The Which Way Tree Read online

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2018 by Mary Elizabeth Crook

  Cover design by Gregg Kulick

  Cover art © Thomas Evans, Hill of the Medicine Man, original artwork owned by the City of Austin, Austin-Bergstrom International Airport

  Author photograph by Kenny Braun

  Cover © 2018 Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  First Edition: February 2018

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  ISBN 978-0-316-43496-6

  E3-20180102-DA-NF

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Newsletter

  For my grandparents

  Howard Edward Butt (1895–1991) and Mary Elizabeth Holdsworth Butt (1903–1993)

  Chapter 1

  Testimony of Benjamin Shreve

  Before Grand Jury of Fifteen

  Home of Izac Wronski

  Judge E. Carlton Presiding

  18th District

  County of Bandera

  State of Texas

  April 25, 1866

  As Recorded by Alfred R. Pittman

  Having been duly sworn, state your name.

  Benjamin Shreve.

  State your age.

  Seventeen years, sir.

  Where do you live, Benjamin?

  Over on Verde Creek. Near Camp Verde.

  All right. You may stand there. It’s crowded in here; I apologize for that. My name is Judge Edward Carlton, and this is Alfred R. Pittman. He’ll be writing down what you say before the grand jury today. Speak clearly. If he asks you to repeat something, then repeat it.

  Yes sir.

  You can hang your hat there by the door.

  I prefer to hold it, sir.

  All right, then. Do you know why you’ve been called here?

  On account of the men I found dead on Julian Creek.

  That’s correct. We believe you were the first to see the bodies and that you may have seen one of the men who hanged those gentlemen. We realize this happened three years ago and justice has had to wait out the war. So your memory on the particulars might not be clear. Simply recall what you can. Don’t make anything up. If you don’t remember, say you don’t remember.

  I will remember, sir.

  Very well. Now, the basic facts of the murders have already been established, but we’re trying to verify the names of those who took part.

  I can tell you Clarence Hanlin was one that did, sir.

  I’m not looking for your opinion, Benjamin. I’m looking for your testimony. That means what you saw, not what you think. Answer only the questions I ask you. Now. What were you doing on Julian Creek that morning when you discovered the bodies?

  Hunting, sir.

  Julian Creek is quite a few miles from Camp Verde. Why were you not hunting closer to home?

  There was no game closer to home. The Sesesh soldiers at Camp Verde had killed it all off for theirselves and their prisoners down in the canyon.

  How did you get to the Julian that morning?

  Horseback, sir.

  Were you alone?

  Yes sir.

  What time did you leave your home?

  I suppose about a hour or so before daylight. I recall I rode in the moonlight.

  And your intention was to hunt on Julian Creek?

  My intention was to kill the first game I come across. It was a deer near the Julian. I fired and missed it.

  What happened after that?

  I pitched a fit, sir. Dismounted and cursed, and then right away wished I weren’t behaving in such a manner.

  For fear you would scare off game?

  For fear of Indians and Sesesh and bushwhackers and vigilantes and whatnot. It was loud and dangerous behavior, sir.

  Benjamin, the men in this room, some of whom you probably know, are of various persuasions on the late war. You would do well to refrain from name-calling.

  Yes sir, I know one…two…three…four…five of them here that me and my father sold shingles to. That one by the door there—

  Don’t bring politics into this.

  No sir, I won’t. But it was Sesesh that done in the men I found dead.

  It is true that Confederate major William J. Alexander from Camp Verde, whereabouts unknown, is currently under indictment for murder and highway robbery. We’re trying to ascertain which of his men took part in the hanging of the eight travelers you found dead.

  Clarence Hanlin was one, sir.

  I know that’s your testimony. But if it’s true, we have to get to it in a logical way. Simply answer my questions.

  Yes sir.

  So you fired at the deer, and missed, and pitched a fit. What happened next?

  I heard coyotes yipping and I thought it was Comanches. I tied my mare in the brush and went a distance off and laid down flat where nobody could’ve seen me in the grass. But the longer I laid there and listened, the more I thought, “That is not Indians, that is actual coyotes.” I figured maybe I’d shot the deer and wounded it, and it had run off and gone down and now the coyotes was closed in and devouring it. So I thought to go and investigate and see what they was up to. I went on my belly on the chance it was Comanches in fact and not coyotes. And that was when I come across what I seen.

  As precisely as you can, describe what you saw.

  Clarence Hanlin and a pack of coyotes under a clump of scrub oaks, sir. Some ways from the creek. They was in dusky light of the morning, amid prickly pear, on rocky ground, and the coyotes was lighting out because Clarence Hanlin was waving a stick and yipping at them with a yip like he was one of them. He was spooking them out. It was a puzzle to me why he did not shoot them if they was bothering him. He had a gun. But it appeared that he—

  You had not, at that time, ever seen Mr. Hanlin before—is that correct?

  Not exactly correct, sir. I’d seen soldiers coming and going on the roads near Camp Verde, and I believe I’d seen Clarence Hanlin amongst them, as I’d noticed he had a eye that drooped. He had a distinctive look, sir. It was not a ple
asant look. He was not homely, but his looks was against him and not right.

  Gentlemen, can we please have no snickering? Alfred, I hope you’re getting everything down. I want the details recorded. All right, Benjamin, you saw a pack of coyotes and a man, whom you thought you might recognize as one of the Confederate soldiers stationed at Camp Verde, but whom you did not, at that time, know by name and with whom you had never conversed, waving a stick at the coyotes in the apparent effort to scare them off. Is that right?

  Yes sir. And yipping at them, sir. It was a odd thing, to my thinking. There was a doglike thing about it, sir.

  Are you casting aspersions?

  If you mean am I insulting the man, no sir. I guess you could say he sounded a bit like a pig, too, sir, if you wanted to cast what you said. A aspersion. It would not be off the mark. I will put it this way. It was a weird noise he made to fuss at them coyotes. Rather spooked me. Then I seen him squat down like he was fixing to pluck up firewood or some such. There was plenty of broken limbs laying about. But what he plucked up was not firewood, it was a arm. And then I seen that it was attached to a body. And then I seen other bodies.

  Pause there. Where were the bodies?

  All about at his feet, sir. Scattered, I would say. Maybe a dozen of them.

  For the record, there were eight bodies.

  They looked like more than eight to me, the way they was strewn. But eight’s on the mark if you say so. I was twenty yards off, or more. The light was feeble, on account of the sun was not full up. And now that I think on it, I suppose my first idea was the bodies was logs and branches, and nothing amiss. So how many of them there was, I did not contemplate on at that time.

  There were eight dead, precisely. We have their names. Some of these men here in this room were called out from town to help bury them. Now continue. What did you do when you saw the bodies?

  I tried to figure it out like this: here is these bodies and these coyotes and Clarence Hanlin with his stick and his yipping. So—

  Clarence Hanlin, whom you did not yet know to be Clarence Hanlin, but with whom you would later, I take it, have some familiarity?

  That’s right, sir. At that time I known him for a man with a droopy eye, in a Sesesh outfit, who I thought I might have seen before on the road near Camp Verde. So I figured the coyotes was trying to feast on the bodies, and Mr. Hanlin, the Sesesh, was scaring them off. That’s how I seen it, the best I could figure. But then it come to me that I had more to figure, because what was the bodies doing there? I figured maybe Comanches was there and killed the men the coyotes was trying to feast on, and this Sesesh come along, and though he was not friendly to look at, he was protecting the bodies. But hold it there, I thought. Because then I seen him take a object from the jacket of one of them on the ground. He took from one, and rose a step, and poked at another with his stick, and squatted and took a object from that one, too. He was looting the dead, sir. He was taking what he could find. He went from pocket to pocket, searching for valuables to pinch and pilfer. He had a satchel strapped to his side, and he put things in that. I was fearful to breathe, sir. I figured if he should see me witness him, he would come after me. I did not so much as twitch. He turned my direction at one time and did not see me, but I got a good look at him. His gaze was oddly fixed, sir. He had a harsh stare. When I seen that, I rose to my feet and took to my heels in a hurry. I made my way to my mare and rode as fast as she would take me back to my home.

  And why did you not report the crime you had witnessed?

  It was not easy to know what was a crime, and what was not, with so much mischief afoot.

  I understand your parents are deceased?

  Yes sir.

  For some time now?

  Yes sir. I live alone with my sister.

  Very well. Now. About your subsequent encounters with this man. Tell me about those.

  Well, that’s a long story. He wanted to do me in. Me and my sister both.

  He wanted to kill you? Because of what you had witnessed?

  No sir. Because of a thing that happened. I’d rather not be made to speak of it, if that’s a option.

  It is not an option, Benjamin. Why did he want to kill you?

  Well, sir. I guess it was on account of my sister had shot his finger.

  Shot his finger?

  Shot it off, sir.

  You’re saying she shot off one of his fingers?

  One and a portion, sir.

  Gentlemen, hold your amusement. The boy will explain. Benjamin, will you recount the circumstances?

  Some time after what I seen on the Julian, my sister and me was sitting in a tree with a goat staked out on the ground to entice a panther. It was my sister’s wish to kill the panther but Mr. Hanlin got hisself in her aim.

  She shot him by accident?

  No. He provoked her, sir. He was hollering and advancing so she shot at him, and rightly so, if you ask me, although I did not think so at the time.

  Can I assume he had a reason to be hollering and advancing?

  I suppose, sir. She was hollering at him.

  I see. Benjamin, I have at least a dozen other people I need to question today, so I don’t have time for digressions. But if Clarence Hanlin is a man prone to committing violent acts without provocation, that would be helpful to know. Would you say that’s the case?

  I would say there was some provocation by my sister only if hollering is provocation. But before her provocation he was provoking of her by the needless act of stabbing a camel, sir.

  One of the camels stationed at Camp Verde, I presume.

  Yes sir. So I would say the first provoking act was on the side of Mr. Hanlin, done by him. The camel was decrepit and broke down, and Mr. Hanlin jabbed it a fair number of times in the hump as it was not moving as fast as he wished it to. It made loud and fearful noises whilst being stabbed, sir, and fell to its knees—a monstrous end for a beast come all the way from Egypt. My sister would not sit for it, and being as she was in the tree and had a pistol, and the panther had not come hisself to get hisself shot, it was a poor time and place for Mr. Hanlin to be stabbing the creature in such a way. I will give you the short of it if that is what you want. My sister—

  I’m afraid I don’t have time even for the short of it at the moment. I need information specific to Mr. Hanlin’s guilt or innocence in murder and his current whereabouts. How many times did you have contact with him after seeing him on the Julian?

  It was ongoing, sir, after what my sister done to his finger. He was tracking us for two full days and a portion of another. On occasion he gave chase. There was words spoken. There was shots fired.

  I’m uncertain if you’re providing a deficit of information or a surplus, son, but I’m getting no closer to what I want to know. Can you stick close to the point?

  Clarence Hanlin was one that done in the men on the Julian, sir. Hanged and robbed them. He told me by admission of the hanging and I witnessed the robbing. If that’s what you’re in search of, then there it is, sir. The very, very short of it, sir. You have my word on it.

  He told you of the hanging?

  Yes sir. In some detail, when he caught up with us. He told me he’d string me up, too. Said he’d string up my sister right alongside and watch our necks pop. He was a terrible pest, sir.

  And your sister heard this confession and threat also?

  Yes, she did. It led to a great deal of conflict. She is a person of uncommon temper.

  I will need to have her testify.

  She won’t do that, sir. She’s cat-marked and poor to look at. Also mulatto. Her mother was a Negro. She won’t come.

  I’m to understand she had a different mother from yours?

  Quite different from mine, sir. However, both passed. Alike in that respect, sir.

  How old is she?

  Younger than me by two years. Fifteen at the present time. Twelve when she done what she done about the finger.

  I see. Can you read and write?

 
Efficiently. I have twice read the whole of The Whale, about Moby Dick. I have read Malaeska: The Indian Wife of the White Hunter. And I have read two novels of the Waverley brand. They was all given to me by the Yankee prisoners down in the canyon. I tossed them a ear of corn and up come The Whale. Fell at my feet. And next day I—

  Do you post and receive mail?

  No sir. I have not in the past. The Camp Verde post office is shut down now. That whole place is a shambles and looted. I could receive mail at the post office in Dr. Ganahl’s home at Zanzenburg, which is not far off from my home. However, he was Sesesh, and remained so, and has fled to Mexico, and I do not know if—

  We’ll settle on the post office at Comfort. I want you to write a full account of every encounter you’ve had with Clarence Hanlin. Write in detail and be frank. I’ll be back in Bandera in three months and at that time I’ll need to render my recommendation to this grand jury. I will be questioning others about this case in the meantime. But because you have had personal interactions with Mr. Hanlin your statements are essential. It’s our job to make sure justice is done in these crimes of Confederate soldiers against civilians of Union sentiment. A big part of that job will be yours. I want you to write a clear statement of who you are, who your parents were, who your sister is, and describe every brush you’ve had with the individual you know as Clarence Hanlin. Remember that this is a testament and you are under oath to be truthful. Then I want you to deliver your report to the Comfort post office. The postmaster will see that it finds me. If I have further questions I’ll put them to you in writing and send them to Comfort. Do you often go there?

  Yes sir, I do on occasion, to sell furniture I make.

  All right. Before you leave now, let me be clear on one thing. I presume you have not seen the man you refer to as Clarence Hanlin in the three years since the encounters we’ve discussed?

  No sir.

  And where, exactly, was he when you last saw him?

  The Medina, sir. Somewhat north of here. He went round a bend. Swept away.

  Swept away?

  In a gullywasher. Off he went in the gullywasher and I’ve not seen hide nor hair of the man since that time.

  This is unexpected. Do you presume him dead?