Volume 35, Number 3 - Winter 1996
Ike Pangle Remembers
by Cassie Pangle Hagen
Editor’s note: John and Elizabeth Pangle and their family emigrated from Georgia to the Ozarks in 1869. They settled near Jimmie’s Creek, Flippin, Arkansas. Son Ike moved to the George’s Creek area about four miles west of Yellville where he raised his family; he had found the site while freighting goods to Springfield. In the 1940s his daughter razed Ike’s old home place and used some of the material to build a new home.
Issac (Ike) Pangle (1850-1939) told many stories to his daughter, Tressie Pangle Narramore (1901-1986), who wrote them down in an unpublished manuscript. The stories remained in the family until Ike’s grand -daughter, Cassie Pangle Hagen, compiled and edited a number of the stories into verse format.
It Happened In October
This mule reminds me, of a time back in ‘74, When I had that bad trouble with Bart and I nearly rode my horse to death.
Strange, how soon times changes everything. We didn’t realize, then how new the country was, or that we were pioneering. But, that’s th’ way it was. Me an’ Molly had homesteaded on a place over on Jimmie’s Creek.
It was a very good eighty acres, too. I’m a pretty fair judge of soil. Flippin was closer than Yellville, but Yellville being th’ County seat, an’ having’ th’ bank there, an’ plenty of saloons, we allus rode into Yellville on a Satu day night. Plenty of gamblingoin’ on there too.
I guess you don’t believe a word I’m sayin’, since there ain’t no saloons anymore, an’ we have "Temperance" now.
Oh I know Temperance is better, but, Well they ain’t no use goin’ to th’ extreme about anything.
.Th’ only thing wrong, that night was that Bart was like Cain, he had murder in his heart. All caused by th’ drinkin’ I’ll admit, but there we was--a lot of young men--stayin’ in town, an~ sowin’ our wild oats, when we should ‘a been home with our wives and families.
It happened in October. I like to remember that my crop was made, an’ that it was a good crop. Plenty of corn an’ fodder, forth’
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winter.
An we had a good fall garden growin’ too. So Molly an’ th’ babies would have enough to take them through the winter. Of course, there was Molly expectin’ again--one on her hip, an’ one under her apron.
I know it was hard but, well, thar warn’t no money in th’ country then anyway. It was too soon after th’ Civil War.
If we needed corn to fatten a hog, we traded oats to somebody who needed oats for his horse.
An’ that gamblin’ wasn’t for any high stakes. But, if we got too drunk, we might lose a watch or a horse that way.
I Had a Friend Standin’ By I was on a winning streak that night an’ I was feelin’ my oats, An’ horsin’ around’ with Bart. I hadn’t learned yet, what a pore loser he was. I didn’t know what was inside th’ man.
"All right," I said: "If you want to match me in another game, an I’ve got all your money, I’ll play you for your watch, or your horse, Or your wife. Haw! Haw! Haw! Anything you say!"
An’ Bart turns as white as a sheet, an’ slaps that good watch of his down on th’ table, lookin’ like a tornado; "All fight!" Siz he; "There’s my watch! An’ if there’s no foul play that watch will still be mine, at th’ end of th’ game!"
"Whatd’ye mean, no foul play, by Gawd!" ~. An’ all ‘twonce, I was on my own mettle. "Jest what I said" said Bart, "Jest what I said! If th’ shoe fits, wear it!"
"If you’ll come with me outside, you’ll see who th’ shoe fits,""sez I.
I had a friend standin’ by. I didn’t know til’ that night jest how good a friend he was. He put a hand on my arm "Hold on a minute, boys, hold on! This here, ain’t no matter for a fight.
Anyway, if you go fightin’ in th’ streets, you’ll only get thrown in jail."
"True," sez Bart, "But, we don’t have to settle it in th’ streets.
We’ll ride out of town." "I’ll settle it anywhere you want to settle it.
Nobody is goin’ to get by with sayin’ I cheat at cards." Bart was on his way to th’ door, but Jeff Burnes, still had a hand on my arm:
"Ike," he said real low; "Are you wearin’ a gun?"
"No," I said real impatient to be gone, but he was holdin’ on to my arm.
"Well, Bart is," said Burnes. "He always wears a gun. One of them new-fangled derringers. You’ll never see it, But he’s wearin’ it, jest the same."
Well, I hadn’t time to wonder why Bart was wearin’ a gun.
But things have changed so much that, nowadays
If a fellow wears a gun, it looks like he’s kinda hankerin’ to use it.
To This Day, I Ain’t For Rein’ Shot In Th’ Rack
When I got outside in that cold October air, I was cold sober.
I realized what a mess I’d got myself into. I was skeered, but I couldn’t back down, an’ I asked myself if there was any way out.
As I fumbled with my horse~s reins, I was openln’ my knife, an’ I left it open in my fight pocket. And I made sure that I was ridin’ on Bart’s right: the side he’d be drawin’ from.
Well, it was only minutes from th’ time of th’ fracas ‘til we was on our horses and on our way out of town, ridin’ side by side, an’ sayin’ nothin’.
Even in them days, my hearin’ wasn’t too good, but lots better’n it is now.
But, out of th’ corner of my eye, I could see that Bart had his fight hand in his fight coat pocket.
We took th’ road that leads south of town; down th’ hill to Crooked Creek. Thar’ warn’t no bridge across Crooked then,
n’ we was heading down hill to th’ creek.
I figured now would be a good time to bring this to a head--
an’ I had a little plan Well, to this day,
I ain’t for bein’ shot in th’ back.
Bart must’ a had th’ same idea as me: of settlin’ this goin’ downhill...
As Bart pulled up on his horse, I jerked my horse to th’ left, to wheel him around quick enough so that, maybe th’ shot might go wild.
As I wheeled my horse, an’ ducked low in my saddle, I caught th’ glimpse of cold steel, in the cold moonlight. And as he fired, my right hand was slashing at his right arm.
The arm went limp as I struck it. I slashed at him again, but th’ plunging of th’ horses, caused th’ knife to come short of my aim.
I felt th’ knife sink into flesh: not his arm, but his back.
He crumpled an’ slid from his horse as it bolted, and ran.
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My horse was rearing and pitching, but I brought him up still
To look at Bait as he lay still on th’ ground.
If You’ve Never Been Hunted by a Posse
I slashed my horse an’ spurred him an’ as I galloped through town,
I looked about the silent streets an’ spying a small group of men,
I shouted to them, loud enough to tell th’ whole town. "Burnes!" I yelled: "Go out there, an’ get Bait Estes. I’ve killed him."
I never pulled up atall, but galloped on through town an took the Fallen Ash Road out toward Jimmie’s Creek. Hell nor high water couldn’t stop me. But a few miles out of town,
I was riding hard when suddenly it came to me. I couldn’t go home.
They’d come after me. Now what would Molly do? What would happen to Molly if I was at home an’ they came after me?
What would she do if they came an’ I was not there?
She needed me! If ever she needed me, she needed me now.
A little late, though, to be considering Molly.
Well, she wouldn’t want to see me jailed, sent away to the Pen’ or hanged.
She’d need me too if that should happen, an’ I couldn’t let it happen.
Whatever came, she’d want me alive. But, that was the hardest battle
I ever fought--to turn my footsteps away from home.
As I considered all this, I forgot where I was, slacked th’ reins, an’ th’ horse slowed down, an’ finally came to a standstill. I don’t know how long I sat there, pondering, but after awhile
Something came to my ears--a kind of beat, or rhythm, a pounding.
I listened hard, an’ finally it was forced on me what it was:
A band of riders, a posse, looking for Ike Pangle.
If you’ve never been hunted by a posse, then you can’t know my feelin’s.
Well, I’d been cornered by Bait Estes, for a shoit time, an’ had escaped;
An’ I was still taking great breaths of air, just being glad I was still alive,
An’ could go home to Molly. Glad, even though skeered to death.
Now, here I was being hunted like a wild animal!
Wild animals lay false trails to evade pursuers; some back track.
I could not go home. That’s where they would head.
Nor could I go to my Fathers’. They’d look for me there too. Besides, my Father was so angry with me for my wildness, He’d prob’ly turn me over to th’ law.
I Gave that Posse a Merry Chase
Where to hide, I didn’t know, but I was still drawin’ free air, And I woudn’t be locked up in jail, or facing a jury. No sir! That wasn’t for me!
I rode on ‘til I come to the long stretch of stralght road near th’ dry creek bed,
An’ there I stopped again, listening an’ waiting, My heait beatin’ so loud and hard, I could not hear any sound beside it,
An’ sweat breaking out all over me on this cold October night.
I was turned half sideways in my saddle, looking backward,
Then th’ posse swept around a bend in th’ road an’ moved in my direction.
I made sure they could see me before I kicked my horse in th’ flanks,
An’ spurred him into a full gallop. I hoped their horses would be tiring an’
I would have a little advantage there. One way or another, I had to make it!
I might be delayed awhile but I meant to go home to Molly.
I gave that posse a merry chase down that road an’ around th’ bend,
Up hill, down hill, hoping to be outlined against th’ sky
As I rode over th’ top of th’ hills. Then I was down hill,
An’ around another bend, and out of sight of th’ posse,
An’ near Jimmie’s creek, across it, and around another bend,
To the stretch of unfenced woodland, where I turned, Spurred my horse into th’ bushes, an’ then back to meet th’ posse.
Seeing a clump of dense squat cedar, I leaped from my horse,
Led him into the midst of it, an’ held him tight by th’ bridle With my hand on his nose. I had no more than got stationed,
Not thirty feet from th’ road, when th’ posse went clattering by.
But, as they rode by, I heard Burnes’ voice, loud an’ clear, An’ it seemed to me, he was shoutin’ a message to me. "That’s where we’ll find him, all right. He’s headed for home,
Straight as an arrow to its mark. I don’t believe he’s seen us
And he can’t hear. Let’s go, boys!"
And they were away, and out of sight.
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Head for Missouri
If I got th’ story straight, Burnes was in some kind of bad trouble
When he left Tennessee to come to this country. He was a woodsman,
An’ he saw what he would do if he was in my place. I trusted him.
He was tryin’ to help them lose my trail, an’ I knew now what I would do.
I was soon riding hard back to town
An’ on out to George’s Creek to Burns’ place.
If there was anyone who would help me, I felt it was Burns.
I rode on up to th’ Shilob Church House
An’ there I rode to th’ cedar glade back of it, to th’ Burns’ Hill,
Where I left my horse trembling in a clump of cedars. And I walked slowly down to his barn. Thar I waited till Burns rode in.
He didn’t seem surprised to see me there.
"Burns," I said. "I’ve got to get out of th’ country, but my horse is winded
An’ I need some advice an’ some grub."
"Yes. You’d best be out of the country for awhile. We left Bart with the doctor. He wasn’t dead yet, when we left there,
But if ever I saw a man dying, he was."
"You take your horse some feed and water, while Nan gets some breakfast
An’ a batch of grub for you to take along.
You will want to take the back trails, an’ head for Missouri.
You’d best be on your way before daylight comes."
Well, I got across th’ Missouri line to a mining town, An’ I spent th’ winter there: worryin’ about my family; Wonderin’ how things turned out with Molly an’ her expectin’.
I hadn’t any doubt that Bart had died, an’ that I had killed a man;
An’ that ain’t a good feelin’. I was afraid to write home. So, I never heard from them all winter long, an’ by spring I was desperate.
Then I found a way to get word to them.
I Must Know How Things Are
I’d made a friend of Fletcher, th’ man who owned th’ mines.
He decided to go prospecting down in this part of th’ country.
So I went to him, an’ I sez to him: "Fletcher, that’s my home down there.
I’m in a heap o’ trouble down there. I’ll take my chance On your bein’ a friend in need to me. I’m desperate to hear from there."
"I got a family down there. An’ I killed a man down there, an’ I can’t go back.
My wife was expectin’ in February. Now if you go to Yellville,
You find out where Jeff Burns lives, an’ you go to him. Don’t go to my wife.
What you tell Burns, he will pass on to her."
"He will know what th’ sentiment is there toward me. If I can’t go home, Molly an’ th kids can come to me here. But I must know how things are there."
A month later, Fletcher was back with th’ saddest news I ever got,
and also th’ best news I ever received.
My wife had borne me twin sons in February and they died at birth,
And Bart Estes did not die. He was up and about, An’ sowin’ as many wild oats as ever, An’ swearin’ he would kill me if ever I come home.
Never mind about Bart Estes’ threat. I would meet that issue
When I come face to face with it.
That night, I was on my way home, and I didn’t take to the back roads.
I rode hard an’ fast, an’ I was so happy I felt like I could fly
An’ I vowed, if th’ good Lord would give me back my family,
I would sow no more wild oats.
It took guts to go back to Yellville,
But after I spent a time with my family, I rode into town.
It was on a Saturday, an’ seemed a rowdy day there, too.
Bart was shore to be there, an’ jest as shore,
If he hadn’t changed, to be drinkin’.
Just Set Here and Wait For Him
I didn’t feel up to any likker. All I wanted today was to find out
If Bart meant business when he boasted he’d kill me. What I did feel that I needed was a gun, an’ to stay sober.
I went to two or three different places, inquirin’ for Bart, Jest to let everybody know I was in town, and to let Bart know that
I was not avoidin’ him, or stayin’ out of his way.
I went over to th’ general store and I found Gus an’ I pulled him to one side.
"Gus, I need a friend. Th’ fight I had with Bart before was not equal
But, if he jumps me again, I want a gun, too.
Will you give me th’ loan of your gun?
I want a fightin’ chance to keep on livin’."
Gus put a hand on my shoulder. "Ike, you know I’ve always been a friend to you. Your father is a farmer, An’ I’m a business man, but we’ve always been friends.
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If you will set down here in th’ store,
An’ just set here an’ wait for him, I’ll lend you a gun."
"That is, if you’ll set down here an’ wait for him to hunt you up.
If he hunts you up, it’s a pretty good sign he means to shoot you.
But I’ll be watchin’. I’ll give you th’ nod to go ahead An’ then you’ll be in th’ clear with th’ law. Now, that’s the only way I’ll give you a gun.
"Apt as not, he is only bluffin’.
He may be afraid you aim to kill him yet. We’ll let him know where you are an’ that you are waitin’ for him.
If he don’t come, then he don’t want no more trouble with you,
An’ you can go home an’ quit worryin’."
I nodded an, seem’ as how this was a good plan, we carried it out.
But we saw neither hide nor hair of Bait Estes, An’ allus after that, he stayed out of my way.
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