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The Last One Out of MinnesotaLoading...
Finn A.
The Wrong Criminal
One week has passed since he got out. Joe Ruth was on his way to be hanged in the town square when his old partner and friend, John Shmidt broke him out. They had fought in the war together so many years ago when Joe lost his brother. The two men were sixteen years old when they enlisted, one from Minnesota, one from Utah. The last time Joe saw his friend was in 1874; they regularly saw each other then, but Joe moved back to his home in the plains of Minnesota where he would become the town butcher and a fur trader, thinking he would sadly never see his friend again. In the war they were children, Joe had only shot at deer at that point, neither of them could have had a beard if they wanted to, but Joe has a long woodsman beard now as a seasoned hunter and fur trader.
Shmidt now keeps a well-groomed mustache, and sells horses but had sold his business due to lack of customers and now tries to start something in the northern plains, but upon learning about his friend, rushed to break him out. Joe was accused of attempting to kill the marshall, Joe Ruth has committed plenty of crimes to earn himself a hanging, but killing a marshall was not one of them. After the escape, the two old friends have found a new problem. They have no money and no horse. “There is a trading post about a mile north,” John says, “thieves, they steal horses, meat, and pelts from any trader willing to unload his goods. We must arm ourselves because these men will fight us to the death if necessary.” Joe hid his weapons when he learned the lawmen were going to arrest him. He kept a gun to protect himself, but his two hunting rifles, his double-barrel shotgun, his LeMat revolver from the war, and his Henry Repeating rifle which was issued to him, were all stowed away if he ever got out. They approach at night acting as traders, telling the man that they have beaver furs and
Shmidt now keeps a well-groomed mustache, and sells horses but had sold his business due to lack of customers and now tries to start something in the northern plains, but upon learning about his friend, rushed to break him out. Joe was accused of attempting to kill the marshall, Joe Ruth has committed plenty of crimes to earn himself a hanging, but killing a marshall was not one of them. After the escape, the two old friends have found a new problem. They have no money and no horse. “There is a trading post about a mile north,” John says, “thieves, they steal horses, meat, and pelts from any trader willing to unload his goods. We must arm ourselves because these men will fight us to the death if necessary.” Joe hid his weapons when he learned the lawmen were going to arrest him. He kept a gun to protect himself, but his two hunting rifles, his double-barrel shotgun, his LeMat revolver from the war, and his Henry Repeating rifle which was issued to him, were all stowed away if he ever got out. They approach at night acting as traders, telling the man that they have beaver furs and
a grey fox pelt. Then, like a snap from a broken line, the man goes to the ground. Without thinking, Joe shoots the next man and runs straight to the nearest horse. They ride off, killing the other two men outside. Nobody else sees this, for the other men were still asleep in their cabins when the shots went off. A few days pass, and no retaliation, the two men are living at a camp not far from town, John’s new horse is named James, and Joe’s, Danny. An incredibly strong horse, Danny is a lion.
One more problem arises for Joe and John, and that problem is money. They have no money, and currently have no way of making money. Robberies are a hard way to make a stable living, they think of possibly going down south for a month, and robbing sharecropping plantation owners as they did in the early ‘70s, but they are too far, and the trip would not be worthwhile if they planned on coming back up north. “How ‘bout the fur trade,” Joe says, “We got all the land around here to hunt and trap, and back in the day before they were worth what they are now, I used to have a pristine grey fox every
One more problem arises for Joe and John, and that problem is money. They have no money, and currently have no way of making money. Robberies are a hard way to make a stable living, they think of possibly going down south for a month, and robbing sharecropping plantation owners as they did in the early ‘70s, but they are too far, and the trip would not be worthwhile if they planned on coming back up north. “How ‘bout the fur trade,” Joe says, “We got all the land around here to hunt and trap, and back in the day before they were worth what they are now, I used to have a pristine grey fox every
week. I even have a friend in Wisconsin who is always looking for work, Jack Benson, the best tanner across the midwest. Ex-Union like us, met him for a bank job in ‘83, he knows people too.” As traders, they now face the same threat that every other midwestern trader faces; Mason Williams, and his band of ex-confederate robbers. The two of them are a bigger target as ex-union soldiers and their notoriety throughout the south for their activity in 1873.
week. I even have a friend in Wisconsin who is always looking for work, Jack Benson, the best tanner across the midwest. Ex-Union like us, met him for a bank job in ‘83, he knows people too.” As traders, they now face the same threat that every other midwestern trader faces; Mason Williams, and his band of ex-confederate robbers. The two of them are a bigger target as ex-union soldiers and their notoriety throughout the south for their activity in 1873.
A Broken Delivery
Fog in the air, wet muddy ground in the Minnesota plains making noise with every footstep. Two men with blue caps, yellow raincoats, and stolen confederate revolvers at their sides load goods worth one hundred dollars onto a small, beat-up, stolen wagon. “You still got ‘em,” Shmidt says, “Got what?”
“The boots.”
“‘Course I do,” They both look down at a pair of mud-covered, snakeskin boots with a golden tip. Joe kept the same boots since the war when he found them in the tent of a dead confederate officer. He found them the same day his brother died. Joe mounts the wagon pulled by a black and white spotted shire that they had named Dutch. John mounts his horse James,
“The boots.”
“‘Course I do,” They both look down at a pair of mud-covered, snakeskin boots with a golden tip. Joe kept the same boots since the war when he found them in the tent of a dead confederate officer. He found them the same day his brother died. Joe mounts the wagon pulled by a black and white spotted shire that they had named Dutch. John mounts his horse James,
and the two men, repeaters in hand are off on a delivery to take them through the woods and over to the nearest train station to make a sale. Five minutes pass as they ride down a deep, muddy road, making it difficult for the wagon to move. The rain begins to pick up, making the mud more difficult to move in, and all of a sudden, they hear multiple horses moving quickly, even though all of the rain and mud. The sound grows closer and they now see three men dressed in grey riding straight at them. A rifle goes off shooting a bullet that goes right past the side of John’s head; Joe fires back, killing the first man, then John shoots another man in the stomach, who falls off the horse, the third man turns around, riding away and firing his revolver back at them. John gets off of his horse, walks over to the wounded man, pulls out his gun, and points it directly down at the bleeding robber, “Who sent you?”
“The-the man who rode away, i-it was m-Mason Wi-,” Joe shoots the man from atop the wagon, “It was Johnny Reb, now let’s market our goods and get out of this rain.”
“The-the man who rode away, i-it was m-Mason Wi-,” Joe shoots the man from atop the wagon, “It was Johnny Reb, now let’s market our goods and get out of this rain.”