes later when he heard gunfire from his place at the rear of the herd making sure there were no stragglers. Men dove behind the rocks as bullets rained down on them from concealed places along the crevasses and crags. 

He watched as a man fell from his horse with a chest wound.  Dismounting quickly, he ran over to the wounded man.

“Me name is Juan.” He grunted as Earl tried to stop the blood flow with a piece of Juan’s shirt.  Juan gritted his teeth, but Earl could feel the life flowing out of him.  Juan’s eyes rolled back in his head and Earl knew he was gone.  

“Put your hands where I can see them.” A sharp voice from behind him demanded. It was Marshall Furgus missing a few fingers from a Civil War battle when his gun exploded in his hand while riding his horse for the union cavalry.  

With the lightning reflexes of a young man, he turned and fired into the lawman’s chest.  He stood there for a moment, his eyes glaring at his killer, before falling into the street of the town.  

With no time to spare, he jumped on his horse and rode into the hills where he spent the night trying to keep dry from a deluge of rain falling from the heavens. 

As he shivered in the cold rain, he vowed he would find a new trail and get away from the trail he was on. 

He saw some of the men shooting at them, advancing and then hiding behind the rocks. Watching closely, Earl raised his rifle and fired.  He saw one of the men fall. The rest began retreating as Earl took another shot but could not see if he had hit anyone.  All he knew was the rest of them were in full retreat.  

“We done it.” Connor said, daring to come to his feet.  The rest of them stood up and waved their hats as they watched the desperados clear out of the area. 

“Good shootin.’” Jerod nodded.

“They got Juan.” Earl pointed to where he lay.

“Shame.” Jerod removed his hat, “But we been worse off.” 

They stopped in the tablelands to camp for the night. Earl could see the lights of Abilene in the distant flatlands below.  Tomorrow, they would be there, Earl nodded as his eyes closed.  Sleep was soon upon him.  

Earl was woken by someone kicking him.  When his eyes fluttered open, he looked up and saw two armed men standing over him. 

“Get to your feet, Slim.” A man with dark skin and a bandana ordered. 

“Long time.” The other man smiled.  His skin was as dark as the other man’s. 

“Two Horses, is that you?” Earl squinted as the sky was being lit by the rising sun. 

“Yes Slim, it’s me.” He laughed.  

Earl looked around, but none of the other men from the cattle drive were there and neither was the herd.

“You must get up sleepy head.” Two Horses squatted down and put his hand on Earl’s cheek, “I told the others who you were.  I told them to leave you for us.” 

“Did you really think you’d get away?” The other man asked.

“Well, I was hoping.” Earl stood up.

“You are one of us and always will be.” Two Horses nodded. 

“You remember the old days Slim Walks with the Sun?” The other man asked.

“I’ll never forget them, Runs with Coyotes.” Earl shook his head.  

“You rode with these white men who have desecrated our land.” Two Horses shook his heads, “You even changed your name to a white man’s name?”

“I had to.” Earl held out his hands.

“Bury Earl here.” Two Horses pointed, “And come ride with us again.” 

“I’m not the warrior I used to be.” Slim bowed his head, “I cannot walk a straight line after I got shot in a raid.  The doctor was drunk when he tried to remove the bullet.  I am not the same man.”  

“Come with me.” Two Horses led Slim to the edge of the canyon.  On the trail lay what was left of the cowboys. “This morning when they tried to run, we caught them.  Sitting ducks on the trail.” 

“We took their cattle because they took our buffalo.” Runs with Coyotes explained. 

“Soon they will send the horse soldiers to take us back to where we belong.” Two Horses put his arm around Slim.

“Soon they will send the horse soldiers to take us back to where we belong.” Two Horses put his arm around Slim.

He felt bad for those men lying dead on the trail.  He had been one of them until the end.  His nightmare would continue to haunt him. 

As he stood there, he began to understand that there was no escaping the past.  There was no escaping who you were.  There was no escaping what was waiting for you at the end of the trail. He would forever be a wanted man.