ead
where much of the shooting took place. Indeed the old hostelry had been
the scene of one of the fiercest gun battles between the Martins and
Tollivers. It faced the Central Hotel across the tracks. The Galt House,
the name by which the Carey combined boarding house and grocery-saloon
was known during the Rowan County troubles, stood some distance away
across the road from the courthouse.

It was a bleak day in December, 1884, following the August election in
Rowan County when John Martin was struck on the head, that he and his
wife Lucy and two of their small children climbed into their jolt wagon
out on Christy Creek and rode into town. While his wife and the children
went to do some trading at a general store down the road, John met Sam
Gooden, John Day, and Floyd Tolliver. Words passed between Martin and
Tolliver after which John went into Carey's saloon. As he stood at the
bar Floyd Tolliver came up and repeated what he had said to Martin
outside--something to the effect that Martin had been wanting to
bulldoze him. Martin denied the charge but Tolliver repeated, "Yes, by
God, you have, and I am not going to permit it." To which Martin
answered, "If you must have a fight, I am ready for you." At this Floyd
put his hand in his pocket. Martin, thinking, so his wife and son told
me, that Floyd Tolliver was about to draw his gun, drew his own in
self-defense. Though Martin was quicker on the trigger than Tolliver,
who now had his gun out of the holster, Martin did not have time to get
his weapon completely out of his pocket. He shot through it, killing
Floyd Tolliver almost instantly. "Boys," Floyd managed to gasp, turning
his eyes toward friends who rushed into the bar, "remember what you
swore to do. You said you would kill him and you must keep your word."

Martin gave himself up to the law. By this time a mob, friends of both
sides, had gathered around and Martin was hurried, half dragged, across
the road to the jail behind the courthouse.

In order to protect the prisoner from violence he was taken to the
Winchester, Kentucky, jail next day. But he had been there only six days
when a band of five men presented themselves to the jailer with an
order, apparently signed by the proper authorities, commanding Martin's
return to Rowan County. He pleaded with the jailer not to surrender him.
"It is only a plot to kill me," he cried.

That day Martin's wife had been to see him in his cell. She took him
some cornbre