The Hangin' of Cimarron Rose

Doug Donnan

Executive Editor/OMNI-GEN+

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

"The Hangin' of Cimarron Rose"

(Poem)

by

Doug Donnan

She came into Cimarron one fine morning by train,

hell-bent for her Appaloosa, Champ was his name.

She finally did find him out at Stargis ranch spread,

stole off back for Cheyenne, after he had been fed.

Sheriff Stark nabbed Rose as she high-tailed it out,

brung her back to the jail to ask what she was about.

Turns out all that Rose tol' him was pretty much so,

after a Mexican showdown with Bud Stargis its true...

Rose mounted her birthday pony and off they did go!

                           ___ The End ___

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"The Hangin' of Cimarron Rose"

by

Doug Donnan

                        [ Cimarron County New Mexico /// 1874 ]

"I don't give a damn what the majority of the twits in this town think Mayor

Cassebaum. I'm not just going to up and hang somebody... anybody on some

cockamamie opinions and half baked innuendos." Sheriff Trask declared as

they stood there nose to sheriff star out on the plank and board jailhouse sill.  

"Now see here Tom," Cassebaum tried as he looked up and into the stalwart

sheriff's steely blue eyes. "You were duly elected by the overall majority of

these twits, as you call them, and you have a sworn duty as their sheriff to

serve and protect them when they could possibly be in harm's way. You've got

to understand my position in this whole-- "

"Harms way?" Trask cut in as he removed his tan ten gallon Stetson and

shook his barber-trimmed crop of blond locks in shock and amazement. "You

have got to be joking mayor. This person, ... my prisoner that I'm holding

inside here for questioning, is entitled to all the full rights of the law before he

receives his courtroom sentence when and if he gets convicted for the alleged

crime of horse stealing. I don't foresee anyone coming to any harm."

"Fair enough Trask, but it may be in your best interest to heed my warning.

I can see your side of it as sheriff in this law abiding little town. However, there

are others who are not so willing to simply forgive and forget. In fact, it has been

going around that your prisoner is not only a horse thief but, you'll pardon my

bluntness, some kind of troublesome young lady that you've taken a fancy to.

Some think you're holding her alright... but not for questioning!"

Trask colored a bit at these accusatory comments. He awkwardly hesitated a

bit before his rebuttal.

"Is that so?" he finally replied with a tapping, polished black boot tip. "Well

they, whoever they are, can think whatever they damn well please. I can't

stop a run-away prarie fire or a malicious rumor. Nobody can. I'll sort this whole

thing out my way, the legal way and that's that... comprende?"

"Okay sheriff I've said my piece. But I hope you get it settled soon because I can't

put out brush fires either or stop lynch mobs. And I don't want to see it come down

to that any more than you do. And just one more thing before I leave you here. I

can only suggest that you check exhibit 'A' down to the Cimarron Livery. I recon

there ain't no real rhyme or reason in showing off that beautiful spotty rump

Appaloosa pony, that is without question the property and pride of Mr. Bud Stargis,

to the whole town as some kind of reminder. Wouldn't you agree on that?"

"Like I said mayor, I'll handle it... my way. Good day."

Cassebaum shook his head in perturbation and paced off across the road. "Good day." 

*     *     *

"I'm afraid we don't have too much time till all hell comes knockin' at the door young

lady, so without all the tears and drama this time, tell me once again how you.ve come

to acquire that big indian pony outside of this jailhouse... hmm?"

"Please sheriff won't you call me Rose?" she asked softly with a sorrowful sob.

"Okay then Rose. Let's have it," he replied as he studied his rifle options on the

gun rack affixed to the wall alongside his desk.

"It's like I told you before sheriff when you stopped me from ridin' off from that man

Stargis' place out there," she pointed off through the iron bars of her jail cell.

"That horse is mine withers and spots. I've had Champ since I was just a sprout. My

daddy gave him to me as a birthday gift when he was barely a yearling."

"What's your father's name again?" Trask asked as he walked over closer to the cell.

"Lawrence Flynn. Folks used to simply call him Big Flynn."

"What do you mean by used to?"

"He passed on a few years now up in Cheyenne. He was a wild and wooly

sort of man. A real rabble-rouser back in his day was Big Flynn. He once got mama

and me all--"

"Please Rose," Trask rather rudely cut in as he glanced back at the brass and glass

walnut pendulum clock by the front door, "I'm beggin' you. Just get to the point. I'm

growing more worried by the minute. Your lovely life may very well be in jeopardy.

If in fact Champ is your horse, how in the blue blazes did one of our most respected

citizens here in Cimarron, rancher Bud Stargis, come to end up with this damn polka-

dot butt Appaloosa birthday present from your pa Big Flynn out of Cheyenne... hmm?"

"He won it, so the story goes anyways, in a private poker game with Big Flynn

right here in Cimarron way back when. Big Flynn went all in holding three aces and

two eights. He put in all our savings and threw in a promissory note for Champ who

was up with me and ma in Cheyenne."

"Aces and eights is a bad luck hand. They call it 'The Dead Man's Hand' in cruel

tribute to ol' Sheriff Wild Bill Hickock. What in the hell happened Rose?" Trask

implored her.

"Apparently Stargis was sitting on four queens, pretty as you please. He called that

damn Big Flynn sure as shootin' and layed those four royal ladies right on the table.

And that was that. Believe it or not sheriff."

"Well Rose, unfortunately, that sounds like bad luck for Big Flynn, bad luck for you

and good luck for Mr. Stargis. I assume he came up or sent one or two of his hands

up to Cheyenne to collect his... your horse. Correct?"

"That's right sheriff, but it's rumored that Stargis was cheating that night. He had

a card or two up his sleeve... literally!"

"Even if that's true Rose, it all happened like you say, a long time ago and it would

be hard to convince anyone in this town that he would ever try and cheat anybody

out of anything. Bud Stargis fairly runs this town of Cimarron and none of its

wishy-washy citizens are very likely to cross him, for any reason... comprende?"

"I guess I'll just have to understand that then sheriff," she replied as she turned to

look woefully out her cell window at a pale, staring full moon. "But I don't feel that I

stole Champ from the man. I was simply trying to reclaim what was taken from--"

She was callously interupted by a loud pounding at the jailhouse front door. It was

Bud Stargis and he was leading a boisterous throng of torch bearing men.

One of the unruly mob was carrying a coiled length of rope.

*     *     *

The crowd had gathered around just outside the jailhouse. The pale light of a full

moon and the licking flames of the various torches lit the scene. The horse had been

led away.

"What's this all about Mr. Stargis?" Trask asked with a challenging tone as he stood

there just outside the door. He had a lever action Winchester rifle held up in front of

himself at port arms.  

"It's okay sheriff all we want is the horse thief you got inside there. You release the

prisoner over to us and we'll be on our way... no questions asked," Stargis replied

as he stared around some at the group surrounding him and then back up at Trask with

a challenging look of his own.

"No questions huh?" Trask responded cooly. "Well I got one for you all. Just what

in the hell do you think you're doing coming around here like this and interfering with

official business? We're going to see this little incident through lawfully and that means

by the ways and means of the Cimarron county sheriff's office... period."

"That's pretty tough talk coming from a man who's all alone just now sheriff. We

managed to sequester your listless deputy over at the salloon a while ago. We don't

want any trouble with the law and all. Why not just turn a blind eye to this thing and

we'll all be better off in the long run. What do you say?"

"If you all think that I'm just gonna give in to all this insanity and turn an untried

prisoner of mine over to you so you can settle things like a pack of murderers, you

are sadly mistaken. There ain't gonna be no lynchings by any--"

Just then the jailhouse door creaked open just behind the steadfast lawman.

Rose stepped out and handed the iron key that Trask had inadvertently left on the

peg by her cell door. She stood there now just along side him with her little fists balled

at her curvaceous blue denim hips. She stared out into the flickering faces with her

own challenging look. Then...

"He ain't alone," she announced brazenly.

There was stone silence now save for the flickering snaps of the various torch flames.

"So this is Cimmaron huh?" she asked boldly to no single party in particular. Then

with an icy, blue eyed look at the decidedly embarrassed owl-eyed Stargis, "You must

be Stargis then I recon'," she deduced. "You're the man that cheated my daddy

Big Flynn from Cheyenne out of my little Appaloosa pony Champ way back when."

"Now uh... just a... uh minute... there young lady," Stargis fumbled awkwardly as he

stepped back some in disconcerted retreat. "I don't truly recall the circumstances of

our game of cards back then but it seems to me that your daddy was--"

"Go ahead and let her have her horse Bud," someone shouted out from somewhere

in the shadowy crowd.

"Yeh Stargis... we don't want no part of this no more. Give her the damn horse and

let's get outa' here," from another ten gallon hatted silhouette.

Before Stargis could formulate any kind of defensive reply or position to the rumbling,

murmuring crowd...     

Rose stuck two fingers between her puckering lips and blasted out a shrill, ear piercing  

two-toned whistle. In only a matter of seconds there was the dull but determined sound

of multiple hooves on the dry road clay. They were now coming and coming still closer.

A few whinnies, a snort or two growing in time until...

It was Champ.

The crowd parted as the spotty rumped horse strode in with all its dark chocolate

measure and glory. He regally advanced and soon nuzzled right up to the smiling

cowgirl Rose. Their eyes met with wondrous tears and the deal was done.

Trask dropped his rifle to the side of his pant leg as the torch bearing crowd slowly

began to disband and drift off. He turned to look down at Rose as she shared the

tender moment with her stalwart Appaloosa Champ.

"Well young lady... Rose," Trask smiled as he reached out to stroke the whithers

of the now slightly nodding and neighing horse. "I recon I could run you back in for

breaking out of jail, but what good would that do... hmm?"

"Yep I recon you sure could do just that sheriff, but I think it would be a 'hung jury' on

decidin' whether you left that key there to my cell on purpose or not," she smiled back

at him as she mounted up atop her snorting stallion to ride off.

"Yeh, I recon' you got a point there Rose," he stepped back some as she softly reined

Champ off and away. "Vaya con Dios... Cimarron Rose."

"Adios sheriff and muchas gracias."

                                      _____ The End _____