February 2, 1972 (12 pages)

6 The Nevada County ‘Nugget, Wednesday, February 2, 1972 .——— solu: ll (ie = —-. (Continued from last week) 4 (Note: the contents of the City of Six in this week's issue were printed out of order in the Jan. 12th and 19th issues of the Nugget. They are being republished to make it easier to straighten out your files.) However, there was no help for it, and he made preparations to leave. He threw the saddle blankets over the corpses, and propped the wounded Greaser against a tree, promising to send relief from the nearest camp, at the same time stanching the wound in a crude way. The man begged piteously not to be left alone, or atleast defenseless, and Wakefield was persuaded to give him one of the revolvers, keeping a sharp watch to see that he took no treacherous advantage of the concession. Before doing this he had packed the saddle bags on one of the horses and saddled another for his own use, driving the third before him down to the river. He had decided to ride to Marysville — the county seat and some twenty miles distant, — find the sheriff, tell his story, and deliver to the official the plunder. It was twilight by the time he had regained the river trail, dark before he had got well started on his journey; his progress was slow over the rough country until the plains were reached, and it was daylight before he arrived at his destination. Rousing the sheriff from his early orning sleep, he told his tale, to. which that official listened in pen-mouthed wonder and an incredulity that was only dispelled by the evidence of the bulging saddle bags. "So you were after the gang when you were pumping me here a while ago?” he inquired, which fact Wakefield acknowledged. "Why were you so eager to run them down?" he continued. "Of course, there is the reward, five thousand for Bell and two thousand apiece for the others; but, man, there is that much in the saddle bags, and no one would have been the wiser if you had not turned it over to me. Now," he regretfully added, sit will have to be deposited with the courts and the public administrator, and I reckon there won't be much !>ft after it is administered upon. You are a good one, to tackie that crowd alone! I'm no coward, but I don't believe I would have under. taken the job. You must have had some pretty strong motive. What was it?" _ Wakefield flushed at the question, hesitated, but recognized in the gruff official a man in whom he could confide. Asking that as little notoriety be given as possible, he took the sheriff into his confidence and briefly told him the facts of the killing of the gambler and the indignity inflicted on his wife, at the same time renoucing any interest in the blood money, or a share in the recaptured plunder. The listener at once comprehended the motives that had urged him on in his unrelenting hunt. By God, you're a man after my own heart," he exclaimed, "and I'm proud to know you, There is nobody need know the inside of this but you and me. I'll send up a deputy to look after the wounded Greaser and* fetch him here if he's alive. We will let the othet carrion rot, after we have identified them, We may as well gather in the reward; if you don't want it, I'm not so squeamish as you are, and it will help get back some of the money that I have spent trying to run them down, But say, you're a white man, if I ever met one, and you have acted so square, I don't mind letting you into a secret. I would have had Bell in a few days anyhow. You say he rode off bareback. I think I can put my hands on him now; I know the hole he has run to for safety, and it's not many miles from here. I'll bet I get word in the next twenty-four hours, It was Wakefield's turn to be astonished, and. he asked for an explanation. "Let's go over to the Magnolia and get a cocktail,-I haven't had a morning bracer, — then we will have breakfast, go back to the office, finish the business of turning over the money, and then you had better take a rest. Your nerves ought to be a little jarred after all this. I think by the time you have slept a few hours I may have some more news, . don't suppose you will mind to be in the finish, and that means capturing Bell or killing him; I'm betting that he will die with his boots on." Wakefield consented to take the needed rest, only exactly a promise that he should be a party to the final rounding up. He then followed the porgramme outlined by the sheriff including the cocktail and the breakfast, and retired to the hotel and a room. A sound and peaceful sleep restored his nerves and vee away the fatigue incidental to his strenuous achievement. It was late in the afternoon when he awoke and descended to the office, where he was at once the center of a group of curious admirers who were anxious to meet the hero who, single-handed, had "busted" Tom Bell's gang. The notoriety was distasteful, and he was glad when the sheriff came and invited him over to his office. When they had reached it and barred the door against intruders, that official exclaimed: "It's turned out as I expected. We've got him holed, and unless there is a slip-up I'll have him ift jail by noon tomorrow, I promised to tell you how it came about, and here goes. Of course, there's a woman in it, — there always is, for good or bad. This one is the landlady of the Ohio House and ranch down on the Feather River. Bell got stuck on her a couple of years ago, and she has harbored him ever since. He has given her the results of his robberies, sent her two daughters to a seminary in San Francisco, provided for their education, and planned when he had got enough coin gathered in to make them independent, to leave the country with the family, go back to Missouri, and lead a respectable life. Nice programme, ain't it? But he won't go back. She has not the money, all right; the . fool thinks she is as badly gone on him as he on her, and she's tired of him. So a month ago she gave me the tip, bargained for the reward — lovely sort of a woman, ain't she? — and agreed to deliver him up on his next visit. She had hidden him many times and nobody suspected her. That accounts for our losing the trail so mysteriously when we thought we were close upon him; but you bet he is pretty near the end of his rope. As I thought, after you jumped him in the canyon and he

6 The Nevada County ‘Nugget, Wednesday, February 2, 1972 .——— solu: ll (ie = —-. (Continued from last week) 4 (Note: the contents of the City of Six in this week's issue were printed out of order in the Jan. 12th and 19th issues of the Nugget. They are being republished to make it easier to straighten out your files.) However, there was no help for it, and he made preparations to leave. He threw the saddle blankets over the corpses, and propped the wounded Greaser against a tree, promising to send relief from the nearest camp, at the same time stanching the wound in a crude way. The man begged piteously not to be left alone, or atleast defenseless, and Wakefield was persuaded to give him one of the revolvers, keeping a sharp watch to see that he took no treacherous advantage of the concession. Before doing this he had packed the saddle bags on one of the horses and saddled another for his own use, driving the third before him down to the river. He had decided to ride to Marysville — the county seat and some twenty miles distant, — find the sheriff, tell his story, and deliver to the official the plunder. It was twilight by the time he had regained the river trail, dark before he had got well started on his journey; his progress was slow over the rough country until the plains were reached, and it was daylight before he arrived at his destination. Rousing the sheriff from his early orning sleep, he told his tale, to. which that official listened in pen-mouthed wonder and an incredulity that was only dispelled by the evidence of the bulging saddle bags. "So you were after the gang when you were pumping me here a while ago?” he inquired, which fact Wakefield acknowledged. "Why were you so eager to run them down?" he continued. "Of course, there is the reward, five thousand for Bell and two thousand apiece for the others; but, man, there is that much in the saddle bags, and no one would have been the wiser if you had not turned it over to me. Now," he regretfully added, sit will have to be deposited with the courts and the public administrator, and I reckon there won't be much !>ft after it is administered upon. You are a good one, to tackie that crowd alone! I'm no coward, but I don't believe I would have under. taken the job. You must have had some pretty strong motive. What was it?" _ Wakefield flushed at the question, hesitated, but recognized in the gruff official a man in whom he could confide. Asking that as little notoriety be given as possible, he took the sheriff into his confidence and briefly told him the facts of the killing of the gambler and the indignity inflicted on his wife, at the same time renoucing any interest in the blood money, or a share in the recaptured plunder. The listener at once comprehended the motives that had urged him on in his unrelenting hunt. By God, you're a man after my own heart," he exclaimed, "and I'm proud to know you, There is nobody need know the inside of this but you and me. I'll send up a deputy to look

after the wounded Greaser and* fetch him here if he's alive. We will let the othet carrion rot, after we have identified them, We may as well gather in the reward; if you don't want it, I'm not so squeamish as you are, and it will help get back some of the money that I have spent trying to run them down, But say, you're a white man, if I ever met one, and you have acted so square, I don't mind letting you into a secret. I would have had Bell in a few days anyhow. You say he rode off bareback. I think I can put my hands on him now; I know the hole he has run to for safety, and it's not many miles from here. I'll bet I get word in the next twenty-four hours, It was Wakefield's turn to be astonished, and. he asked for an explanation. "Let's go over to the Magnolia and get a cocktail,-I haven't had a morning bracer, — then we will have breakfast, go back to the office, finish the business of turning over the money, and then you had better take a rest. Your nerves ought to be a little jarred after all this. I think by the time you have slept a few hours I may have some more news, . don't suppose you will mind to be in the finish, and that means capturing Bell or killing him; I'm betting that he will die with his boots on." Wakefield consented to take the needed rest, only exactly a promise that he should be a party to the final rounding up. He then followed the porgramme outlined by the sheriff including the cocktail and the breakfast, and retired to the hotel and a room. A sound and peaceful sleep restored his nerves and vee away the fatigue incidental to his strenuous achievement. It was late in the afternoon when he awoke and descended to the office, where he was at once the center of a group of curious admirers who were anxious to meet the hero who, single-handed, had "busted" Tom Bell's gang. The notoriety was distasteful, and he was glad when the sheriff came and invited him over to his office. When they had reached it and barred the door against intruders, that official exclaimed: "It's turned out as I expected. We've got him holed, and unless there is a slip-up I'll have him ift jail by noon tomorrow, I promised to tell you how it came about, and here goes. Of course, there's a woman in it, — there always is, for good or bad. This one is the landlady of the Ohio House and ranch down on the Feather River. Bell got stuck on her a couple of years ago, and she has harbored him ever since. He has given her the results of his robberies, sent her two daughters to a seminary in San Francisco, provided for their education, and planned when he had got enough coin gathered in to make them independent, to leave the country with the family, go back to Missouri, and lead a respectable life. Nice programme, ain't it? But he won't go back. She has not the money, all right; the . fool thinks she is as badly gone on him as he on her, and she's tired of him. So a month ago she gave me the tip, bargained for the reward — lovely sort of a woman, ain't she? — and agreed to deliver him up on his next visit. She had hidden him many times and nobody suspected her. That accounts for our losing the trail so mysteriously when we thought we were close upon him; but you bet he is pretty near the end of his rope. As I thought, after you jumped him in the canyon and he