Fictional Story - Recollections Of A Western Deputy: Gold Fever, Land Scheming, and Personal Remembrances

A next installment of the fictional narrative of Recollections of a Western Deputy (1871 -1897).

 Gold Fever And Land Scheming Explodes The Town In Size And Population,  And Some Personal Remembrances From The Life Of Deputy B. 

September 22, 1883

The town council was unusually honery of late.  Here I was a Deputy Marshall on loan to their stinkin' town, doin' their drunken and often sick Sheriff's job, and all they could do is conspire on how to send me to prison for takin' them to task on their blackmailin' schemes and mis-usin' the Court to dispossess good folk out of their homes.   Me and the Marshall for years and years was a sharin' the town Sheriff's office and jail for so long, that one time when we was in Rustler's Pass, Marshall Jackson thought he had to deputize ME along with the Sheriff to chase down what Carnie raiders had escaped that massacre.  Here I was, empowered to go just about anywheres, and all I seemed to be a doin' is a local job havin' two bosses, the Sheriff AND the Marshall, just so the Marshall could live rent free with his wife and kids, get a regular supply of groceries put up by the town, and get $2 for every arrest I made, so that we both split $4 for every arrest I made doin' the local Sheriff's job.  But I stayed thar', doin' what I had to, because it gave my Mrs. and the kids a place where I could be checkin' on them regular, and be near enough that I could go home and do chores when things were especially quiet.  Considerin' the amount of territory we was supposed to have,  I was surprised Marshall Jackson wasn't gone more often.  He had 5 more U.S. Deputy Marshalls like me to do THAT dirty work.  And bein' gone for a month or more at a time was not my idea of earnin' a livin' after bein' gone 4 years durin' the war, I was ever mindful of seein' my parents farm turned into one of more than a dozen battlefield cemeteries I must have come across durin' that stinkin' war.  Even after all these years, the smell of thousands of rotting corpses still will strike me upside the head when I'm on the wrong side and downwind of some reek needin' a serious river crossin' bath with two days in a rain downpour besides.      

    I attended the town meetin' last week in which I really spoke my piece, and told the Town Council that they could all go blow their stinkin' corruption out their back-sides, and told the mayor and his cronies outright that if they ever break the Law in my presence, I will arrest them with all due force necessary, and make the arrest stick.  Most of the folks from town applauded my words, and wanted me to run to lead them in this or that effort.  I made it known, that whilst I appreciated their kind words, I would only take affidavits as to what corruption they seen and experienced at the hands and behest of the Town Council, but I was hesitant to lead others into makin' a decision they had to make themselves. 

Personally, while I can lead, I don’t like to.  Durin’ the Great War, almost at the end,  I once led over 90 men when all our officers died in Grant's advance on Atlanta, and I as the Sergeant Major was left in charge.  There we was, cut off in what had been our own lines which were suddenly deep in enemy taken territory.  Them dang fool officers passed up of 3 missed opportunities in which we coulda wiped out half or more of the enemy General Staff, and instead whisper bickered and a waited until we did a suicide 4th that was too late and guaranteed failure afore we was even within a quarter mile of the enemy General Staff on the move.   What we at first thought was 40 miles of enemy occupied territory (from our officers)  turned out to be near 110 miles behind enemy lines before the enemy armies stopped for a spell, and in less than 2 minutes 230 of us was cut down to 90 as hundreds of the enemy fired strikin' almsot as many of themselves as they were strikin' us, and thousands more came a runnin' from the distance, pourin' down on us from 3 directions, to where we had only one dang it all way to run:  north!

  So there we was,  surrounded now by over 114,000 of the enemy, and havin’ to make our way home and goin' away from home in order to do it.  I was never scared as much for so long a spell as I was for the 23 days it took to escape back to our lines, coverin' what I guess was well over a thousand miles at an average of near 50 miles a day, mostly on regular rustlin' of fresh Yankee horses to do it.  We killed and wounded hundreds and hundreds of the enemy as we cut and slashed and evaded, raided supply trains, continually stole fresh horses to replace our wore out ones, goin' in all sorts of directions, and wangled our way back to home averagin' perhaps 2 hours of sleep a day, if that.   For each action, we averaged a man lost for each scrape with the enemy, exceptin' those 23 who deserted the rest of us on the 9th day, and rode themselves right into an ambush.  When those 23 rode to their deaths in full insurrection to my authority as Sgt. Major, we was suddenly reduced to a total of 41.  And from a distance of more than a mile or so off, we saw them gunned down in an open field as they rode hard and fast right into ambush, and what looked to be a full massacre as we took it as our cue to ride hard and fast, evadin' and escapin'.   

When we was done, it was not only 23 days, but probably a loss of as many pounds of  muscle weight lost from each survivin' man later.  18 of us finally made it out to the safety of our own lines, if you could even call it that.   Even so,  3 of those died of their wounds (one of these from gangrene induced suicide).    

Months later, after I was mustered out of the Cavalry and all that, and 4 of the 17 others, those with ex-Sergeant O'Malley, followed me about the Country after the War and sometime made me feel as if they was a bunch of lost puppies adoptin’ someone, so that wherever we was, they was like kids always a horse playin’ or little prankin’ until they settled down more and more  to just cards, drinkin’, and women.  Back in '71 and '72,  they all got wives and obligations.  

But they wasn’t satisfied with havin’ ball and chain obligations.  No sirree.  They got me hitched to my own Mrs. on January 1st, 1873, by subterfuge.  That what it was, SUBTERFUGE... (if I only knew what it meant). 

  First they, whoever all they was, have  her come to stay over with the O'Malleys long about New Year's Eve Day, then send for me just after dark to take her back home.  And then when I git her home, ridin. a buckboard across 3 miles of open field with 6 torches burnin' for some heat to keep from fully freezin' and for some light to see the trail better, there's a preacher and dozens of armed family folk and the other three boys of my troop all insistin' her honor was violated because we wasn't chaperoned.  Hell, I saw their lights from the moment the O'Malley's place, so they dang well saw mine, and saw we never stopped.  And since Smth and Bauer both owned telescopes, and had them in their hands when we got thar', you KNOW they know'd nothin' happened on the trail.   Even so, the family (all in a ruckus) said  I had one of two choices: get shot and hung with a warnin' note to all who would dare approach this female I just took home totally unmolested wrapped in 3 layers of blankets who merely leaned into me a bit on the trail (and not even kissed), or we could git married, and I could be liberated $240 that Smyth, Bauer, and Scott told her family I had, which amount they insisted was what I had to pay the family to have her for my bride. And what's worse, the preacher even knew about the $3.03 I had in my boot, and took even my very last cent for a weddin' fee.  You would think he'd at least have left me the 3 cents, but since I was at gunpoint from all directions, and armed only with a kentucky long rifle musket for game huntin' at the time, I was stuck.  Soon after that, exceptin' goin' to bed or takin' a bath, I rarely move about without at least two .45 revolvers and 48 extra rounds on my gunbelt.   Most folks around here are partial to .41s and .44s for revolvers, but I prefer .45's with ammo that has a half the grains for a load, as it shoots faster and farther and if I hollow out the ammo nosetips and make a lake, they knock some men clean out of their boots and back 6 or 7 feet.  But the problem is, if them bullets go clean through, they make a real large mess out the other side, as if the caliber were almost an inch wide fragment from a cannon shot a tumblin' through.    

   When I married the Mrs., I was shivering cold, and shiverin' scared.  When the preacher asked if I take this woman, I couldn't speak, all I could do is bow my head and nod a bit.    But from the moment I married her, seein' how beautiful she was and still is, for many years I had no regrets except for some temporary receivin’ end wrath of her moon cycle rages and one or several jealous rages she went into.  Now that those moon cycle rages are gone, and her jealous rages have reduced down to an icy look and some gab about suffrage she don’t talk about as much anymore, I have NO regrets.  I married the prettiest and most wonderful gal inside and outside I could ever have asked for, who like wine, grows sweeter and more precious every year.  Considerin' I'm a homely cuss, I at first feared she was near blind or crazy.  I'm grateful she was neither, but for the life of me, I never could figure how she ever ended up with me of her own free will, which from the moment the preacher said "I now pronounce you..." clearly it was me she somehow wanted for a husband.   Maybe someday, she'll tell me.  But dang it all, more than 10 years after we was married and she still won't say.  I'm just glad none of the kids is homely like me, but all take after the good looks of their mother.  I think my worst fear when she's a carryin', is havin' an ugly mutt of a kid like me born into the family.  It's about as popular an idea as having a milking cow with the runs, goin' do-do in 3 foot high piles six feet wide, and havin' to make 8 trips with the wheel barrow and shovel to take it elsewhere to bury it, while bein' pestered with the flies.  But then I think back, and realize that I was a cute and good lookin' kid and only after gettin' through 1400 or more fist-a-cuffs and worse, and beat about the head 30,000 or 40,000 times or more, maybe its just that I never quite healed all the way right.  But then, what if I was born cute and grew up ugly?  The boys can grow beards, but the girls?  I guess I can always throw a veil over their heads and surprise the grooms as to what they married after the fact.  I'll charge up that hill when I get to it, if it ever comes.  

We had our first child, a boy who I named Winchester, in October '73.  And with this child we just had born on July 20th, we now have a total of 8 children.  But due to complications with the birth of Charles Henry B., the doc says we won't be able to have anymore, and it will be months before the Mrs. is fully recovered.  Perhaps as late as November or December.   So because of that, I've taken some more time at home, and hired two of Doc Phillips daughters to help the Mrs. and keep a watch over her.  It's runnin' into a drain of what I've been savin'.    

The town has now pushed its claim of lands south miles past Bishop's Knoll, seizin'  some of the free range grazin' lands under what I suspect, but cannot as yet prove,  is a paid ruling of eminent domain.  The town council figures maybe we would put in a quarter mile rail spur south of the new town boundary lines, and use that diminished grazin' land section for new corrals for the Texas Beef and Horses still bein' brought up.  That makes not only a town, but a small spread out empire-like city, and almost a county to ourselves, with almost 12 miles of land north to south, and over 5 miles from West to East.  That's 60 square miles at 38,400 acres.  Right atop Bishop's knoll, they are already buildin' a new Courthouse, and yet they still do the hangin's on the north side of Main Street over at the jail, where it gets so crowded folks can hardly move.  Most folks, in spite of the disaster last hangin', want us to hang more fat men with long ropes, so theys can see a repeat of the head a poppin' off and disappearin' into the crowd as if it was somethin' to brag about.       

Back to the boys from the war.   

For years, I used to check up on the boys from time to time, but now I just meet them once or twice a month for what is just two beers and some cards and shootin’ the breeze for a few hours.  Some folks call them lazy, as they work three or four hours in the mornin’ and spend all day down at the saloons.  But most of the time, to say they was lazy, it ain’t so.  When it comes to chores, they work harder than most regular shoulder to the wheel folks I ever seen!   Each and every one of them  get their chores done lickety-split like the Devil was a pokin’ at them with a pitch-fork, workin’ like 4 or 5 people all at once, then a kissin’ or pattin’ the head to their children, sayin’ bye in their own way to their Mrs.,  and off they go, like the Pony Express to make it down to the Saloon first, because the last one getting’ his chores done and bein’ last pays the first round.  And if one of them doesn’t git their chores done, the eldest child comes down and makes it known and even if he were thar’ first, he pays whoever was stuck the money back he lost on the first round of drinks that day, and the rest go home with him and make him finish while they a laugh and a whoop it up and make fun of him until the chores is done, sometimes a pitchin’ in and still horseplayin’ around like they was over-growed kids rather than men.  I guess it’s how they try to get their innocence back and deal with what they’s seen and been through in the war.  

 Me, I dealt with the memories of the War for States Rights To Not Be Took Over By New York And Boston Bankers and startin' a war because we didn't build railroads fast enough to export more cotton faster, and then blamed it on them wantin' to be freein' the slaves almost a year after firin' on Ft. Sumter, I got over the War by knockin' skunks out from behind and gettin' arrest money or shootin' those needin' to be shot in accordance to the Law and preservation of human life, usually mine.  In another 13 arrests, I will have had me 1900 that should have been the Sheriff's job, but the town council is concerned only about what they can rob of other folks.  They're were a gettin' so big for their britches, that  they was drunk to the point of passin' out last week on another night of whorin' and gettin' the drunks only hours  after they gave me the public hypocrite snoots at the Town Council Meetin'.     So whilst they were still fully drunk and near past out in their whore beds,  I busted in with three bottles of General Lee’s revenge, and poured a bottle of a mix of Castor Oil and Honey and Sulfur down each  throat of the mayor and his two fellow lead town council culls of the town council, and for 3 days put them out of commission with the physics.  I also rough packed the luggage of the Town Council and Mayor's whores, special expressed at town expense a middle of the night Wells and Fargo stage, and sent their sorry backsides packin' to the Train Depot, where we flagged down a train, and sent them whores at the expense of what the Mayor and Town Council members had on them, which was just enough to pay their fares to put them days away to Chicago with a warnin' to never come back, or else.  

  When their wives heard what I'd done, they all thanked me and told me they would take it from there and make sure their men-folk got what they deserved.  Each of the three women in unison, upon the 4th day after their men had all recovered, then beat each of the men.  First they attacked the mayor, then in unison attacked Council Member Stryker, and finally Council Member Hagan.  In their group of three,  one of the women was using a rollin' pin and then a meat tenderizer after the pin broke, another (followin' my wife's past example on me) used an iron skillet, and the last female used a rug beater, and they beat the livin’ hell out of their three husbands one at a time.  No charges was ever pressed, and Marshall Jackson and I advised Sheriff Bond to let it drop as a private domestic affair, and leave it be.   Judge Hollister looked right at the broken bones, bandages, black and blues and said,

“Injuries?  What injuries?  As far as I know, these men have the scurvy.  Somebody notify one of the general stores to have an order placed for the railroad to deliver an expedited order of a basket of limes to each of these men, the cost to be deducted from their self-appointed salaries (when they should have been working for free anyway).    In the meantime, confine these men to their homes under arrest for 30 days quarantine, affecting only them and not members of their own households, since a bad diet on THEIR  part doesn’t mean what they have is contagious. It is so ordered.”

While bein' bound up, the mayor never relented in his bein' a snake.  Feignin' semi-consciousness delirium when no one was in the room with him, and havin' himself opened his own window before layin' back down and first lookin' at those he was tryin' to get the attention of as they passed by outside,  he is alleged to have confessed within earshot of some looky-loos that he was forcin' people out of their land because of a rich vein strike down at Bishop's knoll, just south of town, and that it was because there was a long rich vein of gold that for this reason the town had filed claim of 4 more miles of land due south in what was free grazin' range because of the gold. 

The cry went out that gold was discovered at Bishop's knoll, and in minutes most of the whole town was a ridin' or a runnin' or a walkin' out that way. 

 Indeed, a small vein was found under a bedrock protrusion not far from the new Courthouse bein' built, and that this spot had been freshly dug at, and with the pluckin' of a gold nugget by half a dozen of the mayor's relatives conveniently already workin' this same spot, upon seein' that pure 3 oz. nugget, the towns folk went moon crazy.  

News traveled fast, and by next mornin’ hundreds of folk were comin' to get land, get rich quick, or be put to work.  People are still a pourin' in from all directions, and the land is being sold at prices I thought no one could afford in even a lifetime of savin', often with $100 down and debt promises which will dispossess most everyone in a year if they don't strike it rich.   And it is all suspicious, as I never seen 30 folks workin’ for the land office brokers and the banks afore, and it was all like it was prearranged.  I've never seen so many railroad cars bringin' in so much lumber as if it were a 3 month supply for 400 homes all comin' in at once on 40 railway cars.  I never afore seen a train with 60 cars afore today.  If it ever took a serious hill, which there ain't on the mostly north - south route between here and the Carnack and Carnack Saw Mill over by Potato Crick, it would never have made it.  Even the gold nuggets came out of the ground too pure, as if they was planted, and there only being a $13,000 pocket discovered, the same that amount that was supposed to be taken off some dead prospectors who were bushwhacked by a small party of whites wearin’ masks some 60 miles southwest of here back in May, and one of the horses matchin’ that ugly brown and white spotted Pinto the mayor rides,  if I’m not mistaken. 

     

Entry of October 16, 1883

After a few hard words with Marshall Jackson expressin’ my sentiments to this regard, on September 25, 1883,  I grabbed up 8 of the Most Wanted fliers with $500 and up bounties and lit out to Johnson Falls, 14 miles northwest of Prairie Flats on the New Mill Road.   There I found 2 of the Miller boys, and took them into custody, and in two days earned me $1200 with their arrest and depository.  On the 29th, I then lit out on the advice of a couple dance hall tramps down on their luck, and paid them a double gold eagle apiece for a lead that led me to Crabapple Jack Shea, who after 9 day's ride out to find him, I shot dead resistin' arrest, which I didn't want to do, and delivered his maggoty beetled body which I had sewed in three potato sacks, one over the other, which though it sealed the maggots and beetles, didn't keep away the stinks.  Marshall Jackson and Judge Hollister, as soon as they saw and heard the sack move because of the beetles after the holdin' of their noses, made sure I was paid the $780 bounty that was deposited as reward,  and demanded I pay for his burial, $4.89 plus $2.30 for the coffin. Since I didn't have any money on me, Judge Hollister deducted $10 from the reward, and called the overhead as "court expenses", took that extra cash, and went down to Maywood's and drank it.  

In just 2 weeks, more than 7,000 folks, despite there bein' no more gold, came and settled Bishops Knoll and from nothin’ suddenly there sprung up with a 2 mile gulf in between, as if it were a new and larger south of town city, and increased the entire population to just probably just under 9,000.   Once folks realized that there wasn’t any more gold, they stopped a comin’ to settle, and for the present they’re a stayin.’   But I can’t help hearin’ the new folk wantin’ to make the new south town  and call it New South City, and break the banks and the grip of the Mayor and The Town Council has on them as well. 

Thousands of acres of free grazin' land ruined, and no gold.  Hundreds and hundreds of one story buildings sprung up, and no gold.  Only a couple months to frost, maybe less, and thousands may starve and freeze the winter because of fraud.   And me, I get stuck with an eighth section of land I gave my jackass sister-in-law, Eunice,  $800 to cover her losses as she marries off some Eastern Lawyer, and they take the train to somewhere in Vermont  or New Hampshire or somethin’.  I don’t reckon I remember anything except her baggage bouncin’ off the far walls of the baggage car  and missin’ the train employee as I threw them on afore the train was fully pulled out as the stupid Station Master and his porter thar’ forgot to make sure they was loaded.   After which, I rode out to look at my eighth section which I had recorded, and found it to be grazin’ lands without a fresh water source.  Just some pockets of black oil that nobody round here knows what to do with.  So I spent me another 5 hours to take care to fence off  a 16 foot wide pool of black sludge to keep livestock and folks out.   Marshall Jackson wants me to return to supportin’ the local Sheriff again, and let me know that the lumber and nails for the new porch I was to build for the Jail had arrived…and to hop to it.  We had a team of Fat Boys that was to be hung tomorrow, one near 500 lbs, and his big fat circus act brother at 700 lbs., both convicted to be hung for killin' two card sharps by sittin' on their faces on a saloon floor and smotherin' them to death.

 -- Deputy B.

[Because I write these generally rough draft to first draft in form, and randomly without an outline, I thought it necessary to note that these latest pieces are meant to close the gap to an earlier version that thus far was of the latest date of the Deputy B. character entries.  The Horseshot Harry entry

http://brianroysinput.blogspot.com/2014/09/fictional-short-story-when-horseshot.html

will pick up on the next day after the above entry. I did have to make a minor adjustment and addition to the above Deputy B. entry since posting just hours ago for clarity.   Thank you kindly.  -- Brianroy] 

Fictional Short Story: Humor - Recollections of a Western Deputy (1871 -1897): Run Over, and Make A Wish!

A next installment of the fictional narrative of Recollections of a Western Deputy (1871 -1897).  What can I say?  News, Government corruption and betrayal is really bad, and I figured the diversion was a better alternative to post at present while I still have a First Amendment right to.  Hope you enjoy the humor and creativity.  -- Brianroy


May 12, 1883  Events Precedin' and Event Of Where I Was Run Over By A Runaway Wells Fargo Team

Doc Olaf, who left town soon after the death of Mayor O'Riley back in '76, returned to town to practice medicine hereabouts once again, as with the coming of the whores to the silver mines East of town late February, there was more than enough business for not only a second but a third doc even if he did nothin' but sticking hot wires up in the privates of men folks from over yonder.  About 28 miners from February to mid March  had died from the Syphillis, and the women of the town had taken up some kind of women's lip suffrage movement.  Eventually later in March, the whores decided to follow after the railroad as the railroad gangs laid track and passed up the town.  But as for Women's lip!  Sink a raft in that old Swanee River and wrestle an alligator!  You try to tell them to hush, there they was, a givin' you lip.  In fact, some of them would never shut up, and I had me 17 arrests at $2 an arrest, not counting the wife.  I lost money bailin' her sorry backside out of jail after havin' to arrest her too.  And the second time I had to arrest her, it was takin' an axe out of her hand before she took out a full beer barrel, the last beer barrel at Maywoods before I even had me a first glass in two weeks.  You're darn tootin' that I  took the switch to her for 6 good whacks on 5 dresses layered her rump roast right in front of the children, and then bent her over my knee and hand whacked her 6 more for good measure, and felt like I was sprainin' my hand whackin' a thin pillow she had back thar' or somethin'!  

 About the only time I could guarantee she wouldn't be bringin' the women's this and the women's that up, was in Church.  Service was two hours long, and I made sure I reminded her what the Bible said, "Let your women be silent in Church."  But that didn't stop her from a quick pinchin' me with a twist , or givin' me a sharp elbowin' to the side every now and then until I got wise and got her number.  I put her on one end of the pew, the children in the middle and I took the other end. Ha, ha.  I got her number!
   
  Her gettin' saved last year helped, and our arguin' time never seemed to have any intensity so much anymore, and Hallelujah, they was a whole lot shorter.  Usually minutes to no more than an hour, rather than how it used to be, when it was a draggin' on for days when she had that moon cycle women go through.  When she wasn't carryin', goodness gracious, even the wildcats had sense enough not to come to our 11 acre property in town after she kicked the livin' do-do out of that one 80lb. wildcat thinking it was a dog while in one of her mean moon-cycle rages.  It whimpered away about a quarter of a mile and died from busted ribs.  How she never got tore up, nobody knows.  After that, even Marshall Jackson (who helped me track the dang thing down), whenever he was within hittin' or kickin' distance from her, took off his hat, which he never does otherwise, except for a haircut, and politely greets her with a respectful, "How do, ma'am.  Hope you are feelin' well this fine day.  My you look lovely."   Good gravy!    Knowin' the Marshall as I do, I still can't help do a double take, especially after how he usually would see the Mrs. before I do, and escape some other way.  Before my Mrs. got saved, if I saw the Marshall suddenly get up and git, you can bet your bottom dollar, my Mrs. was a comin'.  But after she got saved, he hung around more often, and didn't seem a feared as much...but I knew better. 


Since about February, the silver was peterin' out, and there was a lot of claim jumpin' goin' on.  From November to February alone, the Miners Courts hung some 4 jumpers out in Rustler's Pass, as the town had no jurisdiction in the pass itself and Marshall Jackson was of a mind that they needed to kill each other off anyway, as so many of these scalawags were Yankee bullies gettin' what they deserved in accordance with the Law, anyway.  But on February 25th, about 3 in the afternoon, 5 of them skunks came to town and started shootin' up the front of Keough's Saloon because he wouldn't serve liquor on credit.    I walked up  and they spread out 5 wide across the street and challenged me to a quick draw.  Folks hereabouts knows I am the fastest draw for a hundred miles, maybe one of the fastest guns alive, but what they didn't know was I am three shot man with the right hand, and a one shot dead on accurate with the left.  With the right hand alone, my quick draw first shot was 5 for 6 dead on accurate enough to take out a candle wick at 20 feet, my next two shots could usually then take out the candle top and bottom.  But for what ever reason, my shots always go nervous on shots 4 and 5 when I quick draw.  Though my 4th and 5th quick draw shots could hit a man at 60 feet,  I couldn't always control where they hit. If I had a feelin' I wanted to destroy somethin', my mind would aim dead center of the chest, but the gun and the bullets would just wander a bit to where I had earlier wanted it to go.  Usually I could get off  5 quick draw shots faster than most men who ain't gunslingers can clear a holster. And what's more, I think some of the locals must have knowed all that as well.  But not these 5 skunks facing me down wanting to kill me for just bein' the Law hereabouts, tellin' them to pull up and move along.


       So they loaded and holstered their guns, the streets cleared, and we stood thar'  about 65 feet apart for about 20 seconds.  I controlled my breathin', looked at the man in the center at the neck, while still usin' all my vision to watch all at the same time, and the one to the far left yelled "Draw!" as he began to reach.  Quicker than most men can blow out a candle, I right hand drew and fired 5 quick shots.  The first 3 hit all three center men each in the part of the face at or within an inch of the bridge of the nose.  The other two shots, for lack of a better way of sayin' it, "went wild," and dismembered the privates of the two on each end.  They both went down howlin' and screamin' like banshees for about two minutes each before they bled into shock and died about 5 and 7 minutes later.  Doc Philipps  declared the shots from the .45 was so perfect, everything was severed off both men at the base: one at about a 1/4" stump, one at just over 5/8" of a stump, and he let the whole town know it.  


      Afterwards,  I never could convince Sheriff Bond or Marshall Jackson those shots weren't on purpose.   Especially after that rock-salt ruckus I gave them road squatters from the shotgun last year.  Me and the Mrs. was dis-invited to Sheriff Bond's youngest daughter's wedding the following Saturday because no other folks would come if we did.  The wife took it hard, but she understood.  I was real sorry, and tried hard every day to make it up for her.  It was about a month before quite a few...well, I would have to say, most folks in town outside the Sheriff and the Marshall and my own wife and kids would say a word of greetin' or not run away or hush and become as if statues when I was around.  It took a sermon by the Pastor and more than just a few good folks standin' up for me against the town council a couple days after Hallie Bond's wedding to Charles Stout (who owned the Lunch and Dinner Buffet over on Market Street)  when they wanted to fire me against the wishes of the Sheriff and against the advice they asked of the Marshall that kept me my job. 


 Just as that storm was passed, for a few days, I got to spend time playin' and learnin' with the kids, and seein' things more from their eyes and the eyes of what the Mrs. now goes through to help them along.  Some of them new things I never knowed about now that our town is growing and really gettin' into learnin' like I never thought possible until maybe the grandkids we'd eventually have many years later on.    Things are always a growin' and a changin' around here. Sometimes it looks like finally it settles down and folks leave us alone, and there is time to extra time to spend with the children enjoyin' time, or a couple of beers down at the saloon with mostly winnin' hands at the cards with someone else dealin', and for a while, life is good.  Yet, it never lasts.   I'll tell you, sometimes wanting things bein' the same and stayin' the same for a long spell is like rakin' over cold coals and just doin' nuthin' but a stirrin' the ash, rememberin' how it was and still knowin' even as you refuse to quit rakin' over those cold coals, that life will never be exactly the same as you just enjoyed it again by sittin' there doin' nuthin' and rakin' something over that is over with. 


 Indeed, from miles around, new folks was a comin' from back east and new towns to the south and the north sprung up in less than two months from the time they set foot 5 miles to the north and about 7 miles to the southeast of us.   In March, the Railroad erected a depot and water tower about 1/2 mile west of Main Street, and bought a right of way to run a road from the depot to Main Street itself.   All this was put up and graded in about 5 days.  The railroad tracks itself was laid out at a pace of almost a mile to that of a mile and a half of track a day, at a pace no one round hereabouts has ever seen or knowed about afore.  One day they was over a mile away to the North west, then they was here, and then they was almost two miles southwest of town, and by the third day, after that, you'd never knows how long ago that was unless you was here first and knew beforehand. 


 About 5 days after that, on March 23rd, the railroad dumped off over 200 folks, mostly families, and there was no place to put them.  Quite a few tried to be nesters, illegally squatting on other people's land and then havin' to be evicted forcible like by me and the Sheriff, when he wasn't a home sick, gettin' sick from fever and food poisonin' and all sorts of ailments.  After some vigilantes mysteriously lynched a couple of them squatters durin' a hard rain, and there bein' no witnesses to these 40 or 50 masked and hooded torch bearers on horses (if they even exist as was alleged) and no signs to track,  many of these nesters all of a sudden got supplies and went 5 miles north to the next creek.  They settled lands they should have settled in the first place,  lands 12 miles southeast of the mountains where there was good water flowin' down from thar', and they called the town Batlersville.  In less than two months, it was like theys now have instant towns growin' out of thin air.  Over 350 homes and 18 town businesses and even a bank are now either built or almost built, with another 140 families goin' in thar' and what looks like settlin' that town south towards us, and spread out like, as far as Rickett's Gully, about a mile north of our town, which is itself goes out thataways about three miles north of Main Street. 


     The whole country is feelin' crowded like, like the whole world is rushin' in and takin' away all the freedom to move about outside of town and enjoy anything quiet where you could just trail along and really think private-like.  On or about March 30th a long Amish wagon train settled and founded a community some 7 miles to the southeast, and about the same time, the railroad dropped off  about another 300 folks who followed what looked to be land speculators, and made their way west to Prairie Flats.  Marshall Jackson was called upon one mornin' to go out thar' in mid-April, and came back the same evenin' sayin' "Everything was just peachy."  He did have me pick up and load a 700 pound anvil that Lars was a holdin' for him.  I pulled it straight from its tree stump mount into my hip, let it rest, and while pull holdin', walked it more than 28 feet out of stall where it was at to pack it onto a wagon for the Marshall to take with him the next day.  I was still able to do it, but I felt like my tired was a death tired, some kind of tired like I never felt afore. And like when I was young and forgot about, my back got all tight.     

On April 19th, a few days later, after a good rain, my jackass sister-in-law was in charge of my youngest daughter Lottie and out a walkin' around with the slippy mud still patchin' up the streets.  The Mrs. was a home carryin' and havin' the sickness.  As I came out of the Sheriff's office, I don't know where in the hell Eunice was, but there was Lottie, standin' thar' in the middle of the street, oblivious to anything but standin' up, bein' happy, and walkin'. Just then, there was screams of women and shouts as the Wells Fargo team of 6 Roans bolted down the street all harnessed and with no wagon.  I immediately started to run, and fell in the slippy mud just outside the Sheriff's door.  I got me up and slipped and stumbled again.  The runaways was a fast gettin' to Lottie, and as my back suddenly went out, I was still barely able to grab Lottie by the dress and toss her to Old man Schriver holding his arms out about 12 feet in front of me, just out of the path of the runaway Roans, before the team ran me over as I slipped and fell back.  I was dead center, and my leather vest and coat got all caught up in the riggin' as it tore up what would be 56 stitches of flesh on my stomach, chest and right arm.  And there I was, bein' a drug down the road out toward the Railroad, helpless as if I was a child's doll, all tangled up and no knife on me to cut me loose with.  Good Ole Boy got himself loose from the rail just to the side of the door at the Sheriff's Office and followed after.  

     The runaway team continued westward as they ran over the railroad tracks at the depot, and then suddenly veered off the road miles out into the fields to the southwest.  Somewhere, about a mile and a half into the fields with grasses and flowers over a foot and a half high, we hit a soft dirt mound that was just high enough to both knock me unconscious and tear me loose from the riggin', and left me a layin' thar.   Eventually, the team of those 6 runaway Roans made its way back northwest over to Prairie Flats, but Good Ole Boy trotting behind at a distance trailed and found me and stood thar' until a group of about 20 of the town citizens (includin' one ridin' out with a buckboard),  themselves trailin' Good Ole Boy, came and found me in a pool of my own blood.  Doc Olaf and one of Doc Phillips daughters fixed me up, and brought me home.  They said I circled the drain for two days, but on the third day, I woke to see no good sister-in-law Eunice bringin' in some chicken broth, and yelled, "Eunice!  You jackass!" and tore 8 stitches throwin' somethin' a small sissy pillow someone had propped me up with at her and hit the Pastor square in the face.  The Pastor had just arrived thar' under the impression he was to give me Last Rites.  I got to see his shocked open mouthed look just afore passin' out.  At that point, I was later told, they knew I was goin' to be alright. And even the wife, when she found out only right then and thar' that Eunice was responsible for almost gettin' Lottie and then me killed, the Mrs. gave Eunice such a barefooted kick in her buttock, that Doc Olaf said it left a perfect black and blue impression of the outlines of the foot and a perfect impression of the toes especially.  That was more than 3 weeks ago, and as yet Eunice still has a heavy limp since that day.  Good!  I always knew the wife could kick as hard as any horse or mule.  It was about time some other human being was on the receivin' end of her kick to know what it felt like for a change.     



July 11, 1883   How My Fool Stunt Created A New Local Tradition Of "Make A Wish"

     The town is a growin' still.  We is livin' in the age of always bein' ready to both tickle our ears and heed our lives over to speed and greed.  The Saloons are gettin' into a competition with all the Church singin'.  Two saloons have pianos and three others various music instruments like squeeze boxes and guitars and the like and different type singers.  We are seein' the shippin' regular cattle herds 1500 at a time in the last 3 months  and horse herds 500 at a time last month and this month by railroad.  The herds are comin' in and then movin' out of acres of new corrals almost 2 miles southwest of town at a separate freight whistle stop for the new Train Tracks, as cowmen and herders bring them steer and horses up from points south and west of us to ship them to market.   It has done wonders in helpin' local folks have real money, includin' new foldin' money for the first time in some of their lives.   Even a handful of farmin' contracts have been signed to ship to cities and points back East by railroad for 4 or 5 of those from farms west of our town as far out as to just inside the boundaries of Prairie Flats.  In our town itself, almost 60 more families have settled the last lots available along what the town is now callin' East Main Street, between what used to be that once skunked sign west of Old Town all the ways out to Rustler's Pass.  Every silver mine in June but one closed up, and is now abandoned, most of those folks gone.  And even that one silver mine still workin' only brings out  not even $40 a month, and is owned by one family, Joshua Peters, his wife Elsie,  and their 14 kids.  Theys the only family I ever knowed where everyone has white hair. 

On June 28th, in order to advertise festivities for the Fourth of July, we had ourselves a 10 man hangin' all at once, and  I think we have as many as 3 or 4 thousand folks cluttering up Main Street comin' from 30 or 40 mile around.  We even used different heights and length of rope, and made the mistake of making a fat man of over 400 lbs.  drop 22 feet before snapping his neck.  He decapitated and squirted blood 12 or 15 feet into the crowds a few times before I could throw a bucket over where his neck used to be.  His fathead rolled about 25 or 30 feet in crowds and started gettin' kicked around by folks goin' this way and that before I lost where it probably was.  The folks ran about as if they themselves were chickens with their heads cut off, a circular direction in which they run in a full circle 5 or 6 times like a headless chicken does if you let it loose to scare the kids, all in a panic,  and how they was a kickin' and a hollerin'!  They was worse than my young uns' ever was.    That fathead was almost half a block away and half under a porch afore we found it over 15 minutes later.  But people are queer creatures, as in just 10 minutes after that, they was all back in a mob, a pushin' up against each other, as if the tighter they's a pushin' up against each other, the happier they is, especially the men folks a rubbin' up against the front of them some of them top heavy women, whose arms were a pinned down so they'se couldn't even reach up to slap their face, but the menfolk had enough sense to keep one hand free, lift up the hat and smile back.    Personally,  I don't like  city life and lots of bodies about until they is a breathin' your air.  No sirree.  Especially when half of these folks hadn't had a Saturday night bath in what smelt like months. If they ain't family or close friends, or someone you're playin' cards with, 6 feet back or more is just about right. 

On this Remembrance Day of July 4, 1883, we had us a regular circus of trick riders on horses and contests and lots of eatin' and drinkin'.  Everything went fine, and we only not one arrest the whole day.  I even got to take and escort the wife and kids to the trick ridin' show, and those children old enough to ask, kept askin' if I could do this or that trick.  Except for some of the rope tricks and one shootin' trick of ridin' on their head and shootin' a ball, I said yes.  But I said yes to one too many.  The one I regretted the moment I said it was the one where this jockey rider of about 135 lbs did a running jump of about 12 feet out diagonally and as he drops 15 feet off a platform, he lands on to the saddle of his horse, next to a horse rail, and then rides off.   Old Doc Olaf overheard me tell the kids, "Yes, I can do that" and before I knew it, even as the wife gave me the iciest stare I've seen her give in months, bets of 7-2 were laid on me that I wouldn't even try. It got so honery, that if I didn't agree to try, we was about to have a riot.  I was offered a double eagle if I tried, and 4 of the old troop from the war, drunk as ever, offered it up to 5 double eagles gold if I was successful.  My frame was no longer the 165 to 170 lbs I had durin' the war, and it was now up to about 230 or just under.  Before I knows it, the boys brought out my Palomino, "Good Ole Boy", all saddled and lined up parallel to the horse rail in front of the platform, all ready for the event.
 Over a 2,000 folk from town and from all over the county waited on me as I made my way over to Good Ole Boy, but I knew something was amiss when he Good Ole Boy, standing where he was supposed to, looked back over at the platform, and right after I stood atop, 15 feet off the ground. Good Ole Boy then looked right up at me and his eyes went wide open like he suddenly knew what was a goin' on.   I tell you, that dang horse gave me this look!   And then, after a few seconds  he looked forward again, fluttering his lips and showing teeth like he was a laughin'.   Right thar', my heart sunk.  So I called down to him, "Good Ole Boy, don't you dare move until I tell ya!"  He must have heard me take the first step, because by the third runnin' step, Good Ole Boy was takin' off like a shot, and I was too committed in my runnin' to fully stop, so I tried to jump straight up and land directly back on the edge of the platform, .  For some reason though I jumped up high, havin' taken a six and seventh step, I remember makin' a frightened frown with my mouth half open shoutin' a quick "Ahhhh!"  as my momentum took me straight out and in an arc directly over the horse rail that Good Ole Boy had been next to.    Folks said after the fact, that when I jumped, they was impressed, as that my feet was about 4 foot higher than the platform.  That weren't good, as my legs was a wide open, and as I came dead center over the horse rail and plummeted straight down like a rock.  In the distance, over the hushed silence of the crowd, I remember clearly that my eldest son screamed, "Daddy, make a wish!"  

 Legs wide open,with my chest leaning forward and my feet pulled back just a little too far, my 230 pound or a little less frame came a crashin' down like a shootin' star, and  I snapped that 4 inch horse rail in two, and my boot tips slid back as I hit the dirt and my body leaned forward toward prostration as my left chest and shoulder snapped the horse rail yet again into a third piece, and I was instantly knocked unconscious.  That was a week ago to this day.  And it is so odd.  Folks around town have been buying and cooking up chickens, and when they finish, they find this bow-legged bone they are a callin' a "wish bone",  and then havin' two folk a pullin' on either side yellin' "make a wish" until one or the other snaps it, and the winner is the one with the bigger piece. I not only wince when I hears it, it irks me a bit as I ain't bow-legged like that chicken bone infers, and only walked like it that one time last year when I was recoverin' from the Mrs. kickin' me up the backside and gettin' her fool foot stuck! 

That aside, Doc Olaf says I'll still be pullin' splinters out for a couple of weeks yet.  How I can't wait for my body to be able to forget what I hope to be my last fool episode now that I am fast reachin' what most folks call middle age.  The town council, havin' declared we made enough money from the events we had here abouts, has bought the lumber and nails so I can build me a new porch down at the jail so I don't slip in the mud goin' out the door thar' again.  It will be a while before the lumber is delivered, but all in all, I'm lookin' forward to buildin' that new porch.  For a while thar', I thought I was supposed to both pay for the lumber AND build it on my own if I was still a wantin' it.   Town councils.  Where's Horseshot Harry, the Marshall's friend,  to get rid of such skunks for you while you look the other way when you need him?  

 -- Deputy B. 

Some Generalized Thoughts On Historical Literary Veracity Of The New Testament By Brianroy

Historians will benefit by trusting the historical veracity of the Bible.  Even though these quotes are a bit older than most would like, they remain true in their statements.

  "The excessive skepticism shown toward the Bible has been progressively discredited. Discovery after discovery has established the accuracy of numerous details."    

W.F. Albright, The Archaeology of Palestine and the Bible (Revell, 1935), p. 127.


"The interval between the dates of original composition and the earliest extant evidence becomes so small as to be in fact negligible, and the last foundation for any doubt that the (New Testament has) come down to us substantially as they were written has now been removed. Both the authenticity and the general integrity of the books of the New Testament may be regarded as finally established."   

Sir Frederick Kenyon, The Bible and Archeology (New York: Harper, 1940), pp. 288,289



"It may be stated categorically that no archeological discovery has ever controverted a biblical passage."  

  Nelson Glueck, Rivers in the Desert (Philadelphia: Jewish Publications Society, 1969), p. 31


"To be skeptical of the resultant text of the New Testament is to allow all of classical antiquity to slip into obscurity, for no documents of the ancient period are as well attested bibliographically as the New Testament."    

 John Warwick Montgomery, History and Christianity (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1976), p. 29

“Careful comparison of the New Testament with inscriptions and other early independent evidence has confirmed their primary claims . . . Competent historical scholarship must regard the New Testament documents as coming from the first century and as reflecting primary-source testimony about the person and claims of Jesus.”  John Warwick Montgomery, History and Christianity (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1976), pp. 31,34.


It is important for us to study history...but to me, we also need to be faithful to the Almighty who gave us the Bible, and trust HIM over the ever- changing opinions and popularity of what men (or women) might think or say.

 Gleason Archer Jr. puts it better:

"...the only alternatives available to us as we confront the Scriptures: either they are inerrant, or else we are."    

Gleason L. Archer, Jr. "A Survey Of Old Testament Introduction"  (Chicago: Moody Bible Institue, revised 1994) p. 31

And a well-respected scholar once noted the acceptance of Faith and History,  stating, 
"It is, indeed, difficult to restrict a discussion of the New Testament writings to the purely historical plane; theology insists on breaking in.  But that is as it should be; history and theology are inextricably intertwined in the gospel of our salvation, which owes its external and universal validity to certain events which happened in Palestine when Tiberius ruled the Roman Empire."    
F.F.  Bruce in April 1959, as found in The New Testament Documents: Are They Reliable? (Downer's Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 14th reprint 1980), pp.5-6.

  

 It seems that history is becoming a category of expertise that is once again contracting, and as a result, society forgets the past, falls into moral decay, and repeats the mistakes of the past to its own peril and fatal consequences.  If one would even arrive at a level of competence in grasping historical literary testimony, skillfully gleaning facts and exercising cognitive processes that modern education steers the collective away from doing, so much past and present will open up and a greater state of awareness is achieved, and faith in the Bible as accurate and true and faith in Christ Jesus as 100% truthful and good, as well as being LORD and Savior is easily affirmed.  

The historical literary testimony tells us that the Apostles of Jesus used Hebrew manuscripts of an older date than the Greek Septuagint (LXX) as their primary texts.  Biblical Scholarship has often lamented of their confusion on this issue for the last 100 years, asking "did the apostles rely only on the LXX or a variant copy of it", because they are unwilling to believe the historical testimony of a translator who held and viewed these Greek and older Hebrew manuscripts 300 years after the last Apostle of Jesus died.


"The Hebrew Scriptures are used by apostolic men; they are used, as is evident, by the apostles and evangelists.

Our Lord and Saviour himself whenever he refers to the Scriptures, takes his quotations from the Hebrew… in the words used on the cross itself, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani,” which is by interpretation “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” not, as it is given by the Septuagint, “My God, my God, look upon me, why hast thou forsaken me?” and many similar cases.

 I do not say this in order to aim a blow at the 70 translators; but I assert that the Apostles of Christ have an authority superior to theirs. Wherever the 70 agree with the Hebrew, the apostles took their quotations from that translation; but, where they disagree, they set down in Greek what they had found in the Hebrew.

And further, I give a challenge to my accuser. I have shown that many things are set down in the New Testament as coming from the older books, which are not to be found in the Septuagint; and I have pointed out that these [still] exist  [in our own day] in the Hebrew.

Now let him show that there is anything in the New Testament which comes from the Septuagint but   which is not found in the Hebrew, and our controversy is at an end."

Justin’s Apology against Rufinius, Book 2.34

We must also remember, that Jerome, a 4th Century A.D. scholar  who translated the Bible into Latin,the Latin Vulgate,  probably held copies of the New Testament that were almost exclusively from the first century A.D. sources as well, being only 350 or less years removed from the 47 -57 A.D. compositions of those works. 

Jerome, himself, handled some of these same pre-Septuagint manuscripts of Isaiah, pre-dating the LXX's completion prior to the ascension of Herod the Great.  By his own testimony, Jerome says that his Hebrew copies that he was handling, were those that pre-dated even our extant  Dead Sea Isaiah Scroll now on display in Israel, dating to at least 150 B.C. and possibly as old as 250 B.C.   For him to say this, there would have been a clear distinction in the difference of the Hebrew epigraphy.  For which aid, he sought out the best Hebrew expert of his day to learn more than just an expanded version of what he would have called "modern hebrew" in the 4th century A.D....but an "ancient Hebrew" of the 4th to 5th century B.C. as well.   

This is accessibility to oldest manuscripts and their copies  would be still yet another reason to trust the translationof the New Testament Gospels as accurate; and this is better understood when we have a more well-rounded understanding in history and language development in the relevant period of discussion.    

In regard to the New Testament (NT)  works, even in the First century we have so many copies being produced, that manuscript families branched out and they were compared one to another often, as well as back to their original source.  By example, in Ephesus of Asia, from the introduction of the Book of Revelation in late 53 A.D. to the Apostle John's death in ca. 97-98 A.D., there were many copies made of Revelation (using this one NT book by example) and copies of copies that branched out.

 At one point, as Irenaeus addresses in Against Heresies book 5.30.1-2, there was the issue of just one slip of the pen or a lacunae that had to be corrected regarding a number (6), in order that a wrong concept of 616 could be corrected, and the copies either destroyed or amended to the correction.  In fact, because of Irenaeus' boast of how that any having questions about the manuscript could simply go to Ephesus and ask John for verification, we know that Revelation existed for many years prior to John's death, and that John was fully accessible and in his right mind at all times to offer veracity to the 666 instead of the 616 one manuscript branch was promoting before that scribal error was chased down and stopped cold.

  By 392 A.D.ff., if Jerome possessed a first century New Testament copy of a letter or book  to translate, he may have possessed not only first century copies, but in regard to even it being a first century copy, it still may have been passed through as many as 16 copyists from the original in as little as its first 40 years from the master first copy from which those others were generated afterwards.    

We must historically consider the explosive and exponential growth of Christianity from a figure of a few thousands in the 30s to that of a couple millions by the 90s A.D. (though chiefly among slaves, followed by that of sailors, farmers, and soldiers), and the reasonable assumption that we can perhaps calculate no less than one manuscript per 1000 Christians would give us no less than 3,000 probable manuscripts at the utmost  bare minimum of each of the most popular books and letters of the New Testament in Churches and designated locations by the early 90s while the Apostle John was still yet alive. Each of these works were treated as more precious than gold, and closely guarded by Presbyters and bishops in their respective Churches as "holy" and set apart in a most revered manner.    Not all works were uniformly in all places at the first, however; and  by the mid to late 2nd Century A.D., the New Testament works  most certainly were virtually universal in the Roman Empire, at least.  

The  NT references most clearly used in the First Century Christian  in Rome and used regionally there, we know from that book we call as First Clement, which was based out of Rome,  and these at minimum were : The Gospel of Luke, the Gospel of Mark, Romans, I Corinthians, Hebrews, Ephesians, and I Peter.  

Clement in 64 A.D. Rome, apparently did not possess such a copy of Matthew, Greek or Aramaic, and did not quite know the full context of the use the prophecy the way the Apostles (including John in Ephesus and Phillip in Phrygia) apparently did.   This tells us that Rome's Churches took the position, under Clement, of first being communicated with -- or they would not communicate to -- since Rome was a vast central metropolis so as to take all the Roman Christian's own focus. This also tells us that the Roman Churches were, in effect, more or less isolated from the outside world during the reign of Nero and especially during his persecutions, and that in this point in history, Rome's christian Churches were not likely to intervene in other bishoprics until late in the second century (with the one exception of Corinth, because so many of its evangelists were based out of and first funded from Corinth, as was the case with Corinth's Churches funding and evangelizing Christianity being preached into the province of Asia).  

Although it has been taught that it appears that only the first Greek translations of Matthew survived well beyond the First Century,  it is obvious that Ignatius of Antioch and other bishops of the region (as late as 107 A.D.) still had the Aramaic original of Matthew in a copied form entering also into the early Second Century as well.  Further, the Christians of the Syriac and Iraq Middle East (including that of Lebanon and parts of Turkey) are those who have kept the Aramaic language of the Scriptures from the times of Jesus.  For being a witness of the One True Church, they are being targeted and killed by a criminal usurper in the U.S. Presidency and fellow Muslim butchers like John "might as well be a Muslim Heinrich Himmler" Brennan misusing the United States Central Intelligence  Agency to genocide these innocent victims, as if attempting to erase the memory of Jesus Christ from history.  The Gospel According to Matthew is apparently one that the Devil indeed hates beyond measure, apparently.  

Ignatius, bishop of Antioch of Syria wrote in Aramaic; and the copy of Matthew in historical perspective, was directed to the saints that spoke Aramaic fluently.  Ignatius wrote primarily to the Asian Churches who were guided by John for prayerful support, upon Ignatius' own arrest.  It was to Asia that help and counsel was sought from, by Ignatius, not Rome (or its bishop there).
Hundreds of years before a split, there was already an East/ West division in Christianity between the Aramaic and non-Aramaic speaking peoples.  Matthew's Gospel, in how it was accepted and distributed at the first, highlights this detail.

 Matthew was written for and eventually distributed to those of the Syriac influence churches from Jerusalem (to Babylonia and points East) to Damascus to Antioch to the province of Asia in western Turkey, and all points in between; amongst hostile, and friendly, witnesses who also were there to have seen many of the events....some in the hundreds of thousands, in their own dialect.

Irenaeus, the disciple of Polycarp of Smyrna of Asia, who was a disciple of the Apostle John  and a bishop placed in Smyrna by that same Apostle John, spoke as to the matter of the veracity of Christianity in its written form which we have later labeled as "The New Testament."

Irenaeus, Against Heresies, Book 1, Chapter 10, 

 selective statements  from points 1 and 2

1. The Church, though dispersed through our the whole world, even to the ends of the earth, has received from the apostles and their disciples this faith: 

2. As I have already observed, the Church, having received this preaching and this faith, although scattered throughout the whole world, yet, as if occupying but one house, carefully preserves it.

 She also believes these points [of doctrine] just as if she had but one soul, and one and the same heart, and she proclaims them, and teaches them, and hands them down, with perfect harmony, as if she possessed only one mouth. 

For, although the languages of the world are dissimilar, yet the import of the tradition is one and the same. 

For the Churches which have been planted in Germany do not believe or hand down anything different, nor do those in Spain, nor those in Gaul, nor those in the East, nor those in Egypt, nor those in Libya, nor those which have been established in the central regions  of the world.

  Nor will any one of the rulers in the Churches, however highly gifted he may be in point of eloquence, teach doctrines different from these (for no one is greater than the Master); nor, on the other hand, will he who is deficient in power of expression inflict injury on the tradition. 

For the faith being ever one and the same, neither does one who is able at great length to discourse regarding it, make any addition to it, nor does one, who can say but little diminish it.

Most scholars are deficient in the proper and full reading of Irenaeus.  For example, by their most popular use of even referencing him, they oft cite him as the authority for dating John's Apocalypse, and then ignore his other writings.  Why?  Perhaps they are too busy copying the end notes of their colleagues...perhaps they are too busy...perhaps philosophic arguments are simple a dinner exercise, and academic truths are as intangible as a good dinner conversation.  

Irenaeus is a third generation witness from Jesus, and a second generation witness from John the Apostle.  When discussing Church history in these first two centuries or the first 150 years of development, it is ludicrous to leave Irenaeus out.

Irenaeus clearly states that at all points of the Empire in (some say 178- 181, others 180 - 181  A.D)., Christianity clearly was an organized, developed, and communicating religious system.  Germany communicates with Egypt and Spain; the Eastern provinces communicate with Libya and Italy.  Gaul communicates with Greece and Asia...and all the Christians provinces communicate one with another, and testify faithfully that history - tradition - faith that has been passed down to them from the Apostles.  

And what NT documents are communicated them by no later than 180 or 181 A.D.?  If we judge from Irenaeus own quotations in Against Heresies, we at least have the entire Roman Empire saturated with:  

Matthew, Mark, Luke, John,

 Acts, Romans, I Corinthians, II Corinthians,

 Galatians, Ephesians, Colossians, Philippians, 

I Thessalonians, II Thessalonians, 

I Timothy, 2 Timothy, Titus, 

Hebrews, James, I Peter, 2 Peter, 

I John, II John, Jude, and Revelation.

It is impossible, if Christianity had any myths in history or tradition up to this point, to have had such a uniform consistency of the Faith throughout the Empire.  There is no doubt about it...the libraries of Caesar were thoroughly checked, the places of the NT visited, the rolls of the bishops unfurled, and Christianity, 100 percent, was found true and accurate historically and in the very legal sense of truthful as well.

Let me point out that NT  manuscript families, like the Patmos family of manuscripts, tell us that the NT is  clearly 95% or better a word for word transmission of the ancient text as it probably was.  The majority of the 5%  of the grey area, is quite often simply defined as either an expanded  translation upon the Greek or a work to this effect to convey the passage more effectively.   We can literally cut the 5% by 60-70%, and then again by another half until we reach the same 40 lines consisting of less than 400  words that are known to be added in to the texts, having once been marginal notes, with the exception of a word or two here or there that do not change the theology or the essential meaning of the text where they occur, by simple inter-familial comparisons.

Further, where any translation preceding a time period of Vaticanus or Sinaiticus (or what have you) is questioned, we can go to early patristics and see how they phrased the same quote.

It is known that where the Apostolic texts differ from the much later Masoretes in quoting the Hebraic Old Testament texts, the Apostles appear to have followed a manuscript tree that was more closer to Aramaic (if we follow the second century quotations in translation to Latin and Greek by Irenaeus) and first sources, such as the Ezra era translation of Hebrew Scriptures scribed by Hillel -- if I understand correctly -- that was brought to Rome, and cited by Josephus.

Those same copies of that master copy of the Temple, 

"Now that Scripture, which is laid up in the temple, informs us..." (Antiq. 3.1.7, Whiston)

which language means that Scroll of not only the Torah but all biblical books later canonized in the 90s as holy, and would have included the Psalms and the prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah (etc.), those same works which were possessed by and quoted by Matthew (while he was in Jerusalem in A.D. 55-56) and Luke (Paul's fellow evangelist and physician, while at Corinth of Achaia in A.D. 50).  

 In Josephus Wars of the Jews, 7.5.7., it is clear that the Temple Scroll is that same First master copy or Imprimis Torah Scroll and Scriptures  (from the days of Ezra).   It may actually have been the very collection Hillel brought up from the Jews at Babylonia, if Oral Torah's historical literary testimony is to be believed.  It was that Master Copy, once made available for all Jews from circa 3 B.C. (with the arrival of Hillel, until its 70 A.D. capture) that went to Rome.

Josephus reiterates a statement of writings, now regarding the book of Joshua also:

"Now, that the day was lengthened at this thee, and was longer than ordinary, is expressed in the books laid up in the temple."  (Antiq., 5.1.17, Whiston)

"That the duration of the day was prolonged and exceeded the usual on that occasion is disclosed in the writings that were present in the temple" (Alternate translation of same passage)

The authority of Josephus as an historian on historical (and sometimes textual) data does NOT exceed the Bible, and is subordinate to the Biblical text ... but his writings should still always be readily considered as a reliable on hand supplemental

Of interest, the Apostle Paul traveled about with many scrolls of Scripture with his entourage, and occasionally had to entrust them at this or that location while on his missionary journeys.  By example, the Apostle Paul stored  his Scripture scrolls and parchments at what he probably thought would be a central location as 2 Timothy 4:13 appears to infer.  Because of circumstances and necessity to reach Jerusalem quickly by Pentecost (just prior to his final arrest) he left them behind.   Scrolls were large and bulky objects.  At the time he wrote 2 Timothy,  Paul was in Rome in a hired or rented  house at his own expense, and under house arrest.  The Apostle Paul, contrary to popular and perhaps tourist trap initiated belief, was not in a dungeon in Acts 28.  Further, in the way Paul requests his scrolls be brought to him, it was not unrealistic to request them.  Indeed, we may even reasonably infer that the Apostle Paul may well have been in the habit to rotate one or several personally owned Scripture scrolls at a time,  delivered and or taken by messenger or an ambassador (a protected status under Roman Law) or "angel"  for the sake of convenience.  

There may have been times where one could have been "mailed" by carriage in Asia and certain developed areas / provinces in the Roman Empire in this era, but that method isn't likely to have been employed (being deemed a wasteful use of funds).  Instead, manuscripts or scrolls having been wax sealed and encrusted with in similar manner as the Romans and thereby being granted legal protections and even Roman escort under certain circumstances,  were entrusted to guardians who were recognized as "ambassadors" and protected by Roman law.  The Christian guardians who delivered manuscript scrolls were generally deacons and deaconesses or presbyters or even bishops.  Again, generally, these were called both messengers and "angels" and took their task to deliver sealed scrolls unopened very seriously.  Because the Bible declares that "in the mouth of 2 or 3 witnesses shall every word be established", so too would there be a religious legal requirement in the transport of such manuscripts, and we would expect a re-verification was quite often both done and commended.  

Supplement: Historic Dates of New Testament Authorship

Letter or Work             When Written                   Written in / from  

Jude                               Pentecost, A.D. 47             Jerusalem, Israel 

James                            Pentecost, A.D. 47             Jerusalem, Israel 

Galatians                         A.D. 48                              Philippi, Greece 

Gospel of Luke               A.D. 50                              Corinth, Achaia

I Thessalonians       February - July, A.D. 52      Ephesus, Asia

I Corinthians           July - November, A.D. 52     Ephesus, Asia 

Revelation          Tishrei 4-9, Sep/Oct, A.D. 53    Patmos, Aegean 

Romans               October - November, A.D. 53    Corinth, Achaia 

Titus                     February, A.D. 54                       Troas, Aegean Sea

Colossians          May - November, A.D. 54          Jerusalem, Israel

I Timothy            May - November, A.D. 54          Jerusalem, Israel 

II Thessalonians   August - December, A.D. 54   Ephesus, Asia 

Gospel of Matthew   May, A.D. 55 - July, A.D. 56   Jerusalem, Israel 

Philemon                          A.D. 56                                  Rome, Italy 

II Timothy                 October, A.D. 56                        Rome, Italy 

Ephesians                  October, A.D. 56                       Rome, Italy 

   

Philippians          February - April, A.D. 57               Rome, Italy

I Peter                  March - April, A.D. 57                    Rome, Italy 

Gospel of Mark         June, A.D. 57                             Rome, Italy 

II Peter                      June, A.D. 57                             Rome, Italy 

Acts of the Apostles    July, A.D. 57                          Rome, Italy 

Hebrews                       July, A.D. 57                          Rome, Italy 

I John 

(severed intro to Gospel of John)  

                          August - October, A.D. 57              Ephesus, Asia 

Gospel of John   August - October, A.D. 57         Ephesus, Asia 

2,3 John               A.D. 58 - A.D. 96                        Ephesus, Asia