Killing Time

Killing Time.

The Georgia Gold Rush of 1825 ignited another huge rush to find fame and fortune.
So it was with Amos Strange. He had nothing, was going nowhere fast with all his nothing so off he went to find that elusive yellow metal. His hard work paid off but only in amounts that would feed him and keep him in rotgut whiskey.
This was the case with most of the so called miners, so called because most had never held a pick or shovel in their life, let alone dig a tunnel or pan in a river.
Amos found a few small nuggets , enough to take him to the Assay Office to get his hard won money. It was on one of these rare days that he chanced to meet a real dark haired beauty who was walking past as he came out, in fact he knocked her down in his haste to get to the saloon for a much needed shot or two.
It had been over a month since his last trip into Pines Peak and he was in the mood for some fun. He found it with Geraldine McKinley who was sore mad about being knocked on her butt as he rushed out with his meagre wealth.
Amos apologized profusely and offered her his apologies by means of a meal and drink in the saloon across the street.
They soon hit it off as friends. Geri, as she preferred to be called, said that she had come to Pine Peaks with her parents, having the same gold fever, they died together after contracting typhoid within 2 months of arriving, leaving Geri with nothing but her wits and feminine wiles to help her survive.
Only 2 weeks passed before she decided to go back to Amos's claim up in the hills.
Only 2 more months passed before she found herself pregnant and alone.
Amos went missing during the night after she told him.
With the help of some Mission folk, not too friendly, she managed to get through her pregnancy only to die of complications and no doctor, as the boy was born.
He was taken in as a babe in arms by a friendly couple who also had another baby. He was looked after and seemed to be loved and time passed. The town grew as more folk came in lusting after gold
The folk who took him in finally gave up in their search for wealth and decided to move out to pastures new. After whispered talk deep into the night they had arranged for Henry to be left in the care of Pastor Swannick. Reason being that he wasn't their kin and the journey would be harsh enough for them and their now family of 4, three girls and the lad who was the same age as Henry.
At his birth the boy was given the name of Henry Goodfellow. Henry after the fiery minister, and Goodfellow as a snipe at his start in life. Unbaptized as they said his father was unknown and his mother was a gold fever whore of which there were many.
Now an orphan in a world as savage as any jungle the boy fought for survival, living on his wits and whatever the church folk would give him.As if they just wanted to rid themselves of a problem the minister, Parson Swannick and his small church council sent the lad to a decrepit orphanage on the edge of town. One where Swannick was paid a stipend from the church to oversee.Whatever monies he received from the town mostly went into his pocket. The children, some 15, were farmed out to do menial tasks for which Swannick got the rewards. The children were poorly fed and clothed, those who were lucky enough to work for kindly folk were fed and clothed by them too.
Henry, who was by now entering his 6th year was not one of those lucky ones, folk wouldn't employ him because of his belligerent attitude, in fact they stipulated that they didn't want him. The minister took a great dislike to Henry mainly because he brought in no money yet still had to be fed.
Henry was abused by those who looked after him. The nightly visits from Parson Swannick were the worst. He hurt Henry. In fact he took great pleasure in hurting Henry. He shared him with his friends whenever they came around. Some of the older boys also despised him for what they saw as laziness. He never went out to work. What they didn't know was that he could hardly walk, never mind work due to the abuse he endured. They soon found ways of dealing with him. His bed stunk of urine where they relieved themselves, his shoes, such as they were would disappear, and then the beatings, oh the regular beatings he took, almost became a ritual. Later in life he was to find ecstatic and erotic pleasure from it and inflicting it.
After one of the beatings when he thought he could endure no more, he ran to Parson Swannick in the misguided hope that he would help him. He was beaten again for saying such wicked things about the hardworking boys. The abuse seemed endless until one night, Henry turned. After a particularly savage beating he was curled up on his bed and Swannick came in to make his nightly head count. All were present and 'asleep' He pulled the rags that served as blankets from Henry and the waft of urine almost made his eyes water. In anger and disgust he dragged him out of the room and proceeded to abuse him more than ever before.
The rage that overtook Henry was swift and terrible. He had been bent over the table naked while Swannick satisfied himself. His hands, scrabbling around the edge of the table seeking purchase, found a drawer with kitchen knives, he slid one out, just as the parson finished and turned the lad round for another thrashing. The knife, razor sharp flashed across his throat and his lifeblood sprayed Henry. With a soft gurgle and a look of astonishment Swannick slid to the floor.
Henry ran from the kitchen covered in blood fortunate that he had been stripped for the abuse, he found the water pump and washed the evidence of his crime from his young body, gathering his clothes he crept back to the dormitory, fearful that someone may have witnessed the crime, but all were sound asleep.
Henry was only 10 years old. He was too young to have been considered as the killer of Parson Swannick. That was put down to any itinerant looking for an easy mark. Killing was commonplace thereabouts and the outrage soon died down. Only Henry knew.
Although Swannick was now gone the beatings from the other boys continued, worse now as there was only the church helpers around during the day until another overseer could be found.
A boy was found one morning dead in his bed. Something that was almost a common occurrence due to the diet and sanitation of the time and place. He was duly buried and no more was said.
Only Henry knew that it was one less abuser for him to deal with.
Henry took off one night when the dormitory door was left unlocked.
He soon became street wise, he had to, to stay alive. His anger fueled him to go on. Soon he could pick pockets and swindle with the best of them. He had a built in hate for anyone who sported wealth and title. They never gave him a passing glance, he was so far beneath them. he vowed that would change one day and he would make recompense for all he has suffered.
The mining was fast petering out as less and less gold was found, he was finding it hard to get by.
he decided to get away from this hell hole and late one night he stole a horse and made his long awaited getaway. By late evening the following day he found himself on the outskirts of yet another squalid mining town where he stopped to rest and think about his next move, when it was made for him. He was chewing on a piece of beef he has purloined from the mining camps cookhouse, when he saw a bedraggled old man dragging an even more bedraggled mule along the track from above the treeline.
Thinking fast, he took in the scene. No one around, he picked up a rock and approached the man, offering him a drink from the water bottle in his hand. As the old miner took a hefty swig Henry hit him with every ounce of strength his young body could muster.
It was enough to fell the old man and Henry had possessions for the first time in his life.
When he checked the panniers on the mule he found the miners hoard. He must have been in the hills for a long time or he had found a mother lode for there were many small bags full of nuggets.
His wiles and street sense soon made it obvious that folk would wonder where a small boy had got this mule and mining kit from.
Folk stopped and stared as this poor boy struggled with the mule, crying for help. Looking from face to face for a benevolent person to help him. It worked like magic, a woman knelt in front of him asking what was he crying for. Henry 'fainted'. No better way for a poor waif to gain sympathy from a woman. he felt himself being lifted up, someone said to take him to the doc and hope he was still sober enough to take charge.
When Henry's face was bathed he 'awoke'. He cried out in alarm and struggled to get free. He was held fast but not severely so. The woman asked him where he had come from. His story that his mother had been killed when a wagon had hit her two years ago and his father had died in a mud slide on the way down off the mountain was so convincing that even the menfolk, it seemed, were moved to tears. Henry couldn't believe his luck, the folk of Parker's Bend on the Little Snake River were looking like easy prey.
He pleaded for food as he hadn't eaten for days after his father died. There was nothing on the mule to say who owned it. There was no gold either, that was well hidden outside town.
When the sheriff was called he was asked his name and that was when he became Travis McKibbin.
His parents were John and Martha McKibbin from Ohio, where they had lost the farm in the drought of '48. So wily was Henry, now Travis, that he was believed from the outset. He asked the good sheriff if he could find anyone to buy the mule and goods as he had no money to repay the kindness the lady and her friends had shown him. Oh this boy had learned well, and he was good. They were eating out of his hand. He soon found that he could whimper his way into anything.
He was given a good price for his 'stock' by the General Merchandise Store owner.
Travis was on his way up.
He worked hard for the town, doing anything they asked, all the while not having to touch his savings and leaving the gold hoard well hidden. he managed to last for a few years, all the while looking for a way to move on without suspicion.
His chance came from an unlikely source and one that he hated.
Reverend John Prescott the minister of the church said that as he had been so successful in planting the church in Parker's Bend, that he was going to set up a new church in the California gold fields and asked Travis if he wanted to make a new start there with him.
In truth he needed Travis to make the journey 'interesting ' as he had been using him for his simple but corrupt pleasure.
Travis told himself that they were all the same but he now had his way out finally. Over the next few weeks he made trips to his hoard of gold bringing some of the small bags back with each visit. Carefully hiding it in his room over the stable.
By the time Spring came he had the hoard safely stashed and was waiting for the Reverend to make his move. It came just as the rains stopped and the small wagon train was able to move out.
The Prescott wagon was kept in the big stable while it was loaded and made ready.
Travis used this time to move his stash into the wagon, hiding it under the boxes and sacks that arrived daily.
He thought it amusing and ironic that he could hide some bags under the bibles for which he had no use for whatsoever.
After the way the church had treated him over the years he knew there was no god, just these filthy sneering men that abused him. He would get even he promised himself.
Travis was now a sturdy 15 year old who looked and carried himself for one in advance of his years.
He could work the team pulling the wagon as good as anyone on the train. He worked hard and gained respect of the many folk on the journey, except Prescott who continued his lust for the boy.
Travis could have easily overcome the man but that would do him no good as he still had to get to California with his gold, so he succumbed, biding his time.
His thoughts while on the long dusty journey kept turning to what he would do with his hidden wealth. He had decided that to make it plausible , he would go out into the gold fields and 'strike it rich'. So many were still finding gold after the rush of '39 that it shouldn't cause him too much trouble.
The train of 8 wagons made good time reaching California. They arrived at a busy mining town of Colombia. The place was a heaving mass of corruption, according to Reverend Prescott, and ripe for his church, ripe for some rich pickings too.
Prescott soon found a place, an old rundown jail, long since abandoned in favor of the new one built on the edge of the river. With a little work,mainly by Travis, he soon fashioned his church.
Having had no minister for over a year since old Parson Jakes had died of consumption, mainly whisky, folk were ready for a bit of preaching. This was where Travis found his reason to bow out and rid himself of Prescott's mauling hands and lecherous habits. He said that he was going to try his hand at mining like his 'Pa' had done back in Pines Peak and if he was lucky and struck it rich he could help fund the church for Parson Prescott for helping him so much.
Prescott's greed took over from his lust,So, just into his 18th year but looking older Travis was sent off with the blessings of the church.
Travis packed his belongings onto a mule, secreting his hidden wealth and left town only to move to another a few days away but away from the river. He again changed his name, he didn't want to meet folk he knew, not just yet. In the small town of Jackson he became Davis Marks, as soon as he hit town he went straight to the assayers office to trade in his hard earned gold. Gold that his Pa and he had struggled for over two years to accumulate only for his Pa to git mauled by a grizzly in the high country. Overnight Davis became a fairly rich man. He invested in the saloon making it a going concern for the first time in it's history.
After running the saloon for a couple of years he made it the best in town because of his widely acclaimed 'No Cheating' gambling tables, and having the 'cleanest whores' in town.
He decided it was time to spread his dealings to other establishments in town.
He soon made inroads into the bank where with the help of Grimes the bank owner he secured the vice presidency when Tom Styles 'unfortunately got himself stabbed in the back.
No one noticed how folk seemed to meet with unfortunate accidents or how Davis Marks was there to help out. When Bill Jacobs was crushed by a barrel that slipped loose, he was there to help out the widow with a loan. Folk never knew how she was to repay it. When, much to the towns sorrow old Grimes passed away in his sleep. Some folk remarked on the look of fear on his face when they found him. No one was more shocked than Davis, now the sole owner of the bank.
One day while closing the bank his eye caught sight of Prescott coming out of the livery barn. Thinking fast, born of lifestyle, he went back inside and watched from the window. Prescott, a saddlebag over his shoulder, made his way to the only hotel in town, which, was also the town brothel.He's not changed , thought Davis and a plan formed in his head.
Prescott was in need of relief for his tastes of the sort that could only be found in a brothel.
Going into the hotel on the premise of chatting to George Gates the owner, who owed the bank, Davis took in the ledger and saw Prescott's writing, though not his name on room 14 at the back.
Asking how business was he was told that there was only the one customer in , just arrived from out of town and needing pleasure. They both gave a knowing grin.
As darkness fell Davis moved round the back and saw the light flickering in room 14. He stealthily climbed the stairs careful not to make a sound and looked in the window.
One of the girls that Davis had often used, abused is more like it, was tied naked, gagged and spread eagled on the bed. Prescott, also naked was hitting her with his leather belt.Davis had been on the receiving end all to often to know just what the girl was going through.
Masking himself and moving to the balcony door he entered, grasped the handle of door of room 14 he quickly entered the room. Prescott whirled round to a vicious punch that laid him out cold. The girl looked horrified as she saw Davis pull a knife from his belt. She felt a sting as the blade whispered across her throat. Davis sighed and left.
When Prescott came to he saw the girl and panicked, quickly dressing he left by the balcony door and met the sheriff on his way up. He was there because the hotel had tried to get in the door as the girl had not appeared as was the norm after a session with a guest. Sensing something wrong he informed the sheriff.
The whole town was shocked by what had happened, no one more so than Davis. he said that if he was in the sheriffs office he would gladly pull the lever himself to rid the world of this monster.
Prescott was kept in jail awaiting trial for a vicious murder to which he cried innocence saying that a masked man had broke in and waylaid him. t the trial, no one believed him because nothing was stolen, he couldn't identify the masked man and he was a stranger in town. He was found guilty and would hang for his crime that weekend.
Davis had stayed away from the court and the jail deliberately so that Prescott would not see him.
The word soon got round to the sheriff about what Davis had said and with him now being a respected member of the town Sheriff Blake hatched a plan of his own, one that would make him favorite in the forthcoming election. He made Davis a deputy, which pleased the town.
On the day of the hanging Davis made his way to the scaffold and deliberately faced away from the crowd and waited. He heard the tone change as Prescott was brought out, he heard Prescott screaming his innocence, even saying he was a Minister of the cloth and this was a vile injustice, only to send the crowd into another frenzy.
Davis heard him scuffling and being dragged up the steps.
As the noose was tightened around his neck Davis came from behind and whispered inn his ear the last thing he would ever hear in this world. The look on Prescott's face was one of sheer horror as he realized what had happened. He dropped to oblivion as he saw Davis smile.
Davis Marks was tiring of being a fairly big fish in a small pond and soon started making plans to move on to higher things and more interesting playthings to occupy his time and urging s which were becoming too much of an obsession to be healthy in Jackson.
Now already a very wealthy man and still in his prime at 24, he put himself up for mayor in the forthcoming elections, knowing full well that this was a prize that the old sheriff has wanted to hang onto for a few more years yet.
Marks had no need for underhand dealings, he took the office in a landslide victory. After all most of the town was in his pocket, they all owed him something. Some were thankful to his 'generosity' with their mortgages while many others were grateful by his silence over their nefarious nightly visits to the back entrance to the saloon.
The fact that he held notes on over half the town made him their friend. Little did they know that the friendship was soon to come to an end.
Davis's plans to move on were put into motion after he had a particularly good night in the upper rooms of the hotel, another of his holdings and residences of his 'girls'.
A petite redhead who had arrived in town a few weeks earlier took his fancy and having virtually her life in a small valise, she took his offer of a room immediately. She could work in the hotel as a maid but was to be on hand should he require her.
What she soon came to realise was that his 'requirements' left her in no doubt that she had made a serious mistake. What could she do? Nothing. He was the Mayor, who would folk believe?
Davis had a truly vicious streak, call it borne of his childhood, call it what you will, but in truth it was nothing more than a twisted mind that served to satisfy his lust in any way he fancied.
He had left behind a trail of death form his childhood days. Anyone who got in his way somehow always ended up disappearing.
Stories were that they had moved on. Some after losing heavily at the gaming tables and forfeiting their holdings. All seemingly above board as signatures were given and duly witnessed. Some lost their lives to itinerant gunmen, strangely after they had deposited savings in the bank.
No one noticed these events as they were done in private, only the deaths were seen later as Boot Hill took a few more residents.
Angie was one of the invisible events, maybe one or two noticed her arrival but she was soon forgotten as folk got on with their own lives, she was seen about town but rarely as her work kept her in the hotel most of the time.
Davis's night time visits kept her there for the rest of the time as she needed time to recover from his sexual pleasures. He never marked her where it could be seen, but, he marked her nevertheless, both inwardly and outwardly. He liked to use the whip and more often than not a cigar would mark her delicate skin.
Inwardly he took great pleasure in abusing her in more ways than a normal mind could envisage. Some nights she was an utterly pitiful sight when he left. Those nights she was locked in the room that had outwardly looking windows and curtains,inside they were well boarded up. It was a cell.
Things came to a head when he had had a heavy night in the saloon. The tables even weighted as they were lost heavily. This fueled his anger. Fights broke out , mirrors and furniture got damaged and would need replacing. This fueled his anger. His drinking also increased and in this state he left for the hotel.
Angie never stood a chance. As he charged into the room he backhanded her, breaking teeth and nose, turning her face to instant mush. Not bothering to rip strip her which was the norm, he just pushed her over the chair and savagely took her again and again. All the time punching and slapping in the frenzy that had gripped him.
When sheer lack of energy made him stop, she slid to the floor in a bloody heap. Not even checking if she was alive or dead he left, locking the door behind him.
It was a couple of days later when he gave her a thought, wondering where she was. He had no knowledge of that hideous night of debauchery when he had left her bleeding out on the floor.
When he got to the room what he found her dead from so many wounds that he would have lost count if he had tried. Not fazed one bit, he had been at this point countless times in the past.
He went to the saloon as usual. Laughed and joked as men did.
Bought a few drinks and slapped a few backs, all the while knowing he was going to have another late night.
As the saloon emptied he said his good-nights and made his way to the hotel, where he had already made preparations earlier that day.
He went to the livery and saddled his horse, and, putting a bridle on another, he led both to the back of the hotel, all out of sight of any late night stragglers.
It took no time at all for him to load Angie's body on to the pack horse and move out.
Something he had done many times before, from this and all the towns he had known over the years. In a matter of a couple of hours Angie was buried and he was back in town, horses sorted and he went to bed.
Angie was missed the following day, much to Davis's surprise, as he didn't think she had made any friends, not with the work regime he had set her. In answer to the query he just put on a pained expression, saying that after all he had done to make her welcome it seemed she had taken off with one of the gamblers that had left town the previous night after taking a huge pot of money from one of his tables. A card sharp he had no doubt and also no doubt that Angie would come to no good while she was with him.
It was a close call for Davis, a bit too close so that night he made plans to move on himself as soon as possible. The plans he had already made were set in motion the very next day.
he sent letters of foreclosure to all 16 ranches in the district, knowing full well that none had the funds to comply in the 2 weeks that he gave them.
He contacted Big Mike Jameson who had the biggest spread and wanted more. A deal was struck that Davis would hand over the deeds to the 16 ranches to Jameson within the month for a huge amount of money to be deposited in The San Francisco National Bank.
Davis also foreclosed on all the other properties he had handled over the years he had been at the forefront of the towns business.
Hate became almost tangible for the town mayor overnight. Why was he doing this to his friends, friends who had done nothing but help him gain popularity. His answer was simply that he had to move out further to the coast for his health. There was no one here that he could or would trust to run things so although he was distraught by what he had to do, it still had to be done.
The ranchers still ran their ranches, but under new management from Jameson. The bank was taken over by a consortium from San Francisco as was other businesses he held title over.
All was completed within six months and with close to $850,000 in the bank Davis moved out.
The year was 1861 and war between the states was looming.
Davis was still only 37 years old and by the standards of the time , considered very wealthy and as such able to move in the higher realms of San Fransisco society.
When war finally broke out in April of 1861 Davis went to war as a major, due to his wealth, eh soon found that in the mayhem that is war he could do his own style of hunting the enemy. There was no shortage of young women who followed the battle lines, offering what they had to hungry soldiers, it had been this way for as long as there were wars to be fought.
No one ever took much notice when some young woman or mere girl was found mutilated. It was assumed that she had been hit by cannon fire, grapeshot could shred the skin off a buffalo.
By 1865 Davis, now a colonel had left a trail of bodies and not all soldiers, in fact few were soldiers, as He was a man who led from the rear and rarely got involved in the actual fighting. As the Colonel though he was quick to take on the glory that his men had achieved, all the while, his fortune continued to amass via trade with the army, supplying it's needs and always at a vast profit.
By the time Davis reached age 40 he was still recognized as a celebrated war hero and was invited to invited run for mayor of Fresno County which he did and succeeded in winning. Folk said at the time it would be good if he had a wife at his side if he was to run for Governor in the coming years.
Davis also thought that it would also be a good cover for his now full blown deviancy.
He married Geraldine McQueen in the summer of 1872 and their 4 daughters were the talk of the social elite.
He was now a millionaire living in what was , some hoped, the Governors Mansion.
His business empire knew no bounds, moving into railroads, shipping and mining. his fortunes continued to rise at a phenomenal rate.
So did his appetite for the carnal pleasures.
Under the cover of meetings that never lasted as long as he said they did, he continued to slake his thirst all unbeknown to his family and friends.
By 1885 he had made his 3rd million.He started to travel the world, following his investments in various countries. He often took his family and an entourage being the envy of all they met along the way. Some trips he would make alone especially when his wife Geraldine took to her bed with some malady or other.
It was on one of his trips that terror came to London where he was conducting some shipping business, he had informed his wife that he would be away for at least a few months.
It was April 1888 when more than normal gruesome murders started to appear and continue until 1891. There were many and at least 11 were given the title of The Ripper Murders.
Jack the Ripper was the name given to the killer but whoever he was, said the London Star, he was never caught. There was talk that he may have taken flight to America but it was never clear.
Had anyone taken time to peruse the Shipping passenger lists they may well have noted that a very prominent figure from California could be linked to certain times in question.
By 1900 Davis was celebrating his 63rd birthday and his Governorship on the same day.
He stood on the lawn of his mansion with his 4 daughters and his 6 grandsons, his wife having died the previous year. She had been found murdered in the grounds of the mansion while Davis was traveling home from a convention.Had anyone had the temerity to check, they would have found a question mark in the timeline of his journey, but he was deemed above reproach, after all he was being heralded as the next Governor.
Davis held his governorship through 2 terms, and was considered a worthy challenger for the Presidency. For this he had to stand as Senator. He didn't seem interested and the fervor of his followers waned over the next three years.
Even now after over 64 years of a murder spree that has never been equaled Davis still had an insatiable appetite for his sadistic tastes. but now he had such vast power he had people around him that would willingly supply all his needs and cover the trail indeed it had been this way since his first million and now as he became a billionaire land and shipping magnate it seemed there was no stopping him or his need to commit his vile atrocities.
For his 85th Birthday and to celebrate his life He decided to take his family on the journey of a lifetime. He had spent 75 years on a killing spree that had crossed all 5 continents, taking the lives of countless people to appease his evil gratification. He had destroyed many who crossed his path.
So it came to pass that Davis Marks and his daughters along with their husbands and his grandsons set sail for England. It was in Southampton that they were to enjoy the return trip to New York on The RMS Titanic. A fitting end to a life that callously ended so many innocents

© Dave Timperley June 2016

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