Chris Enss's Blog - Posts Tagged "posse"
Posse Makes Way to Nebraska, History Riding With Them
Take a literary ride with the Most Intrepid Western Author’s Posse as they travel through the sand hills and Great Plains of Nebraska. The Most Intrepid Western Author’s Posse is comprised of five published, award-winning western authors; Monty McCord author of Mundy’s Law: The Legend of Joe Mundy and Hastings: The Queen of the Plains; Sherry Monahan author of Mrs. Earp: The Wives and Lovers of the Earp Brothers, The Cowboy Cookbook, and Frontier Fare; Bill Markley, author of Deadwood Dead Men and Dakota Epic: Experiences of a Reenactor During the Filming of Dances with Wolves, Kellen Cutsforth, author of Buffalo Bill, Boozers, Brothels, & Bare-Knuckle Brawlers: An Englishman’s Journal of Adventure in America, and Chris Enss, author of Frontier Teachers: Stories of Heroic Women of the Old West, Hearts West: Mail Order Brides of the Old West, and Object Matrimony: The Risky Business of Mail-Order Matchmaking on the Western Frontier will tell exciting tales of the Old West.
Stories told by the posse promise to transport readers back to the days of the wild frontier when times were rowdy and justice was swift.
The Most Intrepid Western Author’s Posse’s first stop will be the Sturh Museum in Grand Island on Friday, June 10 from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. On Saturday, June 11, the Posse will be in Beatrice at the Homestead National Monument of America from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. The Posse will be discussing their books and the taming of the Wild West.
For more information visit www.chrisenss.com.
Stories told by the posse promise to transport readers back to the days of the wild frontier when times were rowdy and justice was swift.
The Most Intrepid Western Author’s Posse’s first stop will be the Sturh Museum in Grand Island on Friday, June 10 from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. On Saturday, June 11, the Posse will be in Beatrice at the Homestead National Monument of America from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. The Posse will be discussing their books and the taming of the Wild West.
For more information visit www.chrisenss.com.
Caught in a Storm
Enter now to win a copy of
Thunder Over the Prairie:
The Story of a Murder and a Manhunt by the
Greatest Posse of All Time.
A pile of coal black thunder clouds unleashed a torrent of cold rain on the posse’s crude camp. The canvas lean-to tied to boulders jutting out of the bank of a stream, sagged with the weight of the water. Lightening pulsated, reflecting off the faces of the four lawmen waiting out the storm. They were tired, but resolute. A turmoil of wind blew rain into their poor excuse for shelter and splashed off their hats and slickers. “If any of you know where that ark is tied up, you might want to make your way for it now,” Bat said jokingly, his voiced raised over the weather. His fellow riders chuckled politely as he removed a soggy cigar from the breast pocket of his coat. He played with the wet stogie for a minute trying to convince himself that it could be lit. All at once any attempt to fire it up seemed foolish, and he threw the cigar down on the ground beside him. “Damn it all,” he said folding his arms across his chest.
None of the men were surprised by the water-logged conditions. The hot, dry Kansas summers could blister the paint off any building and the wet, cold winters that came behind it could scour it down to raw timbers. Prairie fires ignited by lightening scorched everything in its path and flash floods carried it all away. Members of the intrepid posse had experienced all the harsh seasons the territory offered. The forces of nature had shaped them and made them more resilient. They drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, hoping each time they opened their eyes the relentless rain would have stopped, and they could be on their way.
“The Lord sure must have pulled the cork,” Bat said noticing everyone was struggling to drop off. “I rode in rain like this for six days,” Bill said after giving Bat’s comment a decent moment of thought. “I was driving a herd of cattle for Mart Childers through Cheyenne country.” The conversation was a welcomed distraction from their attempts at slumber. Charlie, Wyatt, & Bat focused their attention on Bill. “The prairie sod was a quagmire,” he continued.
“The horses hooves sank ankle-deep in the mud. Heading north in the sloshing rain was slow going…and then we spotted Kicking Bird and his braves watching us through the rain.”
Charlie coolly scanned their immediate surroundings remembering that the Plains Indians could have their eyes fixed on them at the moment as well. Bill told the men about his riding partner, Hurricane Martin. He and Hurricane stood alone against fifty warring Cheyenne. The braves attempted to flank the cowboys on either side by dividing them into two groups. Bill and Hurricane urged their horses into full gallops to try and out run them. The rain soaked terrain made fast travel close to impossible not only for Bill and his friend, but for the Indians as well.
To learn more about the death of Dora Hand and the posse that tracked her killer read Thunder Over the Prairie.
Enter to win a copy of Thunder Over the Prairie here at Goodreads or when you visit www.chrisenss.com.
Thunder Over the Prairie:
The Story of a Murder and a Manhunt by the
Greatest Posse of All Time.
A pile of coal black thunder clouds unleashed a torrent of cold rain on the posse’s crude camp. The canvas lean-to tied to boulders jutting out of the bank of a stream, sagged with the weight of the water. Lightening pulsated, reflecting off the faces of the four lawmen waiting out the storm. They were tired, but resolute. A turmoil of wind blew rain into their poor excuse for shelter and splashed off their hats and slickers. “If any of you know where that ark is tied up, you might want to make your way for it now,” Bat said jokingly, his voiced raised over the weather. His fellow riders chuckled politely as he removed a soggy cigar from the breast pocket of his coat. He played with the wet stogie for a minute trying to convince himself that it could be lit. All at once any attempt to fire it up seemed foolish, and he threw the cigar down on the ground beside him. “Damn it all,” he said folding his arms across his chest.
None of the men were surprised by the water-logged conditions. The hot, dry Kansas summers could blister the paint off any building and the wet, cold winters that came behind it could scour it down to raw timbers. Prairie fires ignited by lightening scorched everything in its path and flash floods carried it all away. Members of the intrepid posse had experienced all the harsh seasons the territory offered. The forces of nature had shaped them and made them more resilient. They drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, hoping each time they opened their eyes the relentless rain would have stopped, and they could be on their way.
“The Lord sure must have pulled the cork,” Bat said noticing everyone was struggling to drop off. “I rode in rain like this for six days,” Bill said after giving Bat’s comment a decent moment of thought. “I was driving a herd of cattle for Mart Childers through Cheyenne country.” The conversation was a welcomed distraction from their attempts at slumber. Charlie, Wyatt, & Bat focused their attention on Bill. “The prairie sod was a quagmire,” he continued.
“The horses hooves sank ankle-deep in the mud. Heading north in the sloshing rain was slow going…and then we spotted Kicking Bird and his braves watching us through the rain.”
Charlie coolly scanned their immediate surroundings remembering that the Plains Indians could have their eyes fixed on them at the moment as well. Bill told the men about his riding partner, Hurricane Martin. He and Hurricane stood alone against fifty warring Cheyenne. The braves attempted to flank the cowboys on either side by dividing them into two groups. Bill and Hurricane urged their horses into full gallops to try and out run them. The rain soaked terrain made fast travel close to impossible not only for Bill and his friend, but for the Indians as well.
To learn more about the death of Dora Hand and the posse that tracked her killer read Thunder Over the Prairie.
Enter to win a copy of Thunder Over the Prairie here at Goodreads or when you visit www.chrisenss.com.
Waiting for a Killer
Enter now to win a copy of
Thunder Over the Prairie:
The Story of a Murder and a Manhunt by the
Greatest Posse of All Time.
A cold morning broke in rose and gold colors over the vast Cimarron grassland. James Kenedy tumbled out of his rocky bed tucked under a long, narrow mesa and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He hauled his weary frame to a depression in the earth, turned his back to the frigid, biting wind, and began relieving himself. His tired horse meandered behind him, alternating between gnawing on bits of brush and drinking from deep puddles made by the rain that had assaulted the region.
James finished his business and dragged himself to the saddle and bit he had removed from his mount the night before. The horse gave the outlaw a disapproving look as he approached him with the harness. Dried lather from profuse sweating beaded across the animal’s backside and his unshod hooves were tender and chipped.
The idea of riding on wasn’t anymore appealing to James than his horse, but it was necessary. The downpour from the previous evening had no doubt raised the level of the river further, but James was hopeful that the water had crested and would begin receding by late afternoon. If that happened, the ford would be passable and James and the cowboys he was sure his father had sent after him, could make it across.
No matter what trouble James had ever managed to get himself into, he knew there was sanctuary in Texas. His father had recently purchased Laureles Ranch; a one hundred thirty-one thousand acre spread 20 miles from Corpus Christi, and had hired a team of ranch hands to fence in the property. Mifflin Kenedy planned to build up his herds, raise a better quality of livestock, and isolate his rebellious son from persistent police or vengeful gunslingers.
For a brief moment in time Mifflin believed his spoiled boy had a future with the Texas Rangers. In November 1875, James joined a company whose main objective was to reduce the raids on cattle ranches by Mexican bandits. His knowledge of the wild territory made him a valuable asset to the troops, but his term of duty lasted only five months. In April 1876, he voluntarily left the Rangers earning a mere $59.72 for his time served.
Law and order was not in James’s nature. He thrived on misdeeds and violent confrontations with competing ranchers outside of the Texas Panhandle. He relished indulgencies of every kind and came and went at his sweet will. He could not conceive of a single circumstance where he would not ultimately be rescued from the consequences of his vicious actions.
To learn more about the posse that tracked down Spike Kenedy read Thunder Over the Prairie.
Enter to win a copy of Thunder Over the Prairie here or win you visit www.chrisenss.com
Thunder Over the Prairie:
The Story of a Murder and a Manhunt by the
Greatest Posse of All Time.
A cold morning broke in rose and gold colors over the vast Cimarron grassland. James Kenedy tumbled out of his rocky bed tucked under a long, narrow mesa and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He hauled his weary frame to a depression in the earth, turned his back to the frigid, biting wind, and began relieving himself. His tired horse meandered behind him, alternating between gnawing on bits of brush and drinking from deep puddles made by the rain that had assaulted the region.
James finished his business and dragged himself to the saddle and bit he had removed from his mount the night before. The horse gave the outlaw a disapproving look as he approached him with the harness. Dried lather from profuse sweating beaded across the animal’s backside and his unshod hooves were tender and chipped.
The idea of riding on wasn’t anymore appealing to James than his horse, but it was necessary. The downpour from the previous evening had no doubt raised the level of the river further, but James was hopeful that the water had crested and would begin receding by late afternoon. If that happened, the ford would be passable and James and the cowboys he was sure his father had sent after him, could make it across.
No matter what trouble James had ever managed to get himself into, he knew there was sanctuary in Texas. His father had recently purchased Laureles Ranch; a one hundred thirty-one thousand acre spread 20 miles from Corpus Christi, and had hired a team of ranch hands to fence in the property. Mifflin Kenedy planned to build up his herds, raise a better quality of livestock, and isolate his rebellious son from persistent police or vengeful gunslingers.
For a brief moment in time Mifflin believed his spoiled boy had a future with the Texas Rangers. In November 1875, James joined a company whose main objective was to reduce the raids on cattle ranches by Mexican bandits. His knowledge of the wild territory made him a valuable asset to the troops, but his term of duty lasted only five months. In April 1876, he voluntarily left the Rangers earning a mere $59.72 for his time served.
Law and order was not in James’s nature. He thrived on misdeeds and violent confrontations with competing ranchers outside of the Texas Panhandle. He relished indulgencies of every kind and came and went at his sweet will. He could not conceive of a single circumstance where he would not ultimately be rescued from the consequences of his vicious actions.
To learn more about the posse that tracked down Spike Kenedy read Thunder Over the Prairie.
Enter to win a copy of Thunder Over the Prairie here or win you visit www.chrisenss.com
End of the Trail
Last Chance to enter to win a copy of
Thunder Over the Prairie:
The Story of a Murder and a Manhunt by the
Greatest Posse of All Time.
A fresh mound of earth covered Dora Hand’s grave and a sweet breeze danced around the crudely fashioned marker stuck in the dirt where she had been buried. Several bouquets of wilted flowers encircled the wooden tombstone. Although their blooms had faded somewhat, they represented the only color in the soap weed infested cemetery. For a short time after James Kenedy’s acquittal in December 1878, mourners returned to Dora’s plot to deposit fresh flowers, remember the entertainer and reflect on the shooting that took her life.
The news of what James had done and the posse that pursued him followed the cattleman to Texas, and he reveled in the notoriety. Youth often wobbles dangerously, then steadies to follow the straight and narrow path, but not in his case. The injuries he sustained during his capture had left him a cripple, and he was anxious to prove that the disability had not affected his gunplay.
He learned to use his left arm to draw his weapon and rumors prevailed that he killed several men with his quick hand during a brief stay in Colorado in November 1880.
By 1882, James had settled down and married the daughter of a wealthy landowner. He focused on the family business and worked closely with his father, earning the man’s respect and confidence. Neighbors and acquaintances considered James to be a “man of industry with good business qualifications and a trusted manager of Mifflin’s large ranch and cattle business.”
James Kenedy died on December 29, 1884 of tuberculosis, shortly after his son, George Mifflin was born. News of his death was slow to reach Dodge City, but well received. Mayor Kelley was particularly pleased. He had taken the death of Dora Hand hard. His emotional attachment to her, combined with the fact that a bullet intended for him had killed her, had left him devastated. Like many Dodge City residents who had been fond of Dora, Mayor Kelley felt “the only punishment meted out to James had been the sickness he endured from being shot by the posse.” After James was apprehended, Mayor Kelley expected the gunslinger to be found guilty of murdering the songstress and subsequently hung. The mayor was disappointed with the judge’s ruling to acquit.
Mayor Kelley served four terms in office, stepping down from the position in March 1881. He left the job after being accused by his business partner of allowing a customer to pass a counterfeit dollar to him. In spite of the embarrassing incident, residents viewed him as an effective town leader. He helped pass ordinances outlawing houses of ill repute, increased licenses for taverns to help provide services to the community and organized a law enforcement team that eventually became known throughout the territory as the “toughest group of men in the west.”
With the exception of his daughter, Irene, there was no other significant woman in Mayor Kelley’s life. He consorted with very few ladies in public after the loss of Dora and focused much of his attention on his purebred greyhound dogs. In November 1885 a fire burned one of Mayor Kelley’s saloons to the ground. He rebuilt the saloon, but never fully recovered financially and was eventually forced to sell all of his real estate holdings to sustain himself. When his health began to fail in late 1910, he moved to the Soldier’s Home at Fort Dodge.
Enter to win a copy of Thunder Over the Prairie on Goodreads or when you visit www.chrisenss.com.
Thunder Over the Prairie:
The Story of a Murder and a Manhunt by the
Greatest Posse of All Time.
A fresh mound of earth covered Dora Hand’s grave and a sweet breeze danced around the crudely fashioned marker stuck in the dirt where she had been buried. Several bouquets of wilted flowers encircled the wooden tombstone. Although their blooms had faded somewhat, they represented the only color in the soap weed infested cemetery. For a short time after James Kenedy’s acquittal in December 1878, mourners returned to Dora’s plot to deposit fresh flowers, remember the entertainer and reflect on the shooting that took her life.
The news of what James had done and the posse that pursued him followed the cattleman to Texas, and he reveled in the notoriety. Youth often wobbles dangerously, then steadies to follow the straight and narrow path, but not in his case. The injuries he sustained during his capture had left him a cripple, and he was anxious to prove that the disability had not affected his gunplay.
He learned to use his left arm to draw his weapon and rumors prevailed that he killed several men with his quick hand during a brief stay in Colorado in November 1880.
By 1882, James had settled down and married the daughter of a wealthy landowner. He focused on the family business and worked closely with his father, earning the man’s respect and confidence. Neighbors and acquaintances considered James to be a “man of industry with good business qualifications and a trusted manager of Mifflin’s large ranch and cattle business.”
James Kenedy died on December 29, 1884 of tuberculosis, shortly after his son, George Mifflin was born. News of his death was slow to reach Dodge City, but well received. Mayor Kelley was particularly pleased. He had taken the death of Dora Hand hard. His emotional attachment to her, combined with the fact that a bullet intended for him had killed her, had left him devastated. Like many Dodge City residents who had been fond of Dora, Mayor Kelley felt “the only punishment meted out to James had been the sickness he endured from being shot by the posse.” After James was apprehended, Mayor Kelley expected the gunslinger to be found guilty of murdering the songstress and subsequently hung. The mayor was disappointed with the judge’s ruling to acquit.
Mayor Kelley served four terms in office, stepping down from the position in March 1881. He left the job after being accused by his business partner of allowing a customer to pass a counterfeit dollar to him. In spite of the embarrassing incident, residents viewed him as an effective town leader. He helped pass ordinances outlawing houses of ill repute, increased licenses for taverns to help provide services to the community and organized a law enforcement team that eventually became known throughout the territory as the “toughest group of men in the west.”
With the exception of his daughter, Irene, there was no other significant woman in Mayor Kelley’s life. He consorted with very few ladies in public after the loss of Dora and focused much of his attention on his purebred greyhound dogs. In November 1885 a fire burned one of Mayor Kelley’s saloons to the ground. He rebuilt the saloon, but never fully recovered financially and was eventually forced to sell all of his real estate holdings to sustain himself. When his health began to fail in late 1910, he moved to the Soldier’s Home at Fort Dodge.
Enter to win a copy of Thunder Over the Prairie on Goodreads or when you visit www.chrisenss.com.
