First off, I have no real feelings good or bad about my Pa. I don’t remember him but only know what my Aunt, my Pa’s Sister Greta has told me much later in life in a letter. What she said about him wasn’t very good. I could hate him but how do you truly hate someone you never even knew? Maybe I could hate what he did but the man himself? No, not really.

She told me our entire family left Bainbridge Ohio in 1858 to settle along with hundreds of other brethren in Salt Lake City a town founded by Mormons a decade earlier. I’m told a man named Brigham Young, a Mormon leader, who after his Church leader Joseph Smith was murdered while in jail, gathered a group of followers together in Ohio and moved west to Utah to form a separatist society.

The only reason I bring this up is because you need to understand my Pa and his reason for leaving Ohio. It wasn’t about farming raising sheep or even the weather. I was always told he was a follower type of man. He didn’t have an original thought in his balding skull. The only reason he joined up with those Mormon brethren as he called ‘em, was because they each had more than one wife. Pa figured he could get one to wait on him while the other took to work keeping the household in money… not to mention he’d have two women warming his bed, or so he believed.

My Aunt Greta and her husband Joshua had ridden in the wagon ahead of my fathers for the entire 1,300 mile trip. Ours was the last wagon in line.

My father feared that if savage Indians attacked the wagon train that being positioned in the rear, he could turn around and escape when others couldn’t. He always was looking out for number one and damn the rest to their own fate.

My Aunt correctly painted my father as a follower, not a leader. She described him even as child growing up as a spineless, self absorbed spoiled brat, always ready to point the finger of wrong doing on others whether true or not. He only looked after his own welfare and left any child raising to my mother. He was not a good husband or father. If it weren’t for Ma I’d probably have followed in his footsteps or died early trying to rob a bank.  

My mother gave birth to me two years before my father announced we were joining others from the Temple in Northern Ohio and relocating to Utah.

At the age of two and a half, Mother and I were put in the back of the covered wagon and along with the others in the congregation and made our way to Independence Missouri. Once there we waited for the Wagon Master to assemble a number of other Mormon Brethren and their wagons for the trip to Salt Lake in Utah. Finally, according to my Aunt, on a sweltering summer day we all headed off.

I don’t remember my Mom, I was too young. Actually, I don’t remember anything of the trip at all.

I was told all this after being reunited with my Aunt Greta some years later before she passed from natural causes or old age, whichever you want her to die from. To make a long story short, my father admitted his cruel deed to her during a rare lucid spell in his illness. She figured out where the original ferry crossing was where he dumped me off near it and from there her hired detective figured out the rest.

After verifying my identity through some obscure birth records the Brethren felt obligated to keep at their Ohio temple, she wrote me.

I had no idea who she was and honestly didn’t care. Unlike some, I wasn’t at all bothered that I was abandoned or adopted. I couldn’t have loved my adopted parents more even if they were my birth parents.

To me, the entire affair just made for an interesting story. I returned a letter to her thanking her for the information, declined her wish that I move to Utah and even turned down the property my mother had purchased sight unseen even before leaving Ohio. Apparently she did not trust my father to care for her or myself and purchased a forty acre section without his knowledge. In her letter, Aunt Greta said she and Uncle Joshua had planted the acreage all those years hoping I would eventually be found. She said I was entitled to a portion of the profits they made from it. I relinquished all rights to it and gave her ownership of whatever was left to me.

Back to my Father.

Now it seems my birth father had experienced some sort of nervous breakdown  episode along the way to Missouri and afterward took to staring only downward, even when speaking to others.

He kept telling my mother the western sky was too big and was afraid it would crush him.  

When he started seeing grass fires that did not exist, my mother sought the help of a Brethren Doctor also heading to Utah. His therapy consisted of a mixture of cocaine and herbs which did nothing for his illness. In fact the combination of drugs and his mental disturbance had carried him over into a state of insanity.

Some time after leaving Missouri, it was discovered I happened to be missing from our wagon and was nowhere to be found.

My father had no recollection of my whereabouts and upon being questioned he admitted he may have either given, sold or just abandoned me somewhere on the prairie. He said he couldn’t recall. He blamed his new ‘medication’ for his memory’s absence. In fact, I’m told he hated me as I was just another mouth to feed. My Aunt swore he discarded me on purpose and that she suspected he knew darn well where I had been abandoned.

At the time of my disappearance my mother had been riding along Aunt Greta keeping her company. Aunt Greta had been feeling under the weather, being newly with child and experiencing her feminine morning bouts of stomach discomfort.

My mother pleaded without success to my father to turn the wagon around so she could search for me. He steadfastly refused saying if he turned the wagon around it would give any of the savage Indians hiding in wait the incentive to attack an kill him.

My mother, I was later told by my Aunt, had begged him without pause until one day he could bear no more and mortally beat her with the wagons stout wooden jack handle. Her remains were buried but left unmarked as were hundreds of other poor souls traveling in wagon trains that never made it to the promised land.

Aunt Greta never spoke to my father again. Her husband asked the Wagon Master if his wagon could be moved up the line in order to not have to see my father but was refused permission to move their wagon ahead.

She did acknowledge he made the entire trip to Utah but not a soul in the train would speak or even look upon him. He was a shunned man but so corrupt was his mind that he probably never even noticed.

Once having arrived in Utah he became so out of his mind that the Council of Bishops determined not to apply their law of murdering my mother since he was for sure insane. They did detain him under ‘arrest’ for his own safety until he passed a few months later.

The Bishops determined my Aunt should improve my mothers land and return to the church a ten percent tithe on all crops grown on it until I was found or declared dead.

————————————————–0——————————————–

Days later after being abandoned along the trail and scared out of my wits plus half starved, I had somehow found my way in my wanders to where my eventual adoptive parents owned the ferry that crossed the Kansas River just a few miles east of Junction City Kansas. Now where I had been abandoned and where the ferry crossing was was just about a mile distant from each other. That may not sound a great distance but to a three year old it was a million mile walk.

My adoptive parents(from now on I’m just saying parents, no more adoptive nonsense need be written) made a good living since so many wagons heading to the west had to ferry that river at this juncture. They were childless and considered my appearance a God send to their lonely lives. They quickly figured out I had been abandoned along the trail. Such things were not unheard of as children too young to be of help with household or farm chores was an unwanted burden in a prairie household. Still, this family, not being dependent on farming, took me in, loved me and doted on me without spoiling me.

My new father was kind, fair yet could be strict without being abusive. I was renamed or named as the case may be since I didn’t really have a name. My name was now Tennyson Baker or just Ten for short.

 I was schooled in my letters and numbers by my new Ma and was also taught the piano and violin by her. Being just a tiny child I had no knowledge of the where-abouts or even the existence of my parents. All I knew was for once I ate regularly and earlier uncalled for spankings had ceased.

Still, I must have been effected to a certain degree due to the trauma of abandonment for I rarely spoke until my teen years.  

I grew up though well muscled, tall and in great shape due to hauling our large ferry back and forth from shore to shore by it’s hemp rope cable. I was blond haired and blue eyed like my Ma. I had a strong resemblance to her and for that I was grateful as she was said to be quite a handsome woman.

My vocabulary increased and with my adoptive parents help, folks considered me well educated and could speak with clarity.

Seeing my work ethic and handsomeness Folks in town would comment to my parents that I would be a great catch to any young lady. By the age of sixteen I was more man than boy and looking back I really was the dream child of any proud parent. No brag, just fact.

My life took a drastic turn in October on my eighteenth birthday. The Junction Herald, our town newspaper announced a toll bridge crossing the river was being planned. The properties next to our ferry landings had been purchased by a group of investors out of St. Louis.

To add salt unto a wound my father that same night (and for the first time in his life) got himself drunk, fell off the ferry and drowned.  

It was now up to me to take over the family business, and I did for a time until the toll bridge built next to our ferry landing opened. I sold the ferry to a young couple in search for wood to build a home. The ferry had been built to last many years consisting of stout beams and wrist thick planking. It took better than a month to dismantle the heavy craft and haul it off to their home site. In late fall the young man returned and purchased the dock itself as it had been built of similar materials as the ferry. The dock was much easier to dismantle and haul away than had been the ferry.

My Mom, now in her late sixties, had taken to sitting despondently in her room looking out the window at the river where our ferry had sat at its dock.

Her and my Dad’s dream of a comfortable retirement dashed.

That winter brought another tragedy to our home. A late February storm roared in leaving all roads impassible due to a heavy snow. Upon opening the front door to our modest home I found the snow had drifted to the entire height of the door jamb leaving a solid wall. By looking out of the second story attic window All I saw was snow. Only the roof top of our cow shed was visible.

 It took nearly the entire day to make my way to the shed fearing the worst for our trapped milk cow. Earlier in the day I thought I had heard her mooing but as the day progressed I heard nothing more.

As Job of the Bible said, “What I have feared the most has come upon me!”

Our cow had not survived.

I was left to ponder my situation. We had a full winter larder and plenty of canning jars filling the shelves in our stone lined cold storage dug out under the living room floor. Food was no problem.

Each fall my father being a stickler for being prepared, would have my mother stock the larder and cold storage.

He also made sure the winter wood supply was filled to the top of the attached lean-to on the rear of the house. Inside the lean-to also sat forty gallons of coal oil in ten gallon steel drums. This would insure our lamps or the small kerosene stove used for canning foods would never lack fuel.

What concerned me was my Mom.

She ate only sparingly now, rarely leaving her room. When she needed the outhouse I would have to shovel a path through the deep snow drifts and then bodily carry her to and from the frozen one seater. It finally came that a chamber pot in her room was needed as she had little strength even to dress herself let alone make it to the out house.

March was even worse. Not a day passed above ten degrees below zero.

Our cow still lay as she died, a frozen block inside of a frozen shed. It wouldn’t be until spring before she could be hauled out and left in the fields for the coyotes to feed upon.

Then Mom died. There was no way to bury her in the frozen earth. I had no funeral for it was still impossible to travel beyond the out house. I could tell none of her friends in town that she had passed. Even worse, I couldn’t bury her either.

I ended up wrapping the dear woman in her favorite quilt and placed her alongside the cow in the shed. It wouldn’t be until late spring that the ground would thaw enough to bury her next to my Dad. I was now alone.

With no future income due to the new toll bridge, I decided to sell the house and land and move westward after I buried my Mom in the spring.  

I had heard many stories from those we ferried over the river of the greatness of the West. Some spoke of gold, others of land heavily grassed as far as the eye could see just waiting to be homesteaded or bought outright. Eager Farmers and Ranchers alike ferried across, now it was my turn.

That spring, after burying my mom next to my Pa, I settled on $2,200 for the house and land. It was a fair price. We hadn’t farmed the land in years so it was becoming over run with weeds and small saplings. Still, once the land was cleared again the soil having rested for so long would produce healthy crops for the new owners.

I returned to Independence where I deposited two thousand dollars in my Dad and my joint account. The Guardian Trust bank building there was a strong brick two story building with a concrete room the iron safe had been built into. It was about the most secure bank west of the Mississippi and it had never been robbed.

I left with an envelope of blank bank drafts totaling two thousand dollars and a pouch full of gold and silver coins from our safety deposit box totaling over four hundred dollars. All in all I had enough to restart my life as either a farmer, rancher or even as a merchant. Then again I might just wander around the West.

CHAPTER 2 

I purchased some better clothing than my work clothes. I also traded in my Dads old muzzle loader for a brand new model 1880 Trap door Springfield rifle.

 It cost me thirteen dollars with the trade in. It was a powerful long range rifle that could take down most any large animal. I was told by the gun shop owner only the Sharps long gun was better.

For another six dollars I bought a slightly used Smith & Wesson Model 3 single action revolver that used metallic cartridges. I had heard it was the favorite of many bandits so I figured it was then good enough for me. I wondered if a robber had been using it before my purchasing it.

I still needed a holster and in looking at what was available I spotted an engraved  twin holster set. I ended up filling the other holster with a twin of the Model 3.

At first I wondered if I had made a blunder for the weight of two pistols, the extra leather and thirty bullets stuck in their rings nearly pulled my pants down!

I figured I’d just have to get used to it, I did with the help of a pair of braces.

Along the way, I practiced every day with both rifle and pistol. Unlike my adopted Dad who was raised a pacifist Quaker and therefor my being raised likewise, I had no compunction in defending myself. Being raised a pacifist and sticking to it were two different things. Unknown to my father I had accumulated a number of dime novels sold at the pharmacy in town. I knew all the tricks gun fighters and Indian scouts used to survive. Some turned out to be hot air but others worked out well for me.

I eventually became extremely proficient with both the rifle and revolvers. So much so that I knew in my heart there were few who could out draw or out shoot me. Just fact, no brag.

In my reading all those dime novels I remembered a trick a bad guy had used to defeat others during a ‘showdown’. He also had a twin set up. When faced off, he’d move his left hand outward and nearer the holster than his right hand in what looked like an amateurish and clumsy way to draw. This made him look like he was a left hand newbie shooter. His opponent would notice this and watch his left hand and figured he’d have plenty of time to draw but was fooled because the gun that would be drawn would instead be his very fast right hand gun.

I figured I’d never get a chance to use that method but then one never knew.

My lack of adhering to the Quaker faith did not mean I did not believe in God, quite the contrary. My Dad raised me in the Quaker way of the Bible. Having religion was personal to me. Unlike my birth Dad I did not follow the Mormon way nor use my religion to lay with more than one woman as he had fantasized about.

While I had no concern or care what the Mormon’s belief, was I didn’t cotton to them as a people . When ferrying their wagons across the river I was treated as a necessary evil, akin to a dull tool in the shed. Early in my youth when my father had put me in charge if he were not there, I had assumed the Mormons were like most poor folk, tightly holding on to what little coin they had. Their menfolk would argue the fee with me at each passing until I gave into their complaints of over charging them.

 When I told my father this I knew he was angry but he did not take his anger out on me. Instead he said, “Son, this may sound cruel but from now on you are to charge what the posted sign states, no discounts, no free rides. If they want to argue and I’m not present lock the ferry’s heavy night chain to the dock and walk away. It is a business not a charity. Besides, those Eastern Mormons are not poor people, they can well afford the cost we’ve set.

I told him that on more than one occasion I had seen him reduce the price and even once saw him allow a free transfer.

He nodded and explained, “As you get older, your wisdom will be increased.  

You will be able to discern true poverty verses those who pretend. Yes, there are times you must offer charity and forgive the amount of passage but… few are those cases. Most travelers are aware that ferry crossings are inevitable and are prepared to pay for their crossings.

I was not to negotiate or worse argue with a traveler. Besides, if I’d given any back talk to a customer my Pa and I would visit the woodshed. I treated them all, Mormon and Gentile alike, as that was the Quaker way. My actions though did not mean my day dreams didn’t involve giving some customers a good non Quaker thrashing!

The day arrived that I left Junction City and caught the stage to Salina Kansas and from there west to Goodland, just a few miles east the Colorado border.

Goodland consisted of a small dry goods store that also sold food staples, a run down saloon who’s bar was two planks set on old barrels, a blacksmith’s shop and a livery stable. Population was under thirty.

The only reason it survived as it did was that folks traveling to Colorado generally took the route that passed through Goodland.

I had never seen real mountains before and was stunned at how big they really were when I did see them. While in Goodland I purchased a fine strong mountain bred Bay gelding and a Missouri mule. I negotiated the prices and felt I paid a bit above the norm but then there wasn’t much stock to choose from.

The owner of the livery was willing to throw in a used sore excuse for a saddle but I opted to buy a new one. I’m glad I did for that saddle has done me well over the years.

I stopped at the dry goods store / General store and purchased what I’d be needing to live on the trail.

My Missouri mule was fairly well loaded down but appeared unfazed at the bulky weighted packs on it.

On my horse and tide behind my saddle were some things I’d need in case I had to be away from my pack mule.

After a time I named my companions. The Bay I ended up naming Shadow. Like your own shadow it moves without making a sound.

Shadow had the quietest trot I’d ever heard on a horse. Not only that, he perfectly blended into the trees with his brown coat and black markings.

Biscuit the mule was named because no sooner had I made up some biscuits why it would stand aside me and stare down my plate of them until I gave in and tossed a few his way.

So entering mountainous Colorado, Shadow, Biscuit and myself were off to an unknown adventure.

 Chapter 3

The first night found us five miles east of a small village called Grenada. We made camp beside a small clear stream. There was plenty of grass to be had so I hobbled Shadow and brushed him down. I attempted to brush down Biscuit but he backed away each time giving me the “Are you serious” look. It wasn’t that he didn’t like getting a brushing down but only when he was in the mood for wanting it would he then allow it.

I set up my lean-to tarp, threw in a buffalo hide to sleep on and got to making some dinner.

I made up some biscuits of course and boiled up some salted pork. Afterward I washed the cooking pots in the stream using the sand to scrub them clean. I took the time to undress and catch a bath while the water was available. It was cold as all get out. I had forgotten many of the mountain streams were from snow melt.

Back at the camp I readied myself for the night. I had pounded two, inch thick two foot long sticks into the ground and placed a boot over each one. I figured nothing from a spider to a mouse would find my upside down boots a desirable place to call home. I had given my clothes a quick washing too and hung them over my lariat which I had tied to two saplings.

I lay there that evening listening to the various animals as they made their way to the clear cold stream for their water. My four footed companions would warn me if a dangerous critter showed up alongside the dear, elk and the occasional thirsty coyote.

According to the stars it must have been around three in the morning when I heard Shadow whistle. I lay there with ears wide open waiting for any further announcements but none came.

At dawn I discovered what shadows whistle was about. There standing next to Shadow was a wild copper shaded sorrel mare. The two looked as if they were long time best friends.

When I packed up and moved out the Sorrel followed right along behind.

Around noon I once again made camp for I was in no hurry to get anywhere and the place was beautiful. Once again I made camp beside a small clear mountain fed stream whose banks were lush with spring grass. Huge cottonwood trees grew along the banks giving the lush grass competition for sun.

In the far distance the famous white tipped purple Rocky Mountains made up the skyline.

I shot a buck away from camp and dressed it where it lay. I went back to the camp, rounded up biscuit and made him carry the dressed carcass back to camp. I decided to keep the hide and tan it using the deer’s brains to tan the hide then make a smoke pole pyramid to smoke the hide for further softening.

That evening I had a visitor. A friendly one.

I had finished cooking the evening meal when Shadow gave another whistle. I feared he’d be joined by another wild horse but to my relief it was not a horse but but two mules, one being ridden by one of the oldest looking old timer mountain men I’d ever laid eyes on.    

“Hello the camp! I smelled your cookin’ and am a friendly galoot who’d not be turnin’ down a cup a coffee or a bite if you’s friendly your own self!”

I chuckled when I saw the old coot. He was about as dangerous looking as a pet bunny. He couldn’t have been no more than five feet and weigh as much as one of my legs!

“Sure, C’mon in and lite from that mangy beast you got you butt sitten on”, I yelled.

“Oh, this one here I call Grits, the ugly one behind me is named after my first wife Hominy. I go by Chester, Chester Platt”

“Hominy? Really? Like the corn meal hominy?” I asked smiling.

“Yup, her ma named her Hominy and her brother Grits! We come from Kentuck back in 38. Drug her along with me ‘cause If I didn’t her Pa was gonna go ahead an’ shoot me. Neither of us really deezired to havin’ her around, bein’ as she was a terrible cook and ugly as… well, a mule!”

I sat there confused, “Well if she was that ugly, why were you with her in the first place?”

The old man looked chagrined, “I spose you need to live in Kentuck to understand why. It ain’t like there’s a lot’a women in them hills. They’s more in the flat lands but us mount’n bred folk is shunned from taken one-a their flat lander girls. That leaves us with just a few to marry. But… I’ll tell it straight the better a woman can please a man the better a man she can hitch her wagon to. And in truth she was the best! Whoooeee!”

At that I began to chuckle. “So, where is she now?”

“Well dang your hide fella, where do you think she is? If’n I’m near eighty five and we was about the same age, would it be a surprise to say she’s long dead an’ gone?”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean no harm.”

“No harm done. Anyhoo, By the time she turned fifty I had no deesire for her no more. She got purdy fat.Why one wet rainy day she done fell off the creeks bridge log she was walkin’ on an’ ended up plugin’ that creek from bank to bank like a beaver dam! She would’a drowned on me ‘cept she was facin’ downstream at the time. I tell ya’, that water kept buildin up behind her behind until that creek took on the likes of a lake! I yelled at her not to move an inch. While that water was all dammed up I began rollin’ stones in behind her, makin my own dam which left her high an’ dry. By the time I got my plow team hooked to her and yanked her free I had me a nice 20 acre lake to fish in. Wasn’t but a month or two an’ I was trappin turtles and craw daddy’s in it too!

I knew it was a tale but I enjoyed his humor anyway.

“Well, you know who we are, you got a name too or do I have to go to the Sheriff and parse through all his wanted dodgers looking for your face?”

“Sure thing I got a name, an honest one that’s not wanted nowhere. Names Ten, Ten Baker from Missouri but born in Ohio.”

“Ten is short for what, tenderfoot?”

Laughing I replied, “No, Tennyson.”

“Uh, I see why ya’ chose Ten! So tell me Mister Ten Baker, you headed anyplace special or just roamin’ Gods acreage?”

“No place special, My parents passed this year an I ain’t into farming. They ran the ferry over by Junction City until some Eastern investors had a toll bridge built.

I’m not sure where I’m going but I’m hoping I know it when I see it.”

“You lookin’ for land or a city?”

“No, not a city. I’d like to find a quiet place, someplace where honest folk live but not too close by. I like the forest and grassy valleys to hunt in, clear streams to fish and maybe even a few cattle to raise.”

“We’s similar, you an’ I. I left Kentuk with the same dream.”

“Did you ever find it?”

The old man settled down by the fire and began poking the burning embers under the coffee pot. When he was satisfied with his poking, he gave a deep sigh and spoke.

“Yup, I did. Most beautiful spot on earth. Tall pines surrounding a crystal clear cold lake with a mountain fed river runnin’ through it. Nearby was a grassy park maybe three or four hundred acres in all. Wild mountain blue bells,fireweed, paintbrush, columbine…you name it son, they grew there.”

“Where was it at? Do you still live there?”

“Ever hear of a town called Grandby? No? Well it’s up north west of here a couple weeks travel. I bought land near Grandby thinkin’ I’d dig for gold or some other ore but when I got there I didn’t have the heart to tear up the earth, it was too dang beautiful to mess up.”

“It sounds like a great place, so what did you do?”

“I turned to the mountains for my livin’. I hunted, trapped even traded with the Ute tribe during the summers. I did well just pannin’ the stream I had for gold. No need to tear up the earth to git rich.”

“I take it you still live there then?”

“Oh, I still own the place but haven’t been back there for three years, maybe four now.”

So what happened?”

One day late in the fall, maybe it was in November, can’t recall, I went out to set traps along my eastern trap line. That single line was nearly a hundred miles long. I cached a large amount of fur, best season ever had up in the next lake. I finally made it back to the cabin and Hominy in the spring. I shoulda’ been there but I was busy tryin’ to store up my funds… for what reason, I’ll never figure.”

“But you needed to make a living, no?”

“I already had everything I needed, didn’t need no more gold. Anything I needed I either traded for or made it myself. No, somewhere along the way I got to thinkin’ I needed more an’ more till I had enough. Boy, there ain’t never enough .You’ll always want more!”

“I’m lost, why are you saying you should have been there?”

Once again he began poking the embers and now looked as if a heavy weight had been placed upon his shoulders. His head drooped and when he spoke it was in a near whisper.

“My wife, Hominy, she had passed while I was out gathering more an’ more furs so I could get more an’ more money. She had cut herself chopin’ wood for the cook stove.I had been meanin’ to secure that axe head on a new handle but kept puttin’ it off. The handle snapped and that head musta flew backwards into her neck. She made it back into the cabin but bled out tryin’ to stop the bleed’n. It was all my fault. Poor woman. Was she ugly? Hell yes she was, did I love her? Oh you bet I did. Looks ain’t everything. She loved me like no woman ever did. She rubbed my sore feet each night before we went to bed, she remembered my birthday with a cake an when she washed and darned my socks she never said to me they’d last longer if I wore my shoes indoors. I miss her still.”

“You say you haven’t been back there?”

“Naw, just can’t stand the thought of livin’ alone there without her. She made the place a home. I’ a’feared if I went back I’d just be in the sad doldrums till I pass away.’’

“So now you wander around, kind of like myself?”

“ I said we was similar didn’t I?”

“ Yes, you did.”

“Do you ever plan on going back?”

“Fact is, I’m on my way there now.”

“What? I thought you wern’t never going back.”

“I didn’t say never.”

“But you are now going back?”

“Yup, ya’ see, I’m a dyin’ man, got the cancers Doc says. Ain’t got much time left but that’s fine with me. I’m old an’ know I’ll once again be gettin’ my feets rubbed… not sure about the cake since I heered there ain’t no birthdays in heaven.”

I thought about what he said, about beauty and how a woman can be a help meet as the Bible says. I’d never thought much on women. I mean I noticed ‘em but never spent enough time with ‘em to form an opinion or feed a desire. I’d need to think on these things a bit further before committing myself to bachelorhood.

The old geezer filled his coffee cup which he had retrieved earlier from his pack. He started to say something but then stopped. Then again he did the same so I figured I’d just prod him a mite. I always hated it when folks assumed I was a mind reader.

“Something on your mind that you’d like to talk about? Mind you, I’m not trying to pry but I see some consternation crossing you puss.

He tossed the last of his coffee into the fire before answering.

“I was a thinkin’, Since you ain’t got no destination carved in stone an’ sometimes it ain’t safe to travel alone in these parts, what’a say we become travelin’ pards. I’m headin’ to my place up Granby Lake way. Now I’m gettin’ on in age an’ don’t know about swingin’ a hammer or sawin’ a board like I did ages ago when I built the place. I shore could use the help and be honest, I been away from folks a mite to long, I could use the company too.”

The way he described Ganby Lake seemed a pleasant thought to me of seeing his place. I really did like the old man and having someone along who knew the ins and outs of the Colorado trail wilds appealed to me. I thought to myself, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

I started dishing out a meal in each tin plate for the two of us saying, “I’m believing you have some valid points about traveling safely, that alone would be a reason to pard with you. Sure, why not? When were you thinking we should head out then?”

“I’m a thinkin’ I’d like to soak my feet a couple a days in that creek before headin’ back out on the trail, if that’s alright with you?”

“I’m in no rush so yea, lets leave in the morning three days from today.”

The next morning while Chester spent the time dipping his sore feet in the cold mountain stream, I took my Springfield rifle and went hunting for deer.

By early evening I returned back at camp with a field dressed bucks hind quarters.

I noted Chester was absent but the fire had been rekindled and his two aged mules stood nearby cropping on tufts of buffalo grass.

I hung the carcass on a nearby ash’s limb and began cutting the hind quarters into strips for curing. This would give us enough jerked meat for a week when Chester made his way hurriedly into the camp.

“Bess put out that fire Son, I seen a few fella’s comin’ up the trail. They didn’t look none like the friendly type niether.”

“How far back,” I asked.

“They’s only a half mile out by now. Get your irons an’ hide back in the woods a mite. They’ll fer sure see my mules but mite not catch a look at yours since they’s hobbled down a ways in that nearby park. Take your belongings with ya, I’ll make it like it’s just me that’s here.”

I spent the next ten minutes clearing the camp of anything that would say there was more than just the old man camped out.

I stepped far back into the deep forest shadows wearing my loaded twin holster. The Springfield I laid in notch provided by a small brushy pine tree.

I had the camp well covered so if those fella’s got ornery the old man would have his back covered. Another ten minutes brought a call out.

Three horse with riders appeared, “Hello the camp. We’s friendly, just looking for a place to rest our nags and boil up some coffee, can we come in?”

They sounded friendly enough but right off I noticed the every one of their holsters had the leather thong securing their pistols were unhitched. Not friendly for sure.

Chester acted surprised at their sudden appearance yelling, “Dang! You boys sure caught me off guard! I was just about to finish stripping this here deer. If ya got a fry pan in your bundle you’s more’n welcome to cut some off for a meal.”

The three had not dismounted which was a warning they were up to something.

One man, a pock faced ugly Mexican looking fella rode up to the front an stared down at the old man. The other two were sliding their eyes back and forth noting everything in the camp.

The greasy looking leader chuckled and replied with an accent, “We ain’t got no pan. Why would we? Do we look like cooks to you old man?”

Well, that settled it, these three weren’t friendly. I kept my rifle’s sight dead center on the leaders chest. I knew that at this distance a shot from the powerful rifle would take out his backbone and then some.

Chester moved from the hanging deer and made his way towards the mounted leader.

“Now Son, that ain’t a very friendly haloo in my book. I was bein’ friendly like, even willin’ to share my meat with you greasers but you all done treated me like a damn Mexican whore.”

Surprised at Chester’s grit, the Mexican leaned back in the saddle with mouth open  disbelief. At the same time one of the two no goods started moving forward but still behind his leader. This fella looked more Injun than Mex so I took him for a breed.

The last man held back but I could see he was a younger Mexican and very nervous. I was betting he wished he were elsewhere at the moment. I didn’t consider him a threat but I was mistaken.

The greasy leader regained some of his composure and laughing loudly began telling Chester he had some set of stones on him but those stones won’t stop a bullet.

Then without warning the youngest Mex started digging into his holster for his gun.

As fast as lightning, maybe even faster, Chester whipped out a pistol he had hidden somewhere in his buckskin top.

Before the young Mex could wrestle free his pistol from it’s black and decoratively silver studded holster, Chester’s roaring 45 caliber bullet entered his brain.

In a near panic I hurriedly gripped my rifle and instinctively pulled the Springfield’s trigger before taking the time to even re-aim.

Shockingly, it was a kill shot. The Mex jerked upright never even having time to touch his pistol but before I could see his eyes go blank the Breed behind him suddenly fell sideways from his saddle. In seconds, all three no goods were down and ready to go toes up into the ground.

“Would ya look at that!” shouted Chester, “Ya kilt two with one shot! Weeooo!”

I hadn’t planned it that way. The Springfield’s powerful bullet had passed completely through the Mexican’s gut out his back and into the forehead of the Breed. If I tried it a hundred times I couldn’t have done that if planned.

Afterward the quiet was deafening. Not a sound was heard from a bird, the breathing of a horse even the creek seemed to be muffled.

“I think I’m deaf Chester, I can’t hear good.”

“It ain’t no wonder, that dang gun a your’n got to be the loudest dang thing next to a cannon!”

As the moments passed I realized that in my rush to shoot I had not tucked the butt of the Springfield into my shoulder but had raised it eye level with the breach close to my right ear.

I thought, “Well we’re at least safe now.”

Moments later I had my doubts.

It wouldn’t have mattered even if I hadn’t near killed my ear, I still wouldn’t have heard the ten Kiowa braves appear in our camp from the forest.

My first thought was that darn Biblical saying of Job’s again, “What I have feared the most has come upon me.”

The painted leader, a bronzed god if ever there was one, stepped forward.

Saying nothing as he walked to each killed man, nudged each one with his foot he smiled at me.

“Have no fear, we have come not for you! But for these three.”

Having never seen a Kiowa or knowing their culture I was still taken back when he calmly went to each dead man and drawing his knife removed their scalps.

Chester said nothing, just watched.

When the bloody deed was done, the painted leader turned once more to where the two of us stood.

Looking my direction he said in pretty good English, “You, I do not know.”

Then turning to look at Chester he said, “It is good to see you my old friend, it has been many moons since we last spoke. I never asked, is your fat wife still warming your bed?”

Chester stood there. The look on his face said this was warrior was dear to him.

“It is good to see you too Satanta, my good friend. No, my fat wife is sitting down enjoying an entire baked ham with all the fixens at a table with her ancestors. No, only a campfire far away from my home warms my bed at night now.”

Satanta or White Bear, frowned. “You have many wrinkles and your skin is even more pale than the moon since we last saw each other. Are you well?”

“Naw, seems I suffer from the cancers, I’m a goin’ home to die and will lay next to my fat woman up on the hill and sleep the sleep of the dead. Hominy awaits my arrival, she’ll be rubbin’ my sore feet purty soon.”

Satanta or White Bear as I will now call him, turned and pointed at the three who had earlier meant us harm.

“These three we have been hunting for four moons now. They have escaped us each time we have been close.”

Chester nodded as if he knew the story to be told. “They did you wrong then?”

“They took the lives of four of our women while they were busy digging roots, one of them was hopping bird, my woman. I have vowed only to return to my tribe and to their men when I have their scalps hanging on my lance.”

Chester looked sad saying, “I’m sorry to hear of your woman. I did not know her.”    

“No, We have only two years ago been sharing a blanket. Her first man, Silent deer, was killed by a Comanche when they raided our village. He was my nephew so after he was killed I took his wife to care for her”

Chester finally turned to me saying to White Bear, “This young man is named Ten. He is making sure I make it home safe without dying along the way.”

The warrior looked me up and down approvingly.

“He looks in much better health than you do my friend. You have many weeks travel ahead of you, it is good not to be alone but you have only one man, that is not enough.”

“He’s all I got White Bear, he’ll have to do.”

“No, I and those I choose will be traveling with you until you reach your home without harm.”

Chester looked flummoxed. “See hear White Bear, by traveling with me you’d be putting yourselves in danger. The whites still distrust and fear Indians, they might react badly seein’ a bunch of your warriors riding through their towns. Why they’s sure to cause problems for all of us!”

“No worry my friend. We will near but not seen.

After a good hour of trying to convince White Bear and his group that it would be too dangerous for them to act as guides and body guards, Chester gave up.

“Well then, have it your way but just know I ain’t claimin’ no favors fer you doin’ this White Bear.”

“You killed my enemies, it is enough. I can now bring their scalps to their men. Those women, including my own can now sleep peacefully knowing their deaths have been avenged.”

Knowing most of the important talking had finished I asked what we should do with the three killers bodies.

White Bear just shrugged, I felt he would have been just as happy to let the critters dine on them but Chester had a wiser opinion.

“We need to bury ‘em. Not ‘cause it’s the Christian thing to do but because they was scalped. I anyone comes upon ‘em why they’d just assume they was three innocent riders ambushed by Indians. No Indian would be safe from those wantin’ retribution for their killers.”

“Hmm, you speak with wisdom.” Then with a pretend smirk he continued, “That is something I often do not see in you!.”

We buried the three deep enough to keep the wolves from digging them up and exposing their scalped heads, then made the decision to head out in the morning.

Chapter 4

Our plan was to stick to the forest as much as was possible. Sometimes mountains got in the way and we traveled with eyes wide open through their valley’s. Our Indian escorts were never seen but White Bear would leave signs as to what direction to travel next.

On our third day out from where we left the dead Mexicans we one more came upon the scene of a shoot out.

These were the bodies of unwashed and scroungy way layers. If this were in the east they would be called Hill folk.

Two had been mortally wounded from the quick while the third and fourth had eventually died some hours later. Again, we thought it prudent to bury them but the ground was so webbed in pine roots that digging the graves turned out to be an act of folly. Instead, we built a large fire in a nearby clearing and cremated them.

Later we were glad we did.

Chester and I made it to Caddoa Lake two days later. We found a side of Elk hanging from a tree proving our guardian angels were still watching out for us.

“I guess ‘Ol White Bear thinks I can’t shoot worth a damn!” Chester commented after cutting the Elk down.

I told Chester, “Don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth!” Meaning if its free, don’t complain. The giver might just take offense!

A days ride west we rounded the south western shore of the lake and decided to rest up a couple of days. Riding in the forest provided much water from the numerous creeks but the trees prevented the growth of good grass.

We stopped and made camp along the far western end of the lake where a clearing finally provided enough grass to put some weight back on our horses.

By now Chester and I had tightly bonded. I sure liked the old man and his stories kept me entertained.

He began to open up about himself and I’m sure I was riding with one of those folks people call pioneers. At age 9 he became a runner or messenger for the American Army in the war of 1812. Later in life he left his career of trapping to fight for the South in the war between the States. He didn’t cotton to slavery but he even liked less the financial burden the North had put upon the South. He believed America was meant to be a country of shared equal power between all the States not just between the wealthy industrial ones.

During one of our camp fire talks, as he called them, He spoke of the cancer he had gotten. He had few complaints in life except for this. As the days wore on his strength was ebbing and we stopped much more often than even two weeks before.

“Ten, I want you to promise me something, will ya?”

“Well tell me what it is first. If you’re going to ask that I give you a thousand dollars in gold then I’m sorry, but that ain’t a promise I can fulfill.

“Naw, it ain’t nothin’ like that. It’s just that I want to be restin’ next to my beloved Hominy when I go. Would ya’ promise me that? If I pass before I make it home would ya’ get me home to her?”

I suddenly found I must have gotten some dust in my eye but I didn’t want Chester to go thinking I was getting soft on him so I over exaggerated my effort to clear up any wetness the dust was causing.

After I cleared my vision I told him “For sure I’ll do that for you Chester, but I’m hoping you will still make it back alive. I mean how else you goona’ tell her you’re home?”

“I’ll try my best fer sure but just in case… you know.”

We broke camp after three days and found new sign from White Bear. Chester read the sign carved into a tree trunk saying it appeared White Bear wanted us to stay in the forest as much as was possible. It looked like the village of Pueblo was our next stop as far as civilization goes.

Within a mile the forest became steeper and who’s forest floor became much rockier. I questioned whether this was the route White Bear had chosen for us when Chester pointed to another tree up ahead/.

“Look up yonder at that there tree Ten, we’s on the right path fer sure. ‘Ol White Bear’s been sneakin’ through these mountains from childhood, he knows ways a gettin’ around that no white man could imagine.”

I was surprised when the next sign had us turning due north.

“There’s some springs up north of here then it turns purdy mountainous. I been through here years ago.”

“So,” I asked, “You been down some of these trails then?”

“Some, but not the ones we been on. Remember, my trails followed game and fur, not trails to be hid on. Indians traveled these trails to keep hid.”

With each day’s passing the night air became crisper, the air thinner. Some days we did nothing but climb.

Pueblo turned out to be a mixed cluster of canvas tents sporting a shabbily built wooden facade out front and adobe brick structures. I figured the towns carpenter had quit his training too early or he didn’t own a level.

Many of the quickly built buildings had windows that were cracked from the stress of not being built proper like, none had seen a drop of paint. The street was a deep rutted affair that proved when it rained it became more a sty for pigs than a method to travel on. A few business owners had laid logs along the front of their establishment but many of these had sunk deep into the mud leaving them just barely above the ground.

The smell of horse plop mixed with tossed out urine from a hundred commodes spoiled whatever Gods beautiful scenery had originally brought the white man to the area. No wonder Indians thought the white’s were uncivilized parasites! The Pueblo Indians (surprise) living there in their adobe homes were cleaner and much more trustworthy than the whites.

We left the horses and mules tied up at the rear of the General Store strangely called the Whiskey House and proceeded to enter by the front door. I figured the place was once a saloon but got took over by someone who had more sober ideas. I laughed when I saw the door had a locking knob on it, this on a canvas tent! It made me wonder if the town carpenter also sold miracle Indian snake oil medicine.

We ended up buying a good three weeks worth of basic food staples along with items like wool blankets and socks to keep out the cold at night. My long johns needed replacing but the only pair that came near to fitting my well built frame were too small. I was told Widow Marsh here in town could sew up a pair for me if I’d care to wait the two days it took to make them. I did.

We had decided to forgo staying at the ‘Hotel Pueblo’ as the cold ground was found to be much more bug free and comfortable than what the hotel had to offer.

We left at dawn when the Saloons were just beginning to close. They’d reopen in another hour after their empty whiskey kegs were replaced and sawdust was thrown over the dirt floors covered in vomit, tobacco spit and blood.

We left Pueblo as soon as Widow March handed me my new Long johns with no regrets.

Three days later we were lying in a real bed after taking long hot baths. The town of Springs was all it was named to be. They’d never run short of mountain water!

With each village or even cluster of houses we noticed White Bear had avoided them but instructed us to pass through them. He must have figured we’d pick up the supplies our forest travels had not provided.

We had a meal at a real cafe the last day in Springs. It was a kind of celebration after I accidentally let loose that the date was my birthday. After a big meal of steak, potatoes and corn, the waitress brought me a big piece of chocolate cake with ice cream on top.

Not being used to such a rich diet I had trouble sleeping that night. I never did react well to sugar it gets me all worked up and causes my pulse to race.

So unable to sleep I put my pants, shirt and boots back on and decided to take a tour of the town.

Springs sure was a nicer town than Pueblo. Heck, I wouldn’t feel safe walking the streets at noon in Pueblo let alone at night.

Springs was a wonderful town it even had wooden walkways the entire length of town on both sides of the street. It must have cost the town a hundred or more dollars to build them. I was surprised the towns politicians would release that much money until I found out in the morning that the sawmill was owned by the mayor.I did what women folk call winder shopping. At each mercantile I stood staring at what the place had placed in the window to attract customers. My walk relaxed me enough that I felt the days activity finally wearing me down. That night I slept well after all.

White Bear’s next sign told us to head directly north now. Chester knew now we were headed for the mountain town of Denver.

As we got close to Denver, once again White Bear had us change course, this time we headed west. We made camp planning on turning west in the morning. I unpacked the camp gear, started a fire and put some venison in the pan. We had stocked up a number of potatoes back in Pueblo so I tossed a couple close to the flames.

I asked how are supplies were holding out and if there was a place to resupply if we needed to.

Chester told me the only town going that direction was Idaho Springs. When we got there we had to restock our supplies.

“Ten, we only have a bit over a week before we get to Granby Lake and my home. I’m tellin’ ya’ Ten, I’m havin’ a time tryin’ to get my breath. Granby is only about forty or so miles away but its a rough road with plenty of climbing to be done. In my younger days I could make it home from here in two days, but right now I’m just hopin’ to make it there alive.”

“You just ride on your mule and I’ll do all the chores. That includes hauling cooking water, something you’ve never let me do.”

“Oh, I can haul water Ten, honest!”

“Look my old friend, I know why you insist on hauling the water. I’ve seen you dip your pan more than once in those creeks looking for color.”

“Well… to be up front with ya’ Ten, I was doin’ it fer you.”

“Me? Why in the name of King George would you be doing that for me?”

“So’s you’d have enough money to get married. Besides you’ll need money to get the place fixed up an all.”

“I can understand you needing the money for fixing the place up but why do you think I’d be even remotely interested in getting married? Why I don’t know anybody in Granby except maybe you and I’m sure not looking to marry you!”

“Dad blast it Ten! Your makin’ things all difficult like.”

I knew Chester had an ulterior motive for asking me to see him up to his place and now I wondered if his excuse of not being able to repair the place himself was part of it.”

“Come clean ya’ old coot, I know you’re up to something. What is it?”

“I guess you’ll find out sooner than later. Pour me a cup of that coffee then sit down.”

I poured each of us a cup of the steaming brew and sat down on a log I had dragged close to the fire. Chester was leaning against a boulder across from me.

“I set up most of this whole thing Ten. White Bear, his tribe and I go way back to when I first stepped out here. So when we killed them Mexicans and then White Bear showed up it was no accident. He’d earlier agreed to lead me back home even before I met ya’ an’ that’s what he was doin’ bein’ nearby an’ all. He didn’t knew about my cancer only my desire to get back to Hominy before I passed on. It was pure bad luck he was out huntin’ game when them Mex’s showed up other wise he woulda’ delt with ‘em an’ we’d a never even know’d they was there. ”

“So the story about the Mexicans killing his tribes women was not just a tall tale then?”

“Gosh no! Them Mexican’s wasn’t in our plan at all! It just so happened that whole epeesode was a lucky coiniceedence. See, that part was true!”

“So if you made a deal with White Bear, what did you need me for? I mean you didn’t know me from Adam!”

“It’s true, I didn’t know you but my brother did an’ for years he went on and on about you in the letters he wrote to me.”

“What? Who was your brother and how did he know me?”

“’Cause my brother was the man that adopted you!”

My head reeled. I knew my father had a brother somewhere, I did remember him saying they wrote back an forth now and again but Chester?

It suddenly dawned on me. “Oh my Gosh Chester, I do remember him saying he had a brother but he called him Trap, he never said the name Chester.”

“Trap was your Pa’s pet name for me. He’s the only one ever called me that.”

“But my Paw’s last name was Baker, not Platt like yours is.”

“My name ain’t really Platt. I only said it was to throw you off the tale I was telling, it’s Baker, just like you.”

“So this makes you kind of like my Uncle?”

“Not kind of like! I am your Uncle! You see when he and your Maw adopted you all legal like I legally became your Uncle.”

“Well I’ll be the son of a horse thief! Really, you ain’t yanking my leg as a good joke?”

“No. And when we get to the town of Granby were stopping at the lawyers to sign over my home and all the land on the eastern shore of the lake to my nephew!”

“Wait… What? Sign over what?”

I still couldn’t fully comprehend what had just been told me.

To discover this man was my adopted fathers brother was one thing for I knew somewhere he did have a brother.

But to leave me his home and land? That stumped me.

I looked questioningly at my Uncle who I knew now as Chester Baker. “Why didn’t you just introduce yourself and lay your cards on the table? Why all this pretending to just need some temporary help at your place?”

“Ten, I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my time and this time I couldn’t afford to make another. I needed to see first hand what kind of fella you growed up to be. Why if I didn’t like what I saw I’d have never let the truth be known. You’d have just left my home when the place was repaired with only your wages to prove we had met and I’d a passed away leavin’ the ownership to anybody who claimed it. It didn’t take long to see my brother raised you proper though, even more than proper. Why I coulda’ busted with pride watchin’ you these past weeks.”

I didn’t say much, what could I have said? A thank you wasn’t enough and a hug might a been too much. After all, he did seem a might stand offish at times.

Still I felt a might lost or confused now. I figured I better get things cleared up before riding on to his place to avoid any more surprises.

“So tell me Uncle Chester, (first time I used that to his face and it felt strange) what do we do now or go from here?”

“We continue on, jest as before. Nothing’s changed. We’ll decide what tools and building materials we might be needing after we take a good gander at the place. When the day came that I left I called on an old friend across the lake, on the west side of it. Now Moses, that’s who I’m talkin’ about, is not a day younger than me an ain’t in the best of health niether. I made him promise that he’d check on the place now an then while I was gone searchin’ for ya.

Now even though he promised, it don’t mean he’d keep the place in repair. I just didn’t want no squatter takin’ up residence on my land. I’m hopin’ he ain’t in the mean time died an’ left the place to ruin.”

“Well Uncle, we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Four days latter as the sun was just setting we made camp over looking Granby Lake.

The lake sparkled in the golden glow of the sun. Tall pines mixed with other hardwood trees surrounded the lake on all sides giving it a mix of fall colors. Tall snow capped mountains called the Twin Peaks framed the upper eastern side where the Colorado river flowed into the lake. As far as the eye could see on that side was Chester’s land.

I stood spell bound, How could an old trapper, my Uncle, have found such a beautiful mountain paradise?

I turned to him asking, “Is this really your land? All of this?”

“Well, the part that you can see from here is. Now further south that belongs to a nice couple of folks who bought that section two years after I did. They raised a family an’ most of ‘em still live here abouts. All in all there are eight owners along the shore. Mine has the Colorado and Twin Peaks while other folks own the rest.”

“But if you… I mean how did you afford it all? It’s a big piece of land you own!”

“These mountains are chock full-a gold Ten. True, over the years we panned out most of the bigger nuggets in the creeks an’ stream here about but then the real gold still lays deep inside the mountains. All of us here had put claims on the land and made out pretty good. Good enough to buy out the sections from where we panned.”

I was excited, I couldn’t wait to see my Uncles home. All I knew was that he built a cabin for his his ugly but beloved Hominy. He never described it or the land in any detail before now.

That night White Bear showed up at camp to say his goodbye. He knew it would be the last time he’d see Chester alive but showed little emotion about it. Later I asked my Uncle why Indians don’t laugh or cry and he only said, “Cause they’s Indians”.

So with their goodbye’s being said to each other White Bear slipped silently into the dark forest. Years later I would meet him again along with his third wife and a son born to her but that’s for another time to tell.

We were up before the sky lightened in the east and by the time the sun peeked over the mountains we had the animals packed up and the cook fire drowned out with creek water.

We rode down the steep forested mountainside until noon where the land finally leveled out. I noticed not all was forest now but grassy parks were passed through as we made our way to the lakes shore.

“We’s almost home boy!” Uncle Chester shouted as he turned backwards on his mule to face me.

I had been wide eyed in my observations, missing nothing. I could see fish jumping in the afternoon sunlight. A couple Eagles flew skyward simultaneously from the waters each carrying a large fish in its beak.

We passed a point of land and continued traveling east along the shore until the shoreline suddenly turned and had us traveling northward along the eastern shore. Up another mile or so ahead we came upon the town of Granby.

Granby was a small hamlet sized town one main street with three cross streets. To the towns credit the building were all wood structures, single floor in height but with a two story facade front. Most all had been pained, some recently.

We tied up the animals in front and walked onto a wooden ground level porch. A nicely hand painted sign said J.A, McCloud Attorney at Law.

Chester twisted the doors knob and stepped inside with me following behind.

“Jasper, you old crook!” Chester shouted laughingly. “I need some papers signed all legal like!”

The skinny Attorney looked up at our entrance, smiled broadly and jumped up saying, “Well look what the wind blew in! Chester, how are you? Sit, sit right here.”

Jasper pulled an extra chair that had been against the wall and brushed off any dust with his hand. “So what kind of papers do you need drawn up?”

Pointing to me he replied, “This here’s my nephew Tennyson Baker, just call him Ten, he’s the one I left to search for. Well I found him and want you to help me sign over all I got to him.”

Jasper knitted his brows saying, “Are you sure about this? I mean that’s quite a sizable property you have, maybe it would be better if you want, to just break off a few acres so he can build his own place if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Jsaper, what I didn’t tell you was I ain’t got long for this world, I got a bad case of the cancers.”

Jasper leaned back in his own chair looking shocked at thew news.

“Oh, Chester I’m so sorry to hear this, did your Doctor give you a time?”

“Any time he says, so I need this paper drawn up pretty quick, you understand?”

“Yes, I’ll start immediately, I need you to sign a few papers and I’ll fill in all the details later. When it’s finished I’ll drop it off to you.”

Thanks Jasper, Me ‘an Ten here need to get to the house. I’m sure it needs some care.

Outside again, we mounted up and continued down the dirt road heading home.

“We only got an hour more traveling ‘till the cabin comes into view but you’s already on my land now.”

We were plodding along the eastern shoreline when suddenly he stopped and pointed ahead. There a cabin sat. It was a mite bigger than what I’d pictured in my head and I told him so.

“Hominy wouldn’t put up with no hill folk sized cabin. She wanted one big enough for a whole passel of chillin. It shore was a shame she was found to be barren, she so wanted kids.”

Uncle Chester suddenly sat upright with a look of concern on his face warning me “Look alive son, don’t know who’s inside but somebody jest lit up the cook stove, see the smoke?”

“I do, you think it might be Moses?”

“It better be but jest in case loosen your rifle from its scabbard and tie your horse just up yonder. I want ya’ to sneak around the back where there is a window to see into. I’m gonna come by the front porch. If you hear shoot’n bust inside through the back door, if not take a look see in the window, I don’t need you shoot’n ‘Ol Moses none.”

I continued on a hundred or so more yards and pulling my rifle free I dismounted and tied my horse to a low hanging branch. I noticed Chester had line tied the mules together in a nearby grassy park where they’d crop grass until forced out.

While I made my way silently around back I saw Uncle Chester making his way to the front porch like he owned the place. Well, he did so that was a dumb statement.

I got to the window without hearing gun shots so I raised up and peeked inside. Being daylight no lamps lit up the place so it was pretty useless of me trying to see inside.

I could hear Uncle Chester talking to someone and with no shots fired I relaxed and made my way to the cabins front porch.

There I saw Uncle Chester speaking to someone standing in the doorway. I could not tell who he was speaking to as he was blocking my view but he sounded friendly enough and his own rifle was in the crook of his arm pointing downward. I took that as my cue to step up aside him. There in the doorway I saw two women, one about forty something and a younger one maybe in her early twenties.

Upon hearing me sidle up next to him, Uncle Chester moved aside and made introductions.

“Ten,” He said, “I want you to meet Moses’s daughter and granddaughter.”

The older woman reached out her hand to me saying, “I’m Adele and this here is my daughter Naomi but she insist on being called by her mid name which is June.”

I held the woman called Adele’s hand not knowing if I should shake it or not. I wasn’t too familiar with proper western female introductions so I just nodded my head in a wobble like I had broke neck.

“Ten, Adele was just starting to tell me about why she and June are here and not Moses but had to stop when you arrived to greet you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, please don’t stop because of me. Please, continue.”

“Thank you young man, your manners are appreciated. It’s getting to be rare to see a young person show…”

Uncle Chester wanted things to move along from the polite greetings and such so before I could respond in kindness he turned to me interrupting Adele, “Adele here was telling me Moses is confined to one of those wheeled chair things, seems he had a stroke, wasn’t it?”

Adele’s frown showed that Chester needed a reminder of politeness himself and it wasn’t just the young that could be prone to rude interruptions.

Adele cleared her throat and after casting a scolding eye Chester’s way she turned to look at me with a smile and said, “Yes Ten, My father suffered a stroke last year and has been unable to care for himself or look after Chester’s home. While his speech is slurred, we have been able to understand him to within certain limits. His speech is clearer in the morning but as the day stretches on he becomes quite difficult to understand. Still it was understood he wanted us to check on the home in his place and we agreed to do so.”

I listened with interest to what Adele was telling us but couldn’t help but steal glances at Naomi June standing in the doorway.

Now don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t sparking my interest as you might think. No I thought she looked alright, as females go but it was her attitude that got my attention.

You see, I was raised by Quakers so women Quakers acted a certain way around their men. As an example, when her man entered the kitchen for say breakfast, the meal would have been already prepared for him. Now don’t get in a huff, this was all about practicality. You see the moment a man left his bed he had chores to do and only the daylight hours to accomplish them. It had nothing to do with who wore the pants, it was a team effort. He had a job to perform, she was his help meet, simple as that.

But this girl stood there, crossed arms across her chest and leaning in the doorway like she was in charge and the look she gave me was one that I wasn’t measuring up or had fallen short as a man.

Now Adele on the other hand was a handsome woman with a ready smile. If I was twenty years older I’d remove my hat and ask her to a church picnic. She was easy going and grateful that Chester had finally arrived, even if he had me in tow.

But Naomi June on the other hand, Harrumph!

Chester seemed oblivious and was just as happy as Adele at making it home.

“When Moses became incapacitated it became my obligation to not only care for him but to see that your place stayed in good order ‘till you returned. June had to take on many of my chores besides doing her own in order for me to be here.”

Chester looked a bit flummoxed at hearing this. “Why I never meant for Moses nor nobody else to do nothin’ more than just check on the place now ‘an then. Is there more than what you’re tellin’ me?”

“Some. See, we’ve been being harassed by the Doak brothers. They want your property and told me they tend to have it see’n as they say you abandoned it.”

“Dang their hides! Them brothers know full well I was a comin’ back! What kind of trouble have they caused?”

Now most folks are aware that in any territory if you abandon your property , either by walking away or by your death, then it is open season for anyone strong enough to claim it.

“I’ve taken a couple pot shots at ‘em to scare ‘em off but they were getting bolder the longer you were away. Much of the repairs needing immediate attention .is due to their harassment. Torn down gate and some fences, hay piles catching fire, broken windows an’ such, but the worst of it is at the creek.”

“What’s goin’ on there?”

“Where their land nudges against yours, they’re makin’ a dam to divert the creek onto their property. They dug a deep trench over a half mile in length to form a lake on their valley. Already your water is only about twenty percent what it was when you left.”

I watched as Chester’s face grew red. The problem with water is this. While there’s a whole darn giant lake butting up against most of the properties, there are still properties inland with no running water. That means no irrigation and no water for cattle. Basically those parcels are only good for mining and if there is no gold on your property then it’s no better than desert land.

“So the Doak brothers are trying to steal my water? Hell, let ‘em try, why they’ll rue the day they ever decided to do that!”

As Chester got worked up in his rant I noticed the color began to leave his face. Pretty soon he was needing to lean against one of the porches pillars to remain upright. Even then his rant didn’t diminish. I needed to calm him down before he fainted, or worse.

“Uncle Chester,” I said, Let’s go inside and set down a spell, we can figure out a plan to deal with the Doak brothers but not if you go and give up the ghost on us!”

I had to support Chester as we passed through the doorway into what must have been the living room of the cabin.

Looking around for a seat to set Chester in I couldn’t help but notice the quality of workmanship.

I set him down in a large horse hair stuffed corduroy covered chair. Chester plunked himself down sucking in deep breaths. He did not look good.

“Just give me a minute Ten.” he gasped. “I’ll be alright shortly. Just thinkin’ about them damn Doak boys got me all worked up.”

While Chester recovered, I took notice of the cabins interior and its belongings.

“Uncle Chester, I didn’t know you had a library of books! I exclaimed.

Between breaths he spoke. Most folks think I’m just a ignoramus trapper. Fact is I finished the eighth grade. Learned my words, numbers even. See that there book with the purple leather cover? That’s a book on calculus, a type of math and next to it is a book on trigonometry, more math. Those I learnt in the six grade, all of us kids back then did.”

I stepped over to the full wall sized shelving and saw books from classic litterateur to modern wood stove cooking.

”I would have never guessed” I said laughing, “considering you keep butchering the Kings English! ”, I told him.

“Never judge a book by it’s cover Ten! ”

I turned away from Chester and noticed Naomi June had made her way to the books. Fingering them with a light touch of her fingers she uttered quietly, “I’ve spent some time here helping out but never touched these. I wish I had learned to read.”

Her statement stunned me! I mean what twenty something person hasn’t learned her letter?

Maybe I was being nosey or even out of line but I walked up behind her and asked why.

“I was born and raised here. No school existed until the town became a real town, by then I was past school age. Even then their school was much too far away for a lone girl to travel back and forth. My Ma never leaned so she couldn’t help me and Grandpa Moses couldn’t read none either.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, reading books helped me deal with some unpleasantness in my own life. Books are where I ran to when things took difficult turns.”

She turned to me and smirked, “Oh, by the looks of you I’m sure you had a rough life!”

I couldn’t fathom where her vitriol had arisen from but still tried to keep a civil tongue. “You shouldn’t say that, you don’t know me.”

“Let’s keep it that way!” she replied

From the chair he sat in Uncle Chester had heard our exchange along with Adele.

“Neither of you youngn’s know each other”, he said, “so let’s hold off peelin’ the skin off one another until an honest reason is given.”

Adele, standing aside, placed her hand on Chester’s shoulder. Looking across the room to June she told her. “You hold your tongue June. Chester was just telling me just how it came to be that the boy is even standing here. He had no call to bring Chester back home, he did it out of kindness, he wasn’t even aware Chester here was his Uncle and he sure don’t deserve no bad words from you!”

Naomi June stood staring at her mother with clenched fist. Suddenly she turned and stomped out of the room slamming the door behind her.

“All I did was ask her why she never learned to read, I didn’t mean nothing bad by it! If I did it was by accident and I’m sorry.”

Adele walked over to where I was standing and said, “It ain’t you Ten, she’s had a burr under her saddle since Chester here went lookin’ for ya. She won’t talk about it so I can’t say why she’s got such unpleasantness towards you.”

With June outside, the three of us got to talking about our travels, the signing over of the property deed and Uncle Chester’s health issue.

When the topic of where best to start the properties repairs came up Chester had his say.

“First off, I told Moses I’d cover any bills that might occur in his keepin’ his eyes open on my place here. Now mind you he got pretty offended that I’d even mention something like that. With that bein’ said, he had no idea things would take a turn in his health and ask you an’ June to take over. Now between him an’ me, we done did each other a herd of favors for each other, never keepin’ a score on who did what or when. But,this is different. Now I know for a fact that ‘Ol Moses’s streak of gold luck had run out some time ago. There ain’t no way he could afford to go ahead an’ hire someone to take his place so he had you two do it even if it meant his own place would might suffer needed care.”

Adele bowed her hard a might so I knew that Uncle Chester’s words were not only true but hitting Adele hard.

“Adele, my thankin’ you an’ June ain’t gonna cover all you’ve done here. I look around the place an see dusted off trinkets, polished wood, clean floors and beaten rugs. Why I know if I stepped on in the bedrooms that each bed would be made up with washed and ironed sheets, am I correct?”

Adele lifted her head and proudly said, “It don’t take no money to be clean. Yes, it’s all true, we’s hurtin’ powerful bad specially since my father got his stroke. Doc Magyar has been given Pa his care and medicine on a tab. All our supplies at the mercantile are on a tab but danged if I’m goin’ ta let that be the reason we broke my fathers promise to care for your place. It’s a matter of upholdin’ my Pa’s word.”

“Adele, your Pa and I go way back. Together we built our homes and mined our gold. When one of us got hurt or sick the other was there but you’re wrong about one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“We never owed each other for what we each did… until now. Not only have you tried your best to keep my place up at your and your Pa’s expense but you’ve been dealing with those Doak ruffians too. You may say different but I owe you and I’m makin’ it up to you all.”

Adele stood proud but I noticed a slight sign of relief in her looks, still she replied. “There’s no need for that Chester, it’s what good neighbors do.”

“You are right about that! It is what good neighbors do so shush up and let me do my part in this neighbor doin’ good thing. Tomorrow we’re goin’ to town and payin up the bills this place has run up. That includes Doc Magyar’s bill, the mercantile’s and restocking your larder which I bet has suffered plenty. If it wern’t fer you I’d a had to pay wages to a body to do the same so sayin’ that I’m gonna pay you the wages I owe. Now tomorrow we’ll make a day of it so it’s best you all go back on over to your place an’ take care of Moses an’ I’ll stop by in the morning to pick you up. I’m leavin’ Ten here just in case the Doak brothers stop by again and June can stay behind to care for Moses until we return.”

Adele seemed to accept the inevitable and said, “Alright, We’ll head on back now. We’ve been gone long enough to cause Pa to start worrying. He has no idea you’re back an’ he might think we’s havin problems with the Doak boys again.”

“Yes, you should head off then. I’m gonna walk up the hill to where Hominy lay an’ say my hello to her. Ten, you stay here I need some time alone.”

Chapter 5 

I woke to the next morning to the sound of a wagon pulling into our yard. I jumped up and quickly dressed after splashing my face in the bowl of water setting on the nightstand.

Uncle Chester was slower than I so he was still trying to drag on his shirt as he walked behind me to the front door.

I pulled open the heavy hand made door and peered out into the yard. A layer of fog had closed in but we could still easily see who it was.

Uncle Chester pushed himself past scratching his head in disbelief yelling, “What are all you folks doin’ here? Why Moses! Shouldn’t you be home where it’s warm?”

“Fudge that ya old coot! When Adele here told me you was back with the boy I needed to see you an’ him fer myself. You know me, see’n is believin’!”

“Well the take a good gander you old excuse for a sack of wrinkles. It’s me for sure and this here’s my nephew Ten who I found on the trail!”

Between Adele, June and myself we got Moses off the wagon and into his wheeled chair. We lifted him, chair and all, onto the porch and wheeled him inside where last nights fire had still kept the house warm.

After Chester told all that needed telling, Naomi June rose and said she was making breakfast for us all.

I felt guilty just sitting there so I excused myself and went to help out in the kitchen.

Before I could lend a hand June took me by the hand and guided me to the table where she insisted I sit down.

“Ten, this is hard for me to do so jest shut up ‘an let me say my piece. I’m sorry I was up in your face yesterday, it was unfair of me.”

I started to interrupt her but she squeezed my shoulder until it began to hurt telling me, “I said shut your mouth, just listen or I’ll take this here fryin’ pan and crease your noggin with it!”

Not wanting the joy of having a lumpy head or creased head as she put it sustaining and possible brain injuries, I gave in.“I give up, say your piece.”

“I was saying it was unfair to judge you as I did, I’m sorry. While Ma and I rode back to our place Ma told me what she an’ your Uncle had talked about while we were paying no attention to’em. I thought you was just some city boy comin’ to take over here. I felt you hadn’t earned the place, that you was just gettin’ it all for free without not payin’ your dues. I was wrong. You had no idea what Chester had in mind when he asked you to see him home. Ma was right, you did it out of kindness not expecting anything in return. You had no idea what awaited you once you got here. You had no clue this place was to be yours.”

I was about to say it didn’t matter but then she was still standing aside me holding the cast iron fry pan so I rethought my actions.

June continued uninterrupted, “I guess I got jealous and acted out of anger. I just felt everything we’ve worked so hard for is failing us. Grandpa’s gold streak ran out long ago but he was too proud to admit it. He was about to try his hand at raising cattle when he had his stroke. I tell ya’ Ten my heart broke for him! We was so close to raisin’ back up again. Look at me! I’m all skin an’ bones! I’ve suffered and when you showed up it was like a slap to me, you bein’ all healthy and good lookin’ an’ all. I’m so sorry Ten, I was acting out like a spoiled child. Can you forgive me so I can start us over again?”

Turning backwards in my chair to face her I told her,“June, I’d like nothing better than to be your friend. I knew something was bothering you but couldn’t fathom what I did wrong. I understand now, and there is no need to forgive anything. Shoot if I was you I’d have felt the same way.”

Holding out my hand for her to shake I was taken back when instead she bent down and instead kissed me.

Now before you having us getting hitched and all, it was only a friendly kiss and only on the cheek!

On the other side tough, you have to understand it was the first time I’d ever been kissed by someone other than my own Ma so I filed the feeling of her soft lips away to dwell on it later, when I was alone.

We eventually got breakfast on the table. For a man who had a stroke Moses sure could chow down. His second helping of fried potatoes, eggs, bacon, sausage gravy poured over four biscuits disappeared just as fast as his first helping. I guess his belly weren’t bothered none by his stroke.

Adele cleaned up the table saying that since June and I made the morning meal, she should clean up after it. “Why I can’t remember havin’ so much to eat, I’m plum full!” She said.

We retired to the over stuffed furniture in the sitting room where Moses asked Adele to fill and fire up his pipe for him. His left arm was kind of useless as it just wobbled around like a leaf in the wind. I noticed his left leg did the same.

About that time Uncle Chester laid out the days new agenda since everything had changed when the three showed up at the house.

“Since you all made it here to my place I think it best that Moses, June and Ten stay behind while Adele go into town for supplies. Since you all arrived in your wagon there ain’t no need to drag along the pack mules fer the job of carrying everything. We should be back here around early evening so if you two young’uns could set a meal up fer us that would be a big help. We’ll unload the wagon in the morning as by then it will be dark. I’ll go ahead and unhitch the team an’ get ‘em watered and fed when we arrive.”

I took out a bail of hay from the back of the wagon and swept it clean. At the advice from Chester I put his long gun and another loaded Winchester under the seat. “Better alive than dead” was what he told me.

We rolled Moses up to the multiple pane glass window facing up the road at his request before the two headed off to town.

The three of us left behind watched the wagon roll up the inclined roadway until it was out of sight. Moses soon dropped off to sleep while June and I sat back down for another cup of coffee.

For some reason my stomach twisted when I realized she and I were alone.

With June sitting across from me I was finally able to see her face without having to stare.

“What are you looking at?” she asked after I might have been looking for quite spome time without speaking.

“Huh? Oh, just pondering on a few things.” I replied

“Like what? Maybe how beautiful I look?”

Both of us broke into a laugh, “Naw nothing like that, but honest, I wasn’t laughing at your looks. Why I was wondering why you never mentioned having a caller or someone you may be promised to.”

“That’s cuz there ain’t none. Oh, I’ve had some boys show interest in me but they was just not what I was interested in. Each one was a sissy, no back bone, no grit, no sand whatever you want to call being a man.”

“Is that what you thought of me when we met?” I asked.

 She chuckled, “That an’ more! Oh, you is handsome enough for any gal to want to be hitched to your wagon but until Ma told me some about you, yes, I jest figured you to be just another good lookin’ fancy panted self centered weasel lookin for a free ride through life. That’s why I did not like you.”

“So now that you know me a mite better, do you still think the same way?”

Acting as if taken aback June cried out, “You know I don’t, I done told you that!”

I was getting some different facial expressions from June which was a pleasant thing. She wasn’t what folks would term beautiful or stunning by any means but dang if she wasn’t darn cute. Maybe it was her eyes or maybe her mouth, hell maybe it was just me seeing her differently. She had a great laugh, not too loud but not like my own Ma. Ma was a Quaker to heart, expressing feelings wasn’t something a woman did in front of a man. Nope, June had no such reservations.

She saw my cup was empty and rose to refill it from the pot. She stood behind me and poured over my shoulder. I felt her lean on me just ever so slightly against me and which caused my heart to skip a beat.

When she was done pouring she tussled my hair saying it needed a good combing. “You do own a comb don’t you?”

“I would have done that when I washed up this morning but instead rushed to see who was coming into the yard. I guess I forgot after that.”

“Well it don’t look too bad, kind of manly really, but after we are married you better be in the habit of combing it!”

The coffee I just just filled my mouth with went spraying across the table where she had been sitting!

“What??? Married!” I shouted knowing she was pranking me. I decided to add my ten cents then. “Well then, if were gonna be married I want my breakfast ready upon waking, Oh an at least once a week I’ll be needing my bath water heated good n hot but not so hot as to scald me, an’ I need my back scrubbed up good too.You can do that can’t you? If not, then I’m not marrying you!”

The two of us once again burst out laughing.

June put a blanket on the sleeping invalid Moses and then began doing some cleaning chores around the house. I cleaned and loaded my own guns and two others that June had found while cleaning. One was another Springfield and the other an older civil war Navy Colt who’s cylinder and frame had been converted to take 45 caliber brass shells. I left them all on a large towel placed on an old wooden dining room table in case any oil should drip out after the cleaning.

June stopped her cleaning and made us a lunch of bread, cheese and sliced ham. Once more she fired up the coffee pot.

Moses woke up just as lunch was being served. June cut his meal in two so he could hold the lunch in his one good hand. We all sat around enjoying the wood stoves heat and each others company.

I had gone out to throw some hay to the animals when I heard the rumble of horses.

I quickly ran back into the house yelling for June.

“We got a number of riders heading this way and it isn’t Chester and your Ma. They’re coming from the wrong direction for it to be them.”

In less than a minute six riders on horseback came around the bend behind the barn.

“Just as I figured”, June shouted out to me from the room facing that direction. It’s the Doak brothers and they’ve brought four others with ‘em. Damn their hides, they all got rifles pulled from their scabbards!”

I watched the group arrive and cautiously look the place over before slowly making their way to the cabin’s front porch. June was right they all had rifles laying across their laps. If that wasn’t bad enough laying beside their rifles was a burlap wrapped torch. I’m sure it was soaked in coal oil.

The group stopped in front of the porch and the oldest of the Doak brothers moved ahead of the others and shouted, “Hello the house! Git on out here, we got some talkin’ to do!”

“What should we do Ten? I bet they think it’s just me or Ma here. Every time they showed up before it was either Ma or me as Chester weren’t back here yet.”

“If they think it’s only women folk here then believe I got an idea. I’m going up in the attic with my Springfield and my colt pistol. When I first came here I saw windows at each end. I can cover the two ends of the house from those small windows. Give me a minute and then you go and answer their call but be careful, remain behind the porch pillar closest to the door. “

“Don’t worry Ten, they won’t shoot a woman. They’d be no safe place for ‘em west of the Mississippi.  

Even their own outlaw members wouldn’t put up with ‘em. They’d be dead purty fast.”

I made my way up the attic’s ladder and into the central portion of the attic. Somehow I missed seeing the large ventilation cupola directly above the ladder

I searched and found an old steamer chest. That I turned on its end and used it to climb up into the roofs rafters. Once up in the rafters I duck walked along them until I was inside the roofs large ventilation cupola.

The gaps between each slat was almost two inches tall which would be more than enough to stick my Springfield through. From inside the cupola I could see the front, back and side yards with no obstructions.

A minute must have been up because I heard June shout down below.

“What chew want you measly excuses for cow plop? I got no time for you boys today, I got chores to do, now git!”

Donald, the eldest Doak brother turned to his brother butch and said, “Damn if she don’t do some’n to my lions bro! After we get this here land I’m a takin’ her fer myself.”

Butch smiled evilly and retorted, ”Only after I’ve used her up brother, only then.”

“We ain’t soon to be leavin’ deary, We heard in town that Chester was seen leavin’ that lawyers place yesterday. We’re given ya’ a fair warnin’ sweetheart. We’ll let you go an’ ride on back to your place without no harm comin’ to ya. But if you plan on stayin… well you might get hurt bad.”

“You heard wrong, Chester ain’t showed up here yet.”

One of the four outlaws named Greasy Eddie pointed to the lean to and shouted out, “She’s a lyin, them there two mules belong to him. They wasn’t here last time we was.”

I watched from the cupola and started worrying for June’s safety. It was my fault Chesters two mules were taken out to the lean-to to feed. They weren’t getting along with my horse and mule so I seperated them. Greasy Eddie caught that and now they knew June was lying.

June began backing away from the piller. She realized there was trouble up ahead.  “You boys better git on down the road afor I get riled up an’ learn ya’ what a woman can do when she gits riled!”

The last three outlaws began moving their horses away from the Doak brothers in an attempt to surround the place. It appeared they would seperate and get in a position on three side of the cabin. All four sides were soon covered with the Doak brothers and Greasy Edie remaining out front.

“Girl, I’m gonna count to five an’ if you ain’t walked off that porch I’m gonna tell my boys to burn the place down! It’s gonna be your choice if you burn up along with it!”

On the count of one I, pulled the trigger.

None of the six knew where the shot came from especilly the man at the rear of the cabin who’s chest was suddenly ventilated.

Looking quickly around, the eldest brother Donald Doak shouted, “Who fired that?”

Not being able to see all of his men since they’d spread out around the place he thought one of them may have tried to scare the girl into leaving.

Donald looked at Greasy Eddie and shouted at him. “Ride around the place an’ see who fired their gun. I’m bettin’ it was one a the new guys tryin’ to scare her off.”

Greasy Eddie turned his horse and headed to the left. He soon saw the hard case manning the left side of the cabin was still there and shouted at him. “You know which one a you fired that shot?”

The hard case shrugged saying he heard the shot but didn’t knoew who fired it.

Greasy Eddie replied, “Well it could only be the man on the opposite side of the place, keep your ears peeled for the Bosses order to fire up the place while I check him out.”

As Eddie rounded the corner he saw the hard case’s hporse cropping grass and was riderless. Being mostly hidden by the man’s cropping horse, it took Eddie a few more yards before he saw the man’s bloody body laying dead in the grass.

Before he could spin his horse around to go back and warn the Doak’s of what he’d discovered, I pulled the trigger again.

“Two down, four to go”, I thought.

Meanwhile, hearing the second shot June fled back into the door. At the same time the two men guarding the cabins sides, their curiosity peaked, rounded the corners to get a look see at the Doak’s.

When Donald Doaks saw that two of his men had not shown themselves he immediately ordered the three others left to dismount and find cover.

The two brothers took refuge in the barn while last two spread out behind a wagon and the lean-to.

Inside the cabin Moses shouted to his grand daughter June to give him the pistol I had just finished loading and cleaning. “Give me that pistol girl , I still got my shootin’ arm to work with.”

June raced to the gun and back to her grsandfather with it. “Be careful Grandpa, you’re pretty much exposed in the window.”

Moses turned to her with a wide grin across his face, “June honey, if I’m to be perferated then I couldn’t think of a better way to go out than when shootin’ my way out! Yahooo!”

June hugged him knowing this might be the last time to do so but she wasn’t going to stop him. Ever since his stroke she knew he felt less of a man, just a useless invalid. She saw he had now moved into a position that offered the best for shooting but provided the least cover.

Moses first shot purposefully blew out the lower pane of glass. He now could fire without fearing a return bullet would shower him with shards of glass. His second and third shot missed the man in the lean-to but not his mule. That bullet creased the mules hind quarters cause it to jump and buck wildly.

The man tried in vain to get out of the lean to and away from the bucking mule but was instead thrown against one of the thick post supporting the lean-to’s roof. The man was down but for how long noone could tell.

————————————————————0——————————————

Meanwhile on the road leading to the cabin rode Chester and Adele in their fully loaded supply wagon.

At the sound of my rifle’s first shot, Chestetr halted the team. “Did you hear that shot Adele?”

“I sure did and it came from the direction of the cabin!”

Not saying a word, Chester violently shook he reigns and started yelling at the beast. The wagon ubruptly bolted ahead.

By now hot lead was flying to and from the cabin. The man in the lean-to had still not moved but the mule had broken free and ran out into the nearby pasture braying its head off.

The odds were now even at three to three.

From the cupola, which was now taking plenty of lead, I dropped down onto the attic’s floor and over to the window. From that window I saw the man lying in the lean-to and not moving so I ran to the other window. Shots were still being fired up into the cupola where plenty of the structures ventilation slats were now missing.

The view from this window was better. I could clearly see the barn and the two brothers firing away at the cabin.

Suddenly I heard June scream and a number of rapidly fired shots sounded from where Moses had positioned himself. Fearing she had been hit, I flew down the attic ladder landing heavily in the room below.

My fear of finding June shot to pieces was unfounded but not so in regards to Moses. In his wheeled chair he sat in front of the shot out window leaning forward and not moving.

I ran over to June. She stood there out of the way of any gunfire with tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She turned her head and with a quivering voice asked me. “Oh Ten what will we ever do?”

I approched her and she fell crying into my arms.

I quietly told her, “June, I’m so sorry about your Grandfather”.

With flowing tears she looked into my eyes and told me, “Grandpa Moses knew he wasn’t going to leave here alive Ten. He told me this was the way he wanted to go out, fighting. I let him Ten, I let him go his own way but I didn’t think it would hurt this bad.”

Just then another slug came through the window neatly clipping my shoulder as I held June. I realized I better take Moses away from the window but to do so meant putting myself in harms way.

“June, I need to move him from the window.”

June slowly released me. I then laid on the floor aside Moses wheeled chair and being below the windows sill I was able to grab and shove his wheeled chair from in front of the opening with him in it.

Once safely out of the way I picked him up out of his chair and went to lay him out on the over stuffed sofa.

“Wait,” June called out, “Let me get a blanket laid down first so he don’t bleed out on the furniture.”

I was amazed at seeing June in the middle of a crisis still keeping her head and being practical. “What a women this girl is!” I thought.

June tidy’d him up and looking bacward at me said, “When I asked what we were going to do I meant about the Doaks, not about Grandpa. Grandpa went out fighting like he wished, he was actually excited. In his mind he went out being a whole man, not as an invalid. “

Two more slugs found there way in the wall behind me. I knew it was only a matter of time before one of us would be unlucky.

“Those shots came from behind that wagon in the barn’s yard. So we got that one and the brothers still shooting from the open barn door. I might be able to get the guy behind the wagon with my Springfield. That wagon has only thin side boards, I bet I can punch right through them.”

I stepped further back into the room and grabbed a lone straight back chair to steady my rifle on the top of its back. This way anyone outside would have a difficult time seeing inside the darker room and therefor not see me.

I propped up the gun, took carefull aim and pulled the trigger.

From under the wagon bed both June and I saw the outlaws body fall to the ground. He must have been peeking through the crack between the boards because most of his head was missing.

June grabbed onto me looking green at the gills. “Oh my gosh, that was horrid!” she moaned.

“Yea, death can be ugly but it’s either them or us.”

In response June again leaned into me and wrapped her arms around me, holding onto me tightly.

I let her stay that way until I saw the last of the outlaws, the two Doak brothers lighting up the torches they had rode in carrying.

I quickly moved June away from me and grabbed at my rifle telling her, “June, they’re going to try and fire up the cabin, get your rifle, we need to stop them!”

The two brothers started zig zagging across the large barn yard toward the house with the flaming torches. Their zig zagging run was going to make it nearly impossible to take them both out. Even one successful torch would burn us out and give the shooter some clear and deadly shots at us.

Before the two reached the halfway point to the cabin down the roads incline roared the wagon team hauling butt. Adele left the wagon on the run holding onto one of the Winchesters I had hidden under the seat.

No sooner had she hit the ground when she knelt and fired without bothering to aim. I saw one of the brothers, it turned out later to be Donald, grab his hip. He continued on towards the cabin with blood staining down the side of his leg. Chester reigned up cutting off the younger brother Butch mid yard. Doing so, this forced Butch to go around the stopped wagon in order to get to the cabin.

This gave me time to once again rest the rifle on top of the chair back and aim the Springfield.

As Butch Doak rounded the rear of the wagon I fired but just as I did Butch slipped a step and the bullet caught him in the arm instead of his chest. Still, it was his arm holding the torch.

Butch’s torch went flying out into the yard leaving him standing out in the open.

Seeing he had no choice he raised his good arm shouting, “Don’t shoot me, I give up!”

By this time Donald’s run to the cabin with his flaming torch had slowed to a faltering stumble. Not forty feet from the porch he stopped. Dropping the lit torch onto the grass he called out in his pain, “Me too, I’m done for if’n I don’t get to a Doc.”

Saying that he fell forward unconscious.

Adele and Chester came running up to the porch and into the house.

Seeing them June ran up to her Ma and hugged her tightly telling her. “Oh Ma, you should have seen Ten, he was wonderful!”

Adele looked taken aback exclaiming, “Well this sure is a change of heart June, what all went on here since we left?”

Chester walked in from the sitting room that Chester had holed himself up in. “Adele, I’m sorry, it’s your Pa.”

Adele rushed into the sitting room with June chasing after her.

Adele slowly went up to the sofa where Chester was laid out on. She knelt beside the sofa and grabbed Chester’s hand asking no one in particular, “Did he die fighting or was he kilt unable to defend himself?”

June stepped up beside her kneeling Mom. “Ma he died defending us! I tried to stop him early on but he explained to me that if today was the day to die he wanted to go out a full man, not as an invalid. You should have seen him Ma, he was marvellous. He died fighting for us and with sand fer sure!”

Adele patted Moses hand and replaced it upon his chest where the other one already lay. “That’s fine. That’s very fine!”

Chester started for the door saying, “I’ll go out and tend to the brothers as best I can and haul ‘em back to Granby to turn ‘em over to the Sheriff. With you all as witnesses They’ll hang fer sure. The others I’m dropping off at the undertakers place. I guess it’ll be up to me to pay fer their burials since we was the ones who killed ‘em but they ain’t gonna’ be buried in no coffin, no siree, much too expensive fer the likes of those coyotes.”

Adele rose and went to where June and I stood. June had made her way to stand next to me. When Adele approached us I felt June’s hand slip into mine. I didn’t stop her, nor did I want to.

She glanced down where June and my hand were tightly holding each other then looking back up at us she said. “We got to figure things out here June, Your grandpa never officially filed for his claim. All these years he’s been squatting on the land he claimed as his. No one challenged him back then as only a few folks had yet settled here and once the gold played out I figured we’d be safe until it got populated. I knew this but once he had his stroke it seemed senseless to pursue the matter. I knew he had only a short time left and if he passed why we’d have no claim on his property anyway.

I just figured you an I would sell off what we could and move on into town. I didn’t see any alternative.”

Looking back down at the two of us holding hands she continued, “But since then it seems things here may have changed. If I’m seeing things right, at least the two of you look to have a future here”

Chester had not quite made it to the door. Instead he had stopped to listen to what Adele was saying.

“Now look here Adele, There’s no call to rush into things. Your Pa and I made an agreement. If he was to pass on, why the two of you could just move on into this here place an’ stay as long as you wished. An’ if I was to go first then Ten was to take care of you’s using some of the gold I’ve collected over the years. That’s why I left to find Ten. You See, your Pa and I were pards fer life. If one of us needed help the other would be there for him. What say you Ten?”

If I held my peace and never spoke up, I figured all would be lost and the plans between Moses and Chester would have all been for naught. So, gathering up what June called grit or sand or being a man I opened my mouth and damn the consequences.

With Junes hand in mine I turned to her. I said, “June, I wish we’d have had more time to get to know one another but sometimes fate intervenes and things are forced to a conclusion quicker than we’d all like. So, saying that and with everyone understanding our situation I am asking your Ma if I could take your hand in Marriage.”

Adele looked at her daughter, then back to me. “Don’t you think you should have asked June first?”

I looked down at June smiling and replied to Adele,“Why we have already talked it over, haven’t we June? I’m to keep my hair combed and she’s to make my breakfast and draw a hot but not scalding bath for me once a week!”

“Yes, we did Ten but you left out that I’m also to scrub your back, which I will.”

Looking at them all I saw smiles and even a chuckle. “Then it’s settled. Now Chester needs to get to town while the three of us prepare Moses for a showing here in the parlor. Oh, and Uncle will you please stop by the newspaper and get Moses obituary written up for the paper?”

Chester stood looking amused. “ I ain’t even passed on yet an’ already the boys givin’ orders!

—————————————————0————————————————–

Epilogue

So June and I did get married. Moses had a wonderful wake, too bad he couldn’t enjoy the food, Adele and June put up a feast to beat the band.

Sadly Uncle Chester passed away the next year just after our first born came to be. He lasted longer than we’d ever hoped for. After moving from Moses’s place, Adele has lived in the house since the day of the shoot out, She runs the house while June cares for all the animals we have acquired. I tore down the dam the Doak brothers had been building and ended up buying the Doak’s property at the Sheriff sale last spring hoping to avoid such future shenanigans again.

To think a baby who was tossed away or left abandoned on a prairie trail would end up with all I have is unimaginable. It just goes to show you, The future is not ours to see and those who claim to know are just full of cow plop!

J W Edwards / http://www.Campfireshadows.com

The Western Union Company had just purchased the Atlantic and Pacific Telegraph Company here in Missouri so when I saw my old friend Gus Geezer arrive at my home holding the bright yellow envelope I had no idea what it was. A&P never bothered with an envelope, in fact sometimes the messages were hand written on whatever writing material the operator had on hand. I once got a message written on someones past due coal bill for $2 demanding immediate payment. It made me wonder if they ever paid up.

Gus Geezer, our towns only telegraph courier shouted from the porch, same as he always did. “Hey Hauser, come an’ get it, ya got a telegram!”

I shouted through the closed front door hoping he’d hear me and not start banging away on the doors fragile glass. “Hold on Geez” I yelled, “let my get galluses on!”

At my age I ain’t got much of a butt no more so my darn trousers fall right to the floor without ‘em.

I finally got my galluses pulled over my shoulders and yanked my sticky door open with a jerk.

Geezer stood there laughing, “You need to get that door planed down a might Hauser, some humid day she won’t open at all but knowing you you’ll just use the winder!”

I told him to step inside as I adjusted my galluses two straps crisscrossing my back.

He watched me for a second and asked, “How come ya still call ‘em things galluses? Men folk today are calling ‘em suspenders.”

“Yup, I heard ‘em called that. After sixty some years of calling them galluses, I ain’t about to change now.”

Geezer reached out his right hand with the bright yellow envelope in it. His left hand was missing just below his elbow, a souvenir from the war twenty years back. We both participated in that war. On rainy days my ass bone still ached from a Northerners ball I took in my behind. Some men showed off their wounds same as a medal of honor but for obvious reasons I declined.

When I looked at the telegram I knew it wasn’t good. I mean, when have you ever gotten an official letter or telegram when it was good?

“Why is it in a envelope?” I asked.

“It’s how Western Union insist we do it here in Louisburg. You do know they took over the old A&P telegraph last month don’t ya?”

“Yeah, I heard, just didn’t pay it no mind.”

“You know Charlie Taylor the telegraph key operator?”

“Yup.”

Well during the pre sale audit on A&P, Western Union found out Charlies nephew Jimmy who was one of the couriers back then was reading every telegraph sent. That fool Jimmy took it upon his self to decide whether or not they was worth the time and effort to deliver ‘em ands because A&P was still paying him for each one to be delivered, Western Union fired him on the spot. that’s how I ended up being the only courier left when Western Union took over .”

“You don’t say? ”

To Geezers disappointment instead of reading it right then and there I laid the unopened telegram on small black lacquered day stand against the wall next to the front door. Geezer was a trove of local information (gossip) in our town and it was clear where he got his information from. I preferred to hold onto what little privacy I had.

He turned and stepped back though the door and onto the porch saying, “Well, I guess then I’ll be heading back to town. It’s Friday and my niece Polly May, is making pressed duck and cheese pie tonight, My favorite.”

I held him up a second and took out my coin purse from my bib pocket. I found a dime. “Here, and thanks.”

Geezer left the porch whistling while tossing the dime up and down, happy as a kid.

Geez was the same age as myself. We grew up together in what was then called Round Prairie back in the 40’s. When it was changed to Louisburg we got a post office too. While I finished six years of schooling Geez only completed three. Normally, that would have been sufficient for any Missouri farmer back then. My problem was, my Mama was the school Mar’m even though she was married. It was out of necessity since there wasn’t another single female qualified to teach back then in Round Prairie. As I was about to start my seventh year, my Mama came down with what the Doctor called ‘a female’ disease. Mama had to retire and since I was the lone child it was up to me to take over her household duties. From her bed Mama taught me like the teacher she was on how to cook, sew, moderate the oven, darn Pa’s and my socks and dust the furniture off.

Geezer Stopped attending school a few years before me to help out on his family’s farm and it showed. He’d come to me with a new dime novel wanting me to read it to him. I gladly accepted the task as I too loved those novels.

After Geezer left, I ate supper by myself since I’ve been living alone for going on eight years now.

Martha, my beloved wife of over thirty years failed to regain her vitality after a severe bout of grip. We were childless but still had her sisters family to partake the holidays with. Martha was never what you’d call strong constitutionally. Every year she went through her rounds of influenza and colds. But, she was the joy of my life and I’d not change a day we had together. I buried her where I buried my Ma and Pa, at the top of the hill overlooking the house I was born and raised in.

Each Sunday after services I wander up there and lay flowers on her and Pa’s grave. When It’s winter I can’t make my way up that slippery snow covered slope no longer but I know they’d understand.

I near forgot to mention that ever since I was a young’un I’ve had me a dog. Sometimes two even. I still got one today. She’s a pup yet, only a year old but dang if she ain’t the smartest of any dog I’ve had. I swear, if I swore at all, that she understands the English language. Her name is Sweety Pie.

I know, I know that you’re going to tell me that’s a name no real man should be calling his dog. As far as Sweety is concerned, she don’t mind at all.

One time my neighbor heard me calling for my recently acquired dog from the front porch. Here I was shouting at the top of my lungs, “C’mon Sweety Pie, get on back home right now.”

Well he just happened to be riding his mule passed my place when he heard me hollering for my Sweety Pie to come home. I later found out he thought I’d gotten myself to heavily drinking and was calling for my poor passed on Martha to come back home!

All my past dogs are buried up on the hill too. I made small grave markers for each one with their name on it. Each one passed for one reason or another and left a hollow spot inside of me when they went. This dog I got now is so loyal and affectionate to me that I’m worried what’ll become of her when its time for me to pass. Well, I’ll not worry about it since she nearly never ask for food any way. She’s the best critter hunter I’ve ever seen. She’ll do just fine by herself.

As evening turned to night I made ready for bed, I checked each window. I don’t want no thieves creeping up on me while I’m in by night gown after they’ve crawled through a window. Unlike our Sheriff, I’d never live it down.

A few years back our Sheriff got night robbed. It was a sultry night and he had left his bedroom window open for some cooler air to please his wife. Seems she was going through the change that women go through as they cash in their youth.

Well, young Danny Munds, a rambunctious boy, took his bamboo fishing pole and as the Sheriff and his wife were soundly sleeping, Danny lifted the Sheriffs overalls right off the bedpost and out through the open window!

The problem was Danny was never the brightest of boys. He leaned the fishing pole against the house in order to rifle through the Sheriff’s trouser pockets. Finding over three dollars in them he then run off in his excitement completely forgetting about his pole he’d left behind. The next day was not a good one for Danny. We was in school when the Sheriff and Danny’s Pa showed up and called him to be outside. All us boys and girls in class was giggling something fierce as Danny’s Pa tanned his hide outside with his own fishing pole!

My Mama tried to regain order to her class but the more she scolded us the louder Danny’s yells got. Danny ended up working that entire summer at the tanners shop trying to pay back the Sheriff’s three dollars.

Anyway, back to my tale. I finished my rounds in the house and was satisfied all the windows and doors were bolted shut. As I pulled on the sticking front door I saw the telegram still lying on the day stand. I picked it up and headed to the bedroom.

I lit the bedside lantern and raised the wick a might in order to read it without my spectacles.

The better light informed me that is was sent from my Niece way over In the Arizona Territory. She and her husband Jeffery had moved there years ago to open a mercantile in a frontier town called Prescott. They enjoyed Prescott as the weather was of a better nature by far that the rest of Arizona. He wrote one time saying as he traveled through Arizona his skin dried up so bad that he became a human prune!

His mercantile did a brisk business originally selling to gold miners and cattle folks alike. Today however the towns folk make up most of his customers. It didn’t hurt none when his wife Esther began making and selling baked goods in the store.

As time went on, the two had children and their children had children. They were the biggest, happiest brood of kids and grand kids you’d ever come across.

Things went well until their son Jack and his wife Maryann were murdered in an Apache ambush. This left leaving their two kids to be raised by their grand parents Jeffery and Esther.

Killings on both sides back then persisted until three forts were built. One in Flagstaff one in Prescott and one near Payson. They weren’t at first large but after a number of bloody raids the Army increased the amount of soldiers in them and began forcing the tribes onto reservations. This decreased the raids and killings but some hot spots still remained.

When I saw who sent the telegram I feared maybe someone had passed on, but it was worse than that. It read.

 

Dear Clint STOP

Our two youngest grand kids are missing STOP

They have been taken STOP

Please respond as we are desperate and need your expertise STOP

I sat on the bed and wished the day could be started over. Now them two little ones sure ain’t mine but they are family and that is all that’s needed to be known.

If I am correct, they’d be about ages six or seven and the nine or ten by now. The boy is the oldest.

Now it may seem strange that she’d be sending me that message rather than a nearby Sheriff, Marshal or even her husband but if you knew me better you’d see the wisdom in her actions.

Saying that, I should probably tell you a bit more about myself. I think afterwards you’ll agree she did the right thing.

MY STORY

As a young child my Pa insisted that every summer I go with him into the deep woods of Missouri and beyond. There he taught me every skill I needed not only to be self sufficient but self preserving. By that I mean when needed I could become a top of the food chain predator.

After six summers I had become so skilled from my Pa’s teachings that I decided I had no need for a firearm nor anyone to accompany me on my summer adventures .

I could out track the best mountain man. I began to be called the ‘White Ghost’ by all the seven tribes residing in my part of the country. The Chickasaw tribe. The Illini tribe, the Ioway tribe, the Missouria tribe, the Osage tribe, the Otoe tribe, the Quapaw tribe, they all said I was part spirit or a living ghost. I let them believe that for it sometimes came in handy. After I married Martha I no longer fulfilled the role of the White Ghost. Law came to our town as it grew and changed its name. The White Ghost vigilante wasn’t in such need anymore. After my absence was noted, the Tribes spread the word that the White Ghost had returned to the spirit world where he now sits enjoying the company of the Grandfathers. In reality I took the job of Sheriff with no one being the wiser of my former role as the White Ghost.

Besides all these life skills my Pa instilled in me the belief in right and wrong, to protect the weaker sex, the elderly, the child. As I said earlier we were also believers in the God of the Bible and I hoped that the Lord would see my works as being needed.

Still, I was fast with my gun and I took lives. Most folk would say they deserved it or that I was just protecting the innocent. To me though, each one I killed I couldn’t shake the thought that at one time this brutal person was a child, had a mama or brothers and sisters to play games with. They had birthdays, scraped knees, laughed and cried. Someone like me was needed but it never got any easier.

Chapter 2

Before dawn I had my possibles packed on my pack horse and after closing and locking all the shutters I mounted my best horse and rode off with Sweety Pie following behind me to my neighbor Fred’s home, about a mile North of my place.

Fred came out when he heard my horses. I greeted him and explained that I needed to be gone for a while and would he look after my place.

“You can gather up my chickens and get their eggs or eat them for dinner. Whatever you want. If you need any money for the house er whatever I put twenty five dollars in one of the kitchen drawers under a towel. In fact, just keep the money for looking after my place. If I’m not back in a couple months use the two horses I left behind or sell them and use the money as you see fit. I left the horses papers with the money in the drawer.”

After I said goodbye to Fred and to Mary Jane his wife, I rode off heading west toward Kansas. I could have headed more directly to the Arizona Territory but that would mean traveling alone through Indian Territory alone.

I passed through Kansas and continued my journey bypassing the Indian Territory without incident. I spent a few days cutting across the south east corner of Colorado into the territory of New Mexico.

I had to be on higher alert here as there was no law yet in that territory. I crossed some barren land there. It was hot and smelled of desert dust.

I changed course to the south west hoping to find the small town called Albuquerque located on an old Indian trail.

The towns I mostly passed through (if you want to call them that) were nothing more than a few adobe huts with either Mexicans or Indians living in them. There were no stores to replenish my possibles but that was of no concern for me.

I think Sweety Pie enjoyed the change in diet as she found what folks called road runners plentiful and good eating. I tried one and decided it was a desert chicken to be eaten only as a very last resort. I shot and killed two mountain lions along the way. Now that was some tasty but somewhat chewy meat so I put together a smoker tee pee and cured about five pounds of jerky from each. I had plenty of grub.

After eight weeks of travel I finally made my way into the Arizona territory. There were a couple of times I had to hole up as Indians or road agents made their way passed me. I was glad I had all that jerky for sure.

I changed course to the west now. I passed some blighted area’s not fit for human living. Even the trees were made of stone!

I didn’t see but one other person on that road and he was dead and dried up like a raisin. His canteen was open and and dry, not a good way to die.

As I made my way west I noticed the nights were getting cooler then I saw the first trees I’d seen in weeks. At first they were no taller than my head but as I continued on they got some height to them. By the time I reached the town of Flagstaff the trees had changed to tall mighty pine trees. Flagstaff had a store I could resupply at and get directions to Prescott.

Flagstaff existed from the cutting down of those mighty pines. I saw a number of sawmills along the way.

Huge wagons, some being pulled by as many as twelve mules hauled great loads of these trees to the many sawmills. I was told if I wanted to get my way over to Prescott, just find a wagon load of cut lumber heading there and follow it. I did.

I passed a number of small towns on my way but nothing like Prescott. I’m told this will be the Capital once the territory becomes a State in the Union. It sure surprised me at how populated it was.

I could see why my niece and her husband decided to call this town home. Near the center was a giant granite tree trunk looking mountain surrounded by wonderful shade trees and pines. The town was built on a slight hill so from one end you could see the entire town.

I headed for the livery stable to see about keeping my horses overnight or until I can locate my in-laws. Sweety Pie stayed at the stable with the horses. She was used to being a guard dog protecting my possibles and such.

I asked the stable boy gathering hay and some oats for my horses if he knew where a mercantile run by Jeffery and Esther Parker.

He told me the store was halfway up the hill I had just come down by. I wondered how I missed it.

So I trudged uphill looking for their store and nearly passed it by again. It was the sign that fooled me. Instead of some old hand painted faded sign saying ‘Mercantile’ the name Groceries and Cafe’ made of large copper letters beautifully displayed across the building’s facade. I was impressed, it was no wonder I missed it.

Stepping into a hexagon shaped ceramic tiled foyer I opened the varnished heavy wood and glass door and stepped inside.

The air was refreshingly cool and smelled unlike any mercantile I’d ever been in. A multitude of smells were evident. A delicious aroma poured from the cafe into the mercantile portion of the store. The baked goods on display in a glass enclosed wood framed case added their aroma to the cafe’s. Even the mercantile’s dry goods emitted a clean crisp smell. Dang, I could have stood there all day just sniffing all the great smells. My in-laws sure had a great place going on.

 

Chapter 3

“Clint? Is that you Clint?”

A woman’s voice in a nearby isle questioningly called out. I glanced up to find Esther rushing my way.

“Oh Clint! Thank God you’ve come. Please come with me to our office, Jeffery is just about to lose his mind with worry.”

I trailed behind her as she led me to a small office in the rear of the store. She continued talking but mentioned nothing of why I was there. She said the business was doing fine etc, etc just to make small talk in case folks got nosy. Apparently she didn’t want another soul to know what had happened to her grand children. I just kept my mouth shut.

Once inside she closed the door and lost control. Weeping deeply she fell to her knees and muffled her crying in the crook of her arm. I bent down and patted her shoulder.

“Esther, get up and tell me everything that’s happened before and since you sent the telegram.”

“Let me get Jeffery, he’s out back unloading supplies that came in from Tuscon. He’s about ready to give up hope.”

Esther opened the rear door of the office and called out for Jeffery to come to the office. Meanwhile as I waited I saw how badly her hands were shaking. Whatever was going on was serious.

The same rear door opened and Jeffery stepped through it. Seeing me he stopped in his tracks. It was nearly the exact same greeting as Esther had given me, “Clint! You came, thank God!”

“Hello Jeffery, I got here just as soon as I could. Unfortunately there are no trains or direct stage routes from Missouri to here.”

I begged the two to sit down next to where I had just plunked myself down and tell me what happened to the kids. Esther looked over at Jeffery and gave him a slight nod.

“First off Clint, we know who has the kids we just don’t know where they are being kept at.”

“What? You know who took them?”

“Yes, Miles James is his name. He runs a gun running organization supplying guns to the renegade Chiricahua Apache up in the New Mexico Territory. The Chiricahua don’t want their stomping grounds to become a State in the Union and are terrorizing homesteaders and ranchers in hopes Washington finds the Territory to violent to become a State. Now James could care less who he sells guns to or where he gets them. He’s interested only in money.”

I sat there rubbing my chin and asked “So how does his gun running fit in with you all?”

“About ten years ago we were given the license to act as the sole arms agent to the Calvary located in the western territorial forts. This meant the orders from the Forts come to us and we fill those orders by purchasing the arms using drafts from the Federal Treasury. When they are ready to ship from the national armory they are shipped to us in volume where we break them down and deliver to each Fort the requisitioned amount.”

“I think I’m getting the picture here. Are you being forced to give James the arms in return for your grand kids safety?”

“That’s pretty much the picture except James has never said when or if they would ever be released. We’re terrified when they are no longer needed that they will be killed.”

I hated to say what needed to be said but I had to. “Did you ever ask for proof of their still being alive?”

Jeffery looked a bit sheepish and quietly admitted, “No, we just did what he told us to do. He did threaten to harm them if we went to the law. I guess by him threatening to harm them we just assumed they were still alive.”

“You do realize that since you never asked for proof of them still being alive that he may have already disposed of them.”

Jeffery hung his head while Esther once again began to weep.

I felt bad for them but they needed to face the truth. “I need you to tell me all about this Miles James fella. If I’m to do a rescue attempt I need information, don’t hold back anything, even if it sounds stupid, alright?”

For the next hour they gave me the low down on what they knew of him, it was plenty as they had been dealing with him for years before he got into gun running.

When they had exhausted all they knew, the two of them just sat there not saying a word.

I figured once James got his guns the kids would either be released or killed. I didn’t know this James fella so I kept some hope alive for them.

I turned to Jeffery and asked, “Did you get the guns from them yet?”

“No, but they are on their way. The National Armory said the arms would arrive by the end of this month.”

Do you know how they want the to be delivered yet?”

“No, not yet. I was told once they can verify I got the arms they’d let me know how to deliver them.”

“I know this is hard on you, but I’m telling you for those kids sake, do not go through with it. Stall as long as you can. Any delay will be to my advantage.”

Jeffery’s face lit up, “I know the wagons are going to stop over in Lordsburg for maintenance and fresh mule teams. I can get a wire to them there. I’ll say the recent rains cut a bunch of new arroyo’s across the road here outside of Prescott so they should hold off a week or so until we repair the damage. I’ll tell them when the roads about to be opened up again. Will that work?”

“It should.”

I’d heard most all I needed to know for now so I slowly and with more pain than I like to admit stood up and told them, “Listen, I’m getting on in age here, I need to get a couple nights sleep to recover from my rushing here. I also need to get my horses rested and grained up again before I head out. I’ve been traveling near non stop and I’m worn out. My horses need new shoes and I gotta get loaded up on staples and other items before heading out.”

“Esther lifted her tear stained face and said, “We will supply from our store here anything you need in the way of money, food, guns or ammunition, anything. Just ask for it and we’ll supply it.”

“I need a replacement pack animal. A mule. I need some miners tools like picks and shovels to hang from the mule pack. I’ll also need rope, a few canisters of black powder, hammer and nails, anything a real prospector would carry in his packs. That way if I’m questioned my packs will back my story that I’m a prospector. Since I believe James has a hideout somewhere in the Bradshaw mountains. It would be  unusual to see prospectors wandering around in gold country if he sees me.”

Jeffery said in earnest, “We have all the prospecting and mining supplies you’ll need.”

“When mining gold was in its heyday, we were the biggest and most complete suppliers within fifty miles.”

“One last thing, Is this his only order or did he mention any future orders coming.”

“To my knowledge it’s just this one. But you need to know, this order would fill all three forts with new repeater rifles. I purchased one hundred and fifty 56/56 Spencer rimfire repeating rifles.”

Chapter 4

Three days later I was set to leave my wife’s sisters home. The night before I left I had everything accounted for and much of it packed into separate canvas covered packages. All I needed was an hour to actually load the mule and pack horse up in the morning. My pack horse was going to carry extra large saddle bags, three bedrolls (two for the kids), plenty of food, guns and ammunition. Normally I wouldn’t require all this but if and when I rescue the kids, I’ll need to feed them and make sure they can sleep without freezing at night.

At 4am I said my goodbye’s to my in-laws and headed south from their place with Sweety Pie trailing some distance behind. I’d trained her to keep an eye out on my near back trail just in case someone had been waiting for me to pass by before trailing me.

The Bradshaw’s foot hills began only about twenty miles out of town but I knew the gold mines were much further into the mountain range. I may be wandering around for weeks until I uncovered the gangs hide out. Years ago Miles James had told Jeffery, when they were friends of sorts, that he had a miners cabin in the Bradshaw gold fields so that’s what I was hunting for.

My disguise as a lone gold prospector would let me travel around the mountains without causing Miles James too much concern. I figured if I came close to his cabin, he’d just hide the kids away inside until I was gone, that is if they were still alive.

I had decided a few days back to allow my beard grow out. No self respecting gold prospector would bother shaving or even bathing so I decided to do the same.

Before you get to the foothills you overlook a huge beautiful grassy valley. The mountains beyond the valley have a dark look to them. This is because unlike most of the western mountains I’ve seen these were not typical bare earth and stone ones. These had trees covering them and that gave the mountains a dark look.

I headed down into the valley hoping whoever might be in the mountains would not notice me as I made my way across the valley into the foot hills.

I had made sure that every tool, pack and even blankets were used looking or worn. If everything had a clean new look my disguise could be blown. Still, I worried about how my animals looked. I didn’t have the heart to cut their feed in order to get some bones showing.

By the time I had reached the center of the valley I was convinced that this valley could be a farmer or ranchers paradise. The lush grassy bottom stretched out in every direction for miles.

I eventually came upon a narrow creek and dismounted to lead my animals to the clear cold water. Sweety Pie eventually caught up to us and began lapping her share of the creeks crystal water.

Back in town I was told folks just called the area I was at as the Prescott Valley. It made sense to me since there wasn’t another real town anywhere near it.

I decided when I got through with this adventure that I was going to take a look at the land records and see if any of this valley was still unclaimed and for sale. I began to day dream about having a small cabin in the treeline overlooking the valley floor. Unlike many very tall mountains with a tree line starting and ending due to the mountains altitude these less heightened mountains tree line started almost immediately from the valley floor and went clear to the mountain’s peaks. Every day I was aware my time here on this terrestrial ball was drawing shorter with each day and no longer did I relish living on an active farm or ranch. All I wanted was a peaceful place to waste the last of my years at and this valley looked to fit the bill.

I reached the tree line at dusk and decided I wanted a fire. This meant I needed to head a might uphill into the woods. I hoped to find a level spot to make camp at.

About a hundred or so yards in (it’s hard to figure since it was going slightly uphill) I found a ledge much bigger than I needed. A deep layer of pine needles covered the forest floor and as yet there were few stones poking through them.

I hobbled my horse and mule then gathered enough wood to keep a fire going through the night. I wasn’t worried about being seen anymore as any real prospector would not have that concern either.

I laid into my bedroll with Sweety laying at my feet facing outward. She’d let me know if anyone was approaching my camp by silently pawing at me. My horse was useless as the forest was pitch black. If we were out in the open and with a touch of starlight, I could tell by the direction her ears were pointing as to whether or not she had heard something. As black as it was in the woods I couldn’t see diddly.

Around 10pm Sweety silently approached my bedroll where I was sleeping and punched me in the back with her paw.

I was instantly brought to a full state of alertness. My campfire was still producing enough heat to keep away the night chill but at the same time its light acted as a beacon. I had been sleeping with my Colt laying next to me so I eased my hand over the pistols grip and cocked the hammer back.

From the hill above me rather than the expected below, a voice broke the silence of the night.“Hello the camp! Anybody awake? I’m friendly.”

“Are you alone? If so c’mon in but keep your hands in sight.” I called back.

“Sure am, I’m camped up near the top but I couldn’t help but smell your cooking. I woulda’ been down earlier when it was still light in order to say howdy but had to wait until a group of men passed me by. I feared they was going to settle down for the night right near me but after a couple hours they up and moved on.”

“Where they miners?” I asked.

“Didn’t strike me as such, they looked more like hard cases. All of ‘em was on horses, not a mule among ‘em.”

I noticed the old man had dragged his small donkey with him and its packs were still on it. He looked harmless so I invited him in and put the coffee pot back onto the fire.

Sweety moved herself between the two of us. Giving him the watchful eye.

“Nice dog, looks like she knows how to guard ya good!”

“You mentioned you smelled food, you hungry? I got left overs I can heat up if you are.”

“If ya don’t mind, I’m down to jerky an’ water.”

“If you got a cup the coffee will be hot in a minute, help yourself.”

The old man made his way to where the donkey patently stood waiting. He pulled out a blue speckled tin cup from one of his packs and scooted eagerly over to the coffee pot. “Names Barney if ya need to know.”

At first sip his eyes popped wide open exclaiming, “My gawd, that’s the best coffee ever to pass my lips!”

“Yeah, its called Arbuckles. Not to be nosy but how long have you been in the mountains here?”

“I been prospecting the Bradshaw’s near seven years now. From time to time I get to town to load up on supplies. I got a cabin not few miles from here but last year I found some good nuggets in this area so I ain’t been back there since. Like I said, I got a proper camp up on the top here. Last winter I cut into the mountain a couple yards in to keep the snow and rain from me.”

At that point I decided he truly was a prospector. “Say,” I asked, “You haven’t seen any kids around the mountains have you?”

“Young’uns? Naw, but that don’t mean much since I can only vouch for the area around here. Maybe west where there’s more mines being worked but none here that I know of. Why’s that?”

“My in-laws kids is missing. They think they was took. Since I’m prospecting I promised them I’d keep an eye open for them. They think the kidnapper had headed into the Bradshaw’s”

“Well I wish ya luck. Maybe they was took by them Indians that was causin’ trouble here a ways back.”

I didn’t want to go into any more detail to a stranger so I responded like he might be right. “Yup, sure coulda’ been took by ‘em for sure. Names Hauser, Clint Hauser from Missouri”

We both yawned and made ready to bed down when he suddenly said, “You know maybe them hard cases done took ‘em. They’s horses was loaded with supplies like they was campin’ out not mining. You might wanna check out my cabin, wouldn’t hurt none. I suppose they was headed in that general direction.”

“Thanks, I might do that. Is your cabin on the way west of here?”

“Kinda, I’ll give you the way to it come first light where I can draw a decent map for ya. Goodnight.”

Within a minute the old man lay snoring. Sweety covered her ears with her paws and fell asleep.

The two of us awoke before first light, made a hot meal and after a good breakfast parted ways. He wished me well after handing me a pretty detailed map to his cabin and in return I left him with a couple pounds of Arbuckles coffee and a slab of bacon. At the same time I took some items from the pack that could be useful if I ran into trouble. I unrolled a burlap sack and put in all the goodies I might be needing in rescuing the kids inside it.

Before heading to where he said his cabin was I moved the mule and my horse back down a hundred feet from the campsite and back down to the edge of the tree line. There was plenty of grass and a small creek near where we entered the tree line so I left them there. Sweety Pie came with me since she’d be the first to alert me of any unseen trouble. I hated leaving my animals behind but the noise their hoofs would make would defeat my ability to stay silent, besides, my horse was used to staying put when I needed her to.

I began by making my way deeper up into the mountains towards the direction the old man spoke of. He said his cabin was about three miles South west of where we were camped and about three quarters the way up the mountain.

I soon found a game trail and followed it until it veered back down heading into the valley. There was little brush blocking my way since the tall ponderosa pines prevented much direct light to hit the ground. Traveling through the woods was pretty easy until I started making my way uphill.

As I reached the halfway point up the mountain large rock formations and ledges forced me to zig zag around them. It took nearly an hour to gain the next few hundred feet upward. I headed directly west since I figured I was over halfway up the mountain. There I found a ledge, somewhat like rimrock and used it to walk westward. That ledge lasted nearly a half mile before it petered out. I knew I had better start looking for the cabin since I had no idea how accurate the old mans directions were and I didn’t want to walk up on it unexpectedly. My mind kept going back to the hard cases the old man said he saw.

I slowed my pace and stopped every one hundred or so steps to listen. I made my way what I thought might be another mile when I smelled smoke. I made the decision to stop right there. Wherever the smoke was coming from wasn’t too far away and that meant people were also close by.

I made a cold camp right there even though it wasn’t quite dusk yet. I needed good light to view the cabin and its surroundings to determine what I’d be walking into. Better to be safe than sorry.

A cold camp meant no fire which meant no hot meal and no coffee. Jerky and water would have to do.

Around midnight I began hearing noises coming directly from the west. They sounded so close that I feared I’d made my camp too close the cabin. Sweety Pie quietly huffed letting me know she’d also been hearing the sounds.

At first it was just random sounds, like the sound of a chair moving or the noise made by moving furniture about. As I continued to listen I realized it was the sound made when bringing wood inside from an outdoor wood pile and being stacked indoors.

Sweety Pie rose, looked at me and huffed once then slipped off deeper into the woods.

Suddenly I heard voices… and they were close.

 

Chapter 5

 

I could have kicked myself for not paying better attention to my surroundings. While I was concentrating on the strange sounds at least two men now stood not six feet in front of me taking a piss but fortunately they were facing away from me. If it weren’t for the thick brush between us I probably still would have been seen. I stood stock still knowing any movement would catch their eye.

The two men continued their conversation, unaware that I was listening to them.

A skinny near toothless fella looked at his partner saying, “I think Miles done made a big mistake in taken them two kids, know what I mean?”

The other responded agreeably, “Fer sure he did but it’s too late to think about it now. He swore that the fella he took ‘em from would be too afraid to go to the law now I’m not too sure.”

“Yup. One thing I know is that you go killin’ a woman or stealin’ a kid it don’t stay quiet fer long. Folks get mighty upset about things like that, know what I mean?”

“What choice we got now? Miles would just as soon blow us all to hell if he even thought we might skedaddle on out’a here. I know if’n we is caught, it’s hangin’ time fer us.”

“I wish we’d newer crossed paths with’m, know what I mean?”

“Sure do, I just hope he was pullin’ our legs when he told Turk he was goin’ to kill them kids off after he shipped of all those rifles to the Indians.”

“He what? I didn’t hear him say that! That would be the difference between spendin’ some years in prison and for sure gettin’ hung, know what I mean?”

My hair stood on my head hearing that. I already figured that their chances of surviving this were fifty fifty but now it just dimmed to near zero.

The two finished up and spent some moments buttoning up their drawers. They wandered on back to the cabin no longer talking. A moment later Sweety returned.

I knew I had to do something and felt time was running out.

I backed off and returned to the cold camp. I was way too close to the cabin for a cook fire, no matter how small. Any smell of smoke would be like clanging two cook pots together.

I lay down and slept, but fitfully. By 4am I couldn’t lie there anymore. I got up, grabbed some more jerky and checked my guns. Sweety Pie knew today was the day and didn’t head out to hunt for breakfast. She knew a full stomach could slow her down.

We made our way back once again to the brush by the cabin. I still had no real plan yet but I had brought along the sack of assorted things that might come in handy in my rescue attempt.

It was the first time I could view the cabin in full daylight. I saw the cabin was surround by ancient forest Ponderosa pines that towered up to one hundred feet in height. Some of their trunks were three feet in diameter at ground level and the lower to middle limbs were as thick as my arm and extended outward a good fifteen feet from the trunk. I’d never seen pines this big.

I noticed that one of these trees leaned somewhat over the cabin, probably in search of sunlight or from the wind. This gave me an idea.

From where I hid facing the cabin the single door was on the left side. A lone window was on the right side, both openings were facing away from where I hid.

My rescue plan was simple, I’d wait until dark when everyone was asleep then I’d kick the door in and start shooting. My biggest concern was I doubted they’d leave a lit lamp burning for this to work. Thinking more about it I saw this plan as a good way to get myself shot or I’d end up shooting the kids in the dark. So I scrubbed it.

I waited in the heavy brush thinking of any way I could create a diversion for me to be able to get inside the cabin and rescue the kids without me or the kids getting injured. None came to mind.

Noon time came and went along with nearly half my jerky. The only activity I noticed was when the call of nature had to be dealt with. I was getting a might stiff crouched behind the brush I was hiding in.

As the sun slid westward I saw the cabins black metal chimney belch out a cloud of white smoke. I figured the stove was being lit inside the cabin to cook dinner.

Before long I could smell meat cooking, my stomach grumbled. In my state I swear I smelled a pot roast being cooked of antelope,wild onions, carrots potatoes and biscuits. Damn them!

I had counted seven hard cases besides Miles when they left the cabin during the day  to relieve themselves. I’d wished they’d all head out at one time so I could run in and rescue the kids but that seemed to be a pipe dream. I could plug the chimney smoking the group out but then what would the kids do?

As I hid pondering all this the door suddenly opened and out stepped four of the men. In their hands they were carrying the dirty plates from dinner.

The group headed towards the stream a hundred yards east at a leisurely pace looking to wash up their plates and smoke some cigarettes. Another man appeared moments later carrying the big cast iron pot the dinner stew had been cooked in. He awkwardly carried it following the other four down to the river

From inside I heard what must have been Miles telling someone the horses should be moved to fresh grass and have their hobbles put back on after the move. A minute later two men stepped from the cabin with Miles trailing behind them, “You two move and check the other horses while I care for mine. Last time one of you idiots put my horse in an area with too little grass. I’ll take care of my own horse from now on, you two see to all the others.”

This meant the kids inside the cabin were now alone. Probably tied up.

Sweety silently followed behind the men and stopped after about fifty yards hiding in the brush. She’d wait there until she noticed the men returning, then let me know.

I knew It was now or never.

Chapter 6

 

Miles was the last to disappear into the deepening gloom of the woods as he headed towards his horse by the stream.

Loosening the strap on my pistols hammer I headed quickly to the cabin. In my left hand was my knife. Miles had left the door ajar so there was no need to make noise by kicking the door in.

I flung the door open and rushed inside with my pistol ready to fire in case I had miscounted the number of men in the group, I hadn’t.

I quickly saw the two kids bound with thin rope lying together on the lone bed. I quickly stepped over a number of smelly bedrolls on the floor that belonged to the rest of the men. It seemed only Miles was using the bed and everyone else slept on the floor, including the kids.

Not knowing who I was the kids started bawling thinking this gun and knife wielding man meant to kill them.

“Hush kids, I’m here to rescue you. I ain’t gonna’ hurt you none. Your Grandparents  sent me.”

The kids bawling turned to wet sniffles as I cut the ropes tying them up. I grabbed the youngest, the girl and rushed her outside with the boy following close behind.

I ran them towards the woods where I had been hiding nearby. My intention was to return to my camp in the lower tree line and then head back to Prescott.

We had just neared reached the woods when I saw Sweety running down the trail towards the cabin letting me know someone was coming. It was then I too heard some of the men making their way back to the cabin. “Damn!” I cursed. Looking around for a good spot to hide us all I realized we’d be sitting ducks in the brush in less than a minute when they discovered the kids were missing. I couldn’t risk firing on the returning men as I was sure the kids would be caught up in the gunfire killing them. “Damn, damn, damn it!” I saw no way of escape without gunfire.

It was then I saw what might be a way out. I grabbed the girl and headed towards the big pine tree closest to us. It was the one bending its way over the cabin.

“Here girl, climb as fast and high as you can, you too boy. I’ll be right behind you. When I tell you too, stop your climbing and hug the trunk staying dead still, understand? We’re going to hide up in the tree!”

The two nodded and began quickly climbing up the pine’s thick limbs. I silently thanked God that kids are natural born tree climbers. I followed up behind them as quick as my old bones would let me… which was a lot slower than the kids.

We had reached nearly fifty feet up the tree or about halfway up when I told the kids to stop. They instantly stopped climbing and hugged the trunk like I told them to.

Once I got even with the kids I motioned for them to sit down close to where the branches met the trunk and stay silent. These kids had already figured out what I wanted, they were pretty smart, must run in the family.

The group of five men had evidently finished cleaning up their plates and pot sooner than I thought they would and were heading back. Just as I reached the kids the first man rounded the cabin. Seeing the door wide open he dropped his tin plate and ran to the open door. He immediately yelled for the others to come quick. “Git over here,they’s gone!”

Shouting was heard after they entered the empty cabin and saw the kids had escaped. I heard one of them yell, “Go on back and find an’ git Miles, those damn kids done went an escaped!”

I stood one limb lower than the kids which put my eyes about level with their knees. I put my finger to my lips, reminding them to remain silent.

Meanwhile Miles was eventually found and arrived hot as a potato. Yelling at the men he sent them in pairs out into the woods. Each man kept his eyes peeled onto the ground looking for footprints. The problem for them was, once we made it to the trees our footprints disappeared on the pine needle covered ground.

I could hear the men making their way through the woods in different directions searching for the kids. After a two hour search they began returning to the cabin empty handed.

By now dusk was deeply settling in. I had hoped the three of us could leave the tree when it got dark enough but to my disappointment I heard Miles telling the men. “I want two of you to stand guard outside the cabin tonight. I believe the kids will get scared being out alone in the woods and return here. When they do grab ‘em. I want Billy and Jack to stand first watch, all you others can decide who stands next between ya”.

I was mighty disappointed but more than that I began fearing the kids might fall asleep and get killed falling out of the tree.

It was then that I realized that when in my rush to free the kids I had cut the ropes closest only to one hand, leaving a two foot length dangling from the other hand.

I silently signaled them to let me tie the two foot piece to the limb they were sitting on. It wasn’t the greatest safety line but if they did somehow fall I could use the tied rope to haul them back onto the limb.

Using the rope to tie them safely to the tree gave me an idea. I looked below and saw the cabins smoke stack was almost directly under my limb. The bend to the tree had allowed my limb to lean about six feet plumb of the stack. If I crawled out another six or seven feet out from the trunk on the limb I should be directly over the smoking stack. I untied my pack and withdrew the thin rope I had placed in it earlier. I then removed the canister of blasting powder and fuse I had originally hoped to use only as a diversion. I unwound a few feet of the rope and wrapped it securely around the can. I tied it off so the rope couldn’t slip loose from the canister.

I poked a hole in the canister’s top with my knife and inserted the two foot length of cannon fuse into the hole.

My idea was to see if I could lower the blasting powder down and inside the stoves flue pipe.

When I finished securing the fuse to the side of the can I began crawling out towards the thick limbs end. Even though the limb at a distance was still thick as my arm I feared the limb would break and I’d fall to my death but what other choice did I have?

I crawled as gently as was possible wrapping my legs around the limb to allow me to remain on the topside of the limb. If I slipped to the underside I’d surly fall to my death.

Amazingly, I made it out to where when looking down, I was directly above the stack.

I began lowering the canister of blasting powder downward towards the stack when

suddenly one of the men stepped out from around the corner of the cabin. I froze with the can still ten feet above the roof.

I was sure he’d glance upward and even in the dim light would see the canister dangling above the smoking stack on a rope. All would be lost if he did.

To my relief, he kept looking outward into the forest of pine trees. After he scanned that section of forest he turned and walked to the cabins rear wall. In doing so he could no longer see the canister above.

The can finally reached the stack and ever so lightly bumped into it. I had to be careful. Any noise could alert the group to my plot. The can was about four inches in diameter while the chimney was about eight inches in diameter. It would be an easy fit and should not plug the chimney like a rag would.

I began lowering the canister down into the stack. I wanted the canister to make it all the way down into the cast iron cook stove before the fire inside lit the fuse.

All was going well when suddenly the cabin door opened and Miles stepped out onto the small porch.

The man that just moments ago had made his way to the cabins rear wall must have heard him step out and made his way back around the corner and over to his boss.

Miles nodded, acknowledge the man’s presence and asked him, “ See anything yet?”

“Naw, I’m thinking those kids must have hunkered down for the night under a tree or something. They have no idea where any town is at so it’s likely we’ll find ‘em come morning.”

“I agree. Well, keep a vigilant eye out never the less.”

I began to think the heat from the stoves cook fire might just be hot enough even this far up the stack that it might just ignite the fuse too early. If it blew now about the only thing that would happen is the stack would be blown apart. I doubted anyone would be seriously hurt enough (other than maybe broken ear drums) to allow us to escape.

I had no choice. I had to risk the two men out front would hear my can make its way down the stack.

I continued to lower the home made bomb when it stopped dead. Either the flue had a damper in it to help regulate the stoves temperature or the can had made it to the inside of the stove.

Knowing the can could go no further, I began to quickly and as quiet as I could, make my way back to the trunk. I still had my legs wrapped tightly around the limb when I looked up at the kids and mouthed a warning to hold on tight.

 

Chapter 7

With no warning the canister exploded deep inside the stove. The stack and parts of the roof directly above the stove exploded skyward missing me and the kids by a foot or two. As for the rest of the cabin all four log walls exploded outward in a million splinters followed by shards of broken cast iron.

The men inside had no warning. They died in mid sentence only to be finish their sentence in hell.

As for the man talking to Miles, the exploding door cut him in half and blew both sections of him out into the yard.

Miles fate was a longer lasting death.

I cut the kids free and told them to head down. I had to repeat it twice as both of their ears were ringing too loud to hear me. I ended up pointing down and they got the idea.

By being below them I made it down first.

I ran over to where Miles lay moaning with legs his visibly jerking and shaking.

Sweety Pie and I made our way over to him from opposite directions at the same time. While I looked down at the man who’d cause all the problems Sweety Pie lifted her leg like a boy dog does and emptied her bladder on the man. Good dog!

Miles was in no shape to talk. A large splinter from what looked like was part of the door frame and as thick as a big man’s arm had passed nearly all the way through his gut. With a look of utter fear he began moving his lips but nothing came out except a thick gush of blood. A few rapid breaths later he expired.

I let the cabin burn. There was really not much I could do. The only bodies big enough to bury were Miles and the other man he was with. The rest were blown so fine nothing but a red mist in places was seen. I didn’t bury Miles nor his buddy.

——————————————————-0———————————————–

The three of us made our way back to Prescott on my horse and mule that were still hobbled in the tree line. Before leaving the gangs hide out I unsaddled the gangs mounts and set them free. I’m sure some miners will find and claim them in the coming weeks. All their saddle bags and personal belongings had been inside the cabin when it blew.

As for Miles horse I brought her with us and tide her behind the kids mule as she was a beauty. I preferred horses over mules so I’ll make a gift of the mule to Esther and Jeffery to do with the beast as they wish. I figured even a small farm like they had could use a mule now and then. Maybe they could use it to haul a wagon back and forth from the house to their mercantile in town.

After the kids were reunited at their home with their grandparents and all congratulations were over with, I led the animals down to the barn where I gave them all a good helping of grain and give ‘em all a good brushing down. I sure liked my new horse, she was a beauty.

Back at home, the two kids were immediately put in a tub of hot soapy water and were busy scrubbing the weeks of dirt and stench from their kidnapping off of them.

“We don’t know how to thank you Clint, we’ll forever be in your debt.”

“I’m not much for sappy goodbyes so I’ll ask a from you favor instead.”

“Sure, anything!” the both replied in unison.

“On my way south I came across that valley folks are calling Prescott’s valley. I sure would like to enjoy my twilight years in a nice cabin up in the treeline where it meets the valley floor. You think you could take me to the land office tomorrow morning? I’d like to see if any of that mountain is still available for purchase.”

Well, there was a nice plot available. It consisted of three hundred and sixty acres divided between valley floor, the tree line and up into the Bradshaw’s but not near any mines. I didn’t need the sound of blasting or miners being shot at keeping me from a restful rocking on my cabin’s porch. Living this close to Prescott sure would be a great way to get to know my in-laws and their grandkids better. (Plus I’m hoping I might just get a discount at the mercantile for being a relative and saving the kids and all).

You remember Barney? He’s the old prospector who’s cabin I blew up all to hell? Well, being as we’re both old folks just wanting to be left alone, we struck up a great friendship. I asked if he’d like to rebuild a cabin closer to mine so’s we could spin yarns without a day long trek to do so. He agreed and is now my neighbor. He cheats at checkers and farts a lot but his cabin is far enough away that I don’t hear his snoring. Although Sweety Pie with her better hearing than me might disagree.

As for my place in Missouri? I sold it to my neighbor Fred dirt cheap. I gave him everything inside and outside, including any animals I had left behind. His son Everett wants to farm the forty acres that I never had a hankering to do. I preferred holding a pistol in my hand and not a plow handle.

During our telegrams back and forth during the sale Fred wrote me that Geezer had been accosted by a group of three no good young folk. He never regained conciseness and passed away after a week of being bed ridden.

I grieved his passing but was a bit appeased when I heard later the three young no goods were killed by a man living alone out on the Kansas prairie in a small rundown sod house. In their zeal to rob him they did not recognize the man as William (Bill) Dalton, co-leader of the infamous Wild Bunch Gang and brother of the three member Dalton Gang.

None were able out draw the lone Dalton brother and were later displayed lying in their coffins in town.

As I’m writing this I can see Barney making his way down the path from his place to mine with his sack of checker pieces inside. I let him win enough times so he doesn’t give up and call it quits. As much as he gabs and farts, I enjoy his company. It amazes me how much more enjoyable my life is now than when I was busy. I only wish I’d found out this truth years ago but like they say, “Better late than never”.

 

My name is Cal Clifford I’m twenty seven years old. I’m a Deputy United States Marshal… of sorts. Maybe a trainee is more accurate but the Marshal Service still bestows the full title on you so if need be you could legally arrest someone.

A full pledged Deputy Marshal has a lot more responsibly than a trainee like myself and along with that comes a lot more serious duties. Deputies are taught to think for themselves all the while keeping their actions more or less within the law. They answer only to the Marshal. As for me, I’m on the bottom of the totem pole so I just obey orders.

This mornings orders were of a typical nature. I was to transport a prisoner here from Fort Worth Texas back to the Colorado Court system in Boulder. It seemed to me they must have figured it was a non perilous duty since they decided a green horn like myself could handle the job. Boy were they wrong!

I walked the three blocks to the court house on Main street where prisoners of the Court were housed. This was a different building than the county jail.

I climbed the twelve stairs up to the big brass main entrance doors. The doors stood open. I entered the large foyer with its twenty foot tall ceiling and polished marble floors. The sound of my heeled boots loudly echoed off the walls causing some of those inside to turn and stare reprovingly at me. I made my way to the basement stairwell where the prisoners were held in small six foot by eight foot cells.

I approached the guard, handing him my orders he looked them over and shaking his head said, “Hallway three, cell four. Hand your orders over to the guard stationed there.” I thanked him.

Following the signs painted on the walls I made it to my destination. The guard stuck his hand out taking my orders. “Follow me.” Under his breath just loud enough for me to hear him he muttered, “Good luck with this one, you’ll need it”.

Not a real great way to start a Monday morning.

We made our way down the hall to cell number four. Once there he opened a small eye high rectangular door in the solid steel door to view his prisoner. He then unlocked a small lower door used to pass meals through into the cell and shouted, “Prisoner turn facing the back wall and stick your two hands behind you and out of the meal door.”

A pair of small hands slowly protruded out of the meal door where they were hand cuffed. “Take two steps forward away from the door and keep your mouth shut!”, he shouted. Once satisfied his prisoner had followed all his orders he unlocked the solid steel door.

“Back up towards the open door, continue to face the back wall!”

What I saw surprised me. The small hands belonged to a girl looking no older than in her early teens. I looked questioningly at the guard and whispered, “This kid is the prisoner?” My ‘prisoner’ looked to be no older than fifteen years old or so. She had long light blond hair, green eyes and the most quirky cute smile you could imagine. The ends of her mouth turned upwards giving the impression she had just heard a funny joke or was smiling from a private thought. She was beyond cute.

“Wanted for breaking and entering, murder and theft up in Colorado. Don’t turn your back on this one, she’ll cut your throat if given the chance. I’m glad she’s outa’ here!”

I had not bothered to look at the prisoners name on the orders so I asked the guard, “What’s her name?”

He looked at the orders for a couple seconds, found her name and replied, “It says here Holly Steward but we call her ‘Badger’.”

“Why Badger?”

“You ever hear of a Mama badger? This is one in the flesh. Most ornery, foul spitting, screaming bitch you’ll ever run across. This one has the Devil inside of her, that’s fer sure! You be careful, keep her bound and don’t let her smiles fool ya’. She’d just as soon see you dead and eat your bones for desert.”

I looked at the small girl thinking, “She can’t weigh ninety pounds if that even. Ain’t no taller than mid my chest. Still I thought, I better not let my guard down around her,it sure would be embarrassing trying to explain how a fifteen year old got the better of a man nearly twice her age. .”

I thanked the guard and walked my prisoner down the corridors and out of the building.

I told her as we walked, “We are heading over the the Marshal Service building. They have a stable there where we’ll pick up our horses. For some reason they denied transporting you by train, said travel by horse was preferred in this case.”

She didn’t answer. She knew it was because she was so disruptive that the rail company denied her passage unless it was in a freight car but of course she didn’t tell me that.

Once at the stables they brought out the three requisitioned horses for our travels. Two were saddled and the third was already outfitted with full packs.

The hostler handed me a receipt to sign. “The packs contains one full week of grub at three meals a day. Extra ammunition, cookware, a leather case with bank drafts valued up to one hundred dollars apiece etc, etc etc.”

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Three pounds of mill ground Folgers.”

When ready, and after she mounted, I removed the cuff on her left hand and snapped it around the saddles pommel. Looking closely at her small feminine hands I wondered how someone who was gifted with such innocent good looks and bright eyes could go so wrong at such an early age. Well, it was none of my business.

We left at noon and headed west out of Fort Worth towards the territory of New Mexico. We’d skip around El Paso to resupply in Demming.

Our first day of travels up to dinner time went well. She had not spoken a word and seemed resigned to her fate. She would surely be hung on the order of the court in Colorado.

“We’ll stop here for our meal then move five or so miles away so if anyone smelled our cook fire it won’t lead anyone to us.”

She spoke for the first time asking, “Who would be looking for us?”

“Could be Indians, Owl hots or even someone wanting to rescue you.”

“Well, she said, “you ain’t gotta’ worry about the last one. Ain’t nobody’d give a crap enough to rescue me. I’d be more worried someone would track us down an’ shoot me in my sleep.”

“Ma’am, in transporting you it also falls on me to protect you.”

“A real do good-er, huh?”

“Yup, that’s me, a Do-gooder through and through.”

I left her sitting while I unsaddled my horse laying it on the ground and hobbled my mount then I hobbled hers.  There was no need to hobble the pack horse at it suffered from separation anxiety. In other words, it was afraid to be left alone.I took my hat and watered both horse after feeding a quart of oats each. After that I broke out the food pack to cook us up a meal. Lastly I unlocked the cuff from her saddles pommel.

I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

As the cuff fell her pommel and onto her saddle she swung it forcefully around her head. She crashed it into my temple, nearly knocking me out. Seeing a bright flash and a universe of stars I fell to the ground. As quick as a bob cat she was upon me. I tried to regain my senses but she was pounding my already half knocked out head with her tiny fist. I should be grateful it wasn’t a man beating on me for I would have been lifeless in just moments. I brought up my arms to protect my face but she bit them each time I tried that. Between punches there were scratches and gouging going on. She was relentless, she never let up.

She now sat upon my chest doing her best to beat my head to a pulp. Instinctively, I wrapped my two arms around her pinning her arms to her side. I rolled over causing her to be partially underneath me. She could no longer use her arms to subdue me so she put her knees into use. I felt her small knee jerk its way up trying to smash my crotch. Fearing the worst for all my unborn children, I wrapped my legs around hers completely immobilizing her.

I had her legs and arms pinned thinking I was out of trouble when she began to bang her head into mine. Good Lord, I suddenly realized why they called her the Badger!

She wouldn’t stop. I forced my face onto the side of her head to push her head down into my arm squashing itself into the dirt.

Finally, I got a break. I had every movable part of her pinned.

We lay there breathing heavily as if we’d both just sprinted a mile. I had no idea what to do next. Maybe a full Marshal would know but I was just a trainee. I’d never been instructed in the art of self defense.

Every now and then she’d struggle, making vile threats and such. As time passed though, her struggles became less and less and finally her breathing slowed and she began to relax.

I wasn’t fooled. I figured just as soon as I let up she’d be Mama Badger again. Little did I know her thoughts of escape were now miles away.

She lay there completely immobilized by my arms and legs. It was then that she had what some might call an epiphany. She lay there feeling a sensation she’d never felt before. Sure, men and boys had tried unsuccessfully in the past to pin her down in order to satisfy their deviant lust but this was different.

As she lay there immobilized yet quietly breathing she smelled the faint pleasant odor of the shaving soap I had used that morning in shaving. Rather than a face full of rough whiskers poking her tender face from some grizzled pervert she felt smooth freshly shaved skin upon her own. Then too she noted the arm underneath her head also had a faint yet pleasant smell, as if I had recently bathed and afterward splashed on a tonic… I had. She felt the warmth of both my face and arm and found it strangely pleasant. She felt the soft hairs of my arms under her cheek and she began to dream.

She wondered if this is what it was like to have a husband, one who actually loved her. She fantasized she was laying in bed with her lover husband, feeling him hold her tightly. She fantasized her bed was in a small house, it was a summer morning. Outside the window the limbs and leaves of an apple tree loaded with fruit swayed under a cool morning breeze. Her husband held her safely in his arms. She had never been more completely comforted or felt safer. It was but a snippet of time to me but to her it lasted a lifetime.

Chapter 2    

 I lay there wondering just how long we’d have to lay there. My mind too began to wander.

I could feel the rise and fall of her small chest within my wrapped arms. I felt the baby smooth skin of her youthful face on mine.  I felt her thin child like limbs held securely by my own. A tinge of guilt began to creep into my thoughts. After all, she was my prisoner and I should have never felt the feelings I was feeling. I mean , she was just a kid, cute as a button but still a kid.

Now I have to admit. The only time I’d ever been with another woman was on my eighteenth birthday. My friends dragged me into town saying I was now a man and should acknowledge my manhood at one of the saloons in town. I figured they meant to get me drunk on whiskey. I was wrong.

When we arrived at the Golden Slipper Saloon my friends immediately drug me up stairs telling me they had previously arranged a get together for me with Big Dolly Red, a whore.

Well I was so nervous that when Big Dolly entered the room and saw how antsy I was she promptly let out a laugh that sounded more like a ships fog horn than any lady I ever knew of. In a way the laugh fit her because she was as big as a Mississippi river barge.

She wandered over to the bed where I nervously sat upon saying, “Your friends bought the two dollar job, that’s where I bend over the bed, lift up my dress and you get your poke from behind. If’n you want me topless and front wise it’ll cost you another four bits and seeing how cute you are I betting you’d want the topless deal.”

I had no idea what in the world a ‘poke’ was or what being topples for an extra dollar was all about so I stuttered saying in order not to argue or offend her, “Uh, topless is alright I guess.”

To my astonishment and horror she dropped the dress she was wearing to the floor. There she stood with no under garments on and  standing there fully stark naked!.

Seeing me wobble on my feet as I neared unconsciousness from fear, she laughed that terrible fog horn laugh again and now hanging onto the iron beds foot board she bent over exposing what looked like two pink baby pigs glued together where her hind end shoulda’ been. It was her butt cheeks but it took a bit to recognize them as that. As I stumbled away from the bed, I turned and that’s when her two giant stretch marked breast came into view. I swear those huge tear drop shaped cow utters hung so low in the position she was in that they rested a good foot below her chest resting on the bed spread.

Well, I quickly flew outa’ there with that sexually debilitating visual scorched into my mind forever. No child and possibly no adult should have seen what I did. I made it back home in record time as I ran flat out the entire way. I thought seriously for a long time afterwards about leaving the Baptist church and becoming a Catholic Priest!

But that memory faded into oblivion as I stared looking at the young sweet face I held securely in my arms.

I’d decided after an hour or so that she had fallen asleep and was no longer interested in kicking my future children’s waiting room to pieces so I slowly began to untangle myself from her when suddenly I felt her reaching out. With eyes still closed she groped around until she found my hand. Gently she inter twined her fingers in mine and quietly murmured, “Please hold me, don’t let me go.”

Not knowing what else I could do I held her tightly throughout the night.

Chapter 3

It was about 4am when she again spoke. “That was the nicest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I have never been with a man before but I’m offering myself to you. Do you want me?”

I wasn’t an eighteen year old any more so I knew what she was saying. I answered her hoping the right words would come out.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I’m about to die and I’ve never made love or have been in love. I don’t want to die not knowing that someone loved me.”

“I do have feelings for you. I have no idea how they came to be or why I even entertained them but yes, I want you… but not like this. The truth be told I’m in my late twenties and you are what fifteen years old at best? Besides, you’re a murderess to be hung.

She quietly said, “Many of my friends were married by the age of fifteen. But, you have no need to worry about that, I’m a lot older than I look, I’m twenty two!”

“What? No way, just look at you! I see girls still in school that look older than you.”

“I tell you what, if you let me up, since we missed last nights meal, I’ll cook us a big breakfast and tell you the story of my life. You’ll see why I’m no murderess even though I might hang for being charged as one.”

“I can’t let you go, I’m afraid you’ll slit my throat.”

“Let me tell you something about myself then. If I make a promise, I keep it. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it, no matter what. If I tell you that you can believe me you can. I’d rather die by drowning that tell a lie.”

“Then I can trust you to behave if I let you up?”

“Yes, with your life.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Alright, seeing as there’s now way we can lay here for eternity I’m going to trust you.”

She chuckled, “I kind of like the idea of laying here for eternity being held like this but my belly button is beginning to touch my spine wondering if it’ll ever see food again!”

I began to let her up, hoping she wasn’t going to kick my teeth out. That’s  when I noticed her top had been seriously torn open during our struggle the day before. Turning my head away in embarrassment I told her “Uh, Holly, Ma’am, your top is torn, your breast are exposed.”

Jerking back she quickly tried to cover herself but her top was too torn to adequately do the job. She chuckled, “I shouldn’t be embarrassed, I just got done offering myself to you.

Thinking quick like I said, “Here, take my shirt, I have another I keep rolled up in my blanket behind my saddle.”

I stood up removed my shirt and handed it to her. I found my spare still rolled up in the blanket next to my saddle laying on the ground. We were lucky I hobbled both horses before all this happened as we might have had a very long walk back.

She tried on my shirt and ended up tying the front shirt tails together at her waist. Tied like it was, it exposed her flat tummy and gave definition to her small but rounded breast. Dang she looked cute! Then just as suddenly a vision came to me of her dropping through the hangman’s platform snapping her thin neck and my stomach lurched.

I tried to remind myself this girl had broke into a house, murdered the owner then fled with a satchel full of cash. I needed to remember that.

For sure she did not disappoint me on the breakfast though. Together we ate a pound of sizzling hot bacon, an over flowing plate full of hot cakes with maple syrup, biscuits and more bacon and lots of delicious coffee.

After eating I lay back and told her, “Oh my God, I can’t move I’m so full!

“That’s good, it means you have to sit there while I tell you why I’m gonna’ be hung.”

She sat there cross legged, her eyes focused on mine and began her story. “As a kid I was always small, smaller than all the other girls, I mean really small. Not just short small but in all of my features. I was all in a proper proportion not like dwarf or midget but all the other kids still toward over me. I was told things like, she’s a runt or she’s delicate but it hurt when women would say I was too small to bare children. I love children and wanted a houseful of them. That’s why it hurt.

In my teens no boy ever looked my way for fear of being made fun of by their friends. Everyone would tell me I was cute as a kitten but that made it even worse.

At home my Dad was useless as a father, he was always drunk. He’d beat on my Mom nearly every night, I don’t know how she put up with it, I guess in the end her beatings were too much for her though. One day when I was fifteen I came home from work and found she had left a note saying she took off for parts unknown. My Dad said the note blamed me but I had read it before he found it. In it she repeated a few times how much she loved me and hated my Dad.”

I had to pause her to get more wood on the fire. She couldn’t help because even though I hated to do it I had replaced the cuffs on her before she began her story. I began to wish I had really found another line of work. She continued talking when I sat back down.

“Even with all the kids making fun of my size I was a good attentive student until my Dad showed up at school one day. He was drunk and demanded I come home at once. My teacher, Miss English, tried to stand between my Dad and me, trying to protect me. He slapped her so hard she fell unconscious onto the floor. I remember all the kids ran out of the school house screaming. Miss English lay there bleeding from her mouth. My Dad put the blame on me and dragged me by my hair all the way home. The Sheriff gave him ten days.”

“Nice father you had, is he the one you you killed?”

“No it was my employer, the bankers son Brad Sinclaire. My Dad made me leave school that day and get a job to support his drinking. When the Sheriff released him he found work for me through the news paper at Mister Sinclaire’s home. He needed someone to replace the maid on her days off. At first I liked it and as time went on and I began to squirrel part of my earnings away without my Dad knowing about it. I could not hide it in our house as my Dad would surely find it so Mister Sinclaire offered to keep it at his home in a roll top desk in his library. I kept my money locked up in a small strong box that  only had one key, and I kept it. I worked steady for six years until I was twenty one, putting away some with each pay. By then though things began to change in the Sinclaire household. He and his wife began to argue a lot. Then I noticed when I’d arrive at his place in the morning that sometimes the furniture was upset or things were laying on the floor broken. I’d find empty whiskey bottles in his bedroom. Also during this time I began to show signs of filling out up on top. Mister Sinclaire began to make me uncomfortable when he began hugging me and nuzzling my neck telling me it was all in fun. One day he stopped by our house and told my Dad I would need to spend the next week working over night at his place as the maid had left to visit her sister in Demming. My Dad put up a stink until Sinclaire handed him a twenty dollar gold piece.”

“I can imagine what happened next.”

“Yeah, I woke up with Sinclaire trying to screw me.”

“What did you do?”

“I tore into him about as bad as I did you yesterday except all the ruckus woke up his wife. She threw open my bedroom door with me scratching, punching and biting her naked husband.”

“Did she divorce him?”

“Hell no, Misses Sinclaire had no money on her own, she knew who put the butter on her bread and pretended nothing ever happened. By now the two showed no love for each other but had to keep up the image to their social circle that they were the ideal couple.

So did he continue to make advances? Is that why you killed him?”

“Yes and no. Yes, he tried often but more than not he walked away full of bruises. No, I killed him because he had a gun pointed at his own Dad’s head and was going to kill him, and blame it on me!”

“Why would he do that?” I asked.

“He was deeply in debt from gambling. His father, Sinclaire senior, was the one actually paying me. Junior had no cash left.”

“What about the money you saved up by hiding it, did he take that?”

“No, it was still in his roll top desk but in a steel lock box with only one key he’d early on given me. He told me when he gave the strong box to me that it would prevent his wife from finding and spending it. That was the money I ran out with, it belonged to me!”

“Just out of curiosity, how much do you think you had saved up?”

“Exactly one thousand four hundred and forty dollars!”

“Wow! That’s huge!”

“I saved half of everything I made. I told my Dad Sinclaire was cheap and he believed me. Besides, it kept him drunk so he didn’t care what I made so long as he believed I gave it all over to him.”

“So if he killed his Dad, blaming it one you, he would inherit his fathers fortune and you’d be hung.”

“That’s it in a nut shell.”

“So didn’t you have a lawyer at the trial?”

“Sure Mister Bernard Coots the public defender. He was no match for the prosecuting attorney Stoddard Sievers. Sievers and Coots hated each other. Sievers not only wanted to win but destroy Coots in the process. It went back a ways. It seemed Coots once beat Sievers in a trial and Sievers never forgave him.”

“So you are going to be hung because the Prosecutor and Junior were both crooked?”

In a way yes. Between the two I never stood a chance of getting a fair trial. My court appointed lawyer was terrible but you know what?”

“What?”

I could care less if I ever find justice. Sinclaire senior never stood up and told the truth so I had no defense. I believe in the Bible. I’ll find justice just not here on earth and in the end, they’ll pay in hell. So, that’s my story even if you believe it or not.”

“I’m intended to believe you. Truthfully, your story causes my heart to ache. I’m so sorry I ever met you. I don’t believe you deserve what has been done to you. I know it makes no difference but I just want you to know how sorry I am.”

She reached over with her handcuffed hands and squeezed my hand. “I know you are and I really wish things were different, especially since I met you but I also have to be honest with you.”

“About?”

“About my trip here. In no way can I let my feelings for you hinder me from what I need to do.”

“What do you need to do?”

“Escape!”

Chapter 4

“I take it you mean escape from me?”

“By any means necessarily”.

I sat there looking at her. She was honest all right. What kind of person warns another that they will attempt at any time to break free? I thought about it and decided if it were me, I’d do the same.

I kept my senses tuned to high to prevent a log being crashed over my head or some other means of over powering me. Still the days rolled on without incident as we skirted around El Paso and headed west to Demming. We found ourselves in near constant conversation during the trip. We ended being like minded on many, many subjects.

The night before we were to resupply in Demming Holly made her move. Still handcuffed, she took the frying pan down to the stream to wash it out where we had camped and watered the horses. Tall green grass grew by the banks so I hobbled the horses there knowing they’d not wander off.

Suddenly, in flash I heard one of the horses rear up and whinny. I jumped up knowing she had just mounted her horse bareback and skedaddled. It took less that a half a minute for me to jump on my own horse and take off after her. Light as she was, she was gaining distance on me. We rode flat out for two miles or more when suddenly she came to the very same stream we camped next to, just down river where it turned to the east. Her horse shied, stopping at the bank so fast that without a saddle she was thrown headlong into the stream.

I dove off my mount and in mid air plowed into her as she found her footing and began to run across the water.

If my previous battle with her taught me anything it was she would fight until she got free. She fought me more like a wildcat his time. Rolling in the waist deep water I was mauled, bit and scratched near to death! I finally had no choice but to unlatch my pistol from its holster and bang it into the side of her head.

I saw her go limp and under the surface. Slamming my pistol back in its holster I reached into the water and felt her hair. I pulled her free from a certain drowning and laid her unconscious on the bank. She coughed up some water and moments later opened her eyes.

I tenderly held her head and asked if she were alright.

She responded with that quirky beautiful smile, “Didn’t I tell you I would try to escape?”

Without warning she raised her head. At first I thought she was going to batter me with it again but suddenly I felt the softest pair of lips touch mine.

When we broke apart she whispered, “I’m in love with you Cal, you need to know that.”

My only answer to such a dilemma was, “I know Holy, I know.”

The next morning we made our way into town. We stopped at the general supply store where we wandered around inside choosing different items to take along with us. I purchased a steel kerosene lantern and a pint can of oil for it. I also bought an ax, a buck saw and five boxes of shells to fit the new Spencer rifle I just bought. Holly gave me a queer look when she saw what I’d bought but kept quiet.

I saw the look and gave her the explanation that we had a long way to travel and we could not depend on a General store each time we ran out of supplies. I told the clerk to pack everything up for traveling so he began to fill and wrap each package in tide together oil cloth. I asked him where we might purchase a mule from and he told me the livery has some for sale as the miners have need of them. We left our supplies in his care and headed to the livery.

The hostler at the livery looked down at Holly’s cuffs and shook his head. He’d also seen the star on my chest. He noted the bruises both of us where plastered with after Holly’s latest escape attempt then signaled us to follow him, mumbling things that no child should ever hear. We ended up with a sturdy four year old Missouri bred mule, the best in the country. Holly still had not questioned me further about my recent purchaes. I paid using an official draft reserved for Deputy Marshals while traveling.

When all was loaded we had two riding horses, a pack horse and a pack mule. We were set now to cross through the New Mexico territory without fear of starving.

We decided to skirt east of the Indian territory just north of us and head instead north east towards Albuquerque. I knew not to go into Albuquerque as a bustling city would give Holly every chance to escape. Instead we made our way east of Albuquerque  through Tigeras, a small Mexican community.

Each night on the way to Boulder Colorado we stopped by a stream or lake, unloaded the animals, hobbled and fed them some grain and cooked our biggest meal of the day. Our midday meal consisted mainly of jerky, biscuits and canned fruit washed down with canteen water.

As usual, Holly outdid herself when it came to cooking. I love breakfast and she made the best.

We rode into Tigeras, I guess that means tiger in English. They must have had a mountain lion problem at one time or maybe the town was named after a woman as feisty as Holly could be, I don’t know.

We broke the mold and stopped at a small eatery for our midday meal. It’s not like you had a menu to choose from, they only made one thing each day to eat and that was it. When our food arrived there were two giant tortillas filled with refried beans, meat, a white cheese and salsa. It was really good so we ordered another two servings to go.

I stopped at the town well and filled our canteens. I was surprised to see how clear and cold the water was. Our horses and mule sure gobbled down a belly full of the water to boot!

We left with full bellies and plenty of cold water and headed due north towards Raton.

We camped just five miles north of Tigeras alongside a small running creek. I noticed that the closer we got to Colorado we encountered more water  was to be had. I also noted that the perpetual smile on Holly’s face became less evident with each mile. I knew she was full of worry about being hung.

After our evening meal we sat next to each other. It had become the norm to set on each side of the campfire but not tonight. Tonight Holly sat next to me. Her hands had been freed to cook and eat with them. I had a feeling she wanted to talk but was unsure how to start the conversation I knew she wanted to speak to me about.

I was not known for my tact to I would just blurt out what was on my mind.

I started to speak but she put her hand over my mouth to stop me. When she was sure I wasn’t about to open my mouth again she took my hands in hers and looking intently at me asked. “Cal, will you marry me?”

My head spun, what could I say? The look on her face was pure desperation. “Holly, if you had any sort of future I’d marry you tonight. I know you know how I feel about you. Only once did you mention love when we talked, how can I believe you really do love me and don’t have some sort of twisted scheme in your head to get out of being hung? Please, tell me I want to believe you!”

“You’re right, I’ll tell you. I have never lied to you have I? No! So believe me now. I once told you I wanted to feel real love before I died, did I not?”

“Yes, you did.”

And did I not tell you I wanted children?”

“Yes, you did.”

Did I lie about those things?”

“No, I believe you.”

“Then believe this Cal, I’ve been in love with you from the moment you wrapped your arms around me to hold me off from fighting you. When I kissed you, my heart was sealed that no matter how life would turn out, you were the only man I ever loved or will ever love, no matter how long or short I have on this earth. If you want me to I will go with you voluntarily to Boulder to hang, just marry me first and give me one night with my true love!”

I sat there watching the campfire burn down to just glowing embers. Holly sat patently waiting, not saying a word.

I finally looked up at her and said. “Pack the animals, were heading out.”

Now it was her turn to look bewildered. “It’s almost dark where would we be going in the middle of the night.

“Back to Tigeras, I saw a mission there and where there’s a mission there’s a Padre and where there’s a Padre, there a way to be married!”

Speechless except for the small whimper to compliment the tears running down her face, Holly flung her arms around me and cried.

Together at near dark, we knocked on the large solid wood door that we were told was where the Padre lived. We left the mission as Mister and Misses Cal Clifford.

Chapter 5

That night sure was different from the time my friends thought I should exercise my new found manhood, that was for sure. I was still what you’d call, ‘a prude’ but somehow I musta’ got the job done to her satisfaction. It took three times that night to make sure I had it down correctly but I’m not complaining!

Our morning breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs ( thanks to the Padre who gave us a basket of eggs to take with us.) We cut a loaf of bread into slices and made toast with cherry jam on it, bacon of course and plenty of hot coffee. Oh, and less I forget, we also indulged in plenty of kisses which led to touchy feely which led to… well, you get the idea as to where this is going.

As we ate I told her my thoughts on what we had to look forward to. I told her, “Do you remember when we were in the General store where I bought my rifle and all that other stuff? You never said a word to me about it but I’ll tell you in case you’ve been wondering. I was thinking, What would happen if I got to Colorado and didn’t want to return? What if I wanted to start a new life on my own?

Could I survive without the necessary tools to build a cabin or hunt for food? So I bought these things kind of as a down payment on a new life. At that time you weren’t really a part of it but maybe in the back of my mind I was hoping you would be. So I bought all that stuff in case I was to disappear into the woods never to return to Fort Worth or any city for that matter. Maybe deep inside I knew all along I’d try and get you to be my wife and we’d make a home where no law could catch us to hang you or throw me in jail for aiding an escaped prisoner. I think that is our only option, what say you?”

“I think it’s wonderful! Now please undress and tell me you love me.”

That morning we changed our direction and headed to a place I’d only read about in a adventure travel book , a small town trapped between the most beautiful forested mountains a man could imagine, Columbia Colorado.

Before we left for the western mountains of Colorado I had to remove all traces of me being a U S Deputy Marshal. I dug a deep hole and buried my badge and anything in our packs that could be associated with the Marshal service. That also meant my pistol had to go as it was issued and the serial number recorded. Our saddles were another thing as they were labeled USMS under the fender we had to bury them also. The hardest to deal with was our Marshal Service branded horses. We would have to buy two new horses and at some remote area, free our two USMS mounts to live forever free in the plains and mountains of Colorado. I’m sure the Marshal Service would eventually determine that the two of us were victims of either angry Indians or no goods looking to rob and kill us.  If they did an in depth investigation, they’d see that we got as for a Raton then from there it was anybodies guess at what happened to us.  In any case, they’ll write us off as deceased. Both of us had discussed even changing our names. We tossed around a few but were yet undecided on a new name. We did agree on Holly’s name, she would now be called Katherine or just Kat… short for wildcat.. She wanted me to change my name to stud but I nixed that one in a fit of laughter. I guess by the time we reach Columbia Colorado we’ll be husband and wife under new names.

We traveled the mountain passes and met a number of interesting people along the way. We were told we could buy horses in a town just ahead called Ophir. We did and later let our US Marshal issued mounts loose in a beautiful valley protected by a range of mountains to the west. They never looked back as we let them go.

It was two weeks later that we entered the valley of Columbia. By now we had changed our names. Holly was now known as Katherine Elizabeth Badger and I took the name Vernon William Badger. We thought the name Badger was a good play on words to what the jailers in Fort Worth called Kat. It took a few days getting used to our new names but eventually they rolled off our tongues without thinking.

The Columbia valley was more than beautiful, it took our breath away. There were Pine and Aspen covered mountains and lush valley’s containing a number of  trout laden mountain streams. We saw herds of sheep being tended to by a people called Basques. They were an extremely giving and helpful people. We stayed living with the Basques through the winter and when in the spring it was time to cut down the pines to build our cabin, they showed up bearing their axes and draw knives. In less than two weeks we had a three room cabin. We originally planned on a two room design but as Kat’s belly swelled, we added the extra room.

We opted out of the typical large open drafty fireplace deciding instead on a cast iron cook stove and two pot bellied stoves to heat with.

Since neither of us were farmers or cattle folks we ended up raising sheep along with our friends the Basques. Kat’s blond hair amazed the Basques women since the only hair color in that entire culture was pitch black.

We settled into our new cabin with Kat turning it into a home. We borrowed a wagon from our friends the Basques and rode to Sawpit to pick up the iron cook stove and pot bellied stoves plus tons of other things needed to ensure our survival. All in all it took three runs to the supply store to outfit the house. I closed my bank account in Fort Worth, having them send the cash via stage to Sawpit. It took five weeks but the stage finally rolled in with a lock box to be handed over to VW Badger. When it arrived we paid our bill off to the supply store and put half of the balance into the Sawpit Bank. The rest we keep at the house, well hidden of course.

When we returned from our last trip to Sawpit, our Basque friends and our nearby neighbors had a gift waiting for us at the cabin. They had erected a log lean-to out back that held eighteen cords of split wood! That was more than enough wood for an entire year! Kat broke down in tears while I held onto her in humbled disbelief.

All that has occurred to us recently has humbled us. Where once it was only Kat who expressed faith in God, I now have been spending time each day reading the Bible. I have decided to send away for a mail order course in becoming a Preacher through the Dallas Theological Seminary back in Texas. We have no church here in Columbia so all weddings, funerals and Sunday services must be attended in Sawpit or wait for a traveling Preacher to pass through the area, not a frequent occurrence for sure. I think I’d make a good Preacher of the word here in Columbia, folks here agree and I believe the Lord does too.

Kat has fallen in love with the wildlife here. Each morning the deer graze on our pasture right along with the sheep. She goes out and even has petted some of them. They seem to have no fear of humans. I make sure to hunt far away from our home because of this.

Columbia is so remote and difficult to get to that I’m betting it will take two hundred years for it to reach a population of even one hundred. But that’s fine, our great,great grand kids wont have to ever worry about over crowding in the tiny town even when they rename it twenty years hence to Telluride Colorado.

The End

Brodie Trail (known better as Dusty Trail to family and friends) and Craig O’Reilly grew up from near infants to young adults as inseparable best friends. It was a rare day when one would not find them tied at the hip fishing and exchanging day dreams of living out a Western dime novel. Although they lived within hailing distance of each other the two came from two different worlds. Born of Scottish parents, Brodie Trail as an adult stood a bit over six feet tall, a bit on the thin side with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Craig O’Reilly was born of Irish parents, stood a wee bit past five feet in height, a bit chunky from birth with flaming red hair and brown eyes.

Their physical appearance wasn’t the only differences between the best friends.

The State dividing line between West Virginia and Virginia ran down the center of the road between the two homes.

Before the war, both homes lay in Virginia but after a midnight meeting of the Secessionist Convention in 1861, West Virginia was born. Forced to straddle the new State line was the small hamlet of Peterstown, population one hundred and sixty two.

On the North side sat West Virginia, also the farm and modest log home belonging to the Trail family. To the south and not a hundred paces away from the Trail home, stood the much larger brick home of the O’Reilly family. While the Trails were farmers, the O’Reilly’s were merchants, owning the only Mercantile within half a days buggy ride. Both families had left their ancient homelands and settled in Virginia in the year 1847 during the great over seas potato famine. The two boys were born the same month in the year of 1848, exactly one year after arriving in America.

Although being politically and logistically separated the two families retained their close friendships.

The boys were inseparable. There was only a single school in Peterstown so whether living North or South, all attended the same single room school. It was during this time in school that Brodie acquired the nickname Dusty. Since the school was located at the towns only crossroads a half mile distant and having only dirt roads to get there by, many of the eight or so kids attending the school arrived powdered in road dust. Why the kids began just calling Brodie Dusty confused him since he wasn’t the only kid who’s clothes bore more dirt on them than the roads themselves. Be that as it may be, Dusty accepted the name since before then the kids called him ‘Brode the toad’.

As for the war, most town folks had no care what side their neighbors lived on, surviving the harsh Appalachian winters was their main concern and not some disagreement over slavery. After all, no one had ever met a single slave nor knew anybody that had even seen one. Slavery was the least thing on their minds.

Still, the two were dragged into the war on their respective sides and schooled in their respective militaries as to the need or evils of slavery. By the time the war ended, neither boy had increased their care or concern over an issue that seemed to be more oriented to the big cities of Richmond and Washington. After the war came to a close life quickly returned back to normal for all those living on the north or south side of the main road in Peterstown.

It was two years after the war ended on a beautiful spring day that found the two friends once again fishing along the banks of Rich Creek at the edge of town. Rich Creek was also the dividing line between the two Virginia’s.

The two competed for fish caught on their respective North and South sides.

“It’s near four o’clock Dusty, let’s call it a day.”

“I hear ya’. We caught enough to feed both our families and then some. Oh, I counted our fish, sixteen in all and I caught nine of ‘em, I won!”

“Only ‘cause you cheated! I saw your bobber drift over to the south side of the bank, everyone knows fish prefer livin’ in the South ya’ know.”

Laughing, Dusty reminded him, “Well, either way I won.”

As they made their way back to their respective homes by cutting through an outlying farm, Dusty thought on how the two were so mismatched yet got along so well.

In growing up, things like how much your family made over another had no standing on friendship. True, the O’Reilly house was grand compared to the Trail’s little log home. It had an outdoor stone stairway that led up to the veranda and front door. Thick white pillars supported an over hanging section of the attic and roof. Mister  O’Reilly had it built after seeing a few grand homes on his journey across the State upon his arrival to America. Everything about the two seemed to be in contrast with each other yet none of it mattered to either of them.

After the war’s end,  many Southerners found themself out of home and property due to the Northern led reconstruction program, the Southerners of Peterstown were left alone. It wasn’t kindness that saved them, it was their life long friends and neighbors living on the north side of the road that prevented their demise. Because of this, life went on uninterrupted.

Dusty knew he’d someday be asked to take over his fathers farm as he was the only child his mother gave live birth to. Four times she had miscarriaged after Dusty’s birth before a Doctor she sought out while visiting her sister in Blue Field told her to stop trying. He told her it was a miracle she carried Dusty to full term and that her female organs would fail altogether if she continued trying. She took it as most mountain women did. She shrugged her shoulders and said “A womans duty is to make children. If I die then it is the will of the Lord, not much I can or want to do about it”.

Her next pregnancy fulfilled the good Doctor’s warning.
With deep sadness, Dusty dug her grave while his father prepared her body for her burial. The Pastor from the Apostolic Church of the Redeemed came late to the funeral but still in time to say words over her as she was lowered into the grave. He was not the Trails first choice as they were Baptist but their own Pastor was bedridden with the croup. The most Reverend Jebediah P Clampet apologized for his lateness telling Dusty’s father that one of his Deacon’s had been bitten by a Deamon possesed rattlesnake during an earlier that morning snake handling service.

The Pastor then reminded all those within listening distance of the grave that the Deacons faith had waned recently thus allowing Satan in the form of a snake to bite him. He was left in the care of a group of women who would cast out the Demon of poison and pray him back to health.

The Reverend’s burial prayer droned on and on until Mister Trail ended it by forcefully grabbing the Pastors hand and shook it thanking him for the grave service. The Pastor kept his hand extended until it was realized he was waiting for his fifty cent funeral payment.

In November of the same year his wife died, Mister Trail gave up the ghost after a short bout of consumption. The wasting disease the local mountain folk called ‘the white death’ had been running rampant in the lower hollows and flat lands during this time.

After his fathers funeral, Mister O’Reilly asked Dusty if he would be up to speaking with him regarding the young mans future.

“To be honest Mister O’Reilly, I’d appreciate that talk. You see, I’m kinda’ lost. My father always made the farms decisions and I’m afraid he never took me into his confidence regarding anything beyond caring for the animals or being taught how to keep the mules plowing a straight furrow.”

“Why not come over for dinner tomorrow? We can talk then and besides I have something of your fathers that I wish to give you.”

“My father gave you something for me?”

“In a way yes. As you know, he didn’t believe in banks.”

“That I’m aware of, yes.”

“Well, your father knew I had a steel built Mosler safe installed into one of the the houses interior brick walls and after a time I had convinced him his monies would be much safer being held in my steel safe than in the canning jar he had hidden under your porch. He finally agreed and over the last few years brought over two more canning jars for me to safeguard for him.

“I did not know that Sir. Are these the items you are speaking of?”

“Those and more. ”

“That explains why he once told me that if anything were to ever happen to him to come and see you, that you would be of help to me.”

“Your father and I should never have been friends, he a Scott and me a Irishman, He a Northern and me a Southerner. But just like you and Craig, we had a great friendship. I told him that if ever the day came that you needed help, that I would treat you as my own son.”

Dusty was moved. He wasn’t sure if he should say ‘Thank You’ or not so he just instinctively held out his hand.

Taking Dusty’s hand in his he told him, “Come over at four, we’ll sit down for dinner at five.”

 

Chapter 2

Dusty climbed the stone stairs leading up to the wide veranda. At once he saw Mr. O’Reilly waiting for him holding out a large glass of lemonade. Dusty saw the glass had been filled with ice which pleased him. Iced drinks were a rare thing in the Trail home. Dusty thought of their own milk house that had been built over a natural 

artesian cold spring in order to preserve their milk and other perishables

Dusty was guided to a four seated wrought iron based table. “Please, sit here in the sunny portion of the porch, it’s much more comfortable on a chilly day like today.”

Seeing his neighbor dressed in a heavy over coat Dusty exclaimed,“We can go inside where it’s warmer if you wish.”

“No, I prefer the cool air, it helps me to breath. You see as a young man I had breathed a lot of coal dust working the mines in the old country.”

When seated, Dusty noticed two packages on the table next to where he sat. Pointing to the packages, Mister O’Reilly told him, “These are what your father asked me to harbor within my safe. I have no idea what is in them, only that your father told me to give them to you if he could not.”

Dusty lifted the first package and found it was a large canning jar wrapped in a burlap sack. Sliding the burlap down he saw the jar was filled with gold and silver coins. Dusty’s jaw dropped and sat wide eyed staring at the jar in front of him.

“Wha.. how… but my father was poor!”

His neighbor sat laughing,“Your father was never poor, he was the typical Scott. If you squeezed him hard enough he would bleed coins.”

“Oh my!”

“Go ahead, let’s see what’s in the second package.”

The next package was also covered in burlap but this was a tube over a foot in length and as round as his arm. Removing the burlap cover he saw a leather tube capped on each end with a pewter end piece.

Dusty slowly opened one end which exposed a portion of a parchment sheet.

Withdrawing the parchment from the leather tube he unrolled it.

After seeing what it was he looked up at his neighbor with a questioning look saying,“It’s a deed of sorts, but to what, I have no idea. Can you read it to me?”

Taking the sheet, his neighbor studied it for a few minutes then laid it down.

“Well son, your father purchased some land out west in what’s known as the Arizona Territory. The description here is from the surveyor. The deed describes the land and it’s location in the White Mountain range, about sixty miles north east of Fort Apache. The land consist of two hundred tillable and two thousand two hundred heavily forested acres for a total of two thousand, four hundred acres. The survey says there are three year round springs, a number of small ponds and a single large lake. The land is located between two small unnamed towns nearby. One is twenty miles north and the other ten miles to the south.”

“Arizona?”

“I have to be honest here son, This I knew about because your father had purchased this land from me. When it looked like the States would separate I wanted a place to high tail it to in case things went bad here in Virginia. After West Virginia broke off from Virginia, I figured the problem had solved itself. I had no use for the land. He begged that if I ever sold it to give him first rights in buying it. I told him if he really wanted it I’d sell it to him right then. We agreed on the price of fifteen cents an acre and the deed was drawn up. He told me then that he had always dreamed of moving out further west, that here he felt confined by modern cities such as Peterstown.”

“Then it’s true what my Ma had once told me, that he hankered to move to the wilderness. I thought it was just a daydream.”

“Your father, being the Scottsman that he was kept his business close to his chest. I’m not surprized he never told you, even your mother may not have known. He asked me to not reveal his purchase.

Dusty, I know you’re not cut out for farming, your father knew it too. He’d hoped to take you and your mother out west to the wilderness. It’s one reason he never built more than a small cabin, he never wanted to permanently settle here. So here’s what I’m going to propose to you. I will buy your farm here at a fair price. In return I want you to do two things. One, add the sale money of your farm to that of what your father left you and deposit it a large bank up in Charleston. Keep some out for traveling expenses. Then head out west to Arizona to your land there. Once there, move your money from the bank in Charleston closer to you over in Prescott Arizona for safe keeping. Make sure each bank will allow you to draw money by drafts. Second, Take Craig with you!”

“Take Craig with me, why?”

“Because since he’s come back from the war he hasn’t been the same. You have always been the wiser or the calm thinker between the two of you. Without you, he’ll end up going wild.”

“But weren’t you counting on Craig to take over the mercantile when you retire?”

“No, Craig has never wanted to be part of the business. His two half brothers will take over when it’s time.”

“Half brothers? He has half brothers?”

“I never told Craig this but I had been previously married. We had two children, twin boys. When I came to America they stayed behind to be raised by their aunt. There own mother did not survive their birth so her sister then legally raised them as her own. I remarried and later left Ireland for America. As they grew older their aunt asked if the twins could come to America as she was herself not in good health. I agreed wholeheartedly but on the condition that she remain as their legal mother.”

“So are they here in Virginia?”

“Every time you go into the mercantile you see them.”

“Not Sean and Brice! They are your sons?”

“Yes, even Craig does not know and I’m committing you to never tell him. You see, if Craig were to find out I’m afraid he would challenge any inheritance.

In place of an inheritance upon my death I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse, and then tell him of his half brothers. When he leaves with you he will leave with a trust of ten thousand dollars. With that he can buy a nice house to live in or a start a business or even become a cattle man with a ranch if he so wishes. Once he has been determined to be a responsible adult, the trust will open up fully to him. “

“Who’s to judge if he is responsible?”

“You, will be the judge of that.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I will know his progress as a responsible adult by your letters to me.”

Dusty sat pondering silently all that he’d been told. He knew Mister O’Reilly was a kind and thoughtful person but he never knew until now just how much he was.

“Sir, you’ve not only given me direction but the means to follow it. You could have stayed silent and kept my fathers deed and money and no one would have been the wiser. Thank you! I will watch over Craig and keep in touch with you as to our goings on.”

At this point dinner was announced so the two went inside.

During the dinner Craig was informed of his fathers decision. Dusty feared Craig would object but to his surprise Craig was all for it. As they ate a meal of pork roast with all the fixings, Craig expounded on all that he planned to see and do as the pair journeyed across the country to the wilds of the Arizona Territory.

Mister O’Reilly was also obiously releaved.

Chapter 3

“So why did you agree so readily to your fathers plan for you. It surprised me that you would give up your inheritance for a trust.”

The two had taken the stage from Peterstown to Princeton and from there to Charleston West Virginia. Once they had arrived in Charleston, Dusty was to deposit his fathers money along with the money he earned from the sale of his farm. In the meantime, Charleston was still over a half a day away so the two talked and napped when possible.

“When I came home after the war’, Craig explained, “I discovered I wanted more than sitting there looking at the same Virginia countryside. I had no desire to move to a big city but still wanted adventure and excitement. When he told us at dinner what he wanted from me all I saw was the chance to get out from under his thumb and start living my own life.”

“Surely it wasn’t that bad living with him, was it?”

“Naw, I just wanted to do something without someone looking over my shoulder all the time. Do you know that he never went to bed until he was sure I had returned home or that I had to be home by ten o’clock? I mean the Wailing Lady Saloon in town didn’t even open its doors until ten. I’d have to sneak out around midnight to go visit the soiled doves at the Wailing Lady or sit in at the faro table.”

Dusty remained outwardly calm but inside was shocked to hear his best friend was leading a double life.

“I wasn’t aware you did those things. When did all this come about.?”

“Dusty, when I killed my first Northern soldier I left behind my childhood. No offense about me shooting Northern folk but it was my job and I was pretty good at it. I received a letter of commendation for my sniping skills.”

“I’ll be, I never knew. How did your father take it that you were a sniper?”
”Ha! If he knew he’d have pulled strings and I would’ve ended up being a aide to some fancy pants officer. Nope, I told him I was stationed at the rear guarding supplies.”

“I guess you’re lucky to be alive. I heard snipers had a short life span.”

“Yup, a few friends never made it. But, I did and that’s all I was concerned about. I’d take my shot and run like hell! Ha ha ha.”

Dusty began to seriously doubt whether Craig was the same person he grew up with. He honestly realized he didn’t know his best friend anymore. His father was right, the war had somehow changed him.

The Craig he once knew would have never visited the Ladies of the night or sat with whiskey numbed gamblers till near dawn. And lying to his father was unheard of!

Dusty wondered whether or not it might just be a phase his friend was going through. Maybe this was some sort of way Craig was dealing with the atrocities of war that he had experienced. He decided it would be wise to keep a closer eye on his friend.

They left the stage, grabbed their belongings and headed to the bank to deposit Dusty’s small Fortune. Once inside they stepped up to one of the tellers barred windows.

The teller explained that Dusty needed to open an account and called for the bank manager to help Dusty with the needed paperwork.

The banks managers ushered the two into his office and after seating them asked just how much was to be deposited.

“Well, I figure most of it I guess. I’m going to need some traveling and supply money until we reach the Arizona Territory.”

The managers eyebrows raised, “Arizona you say?”

“Yes, I have a couple thousand acres there and plan to do something with it.”

“Hmmm, I see.” The manager thought one of his tellers might be making him the butt of a joke but decided to play along.

“Does that canvas pouch contain your deposit?”

“Uh, yes it does but I never had the chance to count it all.”

“Well then, why don’t we just pour it out on the desk here and we’ll count it out.”

Dusty tipped the canvas sack forward spilling forth the large amount of gold and silver coins held inside.

The bug eyed bank manager gulped and immediacy shouted to an unseen teller, “Johnson! Get in here on the double, these gentlemen need your assistance!”

A thin wiry looking bald but well dressed man with round spectacles appeared quickly in the doorway. His eyes fell onto the coins spread out on the managers desk. “Oh my, I see!”

“Oh, and there’s this too.” Dusty pulled out a thick roll of Northern paper money tied tightly with a blue ribbon around it. “I’m pretty sure this here is still good, isn’t it?”

The assistant nodded as if his neck were made of rubber, “I should say it’s good, very good indeed.”

An hour later the two left the bank with the paperwork and a leather case containing draft notes. From Charleston they took the train all the way to Kansas City Missouri.

Dusty had thought the train ride to Kansas City would be on a single train. Instead the two had to transfer to three different trains in three different cities.

Exhausted from their three day train ride, the two at last spent the night in a local hotel near the station in a real bed. Before they left for the hotel, they asked the station clerk what trains they should take to get to Arizona. The train station clerk laid out the best route but even with his help they could not reach Arizona by train. The closest they could get to was Dallas Texas. From there it had to be by stage coach to El Paso then back on a train to the town of Tucson in the Arizona Territory.

Again the trip would require multiple train changes to Dallas again using different rail lines to get there. The clerk wrote down each change and what rail line to take and to what city.

During this time it appeared that Craig was becoming his old pleasant self again.

In the morning they decided a big breakfast was in order. Stopping at a small cafe they ordered breakfast and drank a number of cups of coffee in order to fully wake up.

Dusty concluded that traveling had been good for his friend.

The night before they would roll into Dallas though Dusty once again had doubts. The train stopped in a town called Norman Oklahoma. The conductor told the travelers that there would be a delay until morning as one of the cars wheel trucks had burnt a sleeve bearing and the mechanic needed to replace it before heading out again.

Dusty told Craig he was going to secure a hotel room before eating and told his friend to go ahead and he’d catch up to him at the diner.

Dusty secured a room and walked down the street to the diner for a late meal. Entering the diner he looked around for Craig. His friend was nowhere to be seen and the diner had only a handful of folks eating as it was soon closing for the night. When the waitress arrived Dusty asked if his friend had been there.

“No, not that I saw and I’m the only waitress here.”

“Can I still order a meal?”

“Only if it’s the stew. It’s the only thing still hot”

Dusty shrugged and ordered the stew.

With a stomach full of beef stew Dusty wondered where Craig could have gotten off to. Looking up and down the short main street told him that only one establishment was now open at that time of night, the saloon.

It had been two hours since they parted ways at the station and Dusty began to fear the worst. Stepping up to the bar Dusty asked if the bar tender had seen a young man wearing a Southern gray Slouch hat and blue denim pants.

The bar tender pointed upward, “Upstairs with Dolly. Want a beer, it’s halfway cold.”

“Sure.”

Dusty took his ‘halfway cold’ beer and sat at a table waiting for Craig. After a sip of beer he decided the people in Oklahoma might have a different idea of what the word ‘cold’ meant. He slowly drank the room temperature beer and waited for Craig to come down. It was 2am when someone kicked his boot waking him. “Ready to head off?”

On the walk back to the hotel Dusty was given the sordid details of Craig and Dolly’s robust coupling. “Craig”, he told him as they neared the hotel, “some things are better left unsaid.”

“Like what?”

“Like what you do behind closed doors. What has come over you my friend? I mean you’re acting like Moose Cholak. You remember Moose?”

“Yeah, I remember the fat ass, nothin’ but a big paper tiger bully in school. Did you know someone beat him near to death a few months ago?”

“I heard that, what do you know about it?”

Instead of answering Craig just grinned.

“So it was you, wasn’t it?”

“Oh c’mon Dusty he deserved everything he got, probably more so. It weren’t like I ambushed him or anything, he called me a cheat at the table, what was I to do?”

“So you waited for him outside and then jumped him! That’s as close to an ambush as anything.”

“It weren’t exactly like that but yea, I waited for him. What was I to do? He’s a good foot taller than me an’ he must weigh in at over three hundred pounds! You think he’d fight me fair? Hell no! I gave him a chance, I called him out for him callin’ me a cheat.”

“His skull was crushed in, he’ll never be right again. Did you hit him with a brick?”

“Naw, I had roll of silver dollars, stuck em in a sock so they wouldn’t jingle when I snuck out’a the house that night. When He turned around I hit ‘em with the sock full of coins. How’s I to know it’d do what it did.”

“Well as of late you ain’t acting no different than Moose. I seen you change, you seem to enjoy intimidating folks, innocent folks too. I’d say you took over being the roll of town bully.”

“Dusty, this may come as a surprise to you but don’t think I haven’t wondered about all this myself. The only answer I can truly give you is the war and all the horrible things I saw and was even forced to do stripped away what innocence I had left in me. I saw what mankind is really like.

I saw a kid younger than me strutten’ around like a rooster after disemboweling some soul no older than himself while his fellow soldiers clapped him on the back? Do you think that kid started out that way? Did I?”

“No, I know you didn’t.”

“I’ve thought hard about what my father is having me do, and believe it or not, I know he’s right! Why do you think I take your rebukes? It’s because deep inside me I know you’re right, just like my father, all you two want is the best for me. Still, it’s like I’m overcome by some force that even scares me. I do things I’m not supposed to do and don’t do the things I am to do. I try to be like I used to be but I seem to fail at it.”

“I believe in the Bible the Apostle Paul wrote the same words about his own life.”

“You always were one to bring up the Bible.”

Dusty held open the hotels large door for his friend and together they entered the well lit foyer, it was nearing 3am now. Craig had insisted the two take separate rooms so at the end of the hallway they parted to go their separate ways. It was when Craig raised his arm to give a good night wave that the gun Craig had under his coat was exposed. Seeing the new Colt 45 sent a chill down Dusty’s spine.

Both sat bleary eyed at the cafe the next morning as they ate the cafe’s breakfast.

“We gotta’ get on to the train station Craig, the train’s conductor said it will leave at 8am sharp and it’s 7:30 now.”

“Alright, I’m done here, let’s go.”

The train changed again at Dallas and from there it took them to El Paso. This far south in Texas had no snow but it was still numbing cold outside. The passengers aboard the train were comforted by a small coal burning pot belly stove at each end of the car. Each time the conductor passed by he shake the stoves grates and toss in a couple fist sized coal lumps. Talk between the two was light, comments seemed mostly restricted to the weather or the scenery outside the cars window. In El Paso they were told the only route to Tucson was once again by stage. They paid four dollars apiece and stepped aboard the Butterfield Overland stagecoach going to Tucson.

The trip was uneventful except for the road itself. Two ruts cutting through the brush laden desert was as good as the road got. Besides each rut lay thousands of skull sized stones. Dusty figured this was Butterfield’s way of clearing the roadway. If the stage inadvertently left the rut, then those inside the stage were tossed violently to and fro as the wheels bounced over the stones. The driver and his shotgun partner fared the worst but they kept the horses at the same pace. Each passenger had been given a thick buffalo robe to fend off the cold with and it also helped to cushion the blows the coach recieved from the trail.

In the middle nowhere they overnighted at a Butterfield station halfway to Tucson and paid a dollar each for a hot meal prepared by the station mans wife.

It was rabbit stew with wild onions and seasoned with sage. In Tucson the two once again rented separate rooms and called it a night.

After the bumpy ride, Dusty barely found his way to the bed. After removing his boots he collapsed on the bed fully clothed.

It was sometime past midnight when he awoke to the sound of thumping on the wall. He knew that wall was the one separating his and Craig’s rooms. Unused to hearing the rhythmic thumping of a headboard banging a wall, Dusty had no idea what could be making the noise until he heard grunting and a woman moaning.

Shaking his head, he returned to bed covering his head and ears with his pillow.

At 8am the hotel manager knocked on Dusty’s door and called out, “Mister Trail, you asked to be woken at eight, it’s that time Sir.”

Still fully dressed, Dusty slipped on his boots, grabbed his belongings and banged on the door to Craigs room shouting, “Get outa’ bed Craig, we need to see about the best way to Fort Apache.”

It wasn’t Craig who answered but a female. “Go to hell and leave us be!”

Having lost sleep from their night long rutting, Dusty had reached the end of his rope. Grabbing the door knob he found the door unlocked and pushed it wide open.

Inside, the female once again began cursing for being disturbed. Craig had not woke up yet and lay there loudly snoring. Dusty was about to step back outside of the room when he saw an empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand beside bed.

Red faced with anger, Dusty pushed the door fully open and in no kind words woke up Craig by yelling at him.

“Get your dead ass outa’ bed this instant Craig or I call off our partnership and head out to Fort Apache alone. You want, you can spend the rest of your days drinking, gambling and waking up with a whore as old as your mother.  I don’t care no more if you tag with me or not!”

Slamming the door behind him, Dusty gathered up his belongings and made his way back to the Butterfield stage depot. There he asked the depot clerk the best way to get to Fort Apache.

“The only way there is by horse. If ya’ don’t got one I’d say Juke’s Livery might sell ya’ what ya’ want.”

Making his way to Juke’s Livery he turned when he heard Craig calling out his name.

Refusing to turn around Dusty kept walking.

“Aw c’mon Dust you aren’t that pissed at me are you? I was just about to get up when you stopped by.”

Remaining quite, Dusty continued to walk to the Livery.

“OK, OK, I admit, I drank too much and had a poke, so shoot me! By golly a man’s got needs you know, well, maybe you don’t know seein’ as I have yet to see you with a woman.”

At that Dusty turned and asked. “Craig, you and I have been best friends our entire life, why are you purposefully trying to destroy that?”

Chapter 4

The two put a patch on their friendship and rode out on two newly purchased horses and a pack mule for each. After buying saddles and tack for the horses and pack saddles for the mules they headed north out of Tucson into Tonto Apache Indian territory. The Tonto tribe wasn’t friendly but at the same time they had pretty much given up attacking white folk traveling through their land.

The total cost spent at the livery and the later stop for supplies at the mercantile ran the two over a hundred ninety dollars apiece. Just a few months ago Dusty would have never dreamed of spending that much for anything.

Since they were three three days out of Fort Apache and nearly three weeks after that before reaching the White Mountains near where Dusty’s land lay, they decided to make camp after a twenty miles into the desert. after twenty miles of desert. They had made camp after stopping at a small adobe trading post run by an old white man and his Popago Indian wife. They were now in what was called the Bro basin or Gold basin. Here a few gold mining camps were haphazardly scattered over the small Mica Mountain range. At the trading post they were told to avoid these camps if they did not want to lose their lives. They took the old man’s advice and skirted around them to the west.

They broke camp the next morning hoping to get halfway to Fort Apache. The day started out cold but soon warmed after the sun began to climb into the sky. At around noon, they stopped for a cold meal of Jerky and a few dried biscuits washed down by canteen water. It was then that they noticed the dust cloud behind them.

“Better keep that gun of yours handy” Dusty told Crag, “It looks like we might get some company.”

“How’d you know about my gun… never mind.”

Dusty had purchased a used Sharps rifle while at the Sutlers store back in Tucson where there were a number of post Civil War items for sale. He took it out of it’s long leather scabbard and slid a live 50-100 cartridge into the chamber. He then placed a number of the same cartridges in his coat pocket.

The group continued towards them but hadn’t pulled a single rifle or pistol yet so Dusty began to relax. When the two groups were within hailing distance the apparent leader raised his hand and yelled out. “Ho there, we’re friendly, just heading up north to Fort Verde!”

Dusty’s lowered his Sharps rifle and in return replied, “We’re headed up to Fort Apache ourselves. Where is Fort Verde located?”

“Allow me to light from my horse to talk?”

”Light but leave your Spencer behind.”

“Will do. Names Jasper Brown.”

The two shook hands. “Dusty Trail, This is my friend and lifelong pard, Craig O’Reilly.”

Very quickly and without really matching the men’s names to the person Jasper just rattled off their names with a wave of his hand.

“Leon, Jimbo, Turk and the two greasers are Jorge and Pablo.”

Dusty touched the brim of his Stetson to acknowledge the five yet wondering why someone would call Mexicans greasers or why the four whites would be traveling with such a scruffy looking duo like Jorge and Pablo.

Dusty noted the group had three fully loaded pack horses besides what was tied behind their saddles. On each horse hung two canteens but looking at the two Mexicans he saw little in the way of saddle bags or canteens on their mounts but each wore a double Colt set up and a cross bandolier fully filled with cartridges.

Jasper spit out a well chewed wad of chewing tobacco and asked, “So you’re headed up to Fort Apache, huh? Would it bother you if we rode alongside with you to the Fort? We’ve heard there are some greaser bands robbing and killing folks on the trail in the area. The more guns the better, no?”

“We heard the same, I have no complaints if you ride along but no way am I so trusting yet as to let you sleep in our camp at night.”

“No problem there friend, that’s right good thinking, for both of us.”

“Then you’re more than welcome to ride with us.”

That night everything went smoothly. The two groups ate separately then made separate camps a hundred yards from each other. Still, Dusty and Craig formed a night watch, changing every two hours.

On first watch Dusty could hear the group talking but they were far enough away that he couldn’t catch the words. By the time he switched watches with Craig the talking had stopped and he could hear snoring. He slept comfortably for the next two hours. Back and Forth they switched watches without incident. Dawn broke and since it was Craig’s watch he started their breakfast.

Back in the saddle they made good time, finishing the second day at the foot of the Superstition Mountains. Sometime tomorrow they should reach the Fort.

That night, Dusty felt the watch was no longer needed since the other group showed no signs of ill will to them so the two set their bedrolls in the sand and fell asleep.

Sometime after midnight loud laughter woke Dusty from his sleep. He could hear the boisterous Mexicans clearly. It sounded like they had been drinking heavily.

Dusty rolled over to see if Craig was as bothered by all the noise as he was. It was then he noticed that Crag’s bedroll was empty. It was then that he heard Craig’s voice and laughter from the other camp.

“Damn idiot!” He thought. “Once we get to the Fort I’m going to send his father a letter giving him the update he wanted on Craig. He’s not going to be pleased. Since we hooked up with Jasper and especially the Mexicans Craig seems to be going the opposite direction his Pa had hoped for.”

Around three in the morning Craig made his way back to camp and tried as silently as possible to pull off his boots and climb into his bedroll. He failed miserably as he loudly grunted and began to curse trying to kick off his boots. After failing that, Dusty noted that Craig gave up trying and slid his booted feet under the blanket. It reminded Dusty of the drunks in Peterstown. Too many times in his early morning trips to town he’d see fully clothed drunks sleeping in doorways or on the boardwalk in front of the saloon. He wondered how a man could lower himself to such a level. Now his friend was acting the same way.

As the eastern sky began to lighten Dusty noted while fixing up a breakfast that the other camp was already up and getting their day started, even the Mexicans. He looked over where Craig lay and he had yet to budge in his bedroll.

Dusty felt disgust for his friend and entertained the notion of just leaving him. But, too many years of good friendship halted that thought.

Craig must have finally smelled the now cold cooked bacon because he slowly rose from his bed. Looking around their camp he was surprised to see the campfire had been put out with water and a lone plate with the cold bacon and biscuits were sitting alongside a lone cold cup of coffee.

Seeing the pack mules and horses already packed up for travel he shouted questioningly at Dusty.

“What the hell’s this all about? You couldn’t wake me for breakfast?”

Fed up, Dusty walked up to his bleary eyed friend and shouted back at him. “I’ll tell you what’s up Craig! You spent the night drinking with your new greaser friends and barely made it back to camp standing up. You noticed one of your boots is still halfway off? You couldn’t even undress yourself! As for breakfast, I tried to wake you to no avail so don’t come yelling at me about your damn cold breakfast. I had half the thought of just packing up and heading out without you!”

“Well maybe you should have, you ain’t my father you know. I got my own life and I’m getting damn tired of living under everyone Ease’s rules. Piss on this, you want to leave then go!”

Dusty knew if he left Craig behind he’d turn around an hour later and see his friend sheepishly trailing behind him in the distance trying to apologize.

So instead of joining in the pissing match Dusty just told him, “Eat your breakfast, I’ll wait for ya’ to finish it and get saddled up.”

In response Craig stuffed his mouth full of cold bacon and one of the biscuits, the rest he tossed into the dead campfire, packed away the plate and cup and mounted his already saddled horse.

Chapter 5

 The two parties traveled north without incident and by evening Fort Apache could be seen in the distance.

It was decided that the two groups would wait until morning to enter the Fort.

Upon entering the Fort the next morning at daybreak, they were met by an obvious Irish Sargent who asked them their business at the Fort.

Dusty explained to the Sargent that they had traveled from Virginia and are heading to his property in the White Mountains. He asked if he or anyone else at the Fort could give them more precise directions on how to get there.

In a heavy Irish accent he answered,“The White Mountains you say? Could you be a wee bit more detailed as to the whereabouts this property is located? The white Mountains are take up a mighty big area.”

“I do have the deed, will that help?”

“It may. Tis your lucky day now lad, we happen to have a Government surveyor recuperating here after a recent tussle with a few Apache near Flowing Springs.”

“That would be of great help, thank you!”

“Follow me then laddy.” The Sargent directed the rest to where they could unpack and store their supplies. He ordered two soldiers to take the animals to the Fort’s livery when unsaddled.

The Sargent led Dusty to the camp infirmary where he introduced him to a man who lay in a bed. After the Sargent explained the predicament to the surveyor he turned and left without saying a word.

“Let’s see this property deed you have”, the bedridden surveyor told them. After much moaning the man made it to a sitting position. Dusty handed him the rolled up deed.

“Hmmm, Uh huh, Oh… Hammy. Ah, there it is.”

“You found the property?”

“As close as I can figure it anyway. The deed mentions three year round springs, a big lake and two towns, one twenty and the other ten miles away from the property. Add that information to the mention of it being sixty miles north of here and I believe I know where it is.”

As he spoke, Craig had entered the infirmery and stood beside Dusty after unloading their supplies into a store room.

“Would one of you please hand me my leather carrying case lying under this bed? I need to compare my official survey maps to the information on the deed.

Craig volunteered and lowered himself to his knees and fished out from under the bed the brown leather carry all case belonging to the surveyor.

After rummaging through the different land maps inside the case he finally pulled one out. Unfolding it across his outstretched legs on the bed, he ran his finger up and down the sheet until he stopped and looked up at the two and proudly said, “I found it!”

The two leaned over the surveyor in his bed to see where he was pointing at.

Dusty looked at the surveyor and exclaimed, “The word Alpine is written there, is that a type of tree, town or what?”

“Alpine is not a town, not yet anyway. We surveyors name places just to make it easier for future references. I actually did the survey to that area a number of years ago. I remember a beautiful lake in the valley that’s surrounded by tall pines up the mountain side. It’s God’s country for sure.”

“What do we need to do to get there from here?”

“There’s plenty of deer and elk so meat won’t be a problem and down in the valley you’ll have no problem growing future crops but there are some Indians still living in the mountain forest. Some are friendly, others not so. It’ll be up to you to find out which.”

“Since you’ve been there, what would be the best route to take?”

“From here I’d heads north for a week then northwest until you come to the White River. Follow the river east. Best not to use the river itself, you’ll be vulnerable to Indian attacks. Travel just a mile south of the river but keep it in sight. You’ll notice that cottonwood trees grow alongside the river so keep an eye on them. You can’t miss the White Mountains, they’ll cover the horizon. If I remember right there’s a big saddle formation where the pass is that will lead you into the valley.

I’m sure you’ll come across some Indians on the way and if they’re of the friendly sort they can help guide you. Just be sure to carry some cheap trade items as gifts or you might quickly find yourself missing stuff of higher value.”

After writing down the best trails and landmarks from the surveyors map Dusty left Craig to his own device and headed over to the supply building to buy some note letter wroiting paper.

Seeing a small room with a desk he asked a passing soldier if he would be allowed to use the desk to sit and write.

“That’s what the rooms for. Many guys prefer to read or write their letters in private. No one wants to shed tears in public.

Dusty sat at the desk and contemplated what he would write to Mister O’Reilly about his son Craig.

After ten minutes he opened the ink bottle and grabbing the quill pen he began to write.

Dear Mister O’Reilly,

 I trust this letter to you finds you and yours prosperous and in good health.You had asked that I keep you informed of your son Craig’s spiritual and growth as a man.

We have made it safely to Fort Apache here in Arizona. It has been a long and arduous trip and am excited to say we are nearing the end of it.

In regards to my writing you I will be as honest as possible.

 I wish I had news that bore positively in both areas but I am distraught to tell you that in my view is not the case.

 In my opinion, Craig has shown no growth in character or wisdom. In fact, the opposite could be said to be true.

 In my judgement, in leaving Peterstown and your oversight, that Craig found a sense of freedom. A freedom lacking in empathy for others compounded by a false sense of superiority. His demeanor is that of a rude, spoiled child who feels he is owed without labor the same material blessings others have worked hard for.

 Without my knowledge, he had purchased a firearm and had hidden bottles of whisky in his pack. He has taken to drink when away from my presence.

 We had joined another group of men traveling out of Tucson, some who ‘s morals are surely lacking. Craig seems to have been drawn to these two men in particular, Mexicans who’s nightly drinking seems to be their normal routine.

 During our travels, Craig has spent a number of evenings visiting the saloons and women there of ill repute.

 I am unsure if this is all a temporary falling away from his upbringing or if I am for the first time seeing the real post war Craig.

 I will continue to try to throttle down his activities as much as is possible but my fear is he will find my company too restricting and set off on his own.

 I remain respectful of you and yours, Brodie

 

Dusty put the letter in a thin leather mailing pouch and gave it to the soldier in charge of the Forts mail.

When the soldier saw that the letter was being sent to Virginia he replied, “It may take a month or more to arrive since it will be sent to Fort Ward near Alexandria first as there is no direct mail service to the the town you are sending this to. Military mail travels a different route than civilian mail but rest assured, it will eventually get there.”

When later Craig discovered drinking was banned by all except officers within the Fort he saught out the Mexicans. Together they devised a way to drink without breaking the Fort’s rules. Along with the two Mexicans and Jimbo Craig told the others that they were going out hunting for some fresh meat. The four soon rode out on horses borrowed from the Forts livery.

Craig doubted the story but let it ride. If somehow they returned with a deer that could restore some faith in his friend and if not, it wouldn’t surprise him.

Since he had the time on his hands he decided to bring he and Crag’s horses to the foundry and have new shoes put on them. The mules wore no shoes.

By nightfall none of the hunters had returned to the Fort and Dusty believed they’d show up in the morning with hang overs.

Dusty was correct about the four returning in the morning but none were sporting hang overs, the reason was they were still very drunk.

Not only that but Craig brought along a heavy set Apache girl with him.

At the gate the Sargent let the four in with the borrowed horses but barred the Indian girl from entering.

“She’s no permitted inside the Fort laddy, leave her outside where she belongs.”

Instead of complying Craig pulled out his pistol and drunkenly it pointed it in the Sargent’s direction, telling him, “And to do what? Poke her in front of you all? No way, I’m bedding her inside in private.”

In a move swifter than a large Irishman should ever be capable of, the Sargent grabbed the pistol from Crag’s hand and brought it crashing down on his head.

Turning to Dusty he told him, “He’ll be spender the rest of the day and tonight in the brig. Come first light I’ll release him to your care. I’m not gonna’ report him though seein’ as he’s Irish ‘an I know what whiskey does to an Irishman, even myself. If everytime an Irisman drank an’ ended up in front of a judge, why there’d be no Irishman walkin’ free in the streets.”

At 5am sharp the bugler played reveille and the Fort’s day started. Even Craig jumped out of the brigs cot, confused as to why once again he had slept in his clothes.

Slowly the memories of the day before began to filter through his alcohol numbed brain cells. Remembering the Sargent and how he thought he was mistreated by him brought a slew of swear words Forth.

Fortunately for Craig it was at that very moment the Sargent returned and threw the open door to the brig. “C’mon, out ya’ go laddy!”

Rubbing the sore spot on his head and still confused as to why he had slept in a jail cell Craig sheepishly exited knowing he must have fouled up somewhere.

During breakfast inside the mess hall Jasper approached Dusty and sitting down across from him at the table asked, “If it’s alright with you, It looks like our best way to travel is to ride along with you two until we get to the White River. From there we’ll part ways and be heading west to Payson town and from there drift north to Fort Verde.”

Wondering why the group was headed to a place called Fort Verde but afraid to pry into someones personal business Dusty instead asked Jasper, “That’s a strange name for a Fort what’s going on up there that they need a Fort?”

“It’s general Crooks Fort. He’s charged with keepin’ the peace there between the Yavapai and Apache tribes. He’s to round ‘em up and take ‘em out of the area.”

Jasper then volunteered the information Dusty was hesitant in asking him. “We all are seeking to get hired to ride out with the Calvary to assist in the round up. We were told the Army is paying five dollars a day. That’s big money”

“So there is Indian trouble up there?”

“There is one Some character named Geronimo that needs arresting. He’s been causing problems up there. He’s a Bedonkohe Apache leading a few other Apache tribes killin’ and murderin’ folks all the way from Mexico to the Arizona Territory. That’s the reason Jorge and Pablo are ridin’ with us, they lost family to Geronimo an’ they want revenge.

Just then Craig entered the mess hall and headed over to where Dusty and Jasper sat eating.

Seeing the condition Craig was in Jasper frowned and asked, “You look like hell this morning, you doin’ alright?”

“I feel like hell, someone better let me how I ended up behind bars. I can’t recall a damn thing.”

“Dusty curtly told him, “You got drunk, nuff said.”

“That much I figured. How I got a busted head and landed in jail I don’t.”

As they finished breakfast and were ready to get started out, the Sargent walked into the mess and headed their way.

“Mister Trail, Mister Brown, the Fort commander wishes to speak to the two of you as soon as possible.”

Dusty replied, “We’re about done here Sargent, we’ll be there shortly.”

“I’m coming too!” Craig added.

Jasper raised his eyebrows saying, “The commander huh? Must be important.”

Besides the two groups, other travelers had come and gone from the Fort on their way elsewhere. One such group that entered just as the three men headed to the commanders post was an elderly white haired yet strong and viral looking man. With the man came two women trailing behind him. One looked to be the same age as he so Dusty assumed it was the man’s wife. The other, still hidden in a heavy over coat and fur cap gave Dusty the impression of someone much younger. “Probably the couples daughter,” he thought.

As he passed the trio of newcomers Dusty glanced at the younger girl. For Dusty if time had ever stopped it was at this moment.

With little exposed except her face looking out from the big fur cap the girls eyes locked onto Dusty’s. His heart leaped, he had never seen such beautiful eyes. They seemed to call out to him, begging him to pay attention to her. A smile sprung from her face as if in recognition of him but Dusty knew he had never seen her before and then the moment passed and then she was past him.

Within two steps Dusty found himself turning to look behind him at the girl. At the same time she did the same to Dusty. Being caught in such a brazen act of staring, the girls face reddened but the smile remained.

The act of passing each other had seemed to take an infinite amount of time and when the two had finished passing by both knew their lives would be forever changed.

Craig watched the interaction of the two and pushed Dusty ahead jealously saying, “Now that’s what I want, you watch, I’m gonna mae her my girl.”

Dusty made no comment but knew the wedge between the two friends had just been driven deeper.

Jasper knocked on the Commanders door and the trio immediately heard, “Come in.”

After introducing themselves the trio were told to relax and have a seat.

“Cigar?” The Commander offered the three.

Jasper and Craig both reached out and thanked him. Dusty had never seen Craig smoke anything in his life but then this trip exposed many things about Craig that Dusty had never seen his friend do.

“The reason I wanted to speak to you all is that I was made aware that your two parties, although heading in different directions are planning on leaving here very soon.”

Jasper spoke up telling him, “That’s correct Sir. We planned on traveling to together as a single group until we came to the White River. From there we are going our separate ways.”

The Commander nodded and replied, “Uh huh, Have either or anyone in your two parties ever traveled further north in the Territory before?”

Both replied in the negative.

“I didn’t think so or you would have known that traveling north of here this time of year makes it’s doubtful you’ll ever get to where you’re headed.”

“Why is that Sir,” Dusty asked.

“Weather! I can tell you all have a Southern accent and this is most likely the furthest north you’ve ever traveled. Am I correct?”

Again, Dusty answered, “That is correct for us, I never asked Jasper about his earlier where-a-bouts. Like you I assumed though that he was a southern man.”

Jasper replied, “Beaumont Texas born and bred, Sir”

“As I figured. Folks think of the Arizona Territory here as one big hot desert, nothing could be further from the truth. Mister Zales, our recovering surveyor informed me of your separate destinations and I felt compelled to ask you to wait out the winter here instead of leaving. nIt’s for your own safety.”

Looking at the two friends he said, “As for making it to Alpine in the coming months? Forget it. You’ll be crossing some of the coldest barest desert you’ve ever imagined. The winds get so strong that horses have been seen standing frozen to death come morning. Then you still need to make your way through the White Mountains with their heavy snows. Again, you’ll never make it through alive. Snow can get so deep in places it passes the height of a horse.”

Jasper ran his hand across his forehead and asked, “Is that about the same making our way to Fort Verde?”

“I’d say it was a foolish act but no, if you left now, you stand a better chance of making it. Mind you though, it will still be mighty cold along the way and the Black Mountains surrounding Fort Verde do get a good dumping of snow that can trap you in some of the passes there. If I were a gambling man I’d give you a 60% chance you’ll miss the snows… if you left this week that is.”

“I’ll need to talk to my men but my desire is to get to join up with General Crook as soon as possible.” Replied Jasper.

“Well, you do that. If you all decide to winter it out here at the Fort all we ask is that you participate in the hunting of meat and collecting firewood. I may also ask you to help in some of the Forts repairs from time to time. Let me know of you’re decision.”

The two groups decided to discuss the situation around one of the mess hall tables. Once seated, Jasper told his men what the meeting with the Commander was all about.

“I may be heading our travels up but it’s being left up to you all whether we risk the journey up to Fort Verde or not. My feelings are we should but don’t let that influence you none.”

After a show of hands Jasper and his men decided to risk it.

“As for myself,” Dusty told them, “It’s my land we we’re heading up to and I can’t put Crag’s life in danger by making the trip to something he doesn’t own. So, I’ll be staying here.

Craig looked over at Jasper saying, “I never got a chance to tell Dusty about my decision to travel with you.”

Looking at Dusty Craig told him, “I asked Jasper earlier in on our way here if I could join up with them. I may or may not decide to join up with Genera Crook but Dusty, I want to strike out on my own, I just never made the time to tell you.

Dusty sat back looking at his friend. “You never found the time or were you too afraid I’d buck the idea?”

“Kind of both I guess. Look Dusty, we been friends since childhood but I’m tired of being told what I can and shouldn’t do. I’m a grown man. Maybe I found I like the new me. I like getting riled up drinking, I like coupling with women, even fat ugly and old ones, it makes me feel I’m in control. I have needs that go beyond just pleasure, that’s why I never let a woman lay a’top me, I need to be on top, I need to be in control not her!”

Jasper turned to Dusty saying, “I told him he could follow along with us as long as he could pay his own way like each of us do. If he don’t, I told him we’ll cut him loose.”

“So I guess it’s just me weathering out the winter here at the Fort. When do you think you’ll be heading out then Jasper?”

“I figure we need to grain up our animals for a couple more days, put some weight on ‘em before we ride out. I’d say in three days.”

Chapter 6

That evening as Dusty made his way past the Forts commissary the girl who’d caught his eye rounded the corner of the commissary and ran headlong into Dusty.

Both plied excuses and begged forgiveness until the both broke out I laughter.

The girl, still wearing the heavy over coat but without the big fur cap stuck out her hand telling him, “My name is Holly, Holly Carr. What’s your name?’’

Becoming red faced and feeling like he just chocked on a dried up biscuit, Dusty replied. “Uh… Dusty. Dusty Carr… no, I’m sorry not Carr, that’s your name, my names Brod.. er Dusty Trail.”

Brodie was smitten tongue tide. With the large fur cap removed he saw just how beautiful she was. Her long hair was so blond and fine it looked nearly white. What had caught his attention from the first was her eyes. They were so unusually green and if eyes could actually smile, hers did.

“The girl covered her mouth to hide a giggle, “Dusty Trail? Really or are you making fun of me.?”

“No, honest, my name is Dusty Trail. Brodie is my real name but folks all call me Dusty.”

“Well I’m sure there is a story there somewhere but I think I’ll call you Brodie I like it better than Dusty.”

“Sure, go ahead if you wish to.”

“Besides a grown man needs a name befitting him, Dusty sounds like a child’s nick name.”

“If you only knew!”

Mustering what face he had left he asked her, “Uh, Miss Carr, may I walk with you for a moment?”

Holly did not answer right away but she did slide her arm into his.

“Where were you going?” He asked.

“Just walking, I like to walk.”

“Where are you from?”

“I was born in Holland so I can never run for President of the United States. I was just an eight months old when the ship landed. My grandparents were waiting at the dock in Boston when I arrived.”

“You mean when you and your family arrived, don’t you?”

“No, they all died on the way over, only I survived.”

“What? What happened?”

“I was told our ship had a previous voyage carrying negro slaves from West Africa to Arabia. I guess they had some disease because I’m told it was just days after leaving Holland that the illness on board broke out. Since I was just an infant, I was kept way down below where the ship doesn’t rock so much. I never became sick but my family did and they all died.”

Dusty did not know what to say. What words could ever comfort someone who lost their entire family? Not wanting to pry but still very curious he asked her. “So the elderly couple you arrived with are your Grand parents then?”

“Yes, we are on our way to Utah.”

“Utah? That’s Mormon territory isn’t it?”

Holly’s face fell, “I guess, you see Grandpa has converted to Mormonism and said his Bishop has found a good match to be my husband there.”

“Is that what you wanted? A husband you never met?”

“I have no choice. My Grandfather has already agreed to the Bishops choice.”

“But that makes no sense, a girl should marry out of love, not by being forced.”

“I had always dreamed of being in love. My parents were said to be in love.”

The couple reached the end of the row of buildings and turned to walk back. Dusty could not imagine being forced to marry someone. He knew that in some smaller towns the pickings weren’t very plentiful but that seemed so different than being forced.

“Are you staying the winter?” She asked, “We are. We were told we would not make it to Utah unless we waited for winter to end.”

“Yes, only myself out of our two groups are staying. The others are leaving in a few days for a place called Fort Verde.”

“I never heard of Fort Verde but I’m glad we are staying here for the winter. My Grandma has a bad heart. Grandpa did not want her to come but she insisted saying a young girl should only travel if another older woman is her consort.”

“Well, that much I can agree with. ”

“What about you? Do you want to marry?”

He responded smiling broadly “Sure I do, and I want children too! I am going up to a place called Alpine to settle there. I am told it it a beautiful place, lots of forest, clear streams, and over two hundred acres of tillable land! It’s where I can raise a wonderful family with a loving wife at my side.”

Holly seemed to stare off into the sky’s blue expanse, “You make it sound so wonderful. Do you have someone special you are meeting there?”

“Oh no, I have no one. I hope that changes after I build a home and get the land tilled.”

By now they had once again reached the commissary where they had began their walk. Disengaging her arm from his she quietly told him how much she enjoyed their walk and hoped to walk with him again soon.

“I would like that. He told her”

That night he could not sleep. He re-ran their conversation over and over until well past midnight when he at last fell asleep.

The next morning saw the two friends in the mess hall eating breakfast.

“So I saw you sweet talking that new girl yesterday. You do know she’s to marry a Mormon don’t you?”

“Yes, she told me.”

“To think a girl like that would marry some Mormon over three times her own age, it’s “disgusting. I was also told the man already has a wife!”

“What?”

“Yep, and the man she’s to marry is the bishop himself!”

“Where did you hear all of this? She told me she didn’t even knew who she was to marry.”

“Lot you know about her then!”

Craig took delight in telling him the rest.

“Her Gran-daddy told me all about it. See, I tried to spark her but he told me to stay away from her. He said that she’s promised to some Mormon Bishop, and because they’ll be related after the marriage the Bishop is sending him up to some big city up in Utah to serve in their temple. She’s going to live along with his first wife south of there in a town called Provo”

“You’re right, it sounds disgusting.”

Craig smirked, “A young girl like that should have her honey pot broken into by someone nearer to her own age. At least then she’d have something to think on while that old buffalo is humpin’ on her. Now if I was to break her she’d have a memory for a lifetime. Yes Sir, the things I would do to her would make her toes spin.”

“Just behave yourself Craig, remember, this is a Military Fort. Besides, you’re starting to sound scary.”

As Dusty left the mess hall he spotted Holly standing in the deep morning shadows slightly under an exterior stairway that led up to the unmarried officers sleeping quarters.

Catching his eye, she hastely waved him to come over.

“I’m so glad I caught you before Grandpa comes out. It takes him a while to dress and feed Grandma so I have some time. I wanted to tell you yesterday later in the day but didn’t see you and Grandpa has become suspicious of my actions ever since he caught your friend showing his unwanted interest in me. I don’t care for your friend, I’m sorry but I think he’s lewd.”

“I understand, yesterday I spoke to him and told him to behave himself. He seemed overly pleased in telling me what your Grandfather told him… about you getting married and all.”

Holly dropped her head and her smile left her face. Dusty noted then that she had tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked up miserably into Dusty’s eyes and blurted. “Oh Brodie!” She preferred calling him that over Dusty. “I’m doomed!

“About your marriage?”

“Yes about my marriage! After our wonderful walk yesterday my Grandfather told me all about it. I’m to be a second wife to some old man who bribed my Grandfather into giving me to him! This is not what I had dreamed of as a wife! I wanted someone who loved me and I loved, who was my trusted friend, someone my heart yearned after… someone like you Brodie.”

At that Holly’s heart burst and she began to cry.

In a natural response, Dusty took her into his arms and held her tight. She hugged him back, burying her face into his neck and let her tears flow.

After a minute or two she calmed but remained clinging to him. With tears she continued to repeat her outburst that she was doomed.

Knowing nothing of Mormonism or even if it were legal to have two wives, Dusty was at a loss for words so he just held her.

“Holly, I’m so sorry.” He told her quietly into her ear. “If I had the power and right I would take you away from here. I’d give you the dream you wish for. The home, the love, the family… everything.”

Holly slowly pulled her tear stained face from his neck, looked into his eyes and softy spoke. “And I would willingly go with you Brodie. I know it seems impossible but my heart has fallen in love with you though we’ve only had one walk together.”

Dusty exhaled deeply telling her, “I did not know what loving a girl was all about, until now. I ran through our conversation a hundred times last night. I’ve never been in love before but as much as I can be, I believe I am. Thinking of you marrying another makes my heart ache so I must be in love.  ”

Eventually the sad couple had to part as Holly feared her Grandfather might catch them in their embrace. If that happened Holly knew she would never be trusted to be alone again and it would be torture to see her love each day throughout the winter and never be able to speak to him.

After parting, Holly told him. “I was told my duty today at the Fort is to perform the store room’s inventory along with my Grandfather. I had better get inside and start. My Grandfather should be along shortly and I need to fix my face and dry my eyes before he comes.

“You go then, but I will be thinking of you. I promised Jasper that I’d give Craig’s horse and pack mule a good going over before they leave. I don’t think Jasper trust Craig to do it.”

“Brodie, I know I was being forward in what I just told you but I would never take those words back.”

“Nor I Holly. Now go.”

Unbeknownst to the pair, Craig had been watching the two but was unable to hear their intimate conversation. His eyes narrowed but smiled when he saw Holly enter the store room alone and close the door behind her to keep out the cold.

As Holly busied herself opening crates and counting the contents she heard the door open and felt the rush of cold air. Believing it was her Grandfather, she did not turn around until she heard, “So we’re finally alone!”

A deep chill ran down her spine and panic rose within her.

“M-My Grandfather will be here soon! Should he catch me alone with you he will surely severely punish me.”

“Who cares, I promised myself that before I left here I’d feel what it was like to bed you!”

Saying that, Craig quickly stepped forward to the frightened girl and in a single move

ripped open her winter flannel top, exposing her virgin breast. Seeing their perfection, he violently forced her to the floor where he began his molestation.

Suddenly she began to scream. She screamed so loud it hurt her throat.

But, rather than stopping him it seemed to excite him even more.

Craig was never one to think his actions through to completion. All that consumed him was the thought of over powering and raping the young girl. Hearing her scream raised his desire to molest her even more, not out of love but that of control.  Because of his lack of forethought he was unaware that her screams could be heard throughout the Fort.

In his blundering attempt to remove the screaming girls clothing, he found that it was a much more difficult task than tearing off the cheaply made attire saloon whores wore. In his frustration, he also discovered his own pants refused to open.

So intent was he that he did not hear the door being kicked open behind him. He only turned when it opened and loudly slammed itself against the wall.

Turning his head away from the girl in order to see who had entered he then saw the girls Grandfather standing there. Red faced with anger the old but still muscular man charged forward into the room. Craig quickly rolled off the girl grabbing at his holstered pistol.

The screaming girls Grandfather rushed towards the Craig ready to do Battle with his clenched giant fist. But, an enormous ear shattering explosion from Craigs gun stopped him in mid step.

Craig had just enough time before her Grandfather reached them to pull off one shot. Fortunately for Craig and unfortunately for the Grandfather, the 45 caliber slug tore through the old man’s neck, nearly severing his head from his body.

Rolling himself to a kneeling position, Craig once again cocked the single action Colt 45 knowing someone may come through the open door at any moment. He had only a split second to point it forward when the figure of the Sargent filled the doorway.

Unaware of the Sargent’s training, Craig fired wildly at the opening but the Sargent had upon entering immediately threw himself to the left of the opening and fired his own pistol.

Craig’s bullet shot harmlessly through the empty doorway just missing Dusty’s scalp who was only a step behind the Sargent.

The Sargent, having a double action pistol quickly followed his first shot with two more.

Within the smoke filled store room two bodies lay dead.

Within seconds a multitude of soldiers began filling the doorway. The ever diligent Sargent ordered the crowd of soldiers to disperse and return to their duty. Slowly they left leaving Dusty and the Sargent alone with the terrified girl.

Upon seeing Dusty, she rose while attempting cover herself but more intent on throwing herself into Dusty’s waiting arms.

 

Chapter 7

 

Holly had little desire to see her Grandfathers mutilated corpse. It wasn’t out of disrespect but the grossness of the headless corpse scared her. Realizing there was nothing the two could do to help, they left the store room after Dusty spoke to the Sargent. He kept her hand within his as he escorted her to the unmarried women’s quarters to fix her face and change out of her damaged blouse.

As they made there way, Holly suddenly stopped him saying,“Oh my gosh Brodie, I need to tell my Grandma what just happened. She still thinks Grandpa and I are busy taking the store’s inventory.”

“Holly,” Dusty gently told her, “I just spoke to the Sargent about that. He told me he’d take care of that duty and for another thing, you really need to change your torn shirt before you go anywhere.”

Realizing she had forgotten her winter coat and had done a perfectly innadiquit job of covering herself, she reddened and said, I’m sorry you saw my nakedness Brodie, a girl’s biggest fear is that after seeing her unclothed, her husband might find her lacking.”

“My dear Holly, put away any fears you have concerning that subject, in my eyes you’re perfect.”

Holly squeezed his hand and told him to wait outside her quarters for her to return. Dusty, now even he preferring to be called Brodie saw the Sargent making his way up to the building that the Carr Grandparents had been given to stay in.

In short order Holly changed and made her way back to Brodie’s side saying she wished to be there when the Sargent informed her Grandmother of her husband’s murder.

As they neared the quarters, they heard the Sargent shouting an order for someone to get the Fort’s Doctor.

The couple look at each other and without saying a word began running all the while still holding hands as they rushed towards the Grandparents quarters.

Upon entering the room they quickly saw the bed which the Grandmother was lying in had had its sheet pulled up to the headboard.

“Holly stood wordlessly then mouthed, Grandma?”

The Sargent removed his issued cap and held it in his two hands. “I’m sorry lass. When I told her what happened, she moaned once and gave up the ghost.”

Brodie saw pools of wet tears brimming in her eyes. To no one in particular she said, “She loved him dearly even though he had never said a kind word to her.”

Early the next morning at daybreak Brodie and Holly watched Jasper and his men moving out to beat the coming winter. Having never met the grandparents and intent on their leaving, they did not stay for the Carr’s double burial.

Having shook Brodie’s hand goodbye from the saddle, Jasper winked at he and Holly and said, It’s a mixed blessing on all accounts. I only told Craig he could ride with us because I knew he’d never join up with Crook’s men. I’m sorry, but he had no sand to be a man.”

The two watched as Jasper and his men turned north and rode in the direction of the distant Black Mountains.

Standing there as they watched, Holly turned to Brodie and said, “Yes, it is a mixed blessing. Through these terrible deaths you are now free of your obligation to his father and I am now free to marry for love. It’s ironic in ways. I am now free but I have no where to go to be free. Sure, I have the money my grandfather had in his money belt but other than that, I don’t know how to start over.”

“Holly, I spent a sleepless night thinking of you and your future. I know you feel something towards me and I know I have deep feelings for you so…”

“Brodie, I have much deeper feelings toward you than ‘just ‘something’. I am in love with you. I too spent the night pondering my future. I’m not sure if you are ready or even willing to be married in this stage of your life but if you were to ask me, I would not deny you.”

“Then you would not turn me down if I asked you to be my wife? Even though we’ve only known each other for a week?”

“Yes, if you go ahead and ask me.”

“Then I will. Holly would you do me the greatest honor in my life and become my wife? I promise to love and protect you all the days of my life.”

“Yes, I will marry you. But, we need to attend to my Grandparents and Craig’s burial first.”

“I wonder what your Grandfather would think knowing you will never marry the Bishop or follow the Mormon faith.”

“I’m sure he would be very displeased. He was a strong minded and self centered man. If one were to cross him in any way, he’d hold it against you until he had his way. I never loved the man, instead I feared him. He was a zealot in his faith and nothing less than that mattered to him. Sure, he provided but only because he had an end plan that would raise his esteem within the Church. My Grandmother I loved and I will miss her but my Grandfather? No, I will not weep over him.”

“Is there any other family?”

“No, my Grandparents were the only family I had in this country.”

“What about you Brodie, you never mentioned your family.”

“Well, I’m kind of alone also. My Mama died giving child birth and a year later my Dad fell ill with consumption and passed. He left me a good savings and the land in Alpine that I am heading up to. As for Craig, I grew up with Craig. He was my lifelong best friend and next door neighbor but the war changed him and he went bad.”

“I can attest to that!”

I’m so sorry, he made comments about you but In all my days I never imagined he would try and molest the girl I was sweet on.”

“So you were sweet on me? When did you know?”

“The moment our eyes locked on each other.”

“How sweet!” She said lifting her face she kissed his cheek.

—————————————————–0————————————————-

The first burial held was Holly’s Grandparents. The soldiers had dug two graves, one large enough for two and a lone single grave much further away.

The ground was only frozen for a few inches from the surface so it wasn’t too difficult to dig to the proper depth.

The Fort’s Chaplin prayed over them not knowing the grandfather was a devout Mormon. To Holly it made no difference. When he prayed for her Grandmother Bodie noticed her tears were once again flowing.

Within minutes following her Grandmother being lowered beside her husband Holly and Bodie made their way over to where Craig was to be buried.

The Chaplin made his way over and once again prayed over the body before it was laid to rest.

At that moments, Brodie told the others that he wanted to say a few words over the grave.

“Craig,” He spoke looking into the hole and down at his friend, “You and I grew up being best friends. We were inseparable. We fished together, explored the country side and spent many a night camping under the stars together, I loved you. But, the war changed you. If you had not died, we would most likely have ended up worst enemies rather than best friends. I am marrying the girl you viciously attacked. It will take some time to forgive you for that. I would never have wished you being killed but I believe the Lord knew you would not have stopped but continued so he took you away for others sake.” As he threw a handful of cold earth on top of the canvas wrapped body he quietly said, “Goodbye Craig, I pray the Lord has mercy on you.”

The couple stayed behind watching the others return to the Fort but asked the Chaplin to hold up a minute.

“Chaplin,” Brodie asked him, “Would it be possible that you marry Holly and I?”

He quizzically looked at the two, shrugged and replied, Yes, I can marry you two and give you the necessary legal marriage papers. When were you thinking of?”

Holly spoke up. “Would today be possible? I don’t want to be alone tonight. Last night I could not even close my eyes. ”

The Chaplin smiled and reassured her it was fine. “I understand. You’ve been through a lot the last two days.”

Brodie then asked Holly if he could invite the Sargent and Commander as witnesses.

Holly thought inviting them was a wonderful idea and said so.

As spring approached, the Trails became excited about leaving the Fort and heading up to Alpine to settle the land inherited by Brodie.

There were other families that had arrived to take shelter in the Fort after Holly and Brodie were married.

During the winter months the Forts wintering over families got to know each other and a few strong friendships were formed.

The Trails were delighted to find that two other families had purchased land in or near Alpine.

The Huff family consisted of four teenage children, mother and father.

The Andersen were recently married and she was with early child.

Nearing his mid forties, John Huff had been in Alpine two years previous and was the owner of the Huff Lumber and Sawmill company that he had started near Alpine. Besides the lumber mill, he had commissioned the building of a frame house for he and his family to live in. Huff’s wife and children had stayed behind in Alabama during his previous visit and were excited to once again be a united family.

The young Andersen family were nearly the same ages as the Trails. This really excited Holly who as a young girl was never permitted to have any real friendships. Her Grandfather had even denied her the ability to be bucolically schooled, favoring private Mormon tutors.

Most of the other families waiting for good weather were heading up to the more north westerly town of Prescott. They had been told it may become the State capitol someday so many saw dollar signs in starting new businesses there.

Both families, the Andersen and the Huffs, had arrived hauling large converted ore wagons to carry all their supplies, budding materials and house hold goods. The Anchorperson’s converted Studebaker wagon could easily carry over ten tons fully loaded and required a minimum of eight mules to haul it.

The Huffs arrived in a converted Newton wagon, one of the largest wagon’s ever built. This immense wagon had enough room in it to carry a steam driven plank planer and tractor sander besides the family’ household goods. Thirteen to eighteen mules were required to haul the Huff’s Newton heavy freight wagon with it’s four large six foot diameter and ten inch wide wheels. When Huff arrived he had fourteen mules and was interested in buying four more from the Fort’s livery.

After seeing these monster wagons Brodie felt that maybe he should also invest in some sort of wagon. When it was just he and Craig, sleeping under the stars was no problem, but now he was a married man and could not ask Holly to travel that way.

During the winter he purchased a smaller Blaine made wagon. It had been used to haul goods from Tucson to the Fort and back. A broken rear axle saw it never returning to Tucson. For the last two years it had been stored outside the Forts rear gate under a canvas tarp.

The Commander sold the wagon to Brodie for ten dollars and threw in the Fort’s Black Smith to fabricate a new iron axle to replace the broken wooden one for a dollar. It was a lighter wagon, having only four foot diameter and four inch wide wheels but Brodie was going to dual much less than the others.

Little by little Brodie accumulated the needed supplies to make the trip to Alpine.

His fortune continued when John Huff told Brodie he was more than welcome to the large canvas tent the Huffs had been using on their trip after the Huffs arrived and moved into their newly built home. When Brodie asked the price John told him he wasn’t interested in selling it but instead was giving it to him. This answered the problem of what he and Holly would live in during the time it took to build their own home.

The tent was nearly as big as his old home in West Virginia. Three inch thick wooden poles supported thick canvas and it housed a steel wood burning cook stove for cooking and keeping the tent warm. Brodie decided it was perfect .

On an overcast spring day the three wagons formed a line and rolled out from the Fort’s front gate. Having said their thank you’s and goodbye’s the three families pointed their wagon train north east to eventually parallel the White River then turn onto the trail going to Alpine. Following the map drawn by the surveyor, they were ab;able to avoid areas forbidding the wagons.

It took three weeks to journey from the Fort to Alpine and both Brodie and wife Holly could not arrive soon enough. Although the trip was uneventful regarding Indians and the feared Mexican bandits, it wasn’t without their share of mishaps and tribulations.

One of the Huff’s boys had a foot rolled over upon by the huge Newton wagon, soundly breaking it. In another incident one of the Andersen’s mules stepped into a hole and broke its leg. The mule had to be put down but knowing Indians loved mule meat it was decided to butcher it and give it to the first Indians they came upon.

Now with only seven mules to haul their wagon Brodie loaded onto his own wagon the four thirty gallon barrels containing the Andersen’s water, coal oil, flour and dried apples.

Neither Brodie nor Holly had spent more than a few hours riding in a wagon so were unaccustomed to what effects the swaying and bouncing had on the behinds. After each days trip, the two would slow and painfully step down from the bare wood wagon’s seat.

Making their way to where the campfire would be they both sat down gently.

John Huff saw the situation and after a few days finally pulled Brodie aside and told him, “Put a blanket over the plank seat Brodie, it’ll save you and yours from loosing some flesh!”

It helped but was a bit late in preventing the already smarting blisters each now sported.

Previously while still at the Fort, the surveyor went over the land deed to identify the properties survey markers where about’s that had been put there when his father had purchased the land. The first and starting marker was located along the small lake’s southern shore at a small inlet creek. From that point Brodie could discover the other boundary markers and view the layout of his two thousand plus acre property.

He told Brodie, “There’s a notation from your father that’s written on the back of the deed saying the survey markers were to be steel rods painted yellow and protruding no less that two feet from the ground.”

On Sunday the fifth of May, the Trails parted ways with the other two families and took a trail that should take them to his property’s small lake. As it turned out, the Andersen property was less than a mile from the lake but to the east at the end of the Alpine valley. The Dale Andersen had grown up on a farm and planned to continue being a farmer. The acreage he had purchased was one of the few places within the valley besides Brodie’s land that had enough tillable acreage to support a good sized farm.

John Huff’s home and lumber company was closer to the most northern town near Alpine at a distance of seven miles from Brodie’s land.

By late Sunday afternoon the Trails rolled up and halted their wagon on the south shore of their lake.

Holly lowered herself down from the blanketed wagon seat. She walked towards the shoreline. Her right hand was raised to cover her mouth as if she were afraid to speak, that the spell might be broken.

Her eyes traveled the length of the placid lake and returned to gaze upon it and the deep forest behind it.

She heard Brodie jump down from the wagon and approach her from behind. Before he reached his awe struck wife she turned to face him, her mouth still covered but now tears flowed freely down her face.

“Oh my Land”, she finally uttered quietly, it’s the most beautiful land I have ever seen!

Brodie reached out and from behind her wrapped his arms around her not speaking.

“Please, tell me this really yours?” Her eyes closed still pleaded with him to say yes.

Brodie leaned slightly forward and placed a light kiss upon the nape of her neck.

Hugging gently he whisperd in her ear. :No…”

He felt her stiffen in his arms but relax when he finished by telling her

“It’s not mine, it’s OURS!”

EPILOG

The couple spent that summer living in the large tent given to them by the Huff family while Brodie cut down the amount of Ponderosa pines needed to build their home. These were hauled up to the Huff Lumber and mill to be cut into useable lumber. The wood would still need to be stacked and dried for a complete year before they could be used to build the home with. In the meantime, John Huff delivered enough lumber at no cost for the couple to build a small two room cabin to live in during their home’s construction. That cabin later would eventually house the ranch foreman.

Before they left the Fort, Brodie had taken the time to write Mister O’Reilly regarding the death of his son Craig. That summer he received a reply. In the return letter Mister O’Reilly while saddened to lose his son, agreed his death was no ones fault except his own and he wished the newly weds well.

That Christmas Holly gave Brodie the most special of gifts by telling him she was expecting. She was sure it was a boy but out popped a beautiful blond haired girl. Brodie beamed with pride showing her off to the Andersens and Huffs. Holly would surprise him three more times.

At thirty, by popular demand from all the Alpine residence, now numbering almost one hundred,  the recently approved  State of Arizona asked Brodie to head the newly created  Arizona Rangers service.

There are lots of stories to be told of Brodie’s adventures as a lawman but like all tales this story here must now come to a close.

JW Edwards

 

My city friend recently asked me “Why do you still wear your spurs, you haven’t even been on a horse for a couple years now, have you?”

 

Well, he was correct about that. For the last few years now my stove up legs have prevented me from easily swinging into the saddle. Why I’d need a ladder to assist me in that endeavor now and no true Western man would ever be caught dead doing that.

Looking down at my boots I saw not what he saw but I saw all the years of memories these spurs and I have shared together. They, like myself, have over the years have lost their shine and luster. Where once a coating of shiny silver was seen, bare metal now is predominant. True, they still jingle and jangle when I walk down the isle at church as I make my way down to my favorite pew but most folks would have removed them before hand. Not me and I’ll say why. As for the engraved silver toe guards? They’re worn so smooth it would take an electron microscope to see the original scroll work Jenny had them engrave upon them the with our wedding date.

I told my friend;

“When I was a young man I asked a fine specimen of a girl to marry me… she said yes. Now back then and for a decade afterward, we were what most western folk would call, ‘dirt poor’. I couldn’t afford a wedding ring for the two of us so I went without. A jeweler friend of ours Tim out of Ohio donated the stone as his wedding gift to us and for the next five years my wife and I obey’d the Biblical passage and went forth and multiplied.”

“Five years of marriage and four children later we celebrated our fifth anniversary by stopping in at the Boot Barn. My anniversary gift was a pair of new boots. Her gift remained at home to be opened later that day. A year previous I’d already begun placing cardboard inside those boots to protect my socks from the big holes in the leather soles. Two hours and Thirty five dollars poorer, we happily walked out of the Boot Barn with me proudly wearing a fine set of shark skin, tall heeled Western boots. My old ones were now gracing the Boot Barns trash can. During my anniversary buying spree, my wife Jenny told me to take my time as she wanted to window shop. Inside the place was just about anything a Western man could lust after.”

“As we made our way to the car I noticed she was carrying a Boot Barn paper sack. I asked about it and she told me to just hold my horses till we got inside the car where a friend of ours had been watching our four monsters… uh, children. Once inside and seated, the kids quieted down knowing we had not abandoned them and were headed to Mexico as I threatened them with a hundred times before.”

“It was inside the car that Jenny opened the sack to reveal her purchases. She handed me a pair of beautiful silver spurs along with a pair of silver toe guards. The spurs were exactly what I wanted. You see, I do not cotton to those spurs that have heel mounted Mexican rowels (those popular needle sharp wheels that jab the horse causing bleeding and scars on the poor animals flanks) She had bought me ‘soft’ spurs that only tickle the horse (see pic above). I was speechless but managed to ask. “How did you buy these?” After all, I knew how long it took just to save up the money for the boots let alone a set of spurs and toe guards. She told me, “I started squirreling away a couple dollars a month out of our grocery money for the last three years. I knew you’d always wanted a pair of spurs so it was either them or a wedding band!”

“I’ve now gone through five more pair of boots since then and upon each pair these spurs and toe guards have graced each new pair. Like a wedding band, I will never take them off my boots no matter the social event or situation. I want everyone to know how much my wife loves me and how much she struggled thirty six years ago to save up the money in order to say to me, “I love you”!

By the way men, I did purchase her an anniversary present. Now pay attention here. Never, ever upon the pain of death, buy your wife on your fifth or any other anniversary year, a frying pan no matter how much you think she needs one! You will find yourself running horse whipped fast back to K-Mart returning it! You will then spend double what you had intended too in order to make up for the evil soul killing look you’ll get from your dear beloved upon her seeing such an asinine gift you went and got her. Remember, NO kitchen utensils, small appliances, vacuum cleaners or anything for the home should ever be bought as a gift for your wife. Learn from me,  Been there, done that, and I paid the price!