The Cogan Legend (24 page)

“Where are we going, Lieutenant?” Sergeant Koppenhaver asked.  

“We have a task to perform, Sergeant.”    

Before they reached the burnt out buildings, Phillip ordered them to stop and tie their horses.

“You're probably not going to like this part of the job,” Phillip said looking at each of the men.  “But it has to be done.”  

Puzzled, they looked at each other.  Phillip saw that the pieces of wood he had placed over the well were gone.  Cautiously, he walked to the well, looked in and shook his head in disbelief.    

“What is it, sir?” Sergeant Koppenhaver asked.

“There was a dead body in here a few weeks ago.  I stopped here just before returning to the fort.”  He pushed his hat back and scratched his head.  “He's gone now.”

“Did you see enough to identify him?” one of the men asked.

“It was Jim Soll.  Someone split his skull open and dropped him feet first into the well.”

“Jim Soll?” a soldier asked.

“The man who lived in that farm house we searched.  He was one of the men that gave me this scar.”  He pointed to his head where the bullet that knocked him from the saddle and almost killed him had left a section of torn flesh that had finally scabbed over.  

“Someone must have pulled him out,” Sergeant Koppenhaver said.

“It was his brother, Poll,” Phillip said.  “He's here, I know he's here, and we'll find him.”  

With cupped hands around his mouth Phillip turned toward the Cogan and yelled as loud as he could, “We'll find you.  We'll find you, Poll Soll, you bastard.” It echoed throughout the Cogan.  

“Sergeant, I want you and the men to accompany me through the Cogan and then return to the camp and take command until I return.”  

“Where are you going, sir?”

“I'm going to pick up a friend to assist us in the search.  We should be back before noon.  Keep alert! The bastard that attacked me and killed Rachel Miller is out there somewhere and he knows this area like the back of his hand.  When I get back, we'll talk strategy.   Don't do a damn thing until I get back!”  

***

From the side of the mountain, Poll Soll observed the troops. He faintly heard Phillip's threat but didn't smile at it.  He understood that the Army thought he was one of the killers.  He was tempted to walk into the camp and give himself up, to explain that he'd watched his brother do evil things in the past and had never stopped him until this time.  But he guessed that the Army wasn't interested in the truth.  They wanted vengeance.

Poll Soll melted back into the trees and, invisible to the squad camped below disappeared as silently as a ghost into the rising mist.  He knew the Cogan well and that gave him an advantage.  The fact that people thought he was dull gave him another advantage.

Everything he knew, Poll learned from his Indian mother and a few braves who quietly visited and just as quietly departed while Poll was young.

It was his mother's knowledge of medicine that saved his leg and his life.  She showed him how to survive off the land.   He made arrows and hunted with a bow and learned how to cover his trail.  Most importantly, she showed him the Indian burial ground.  To Poll Soll, this was the most sacred place on earth; no one except Poll Soll now knew where it was.  

***

The sun was just setting when Phillip arrived at the lodge.  He hugged Mary and as he gave Tom a handshake he sensed that Tom was annoyed.  

“What have you been doing, searching without me?”  Tom asked angrily.

Phillip lifted a placating hand. “Whoa,” he said.  “I had to finish a ton of paperwork before the captain would consider letting me leave.  Didn't you get my letter explaining that?”

Tom nodded. “I got it.  Sorry. It's been hard sitting around for a couple of weeks not knowing what you were doing.”

“We'll leave at daybreak.  My men are camped on the lower side of the Cogan waiting for my return.”

“You and Tom can catch up on things while I get something for us to eat,” Mary said.  

“Mary, have you heard from Charles?” Phillip asked.   

“Yes, but only that he hopes to return here as soon as Ann is feeling better.”

Phillip nodded.  “I got a letter from Ann.  She said she had another dream about Rachel. She believes Rachel's spirit spoke to her about the incident and told her again not to blame herself for what happened.”

“I guess she blames me instead,” Tom shot back.  

”It helps to know that Rachel can forgive us,” Phillip said.  “I don't know if I believe all that, but Ann does and she wants us to believe it, too.  Nobody is to blame for this but the men who killed Rachel.”

“Yeah, but tell my gut that!” Tom shouted. “I thought it would be good for us if Rachel went.  I thought I'd get an advantage with Mr. Fairchild and…” his face clouded, and he was unable to finish his sentence.

“We all feel guilty about it.  Every day I ask ‘what if', but it won't bring her back.  I hope that catching this murderer will ease some of the pain and guilt for all of us,” Phillip consoled.

Mary picked up on his comment. “What do you mean murderer, Phillip?  I thought there were two men involved?”

“I thought that too, but on the way back to the fort, I found the taller man floating face up in the well.   Now I know we're only looking for one man: Poll Soll.”

“Well that's a good thing, isn't it?  To hunt down only one man instead of two,” Tom added.

Phillip nodded then asked, “Did you have a chance to acquaint yourself with the area?”

“I rode around the area when I wasn't helping Mary.  I even got as far as the Cogan but took your advice and didn't enter. Riding alone made me realize just how much Rachel meant to me.  I did a lot of soul searching over the last couple weeks.  I miss her so much.  I still can't believe she is gone.” Tears filled Tom's eyes.

After regaining his composure Tom inquired, “Did Ann mention anything about Carrie in her letters?”

“Yes, Ann has tried to visit her on occasion, but Carrie resents her presence and won't open the door.  Ann thinks she has bitter feelings toward the Fairchild's.”

“I knew this would happen.”  Tom shook his head.  “She told me she would hold me personally responsible if anything happened to Rachel.  She would blame the Fairchild's too.”

Phillip turned to Mary. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm doing fine.  Tom has been company for me and a big help.  He did everything I asked of him, but I must confess I miss Charles a little.”  Both men laughed at her comment.

“Ah, the truth at last,” Phillip chuckled then stifled a yawn.  “I don't know about you two, but I'm tired and four o'clock comes early.”  

In the morning Tom was up before Phillip, and again Mary had prepared breakfast.  While he ate Phillip stated, “This morning when we get to the Cogan I'll show you where everything happened and try to describe what took place.”

Tom was anxious to leave and took the lead as they headed through the gap toward the Cogan.  They approached the Cogan and Phillip requested, “Let's walk the horses so I can show you where and what transpired that day.”

Even though the bloodstains disappeared from the snow Phillip knew the exact site of the murder when he saw the handkerchief tied around the tree.  Pointing to the bank Phillip relived that day, telling Tom each detail.  Tom paused for a moment before he realized that he was standing on the spot where Rachel was murdered.  

“It's time to mount up and move on if we want to get to the camp this afternoon,” Phillip said.    

While riding down the trail Phillip mentioned the eerie feeling he had before and told Tom, “When I came back alone I felt as if someone was watching me the entire time.  I looked all around, but I didn't see a soul.  It was scary.”  

Phillip pointed at the well when they approached the burnt out dwellings. “I was never so frightened in my life as when I found him, Jim Soll, floating face up with his eyes wide open.  When I came back with the patrol and wanted to bury the body, I was shocked to find it gone.  His brother must have pulled him out. That's why I know he's still around.”

Soon they were out of the Cogan to the spot where the soldiers were camped.  

Phillip was glad to be back with his men. “It's good to see you men.  I want you to meet someone; Tom Straub is going to join us in the search.”

“Tonight, I'm going to tell all of you exactly what you've volunteered for.”   He looked at the sergeant and asked, “Sergeant, is everything okay?  What have you been up to in my absence?”

“Waiting for you, sir, and of course, playing poker,” he replied.

“Are we going searching today, sir?” the sergeant asked.

“No, we won't be going out today anymore, but I expect everyone to be up bright and early.  I have plans for the next three days.”

That night as they sat around the campfire and ate, Phillip told the men exactly what happened in the Cogan, and for whom they were searching.  

 

 

True to his word, Phillip and his men were up bright and early.  After mess he ordered, “Saddle up. I want to get started.”  Phillip had led numerous patrols in the past but never a manhunt before.  Nevertheless, it was his goal to capture Poll Soll within three days – or less, if he could.  

Dawn was breaking as they left camp, giving them enough light to see where they were riding.  The hoots of a great horned owl echoed throughout the Cogan making an eerie backdrop to the steady drone of horse hooves as they headed to the upper end of the Cogan.  

Phillip studied the forest on each side of the trail.  Morning dew sparkled in the early dawn.  Huge majestic trees reached for the sky on the southern slopes dominated by poplar, red oak, black birch, and chestnut oak, with sprinkles of red maple, white oak, locust, hickory, and white pine.  The northern slopes were different. Those sometimes sheer ascents were populated by huge hemlock and black birch.  There were other varieties of trees that filled in the gaps, but they couldn't compete and tended to be smaller.  Dominant among the smaller greenery was mountain laurel that spread its branches like grasping claws making passage by man or horse impossible.  

From his perch on the side of the mountain, near enough to the soldier's campsite, Poll Soll observed their every move without fear of being seen or caught.  He was mildly surprised to see the campsite left unattended, but he had no intention of going there.

Tom rode alongside Phillip at the head of the column.

The men were awed by the straight, tall trees.  When they approached the burnt out buildings, a flock of turkeys made a tremendous noise and scared the horses, causing them to shy to the side as the birds flew out of their roost.  Further up the road the men saw a flash of white tail deer as they darted up the mountain. Sensing the men's uneasiness, Phillip stopped and ordered, “Men, be alert to movement on either side of the road.”  

Phillip reviewed the plan over in his mind and when they approached the site where the murder took place he said, “We're going to stop here.  I have a hunch and want to check on something.”  He dismounted, climbed up the bank and called back to his men. “I thought so.  At this exact spot a man could easily shoot and jump on the coach.  I was sure there would be a trail coming over the mountain, but it isn't visible from the road. I'm positive the trail will lead us to Jim Soll's farm.

“Tom, let's walk this trail out, and see if I'm right. Sergeant, you and the men stay here until we return.  If my hunch is right, it won't take long.”

The mountain was steep, and it was even tougher walking as they encountered patches of old snow.  They were glad to see the top of the mountain.  The trail was worn, and although not recently used, it was easy enough to see and follow.  Finally they could see the wood line where the trail led into an open field and leveled off.

“Tom, I knew it!” Phillip said pointing down the mountainside. “See that house?”

Tom squinted against the glare of the early morning sun. “Yep, I see it.”

“That's Jim Soll's house. We searched it the other day when we came by on our way to the Cogan.  This is how they got ahead of the coach that day.  They took this short cut and set us up for the ambush.  Tom, this is all the evidence I need to link them to Rachel's murder.”  

After they returned, Phillip told the sergeant, “Have two of the men take the horses back to the campsite, and the rest of us will search on foot.”  

Phillip decided a good starting place would be the trail where he and Tom had just been.   They walked back up the trail and Phillip ordered, “I want men spaced every 50 yards up to the top of the mountain.  We're going to head in the direction of the campsite.  Wait for my signal and try to stay in a line as we walk.  Sergeant, you stay on the road and if anyone sees a footprint, shout out.”  

It was rough walking on the side of the mountain and not long after they started, a loud bellowing roar echoed through the Cogan.  Startled, everyone stopped and a few of the men pulled out their pistols.  One soldier called, “What was that, sir?”

“I don't know.  I've never heard anything like it,” Phillip replied.  He collected his nerve and motioned for the men to continue.  “Let's keep going,” he said. The sound had made everyone more cautious, and the line advanced more slowly up the side of the mountain. Phillip was anxious for one of the men to find any kind of sign or footprint left by Poll Soll, but the search came up empty.

That night at mess Tom said, “I thought for sure we'd find something today.”  

“I know Poll Soll is in the mountains. I can sense his presence,” Phillip said, leaning on the post of the tent and staring toward the Cogan.  He'd underestimated Poll Soll; maybe finding him wouldn't be as easy as he thought.