The Cogan Legend (23 page)

Once he entered the Cogan the wind subsided, the sun disappeared, and it became deathly quiet.  An eerie feeling came over him.  Perhaps, he thought, the same feeling the girls had felt each time they entered this place.  Several inches of new snow had fallen covering everything that had happened that horrid day.  Phillip slowed his horse to a walk.  There were no new wagon tracks in the snow; apparently, not many people used this road.  Present were deer tracks going up and down the banks, and even cougar tracks on the road, but not a human track to be found.

Phillip slowly made his way toward the spot where he thought the coach had set.  He felt as if he was being watched, but he didn't see anyone or anything as he looked up the mountainside.   He came to the area where the murder took place, dismounted and walked around looking for clues or anything that would lead to those men.  Saddened by the thoughts of the tragedy, tears began to roll down his cheeks.  He kicked the fresh snow and there underneath was frozen blood.  

Phillip walked toward where he thought the coach had been, kicked the snow again and found more blood.   Now he knew this was the spot where the coach sat.  He tied a handkerchief around a tree to mark the exact spot.  He thought about the blood that went down the road and then shook his head and realized if Rachel was inside the coach, this couldn't be her blood.  It had to be one of the murderer's.  Now even more confused, he couldn't understand why it would be their blood, or either of the girls.  Determined to solve this mystery he looked around for several more minutes and told himself,
I'll avenge Rachel's death, I swear.
  Phillip didn't find anything else, so he decided to move along.  

A chill came over him as he rode down the trail toward the burnt out structures.  He sensed someone was watching so he yelled as loud as he could, “I'm going to find you. I will find you.”  It echoed all around the Cogan.  

Soon he was at the site of the fire.  Even with the new snow the charred boards and the foundations were clearly visible.  He dismounted, walked around and looked for footprints, but there were none to be found.  

When the house burned, a portion of the wall fell across the open well.  Thirsty, Phillip decided to pull the wood away from the opening and lean over for a drink.  Horrified at what he saw, he jumped back and shouted, “Oh my god!”   

 He drew his pistol, cocked it, took a deep breath and slowly approached the well again.  There floating face up was the big, scarred stranger.  Phillip, still visibly shaken, stepped back.  Again, he approached cautiously, this time taking a better look at the man.  Previously, he only had momentary glimpses of the man, but he recognized the scar on his cheek.  His skull was split with his eyes wide open and face and hands white; it was truly a shocking sight.   The dead man's face reflected a look of horror and Phillip felt that look was transformed to him.  Phillip decided to do nothing but cover the well; after all, the body wasn't going anywhere.  It would be there until he returned with his patrol, then he'd pull him out and bury him.  

Still shaken, he spurred the horse to a gallop.  He wanted to get away from the Cogan as fast as he could.  As he rode he wondered if the two men fought over the girls, and the one killed the other.  It would explain the blood trail down the road.  It was the only thing that made sense.

He approached Herndon and stopped at the tavern for something to eat and inquire about the two men.   After he'd ordered, he approached the innkeeper.  “Mr. Parson, about two weeks ago, I was here with two young ladies and their driver on our way to Gratztown.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you.”

“We had an encounter with a big man who had a scar on his cheek.  Have you seen him lately?”  

“I know who you mean, but I haven't seen him lately.  Rumor has it that he and his brother burned his brother's house and livery stable to the ground and left the area.  I didn't go up and look but that's what I heard.”  

“You mean the place in the Cogan?”  Phillip asked.

“Yea, that's the place,” the innkeeper said.

“Does anybody know why?”  

Just then a man came in and sat at the end of the bar.  The innkeeper asked, “Lamar, maybe you can help answer some of the Lieutenant's questions.  You get around more than I do.  He wants to know about Jim Soll and his brother.”   

“What do you want to know?”  Lamar asked.

“About the fire in the Cogan.”

 “The rumor I heard by a few of the locals who use the road was that they saw blood all over the area before the new snowfall.   They know something terrible happened, but they don't know what.  Everybody around here suspects murder, and they think those two did it and took off.  People heard of strange things happening up there for years, but this is the worst.  Now everyone is afraid to use that road.”  

Phillip asked, “What are their names again?”

Lamar said, “The big one is Jim Soll and the shorter; lame one is Poll Soll.  Both are half Indian.  Their father married a squaw from the Susquehannock tribe and brought her here to settle.  They had those two.  I heard their father was one mean man.  Those men know this area like the backs of their hands.”  

Phillip inquired about the shorter one. “How did he become lame?”

Lamar told him, “I had heard that while playing as kids, Jim Soll accidentally chopped Poll in the back of the leg with an axe, and he's been lame ever since.”

Then Phillip asked, “How did the big man get that huge scar on his cheek?”

“Right here in this tavern,” the innkeeper said.  “When I first purchased this place, twenty years ago, Jim Soll came in one night.  He does patronize this tavern, and he's a good customer.  Anyhow, this couple that I had never seen before sat there where Lamar is sitting; the woman at the corner and the man to her left. I'm not even sure they were married.  They were minding their own business when Jim kept getting closer to the woman and made obscene gestures along with filthy talk.  Soon he had his hand on her leg, and by that time the stranger had this long knife in his hand and slashed him right across the cheek.  The wound was deep and blood poured out.  Jim knocked the woman right into the man, then grabbed his arm and the knife, drug him outside and beat him.  I never saw anything like it.  Jim beat him to within an inch of his life.  It took all the strength she had to get him in the wagon, and I never saw those two again, but Jim kept the knife.  I'll never forget it.”  

Lamar chimed in, “Story has it that their mother was familiar with this area.  As a young girl, her tribe would camp along the river at different points every summer and the Cogan was one of them.  Poll Soll was her favorite; she taught him everything she knew about Indian life.  Jim took after his father, mean, especially when he drank.”

“Ever since I was a young lad, my pop and others told me they heard there was an Indian burial ground in this area, but nobody ever found it,” the innkeeper added.

“I heard that same rumor, but I don't know if it's true or not,” Lamar said.

Phillip continued, “Were either of them married?”

“I'm not sure,” the innkeeper responded.  “Jim owns the house about a mile from here where the barn sits across the road.  That's the old homestead; it needs a lot of work.”  

“Does the little man, Poll Soll, ever come into the tavern?”

The innkeeper was quick to answer.  “No, he's seldom seen and keeps to himself up there in the Cogan.  I'll bet in my whole life I haven't seen him more than five times, and I'm not a spring chicken.”  

Lamar added, “His brother takes care of his needs, not that he has any.  Folks around here claim he lives off mostly wildlife.  He's more the Indian and hunts with a bow.  I know he is strong too, once I saw him coming out of the woods carrying a deer over his shoulders.”

The lieutenant nodded. “It's something to remember,” he said softly.  He stood. “Gentlemen, this has been a very interesting conversation.  I'm glad I stopped.  I've learned a lot, but I must be going.  I have to get to the fort before nightfall.”

 “Soldier, why are you asking all these questions?” Lamar wanted to know.

“The rumors are true.  There was a murder committed in the Cogan. Today I found out there were two murders committed.  I believe it was Poll Soll that committed the murders.  I need to find him.”

Lamar and the innkeeper looked at each other.

“I should be back with a patrol in the next week or so.  I'll stop here to see if anyone has seen him.  Gentlemen, have a good day.”    

While he rode, Phillip thought about what he had learned of the two men.  He was sure none of the local residents knew of Poll Soll's whereabouts, or the innkeeper would've mentioned it.  He thought perhaps he did leave the area but decided this is his home, and he wouldn't leave.  He might be held up somewhere around here, and they'd find him. He was puzzled how the big stranger wound up in the well.  It didn't make any sense.  He now knew he was looking for one man instead of two.  Phillip also guessed the knife he'd found was the same knife Jim Soll took in that fight twenty years earlier and was the same knife that killed Rachel.

The lieutenant arrived at the fort totally exhausted and hungry just as night set in.  After supper, he went to bed.  

The next morning he reported to the captain.  “I'm glad you're back, Lieutenant.  That was quite a tragedy that you experienced.   How's that girl, Miss Fairchild, doing?  If there is something I can do, please let me know.  By the way, I let all the paperwork pile up in your absence.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said with a grin.  “Miss Fairchild is doing better.  She seems to be getting stronger each day.  Thank you for asking, sir.”

“Do you have any idea who did this?”

“Yes, I know who is responsible. Actually, after I get caught up, I would like to take a patrol and catch the man who did this, but I'll discuss that with you later.”  

Phillip wrote to Ann but never mentioned what he had learned about the two men.   He couldn't help wonder if she remembered anything about the horrible day, but he didn't want to stir up terrible memories.  

The week progressed, and Phillip hurried to complete all of the paperwork.  He was anxious to get back to the Cogan and find Poll Soll.

 

CHAPTER 17

 

After two weeks, Phillip wrote to Tom to tell him that he should prepare himself.  He'd talked to the captain who approved his plan for the search and had given him four days for the manhunt.  He'd also allowed him six soldiers but indicated that they would have to be volunteers.

It didn't take much for Phillip to get six volunteers. The men liked him and had heard through the rumor mill that he was going to avenge the death of Rachel Miller, a friend of the lieutenant.  They'd also heard that Rachel had been killed while under the lieutenant's escort, but no one spoke that fact aloud. Early Monday morning, the troops and a supply wagon assembled inside the fort.  Before they moved out Sergeant Koppenhaver asked, “Lieutenant, we've heard of murders around Herndon.  Is that why we're going on this patrol?”

“Yes, that's why we're going.  I'll explain everything to all of you when we set up camp.”  

By noon they were at the Herndon Inn, and Phillip ordered the men to stop.  “I need to talk to the innkeeper.  It'll give you a chance to warm up.”

“May we get a drink, sir?” one soldier asked.

“No,” Phillip said. “We don't have the time for that.”

When he opened the door the innkeeper said, “Lieutenant, it's nice to see you again.”  

“I stopped to inquire about the man they call Poll Soll and allow the men to warm up.  By any chance do you know if anyone has seen him lately?”

“Nobody's mentioned seeing him,” Mr. Parson looked outside and saw the dismounting soldiers. He nodded as if acknowledging he'd been right about something.  “I thought the Army would investigate. Shortly after you left, I started asking folks if they'd seen him.  It seems he disappeared, almost like he vanished.”  

“That's not surprising based on what you told me about his background, but we'll find him.  Thanks for the information.”  

Before they left, the innkeeper asked, “Lieutenant, this is about the two murders that took place in the Cogan, right?”

“Yes, that's correct, and I believe that Poll Soll is responsible,” Phillip said turning away.  

“Let's go,” Phillip ordered his men.  He glanced back at the innkeeper.  “Thank you for the information, Mr. Parson.”    

Approaching the farm house where he'd last seen Jim Soll standing on the porch, Phillip motioned for the members of the patrol to surround the house. When he was satisfied that his men were posted at all the possible escape routes, the back door, the basement door and the windows, Phillip readied his pistol.  He and Sergeant Koppenhaver entered through the front door.  The place was a deplorable mess; it had a foul odor and dirty clothes were scattered everywhere.  When they entered the kitchen, there was food on the floor and table and dirty plates in the dry sink.  Trash was everywhere. “Looks like a pigsty,” Phillip said, wrinkling his nose.

“This place is worse than my quarters, Lieutenant.”  The sergeant chuckled.  “I've never seen anything like this.”   

Then several rats ran across the floor. “Let's get out of here, Sergeant. I can't take this filth and smell anymore.  What it doesn't smell like is a decaying body, so we know they didn't kill each other and save us the trouble.  I don't see anything to indicate he's here, at least not lately.”    

It wasn't hard to find a place to setup camp since the January thaw had melted a lot of the snow.  Phillip chose a spot not too far from the entrance to the Cogan.  When the camp was set up and the tents were in place, he took four men and went into the Cogan.  It was time to pull Jim Soll out of the well.