The Saga of Henry Starr by Robert J. Conley

Author:Robert J. Conley [Conley, Robert J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-82231-4
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2012-07-11T04:00:00+00:00

17

Henry Starr and Kid Wilson were the last two members of the gang to arrive back from Bentonville at Cheney’s house. The wagon was there, and a quick look around revealed that everyone was accounted for except one.

“Where’s Link?” asked Henry.

“We dropped him off with some folks to look after him,” said Watt. “He’s shot up awful bad.”

Henry thought about Link and the number of bullets that must have been in his body. He could still see in his mind the image of the one eye shot out. A part of Henry felt bad for Link. Another part told him to reject the thought. Henry had never been close to Link, had never really felt anything for him. Link, like all the rest—all the rest except, perhaps, Kid Wilson—was a convenience. Link and the others were also part of the wave of unwelcome invaders who were changing the face of the Cherokee Nation. Henry could easily imagine a time in the not too distant future when his homeland would no longer be recognizable to him. He thought all of this in an instant, and he rejected any thoughts of concern for Link. The pause in the conversation was only a few seconds.

“Okay,” said Henry, his mind back on business, “let’s see what we got.”

All the loot sacks were produced and their contents emptied onto the table. A quick but careful count was made.

“Eleven thousand five hundred,” Henry announced. “Well, boys, it’s a fair haul. We’ll split it up, and then we’re going to have to split up this team.”

“What for?” asked Frank Cheney.

“Hell,” said Watt, “we just got started.”

“I know,” said Henry, “but we don’t want to push our luck. There will be deputies all over this country looking for us, and it’s only a matter of time before they get us. The Dalton boys have been wiped out up at Coffeyville, Kansas, and Cherokee Bill is sitting in jail over at Fort Smith waiting to hang. They don’t have anyone left to chase but us, and they want us pretty badly. We’ll each have better chances if we split up.”

Watt and Cheney seemed still inclined to argue, until Kid Wilson’s quiet but somehow commanding voice broke into the conversation.

“Henry’s right,” said Wilson. “We’d better split up.”

Henry Starr had only thought that the countryside had been crawling with deputies when they had gotten after him for the twelve-hundred-dollar reward. The Starr Gang did split up and ride off in different directions, but the deputies were on all of their trails. Henry, Frank, and Kid Wilson rode off together. Watt rode alone, as did Happy Jack. Bud Tyler, having grown used to his role of teamster, kept the wagon and drove away in it to vanish in the vast numbers of white squatters and renters who were swelling the population of the Cherokee Nation. In almost no time Henry and his companions ran into a posse of sixteen, but managed to elude it after some hard riding. The unfortunate Link Cumplin

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