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Harry Tracy and David Merrill hurried in the ditch near the railroad once away from the glow of the campfires. The two continued North through Clackamas County. Merrill was right, they were headed for Washington, after Washington was a mystery to both.

The robbers traveled for two days, sleeping under hollowed logs, and eating minimally. As food became scarce, resting became frequent. The two convicts began to argue and become short with one another. Merrill found Tracy’s incessant need to hear and read about himself difficult to deal with. Tracy felt the Merrill was skittish and was losing his nerve as they traveled closer to freedom. They followed the Southern Pacific Railroad at a distance, staying perpendicular to it, ensuring not to get too close as to be easily spotted.

The railroad crossed directly through a farmer’s land. This was just their luck. Tracy and Merrill approached the house and entered, rifles drawn. As they entered the home, they could hear a woman humming in from the kitchen. Tracy entered the room silently, Merrill following, the woman not noticing their presence, still humming.

Tracy straightened his back, appearing to grow several inches, he smirked and announced himself,

‘Don’t be alarmed!’

The woman shrieked, as she turned and saw the two strangers.

‘We don’t want to hurt anyone.’ Tracy said.

‘I am Tracy, the convict. We’re just needing a nice meal and we’ll be on our way.’

‘Where’s the man of the house!’ Merrill exclaimed, raising the weapon at the woman, who winced.

Tracy scowled at Merrill in disapproval.

‘He’s out working the field, he’ll be in shortly.’

‘Best make this quick.’ Tracy suggested.

Merrill sat down, leg shaking as he waited impatiently.

‘Anything I can help you with?’ Tracy asked. He was ignored while the wife prepared some eggs.

‘Have you heard about us?’ He goaded.

‘Everyone’s heard about you and Merrill.’ she muttered. ‘They said you killed all those men.’

‘Ha! Those men wanted to take my liberty from me and would see me put in a cage for the remainder of my days! Yet I’m the criminal!’ He joked. She did not laugh.

Within minutes the farmer’s wife dropped the plate on the table sternly. It made a loud thud as she furrowed her brow at the table.

‘Sit.’ Merrill commanded, she obeyed and watched as the two men scarfed down the food. Merrill said nothing finishing the food without stopping to breath.

The three sat in silence for some time after they finished their meals, Tracy was reclining in the chair as his insulin levels spiked for the first time in days. He missed these small moments of civility that he knew he would never have naturally again.

‘That was an outstanding meal. Thank you for your hospitality.’ Tracy said as he stood up, Merrill rose from his chair, saying nothing but nodding and grabbing a handful of bread and stuffing it in his pockets.

The two left the home, walking down the steps as the farmer began walking up them. Tracy tipped his hat to the farmer smiling.

‘sir,’ he said as the two breezed passed the farmer and headed away. The farmer confused, rushed inside to check on his wife.

Another sheriff would arrive soon to bring them in. They realized that news was spreading faster than they could travel. They knew they had to move quickly and stealthily. Following the railroad, they continued north.

The next farm they came across, they were met with shouts and gun fire. When they retreated, they could hear the farmers and hired hands talking about the reward money they would get for killing either one of them. They were certain they had spotted Tracy and would keep looking for him long after they were gone. The men carried on North. It had been five days since they had last eaten a meal, only snacking on the bread that Merrill pocketed.

After nights of starving, constant hiding, and gunfights, the two had found a small home on the Columbia River. They spotted a small paddle boat near the home, there was no sign of movement, they approached the door, opening it and entering the home. It was warm, someone was living in this place, and now they knew it. They searched the house, waking the man from his sleep. They drug him out of bed at gun point and made him direct them to food and clothes.

‘You’re going to get in that boat and take us across the Columbia.’ Tracy said cramming a hard muffin into his mouth, he was barely comprehensible.

‘Or I’ll blow you away, you hear?’ he continued, still eating the muffin.

After Merrill finished eating, he direct their hostage down to the boat.

‘Grab me some socks!’ He shouted to Tracy, who was ransacking the house.

As the trudged to the rowboat in the blackness of the night, the hostage fell. Merrill picked him up.

‘Don’t try anything funny.’ He cautioned. ‘Tracy isn’t someone you want to cross. He’ll shoot you right in the boat and throw you straight in the Columbia.’

The man said nothing and pushed the boat into the water, holding it steady. He looked at Merrill.

‘Get in.’ He commanded authoritatively. Merrill hesitated, then climbed into the boat as their prisoner held it steady. Once he sat down, he pointed his rifle at the hostage.

‘You could paddle yourself.’ He suggested, sneering at the weapon. Merrill lowered the weapon.

Tracy was approaching from behind. He threw some extra clothes in, sloshing water as he approached the boat. He patted the captive’s back as he hoisted himself into the craft. Lastly, the hostage entered the boat and started to paddle. Tracy leaned back, with his gun on his lap.

The captain was breathing heavily, the current was pushing them towards Portland as he paddled. They passed several homes and the prisoner wondered if any of his neighbors saw him, and thought it was odd that someone was out on the river at that hour. Finally they crossed, exhausted and disoriented, the prisoner finished his duty.

‘Alright, out the boat.’ Merrill said. The prisoner hopped out, almost completely submerging himself. He let out a yelp in shock and drug the boat into land.

‘I’m awfully sorry to do this.’ Tracy said. ‘Hav’ta tie you up. But it won’t be tight, we need to get away first.’

‘You’re not going to kill me!’ He shouted in disbelief.

Tracy said nothing but began to tie him up. Their prisoner didn’t resist. Like his captor promised, he was barely restrained. He laid in the grass tied until they were out of sight.

The two fugitives were finally in Washington, and they could disappear.

Notes: This is a rendition of the events surrounding true historical facts. Please keep in mind that sights, sounds, dialogue, etc may not be an exactly historically accurate. While the author(s) do their best to depict this story as historically accurate as possible, there are some additions for entertainment value and readability.

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