A COWBOY’S SAD FATE.
CHAPTER V.
BOLD, RECKLESS, JOHNNY VAN PELT ASSISTS A FRIEND TO ESCAPE FROM JAIL AT BUENA VISTA—RIDES BOLDLY INTO ALAMOSA IN DAYLIGHT AND IS KILLED BY MARSHAL HYATT WHILE RESISTING ARREST.
Johnny Van Pelt, a cowboy, who used to make his headquarters at Alamosa, was as reckless a lad as ever punched cattle in southern Colorado, a region particularly known for its tough characters, and while there was nothing exceptionally bad in his make-up, his recklessness and his desire to help a friend out of trouble cost him his life, and very nearly resulted in the death of two brave officers.
William Morgan, an old acquaintance of Van Pelt’s, was in jail in Buena Vista, charged with the murder of his father-in-law. He managed to get word to Van Pelt in some way that he was in jail, asking him to assist him in escaping. Van Pelt at once quit work, and getting a couple of saddle horses, he helped Morgan to break jail, and the precious pair rode southward, intending to go to Old Mexico. They traveled on down the valley until they reached Hank Dorris’ ranch, fourteen miles above Alamosa. Dorris had known Van Pelt, and their idea in stopping there was to borrow some money. He was not at home, and they staid around two or three days waiting for his return, sending word by one of his friends that they were there waiting to see him. Shortly after their arrival at the ranch, Marshal Frank Hyatt, of Alamosa, received a telegram from Sheriff J. J. Salla, of Buena Vista, offering $50 reward for the capture of Morgan and Van Pelt. He kept a close look-out for a day or two, when he happened to run across his old friend, Dorris, of whom he made inquiries as to whether any one answering their description had been seen up the valley. Dorris was surprised to learn that Van Pelt was a fugitive from justice, and telling Marshal Hyatt that he had just received word from his ranch that they were there waiting for him, volunteered to go out and help the officer get them. Dorris was sitting on his horse and Marshal Hyatt was just going after his own animal when Van Pelt rode up and tied his horse in front of the postoffice. He spoke pleasantly to the two officers, and when he had tied his horse, stepped up and shook hands with the marshal. As he did so the marshal said, “Johnny, I guess I will have to hold you awhile.” Van Pelt jumped back, and drawing a revolver from each overcoat pocket leveled them at the marshal’s breast.
Although the desperado had the drop on him, the brave officer never flinched. He dared not attempt to draw a gun, so he decided to talk Van Pelt out of shooting. Looking him straight in the eye, he said: “Don’t shoot, Johnny; you haven’t done anything to shoot me for.” Van Pelt, his eyes still glaring with savage hate, evidently decided not to add cold-blooded murder to his crimes, but keeping the officer covered, commenced backing away to where his horse was tied. Just then Dorris, who had slipped off his horse while the parley was going on, grabbed Van Pelt from behind. The desperado jerked loose from Dorris, and, whirling around, fired at him, the ball cutting through his coat and vest and cutting a cigar in his vest pocket in two, but doing no serious damage. He then turned and fired at Marshal Hyatt, who had torn his overcoat open and gotten his own gun by this time. Then began a three-cornered battle—Van Pelt retreating toward his horse, and firing as he went, with the two officers following closely, and keeping up a fusillade of bullets.
When Van Pelt reached the telegraph pole where his horse was tied, he took shelter behind it, and commenced to untie his horse with his left hand, while he kept shooting with his right. Just as he got his horse untied, Hyatt and Dorris both fired, and both shots took effect, one entering the breast and the other smashing his thigh. He dropped his remaining gun, let go his horse, and still holding to the pole, sank slowly to the earth, saying “I’m killed.” In twenty minutes he was dead.
Leaving the coroner to take charge of Van Pelt, Hyatt and Dorris hurriedly mounted their horses and started for the latter’s ranch to secure Morgan. Arriving at the ranch, they found Morgan busy getting supper, having unbuckled his belt containing his revolvers and thrown it on a lounge. At Hyatt’s command, he put up his hands with alacrity. It was but the work of a few minutes to tie him securely, and Marshal Hyatt was soon on his way back to Alamosa with the fugitive.