He might have lived in perfect peace and security elsewhere, but the humble mountain home in the village of Hazard, so dear to him through the associations of his youth and manhood, now attracted him more than any other spot on earth. He could not bring himself to desert it once and for all, in the chilly winter of old age.
Notwithstanding his faults, and his record during the feud shows him to have been at fault on more than one occasion, he had a host of friends, and these tried hard to dissuade him from his purpose. But he had formed his resolve, and refused to be guided by well-meant advice.
There is something very pathetic in this old man’s attachment for a home which, for years, had offered him danger instead of peace, sorrow instead of happiness.
He had visited his home surreptitiously on several occasions since his removal therefrom. On one of these visits he had narrowly escaped death by assassination. This attempt upon his life should have convinced him that his doom was sealed, that his death had been decreed. Yet, notwithstanding all this, Judge Combs returned to Hazard to reside. But a little while afterwards he succumbed to the assassins’ bullets.
The murder was committed in broad-open daylight, in plain view of many townspeople, and, also from ambush.
At the moment the fatal shot was fired, the old man was engaged with several of his friends and neighbors in commonplace conversation.
Within a few feet of the group of men stood a fence enclosing a lot planted with corn, which, together with the thick and tall growth of weeds and bushes, offered the assassins admirable opportunity to approach their victim to within a few feet without danger of discovery.
No one noticed the slight rustling of the corn blades. No one saw the hand that parted them skilfully to make way for the gun which accomplished its deadly work. There was a puff of smoke, a loud report and Judge Combs reeled. Suddenly he straightened himself up, stood apparently undecided for a moment, then walked across the street toward home. At its threshold he sank to the ground and expired without a groan.
The murderers had evidently been determined to guard against any possible blunders which had, on former occasions, saved the old man’s life. For from the moment the shot was fired up to the time the old man fell dead, the murderous gun continually covered him, ready for instant service should it appear that the first shot had not been fatal.
After the victim had fallen to the ground, the principal of the assassins deliberately walked to the rear of the lot. Here he was joined by one of his confederates. A third had already opened fire and continued a fusilade from across the river for the evident purpose of pretending the presence of a large force and thus by intimidation to prevent pursuit.