With your head tucked under your arm? Funny you should say that. Throw a branch on the fire and I'll tell you about Bram Hanson.

Now Bram lived in an old cabin up against a cliff face not too far from where we are sitting right now.Not very many folks ever encountered him except some miners and hunters who frequented the area. And some bad men. These deep woods were the haunts of an outlaw band in those days, the Culpepper Gang. They would do most anything dishonest that would bring them a little money; claim jumping, robbing passersby, burglary.

The Culpeppers were in town one afternoon when they saw a strange sight. Bram Hanson had ridden his old mule into town and straight over to the assayer's office. Hanson left about 15 minutes later with a big grin on his face, and Clay Culpepper mosied into the assayer's office. The assayer was busy in the back, but a paper lay on the counter. Clay couldn't read much, but he did make out Hanson's name, the words "gold nuggets", and the amount of $485.Despite the fact that it was early March, and the lowering sky threatened snow, the Gang decided to ride out to Bram's place that very night.

When they reached the old cabin, Clay had his younger brother Vernon dismount and sneak up to the side window to try and get a look inside. Clay and his cousin Elbert Bryson then rode up to the front porch, where the door opened and Hanson emerged holding an ancient muzzle-loading rifle."And what the hell are you boys doin' on my property?" said Bram Hanson. Clay laughed. "Oh, I think you know, old man. We came for the gold." Hanson aimed the weapon at Clay's face. "Ain't no gold. Now git before I open you up." He cocked the hammer, and an instant later Vernon fired both barrels at once, separating the old man's head from his shoulders and sending it rolling up to Elbert's horse."What the hell you do that for, Vern?" Yelled Clay, booting the head over into some creek-rock. They put the body in the privy, and commenced a search of the cabin, which produced a small bag of gold nuggets. The Gang started back down the trail when the snow began. In fifteen minutes it was a blind blizzard. They soon decided to head back to the cabin, spend the night, and hope for clearing in the morning.

After making a dinner of the old man's bacon and beans, they bedded down, the wind whistling against the thin timbers of the shack. Clay was awakened in the dead of night by Vernon's voice calling to him. "Clay? You hear that?" He heard the wind, and the trembling of the window glass, and then...yes, a sort of frantic thumping noise.Clay raised up in bed, listening."It's the damn privy door, Vernon. You and Elbert left it open and it's banging in the wind." Clay felt Vernon's hand twisting his shirt."No, Clay. That door's brace-locked from the outside. I got a splinter from the 2x4 when I dropped it in the brace." Vernon's voice dropped to a whisper."He's a-tryin to get out...He's a-beatin on the inside of the privy Clay." Clay jumped clear out of bed when the privy door finally broke loose with a bang. He found the Colt Navy Revolver under his pillow. From outside the cabin came a crash as the rocking chair on the porch was knocked over. Something fluttered and banged against the window.

Vernon already had his boots on and was half-way into his coat when the horses began squealing like they smelled a cougar."I'm goin now, Clay" said Vernon, throwing open the door. Elbert was awake and lit the stub of a tallow candle. Clay saw Vern mount his Pinto and ride into the storm, before he slammed the door. Immediately there came a pounding on the door."Vernon?" called Elbert,opening the door. Clay was not sure what he saw, because the candle snuffed when the wind swept in.But as he rushed out into the storm, he heard Elbert gasping for breath in the clutches of something.

Clay must have ridden 8 miles in the blizzard, not ever sure that he was anywhere near the trail. The snow stuck in his eyelashes until his eyes were nearly glued shut, and he let the horse have his head.He finally dismounted in a box canyon, hoping his fingers would still strike a match to the pile of dead pine-boughs he had made. He nursed the fire into a small blaze. Maybe Vern will see my fire, he thought. Above him he saw stars through the ebbing snowflakes. His fingers began to sting as they came back to life. He was thinking he might sleep, when he thought he glimpsed something, some dark shape just outside the ring of fire-light."Vernon?" he called out. Yes, something was approaching, shuffling through the snow."You get what you wanted?" said a voice. Clay edged back until a Pine tree stopped him."You ain't got everything yet," said the voice. A figure stepped into the light. It was Bram Hanson's lanky frame,covered in ice and snow, and with his severed head tucked under his arm."Put me down by the fire," said the head, and the stumbling body did as it was told."Now you get him!" The body staggered toward Clay, clawing the air. Culpepper's scream shattered the frigid air as he ran off into the night, into the deep, deep, swallowing drifts.

A posse found the bodies of the Gang, all three. Funny thing, though. They never found old Hanson.But some say he's been seen since. Some say he still wanders in these woods, lurking, just outside the ring of firelight.

LEJ