The Ballad of Carlsbad County

Chapter 1: The Fall of Caroline

Carlsbad County New Mexico, 1887.

The summer was a dry time that year; drier'n most as I recall. And when dry times come callin' people's minds turn a little. Be it lack of water in the brain or just plain discomfort, nothing good ever comes from a dry spell. That was the year Caroline was murdered.

Sure at the time all sorts of stories were bein' bandied about. Least of all, the tale as presented to you here. But years have passed since then and I'll do my best to present an honest n' balanced reckn'in. Forgive me if a fact or two lay spurned by the wayside, but trust that in whole, I'm tellin' the truth. A truth that could have saved me had I known it at the time.

Caroline was always the prettiest girl in Sunday school. She grew to become the most fetching catch in the county. But the county was too small for her. Most could tell that if she weren't caretakin' so faithfully of her ailin' pa, she'd split this town faster than a croaker at the toad chase. But such circumstance was not to be. To pass the time, she took to torturing the local boys with her lighthearted flirtation. Heck I imagine there must've been quite a few suitors in town who fancied themselves worthy of her prize. But there never came a year, week or even a day when a person could stake her heart as found property.

Sure this mighta peeved quite a few folk in those years she was growin' up, but now she was a ripe apple. And to a man who robbed a few orchards in his boyhood, a ripe apple is impossible to pass up.

This man was Jacob Powell. A reasonable man at one time. I knew him long and in all that time I never knew ‘im to be short on the fuse. A little wicked but hell who isn't in this odd world. ‘Specially with a little fire water in ya. Which, come to think of it, Ol' Jacob had his fill of.

In any case, ya see, Jacob Powell was sent away for his educatin' the way many young men of promise those days were. And when he come back he arrived with wife in tow. All grown and full o' responsibility, he set his mind to the ways of business, but his mind chose a different course. At the Rock Inn Saloon his ship ran ashore when he reacquainted himself with Caroline.

It started simple as usual. But his harmless advances became more public. Rumors started flyin' about. Finally, one otherwise fine evenin' was tainted when Jacob lost his propriety over too much malt. He grabbed at her in the middle of the saloon and she clocked him one right across the jawline.

Now at this point Caroline had already been pegged for either a woman of weak morality or a witch of powerful properties. But with word spreading of the little altercation, most took to the weak morals identity and assumed that the two had been lovers.

When word got back to the proud Mrs. Powell, she finally upped ‘n left Jacob's sorry estate.

All this public humiliation is a heavy load for a man to shoulder, especially a man such as Jacob Powell, whose tender identity was built on a mountain of youthful praise. As they say, when you build your house on the tip of the mountain, be ready for the shaker that brings it all down.

Well down it came, right to the front door of Caroline.

You see, just as all this is happening to ol' Jacob Powell, a stranger come into town. One William Bishop who had recently come to fame by murdering a man on the streets of nearby Colton. Of course at this point in time, none could finger him as the man of action. None at least that lived in this fair town.

But into our story he came. And immediately, Caroline had found her match. It was a match that, once struck, burst into a live flame that refused to be put out. This kind of heat does not go unnoticed.

Now forgive me for bringin' yet another trite quotation to this yarn, but as they say, two hearts' full is trouble enough – but three hearts' full is a four-alarm-fire. Needless to say, Jacob was filled with jealousy and rage. After all, he felt he was owed something for all his devilish work.

So there we find Jacob Powell, standing at the door to Caroline's room with a length of rope and a Colt Revolver. Before the end of this night she would understand they belonged together. And like all plans birthed in the heat of passion and hate, everything went wrong.

Who can say what went through his mind when he felt the final breath slip from between her lips. Heck he probably didn't even notice when it happened. But the truth of the matter is that he did it. She was gone. And William Bishop was to blame.

At which moment the man in question walked right in the door. To find his Caroline dead and the culpable party still flush from his gruesome mistake...