Chinati Peak rises to an elevation of more than 7000 feet above some of the roughest ground you’ll find in West Texas. How rough is it? I was on a hunt there about six years ago when one of the ranch trucks rolled down the mountain and a fellow near lost his life. Had we not been able to use a radio to get hold of Border Patrol Captain Shane Jahn, who sent in a Border Patrol helicopter, the old boy would have died right there while he was melting away in the sun.
I’ve hunted that country a lot, for javelina, Del Carmen whitetails, mule deer and aoudad, all the way from a bit south of Marfa, Texas, almost to the border just north of Ojinaga. There are enough cactus, rock, rugged canyons, and mountain lions there to paint a perfect backdrop for any western. I was hunting there with a friend once and we were on a high point looking out over the countryside when he might have described it best. He said, “That’s John Wayne country.”
I’ve known Sheriff Jim Wilson for a long time; we hit it off the first time we met. I think it was partly because of our shared gun writing profession, partly because of our past experiences in law enforcement, but mostly because of my respect for him and for his willingness to share a campfire with a hillbilly of similar ancestry. Sheriff Jim has done a lot of things, but one of the things he does best is tell a story. Showdown At Chinati Peak is a classic Sheriff Jim story in that it has a lesson at the end, and though it is a fictional tale, having left a lot of boot prints in the shadow of Chinati Peak myself—where countless cowboys, rustlers, and heathens have tread—I’d almost guarantee that if it didn’t really happen there, something damned similar did.
Enjoy.
Well, as you can see, I’m laid up with a broken leg. But the good news is that we’ve busted up the Hayes Gang. Pour yourself some of that coffee, sit down over here, and I’ll tell you how it went down.
Will and Dale “Devil” Hayes wandered into this country about four years ago and got jobs as cowboys on the Barrel Springs Ranch over west of here. They did a pretty good job the first year but then Devil Hayes damn near beat another cowboy to death during the next spring roundup. The way I heard it, it was more than just a fight; it was a brutal beating that come near killing the other fellow. It was bad enough that Mr. Gillett fired Devil, and Will left with him. After that they did a little seasonal work on some area ranches and spent a good bit of time down in Mexico, so I’m told.
Meantime, the revolution in Mexico just kept getting worse. Those people have been fighting for so long that both sides are running out of decent horses to ride and beef to eat. That’s when we really started missing livestock all over this Big Bend country. And it wasn’t long until the Hayes brothers’ names started popping up as likely suspects. Presidio constable Tom Mayfield said they were seen pretty often over in Ojinaga and were big pals with Villa’s troops.
Of course, knowing ‘em and catching ‘em is two different things. The way this country lays, they could make a big circle up through here, gather some cattle, and have them in Mexico before the rancher even knows that they’re missing. It’s even easier with horses because a horse herd can be moved a lot quicker than a bunch of cows. And once those animals are in Mexico, you can just forget about ever seeing them again.
Will Hayes was the older of the two brothers and did most of the thinking. Dale, everyone called him Devil, was the younger one and by far the meanest. He hurt people just for sport. He caught a cowboy over on the Brite Ranch, hung him up in a tree, and gutted him like you would a deer. Then, over on the Nevill Ranch, he shot a Mexican cowboy, his wife, and three little girls, killed ‘em all. But, again, knowing it and proving it are sometimes two different things.
In the meantime, we heard that they had recruited a couple of cowboys out of New Mexico to help them in their livestock import business. Monte Kimble and Dan Saunders were their names and not too much was known about them. But, when once in a while these four outlaws were seen out on the range, folks rode a wide circle around them.
A month or so ago, there was a big baile down at Presidio. I mean that whole part of the country turned out for the celebration. Of course, the Hayes gang showed up, too. And, along about midnight, Devil Hayes got into a fight with a fellow and went to stomping him. Constable Mayfield went to stop it and Hayes turned around and shot him in the belly. All the Hayes boys got horseback pretty quick and then Devil rode back to where Mayfield was lying on the ground and shot him four more times, killed him dead on the spot. Then he rode his horse back and forth across the body a couple of times.
Well that ripped it with Sheriff Taylor. He told me, Van Timberlake, and Bug Dawson that, until further notice, our job was to get on the trail of the Hayes gang and get them caught or killed. And Sheriff Taylor said he didn’t much care which it was.
Well, we threw a camp outfit together and packed it on a couple of Mexican mules and got our horses fresh shod. It just so happened that all three of us used the Winchester ‘94 carbines, in .30 WCF, and Colt revolvers in .45 Colt, so it was easy to lay in a supply of ammunition, and you can bet that we did.
For the first week or so we just roamed the country looking for sign of the gang and trying to get a lead on where they might have their camps and hideouts. Then Sheriff Taylor got word to us that the gang had been seen in the area of Shafter within the past few days. The next night we were camped on Alamito creek just to the northeast of the mining town.
The next morning, long before daylight, we crossed over the wagon road and started down to Shafter, coming in from the northwest side. I can tell you we were riding pretty loose in the saddle and had our carbines laid across the saddles in front of us.
About a mile out of town, three horsemen rode up out of a draw about 100 yards in front of us. It was Will Hayes, Devil Hayes, and Monte Kimble; we never did find out where Dan Saunders had got off to. Well, ‘fore you knew it, we was all shooting at each other. Will Hayes flipped backwards off his horse, hit pretty solid, and Monte Kimble and his horse went down together. Devil Hayes, on a big bay gelding, broke away to the west like he was about to win the Kentucky Derby. I applied spurs and taken out after him.
Pretty quick, Hayes hit a high trail that headed towards Chinati Peak. I figured he was planning to get lost in that broken canyon country north of the peak. He made quite a race of it but my old dun gelding was desert raised and we held our own. Just about the time we were going to catch up to him, Devil pulled his horse to a sliding stop and spun uphill, off the trail. As he did, I snapped a shot at him with my carbine and knocked him out of the saddle. But I could see by the way he got up and stumbled into some rocks that it wasn’t a solid enough hit.
That’s when old Dunny tripped on a rock or something, went rolling, and dumped me hard on the ground. I knew right quick that my leg was busted because I nearly passed out from the pain. Knowing I couldn’t stay out in the open, I drug myself and my Winchester over behind some rocks and mesquite brush.
And there we were. Devil Hayes was behind some rocks about fifty yards away and slightly above me. And he must have seen me fall because he started throwing bullets all around where I lay. Naturally, I did the same for him. He also started yelling what all he was going to do to me before and after he killed me. I tell you, that old boy was plumb mean.
So, there we lay in the hot sun, swapping shots every now and then. And old Devil yelling like a mad man, threatening stuff that even an Apache couldn’t think up. I stayed quiet, but knew that this couldn’t last very much longer. I was hurt, needed help, and didn’t have a clue what kind of shape Hayes was in.
Finally, I got an idea...a crazy idea...and spoke up for the first time. “Hayes, I know I got a bullet in you and you might as well know that I broke my leg when my horse went down. So are we both gonna lay out here in this heat until one or both of us dies? Why don’t we just stand up and settle this like real fighting men?”
And, believe it or not, the damn fool stood up!
Gun Tales is an internet magazine dedicated to entertaining our readers as well as informing them, much the way that the outdoor and gun print magazines used to do. Writers like John Wootters, Skeeter Skelton, and Elmer Keith, to name a few, took us along on their adventures and shared their knowledge with us. And, as an added bonus, we picked up info about guns, ammo, and gear that was used. Gun Tales brings our readers hunting stories, gun history, western history, and even some western fiction. Our friend Richard Mann is another one of those writers who is plenty savvy when it comes to guns and gear, but he also has the skill to tell a good and interesting story. He is with us on Gun Tales, and you should be, too.
Jim Wilson
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Good story and good pictures to go with the story! Write some more of those!