Introduction:
I am thrilled with my friend Bob Rogers’ new western novel, Toward A New Beginning. It is evident that Bob has done his “homework.” He has captured the joys, sorrows and adventures of those brave pioneers who left their homes east of the wide Missouri and journeyed westward in wagon trains to begin their lives all over again.
This captivating story has it all…unique personalities in the wagons, dangerous weather, raging rivers, hostile Indian attacks, hunger, water shortage, vengeance, courage, romance, biblical principals…and a story pivoting on the valor and ingenuity of beautiful Birdsong, a full-blooded Comanche woman.
If you want excitement and page-turning enjoyment…READ ON!
Al Lacy
Born in the Rocky Mountain West and raised on a ranch in the foothills of the Colorado Rockies, Al Lacy has written and sold more than 73 western and historical novels for Bantam-Dell Doubleday and Multnomah Publishers since 1980. Presently an author for Multnomah, he has five series in progress, two of which are co-authored with his wife, Joanna.
Al and Joanna Lacy currently divide their time between Orlando, Florida, and Bozeman, Montana.
Christy Award Winner:
Toward A New Beginning was recognized as the 2003 winner of the prestigious Christy Award. For: “Excellence in Christian Fiction.”
TOWARD A NEW BEGINNING
Book One Of The
Arkansas Valley Series
by
R. William Rogers
*
Published by:
Robert W. Rogers at Smashwords
TOWARD A NEW BEGINNING
Book One Of The
Arkansas Valley Series
Copyright 2011 by Robert W. Rogers
This book is also available in printed form from the author at:
rwilliamr@aol.com
ebooks ISBN: 978-1-4660-6019-7
Smashwords Edition License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you would like to share it with. If you are reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
All rights reserved solely by the author. The author guarantees all contents are original and do not infringe upon the legal rights of any other person or work. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author. The views expressed in this book are not necessarily those of Smashwords.
Unless otherwise indicated, Bible quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible. Copyright © 1989 by Thomas Nelson Inc.
Foreword
The Louisiana Purchase of 1803 was the brainchild of then U.S. President Thomas Jefferson. For the price of about three cents an acre, the United States acquired, from France, territory that more than doubled the land area of the United States at that time.
The newly acquired “Louisiana Territory” extended from the Mississippi River in the east to the rugged Rocky Mountains out west, and from British North America all the way down to the Gulf of Mexico. This transaction was and still is referred to as: “The greatest bargain in American history.”
Not only did this acquisition open up exploration of the Pacific Northwest via the Oregon Trail but it additionally served as a basis for the establishment of a merchant route between the eastern markets and the western frontier, specifically Santa Fe, New Mexico.
The customary route snaked its way south from the Missouri River to the Arkansas. It then turned west and followed the latter through hostile Comanche lands to nearly its headwaters in what is now present day Colorado. There it turned south again, this time to Taos, New Mexico and finally Santa Fe.
Despite the dangers involved, the route was a good one and its importance to the successful development of the eastward silver and fur trade, as well as the westward transporting of manufactured goods, was a contributing factor to U.S. seizure of New Mexico during the Mexican-American War.
Although the Mexican-American War was still being fought in late 1847, it was mainly a political war stemming from Mexican anger at the United States’ annexation of Texas in 1845, as well as a dispute over whether Texas ended at the Nueces River (Mexican claim), or the Rio Grande (U.S. claim). The general consensus was that the whole disagreement was not much more than just a nuisance and would soon come to an end.
It finally did come to an end in February of 1848, with the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. As a result of that treaty, huge land grants became readily available to those souls who were hardy enough and who had strong enough desires and commitments to overcome the hardships involved in settling these vast new lands.
Use of the Santa Fe Trail increased and prospered under U.S. rule, especially after the introduction of mail delivery service via stagecoach in 1849. But as is true with most good things, its use ceased altogether shortly after modernization began spreading west in the form of the building of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad in 1880.
Independence, Missouri, was the “Jumpin’ off spot.” for folks with a “Hankerin’ ta head West.” as they gathered there by the thousands and formed into wagon trains before beginning their westward trek along the trail.
Folks who engaged in the attempt to realize their dreams by joining a “train” were usually an adventuresome, above-average, spunky kind of folks with a yearning for the wide-openness and unpredictability of a new land.
One such man was a gent by the name of Sam Bartlett.
Chapter 1
“Are you sure, Sam? Are you really sure that’s what you want to do?” Judith asked as she looked across the breakfast table at her husband.
The question remained unanswered while he toyed with a splinter that until then had been minding its own business along the top edge of the table. He appeared engrossed while he picked at it methodically. Finally, hooking it with a fingernail, he tugged and it came loose. He stuck it into the corner of his mouth and raised his gaze to meet hers.
His eyes were a soft hazel hue, seeming to change shades as his mood dictated. Right now they were just a mite paler than usual, suggesting maybe a doubt or two with the issue at hand. His rugged features were chiseled to a handsome perfection, punctuated by a square jaw that indicated a man who was apt to stand up for what he believed. There was a genuine good-natured set to his mouth that implied a willingness to smile easily if something struck his fancy. His hair was thick, wavy and a brown color that was about the same as a desert sand dune after a rainstorm. The color did justice to the warmth of his hazel eyes.
He removed the splinter from the corner of his mouth and flicked it onto the floor. “Why don’t you ask me an easy question?” he asked. “All I know for sure is that I can’t seem to get the thought out of my head. It’s like the Lord is telling me what to do.” He responded with a subtle gentleness to the concerned look in her eyes by reaching a hand out and gently resting it on her forearm. “I’m truly sorry if this troubles you, but there’s a real opportunity out there,” he said tenderly.
“But we’d be doing pretty much what were already doing right here. I guess I just don’t see the sense in us pulling up stakes and traveling all that way to do something that we could continue to do right here where we are. It just doesn’t seem to make much sense is all.”
He sighed heavily. “You’re probably right, sweetheart. I’ve been trying to sort through that very line of reasoning for the better part of a month now.”
“And what reasonable justification did you manage to come up with?”
He lowered his eyes. “None, I guess,” he said feebly. “It’s just that...” The words trailed off as the foolishness of the proposed venture positioned itself right about the front tip edge of his brain. With some difficulty he swallowed his uncertainty and looked into her troubled eyes. “I know it doesn’t seem to make much sense at first glance, but it’s something I feel a genuine calling to do. I’m not denying that we could do just fine by staying put. But there’s folks out there on the frontier that need horses the same as folks right here do…maybe even more so.” The passion he was feeling began to take over and the excitement he was experiencing was evident in his eyes as he continued, “And not to mention the fact that there’s army forts and trading posts being built that I’m sure also have a need for good mounts.” His gaze was focused on her troubled expression. He lightly touched the side of her face. “Just think of the help we would be giving to those folks,” he said tenderly.
The washboard of wrinkles disappeared from her forehead and her eyes returned to their natural loveliness. “And just where would you get all these horses? You wouldn’t be considering driving them along with the wagon train, would you?”
His eyes lit up as his face broke into an enthusiastic grin. “Now that’s the real beauty of the whole thing; the horses are already there.”
The furrowing returned. “What do you mean, already there?”
Now more hopeful than ever, he quickly picked up the pace again. “The countryside is chocked-full of wild mustangs just for the taking. All a fella would need to do is build a few corrals and go out and catch ’em.” He grinned that special grin of his at her...the one that never failed.
“Do you honestly think it would be all that easy?”
The grin faded and his eyes changed to a slightly darker shade as they took on a faraway look. He spoke his answer slowly, “Nooo, but it sure would be an adventure.”
“Sam, if you know in your heart of hearts that the Lord is calling you to pack up your wife and son and head out for wherever--”
Her train of thought was interrupted as she rested her gaze on their son, Tom, who was seated in his highchair along a third edge of the table. While she watched him playing with his food, she couldn’t help but wonder at the hardships they would be faced with if they did indeed decide to join a wagon train.
Her concerns were temporarily pushed aside as the boy scooped up a handful of mush from his bowl and, while managing to miss his mouth almost completely, deposited most of it on the tray in front of him, with a good bit slopping over the edge and onto the floor. “Sure don’t seem worthwhile to set a spoon in front of you, now does it?”
She picked up the utensil and wrapped his tiny fingers around the handle. “There, you’ll no doubt have better luck with this,” she said and guided his hand as together they dipped the spoon into the oatmeal. Once she had Tom back on an even keel, she picked up the dishcloth she kept handy on the tabletop and went to work on the mess that seemed to her to be just about everywhere.
Sam watched silently as she cleaned. Her tears didn’t escape his notice, though, as they slowly worked their way down her cheeks. He fancied himself a pretty good judge of things and figured those tears weren’t entirely as a result of Tom’s antics. With all the tenderness he could scare up, he placed a loving hand on her wrist and said softly, “Sweetheart, look up here and listen to what I’ve got to say.”
She found a clean corner on the dishrag and used it to dab at the tears.
He cupped a hand under her chin and raised her gaze to meet his. “If you’re dead set against it, I’ll not follow through,” he said lovingly. “But if it’s just the fear of the unknown, well then, I reckon we’ll need to pray about it and see if the Lord will give you the needed strength.”
She smiled her faith in this man that she loved with all of her heart and soul. “Sam, I expect it is just a fear of the unknown, as you say, but praying about it wouldn’t hurt none either.” She sighed resignedly. “If all goes well, when do you figure you’ll be wanting to cart us off to that heathen-infested part of the country?”
A smile lit up his face as her response once again reaffirmed her willingness to follow him wherever he led…
*
They had fallen in love almost at first sight. It had happened in upstate New York where he had become involved in a clothing factory venture with a gent from Syracuse. Although Sam was at first an absentee partner in the business, his colleague had wired him in Virginia requesting his immediate presence because of what he’d referred to as “a predicament.”
As it turned out Sam’s partner had gotten himself and the business into a cash-flow situation as a result of his love for playing cards at the local honky-tonk. Sam, being a born-again Christian, had no desire to remain in partnership with the fella after finding out he was a gambler and a carouser. It was then that he discretely bought him out and solved both their problems.
Sam was himself a gentleman with firm roots and substantial holdings in the Shenandoah Valley and he had no desire to remain in the Syracuse area and tend to what was now solely his business...especially after laying eyes on the previously unseen clothing factory.
Oh, it was a clothing factory all right, but the garments it turned out were ladies unmentionable undergarments. Once he had found that out, he was at first furious about how he’d been duped into investing in a sight-unseen business that dealt in such a scandalous product. But not being averse to turning a good profit, he calmed down long enough to realize some distinct possibilities and started looking for a buyer with maybe less propriety than he.
During the time while he searched for the right person upon whom to unload his now undesired assets, he made time to attend one of the local churches each Sunday morning. Having a strong desire to listen to good preaching, he was pleased to find a church and pastor to his liking. As fate would have it, that’s not all he found that was to his liking. It was there that he first noticed and then later met, Miss Judith Van Sheckle--the soon-to-be Mrs. Sam Bartlett.
He was instantly taken by her tantalizing personality and extremely ladylike manners. She was also a little on the extroverted side, while at the same time extremely cordial and considerate. Her beauty was a sight to behold. She was of average height, about five-five or six. Her hair was a light shade of auburn that reminded him of a newborn sorrel playfully kicking up its heels in the slanting rays of the early morning sunlight. Her eyes were a deep blue and portrayed an undeniable tenderness. The facial structure was long, but not too thin. Her nose and mouth were perfect...absolutely perfect.
They hit it off right from the start and their romance quickly blossomed into one of the whirlwind variety. It was barely a short two months before he proposed and she accepted and they were married in a similarly whirlwind fashion.
What with her being a bit of an upper-crust debutante, she was at first unwilling to completely give up her accustomed lifestyle and succumb to his attempts at luring her back to the wilds of Virginia. He therefore did the only thing he could under the circumstances; he sold his holdings and properties in the Shenandoah Valley. With more time now available to him, and unable to readily find a buyer for the factory, he resigned himself, and despite his misgivings, concentrated his efforts on making a success of the factory.
Sam and Jay--as he liked to call her--were a happy couple right from the start. She quickly realized that there was more to life than debutante balls and ladies teas in the afternoons. She grew to love Sam more and more as time went by, and those affections allowed her to devote her every waking moment to making him as happy as she was capable of doing.
About a year went by, during which time he put up with the factory as best he could. But despite his honest and well-intentioned efforts, he finally came to the conclusion that making ladies undergarments was definitely not for him. With that in mind he decided to have a talk with Jay about it, and after locating her in the parlor, mustered up the necessary courage.
“Ahh...Jay,” he said almost sheepishly while standing in the doorway.
She looked up from her Bible, and then seeing the seriousness in his eyes, tucked the bookmark between the pages and closed it lovingly. “Yes, Sam. What is it?”
He crossed the room while clearing a frog that had suddenly decided to occupy a prominent spot in his throat. He gazed down at her and dove right in, “I’ve decided that I’m not at all cut out to cut out women’s clothes.” He smiled one of those genuine smiles of his. “I’ll bet I couldn’t say that again three times real fast without stumbling all over my tongue.”
“No, I suppose not. But why did you say it in the first place?”
“Well, because I’ve decided to unload the factory for a song and go do something I’m better...” he smiled that smile again and continued, “cut out for...pun intended.” He watched her eyes closely for a reaction. It came right away, but was a sight less than he figured it’d be. She barely frowned as the eyes darkened only slightly.
“And just what might that be?” she asked suspiciously.
He had already made up his mind to not beat around the bush. “My interests lie in raising horses,” he said confidently.
Her surprise was complete and her eyes opened wide. “Raising what? Boy, just when you think you know a person,” she said from under raised eyebrows.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you before about this. It’s just that I never saw the need before now.”
“And now you do?”
“Ah...yes, yes I do.”
“Go on.”
“Uh...I’ve been reading the newspapers and...” He inhaled deeply while trying to get it all just right in his mind.
“And what?”
He looked her square in the eye, exhaled heavily and blurted, “And I see a real need for the right man to set up a horse raising endeavor in Independence, Missouri!”
She appeared deep in thought until, as her love for him finally won out, she allowed her expression of disbelief to change to one of resignation. “And just why do you feel you’re the man for the job?”
Sam thought he saw what he hoped was an encouraging look in her eye. Hardly daring to believe that it might mean what he hoped it could, but at this point figuring he had nothing to lose, he excitedly blurted, “Well, just because, I guess!” He swallowed dryly before continuing, “Jay, I’ve been reading where folks are leaving out from Independence by the scores, and just good common sense would tell a man that all those wagons need either horses or oxen to pull ’em.”
He sat on the arm of her chair and took her hand in his. He spoke softly, “Jay, I know I’m asking a lot, maybe even too much, but we have done well with the business and can afford to take a bit of a beating on a quick sale. We could then buy a good-sized herd down in Kentucky or Tennessee somewhere and drive ’em the rest of the way to Missouri.” His speech picked up to a more normal pace…and even a bit beyond as he began to get excited. “With a fair-sized investment we could buy a piece of land with a ranch already on it and set up housekeeping. That’d give us the start we’d need and we could commence right in with breeding the stock for selling to the folks in the wagon trains.”
As she watched his eagerness, she likened the excitement in his eyes to that of a little boy.
“What’dya say, Jay? I promise to take care of you out there.”
“How about our child? Do you promise to take care of our child, as well?”
His expression changed to one of slight bewilderment, then quickly transformed to one of total happiness as the realization of what she’d just said clicked in his brain. “You mean…you’re…we’re gonna--”
“Yes darling, we’re going to have a baby.”
Chapter 2
The move to Independence hadn’t proved to be of a particularly difficult nature. Sam had purchased a schooner that was also a chuckwagon of sorts and had been especially careful to keep Jay as comfortable as possible during the trip. They’d not only been lucky enough to have located a sizable herd for sale in Kentucky, at a fair price, but were fortunate to have found and hired on four drovers to help get them all the way to Missouri.
The drive proved to be slow and exhaustive, but it was made without anymore than the usual mishaps that were a normal part of such journeys. Only a minimal number of the herd had been lost to predators and by the grace of God the Indians that were inherent to the area had left them alone.
As soon as they had arrived in Independence, Sam wasted no time and through the local bank had readily found what he felt was a suitable spread. He and the owner struck an agreeable deal and the property changed hands in a matter of just two days.
Sam was not only a diligent and hard-working sort of man, but him being an honest Christian didn’t hurt him none either when it came to furthering his reputation as a man who’d be willing to give a “down-and-outer” the shirt off his back if he was in need and couldn’t afford one of his own.
As the months passed, the business flourished as folks just kept on coming and going on their way through Independence. The excitement and enthusiasm of the many folks heading west was a blessing to him and he was able to at least temporarily satisfy himself with just knowing that he was being a part of them fulfilling their dreams of heading west and settling the vast and wild lands of the western frontiers. He soon realized, though, that he envied some of them from time-to-time. But not wanting to stir up Jay, he kept those feelings to himself.
*
“Sam?”
His attention returned to their conversation across the breakfast table as he realized he’d been daydreaming. “Oh…sorry, Jay. Guess my mind was off somewhere else.”
After having rid herself of the last of the tears, she held tightly to the dishrag and smiled weakly. “Which hasn’t been too unusual as of late,” she said. She allowed her forced smile to disappear completely as a seriousness took over while she placed her hand atop his. “Sam, darling, I followed you all the way out here from New York, and that turned out to be a good choice. I guess I could continue to follow you, leastways until you lead me astray, that is.”
Sam smiled as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “The Lord has surely blessed me,” he said as he leaned toward her. Their lips met in a kiss filled with warmth and affection. “Thank you,” he said after they’d parted. “I promise to take real good care of you out there.”
*
It had been a busy time for the both of them since they’d made the decision to head west. Sam had a ranch and a flourishing livestock business to sell, as well as wagons to buy. Jay, on the other hand, because of space constraints, had spent the entire time laboring over which household items to take along and which ones to leave behind. Although they’d been married barely five short years, she’d felt it necessary to save mementoes, knick-knacks, pieces of yarn and anything else she had found a nook or cranny in which to fit her triflings. She was the type to not throw anything away and there were what seemed to her like mountains to sort through. Not only was she a pack rat of sorts, but she rightly reasoned that it just didn’t make any sense to start completely all over again. So after a serious discussion with Sam, she found herself willing to compromise on the condition that he purchase an extra wagon in which to haul what items she could manage to squeeze into it. Besides, they could sell the wagon after they arrived at their final destination…wherever that turned out to be.
Sam, being eternally grateful for her agreeing to make the trip at all, eagerly consented to the second wagon. He felt that it was the least he could do. He figured he would be able to hire a driver from one of the young men who would already be making the trip. All he had to do now was find just the right person…if, in fact, one even existed.
About three weeks had gone by since the decision to leave had been made. It wasn’t until then that Sam had been able to find a buyer for his stock business and they agreed on an equitable price. His efforts to sell the ranch had not as yet proved fruitful and he was forced to face the reality that maybe the ranch wouldn’t sell before they were ready to leave. With that in mind, he made the necessary arrangements with the president of the bank, Jacob McMasters.
Jacob being a fellow Christian made it a whole lot easier for Sam to trust him with his legal matters, and after filling out a legal Power of Attorney, turned the sale of the property over to him. Sam would be in touch after reaching their destination and would get word back as to where to send the proceeds once the sale had been made. With that worry out of the way, he concentrated his efforts on finding out as much as he could about the formation of the next train.
The word around town was that it would be leaving in less than a week. Because the size would be limited and spots would be handed out on a first-come-first-served basis, anyone interested in joining up needed to make arrangements with the wagon master in order to solidify a spot in the final line-up.
Sam asked around and learned that the wagon master was a fella by the name of Hector Yallow. Folks said that he was the one to see. It seemed that anyone who had an acquaintance with him held him in high regard as a no-nonsense kind of person and a fair man to boot.
Sam was finally able to catch up with him outside the mercantile. The description he’d been given fit the grizzled old-timer to a tee; weather-beaten leathery features, short graying beard, hat folded up in the front and walked with a slight limp that favored the left leg.
“You Mr. Yallow?” Sam asked as he approached the gent on the boardwalk.
The old timer stopped and eyed the younger man until he decided to reply by first spitting a stream of amber tobacco juice in the general direction of the street. “Heck Yeah, at yer service,” he said and wiped some dribble from the graying stubble that covered the bottom half of his face and nearly all of his neck until it just kinda blended in with the chest hair that shown through the buckskin lace on his shirt.
Sam extended a hand. “Pleased to meet cha. My name’s Sam Bartlett. I’m looking for a spot in your wagon train.”
The wagon master took his sweet time while he assessed Sam and digested the request. “Ya any tougher’n ya look?” he finally asked and spit another stream of amber juice.
“You any tougher then you look?” Sam shot back. A perplexed look flicked across the man’s eyes and Sam wondered if he’d made a mistake by electing to give the gent a dose of his own medicine.
The dubious expression was quickly replaced by a crooked grin. The wagon master then reached out and accepted the still-outstretched hand of the upstart whippersnapper. “Nope. Fact is I’m just a big ol’ cuddly pussycat. Pleased ta make yer acquaintance, Mr. B,” Heck said from behind a now-genuine smile as he applied a firm grip and pumped the hand vigorously.
“That’s…Bartlett.”
“I know that. I just don’t cotton ta memberin’ folk’s names is all. It’s a whole lot quicker’n easier ta just put an initial ta their features.”
He released Sam’s hand, and Sam wondered if any bones had been broken. “In that case what do I call you?” he asked as he clenched and unclenched his hand a few times just to be sure.
“Done told ya…Heck Yeah. That’s short for Hector Yallow. The name come from somewheres over in Europe. Never did ’preciate it none.” Heck spit again. “But I reckon a fella’s gotta do with what the good Lord provides him with.”
“Amen,” Sam said, nodding his understanding.
“You a religious fella, are ya?” Heck asked.
“I’d say that’d depend on what your definition of religious is. If you’re asking whether I’m saved-by-grace and washed-in-the-blood, then I’d say I’m religious.” Sam wondered where this was all headed. “But if you’re asking--”
“Well, hallelujah! Now I ain’t got no worries ’bout us gettin’ along. I know Jesus my ownself,” Heck said, ending any further need for clarification.
Sam felt relieved and asked, “Good. Does that mean I get a spot in the train?”
“Yep, that it does. Ain’t never turned down a good Christian family and never will, long as I still got a God-given breath left inside a me.”
“Thanks, Heck, I appreciate the consideration. Now that we got that all settled, just where is your train heading? Some folks say you’re going over the Rocky Mountains and some say you’ll be stopping just short of ’em.”
“Well, it being late August already, we’d have no chance a climbin’ them mountains and gettin’ to the other side before the snows was clean up ta our eyeballs.” Another small brown puddle formed in the street dust. “Nosiree. This here particular train is gonna be stoppin’ a bit short a them mountains. We’ll be leavin’ come this Thursday mornin’ right about sunup. We’ll be meetin’ out at the west edge a town.”
“Sounds good to me. Oh…one other thing, I have two wagons. I hope that isn’t any trouble for you.”
“Nope, no trouble atall. They’s still two more spots left open after yers. Just make durned sure that they’re both sturdy and in good enuf shape ta make the trip without holdin’ the rest of us up.”
Sam knew that both his wagons were sturdy and well-equipped to make the trip and because of that elected to not comment. He instead remembered that he needed to hire a driver for the other wagon. “Do you happen to know of anyone who might be interested in driving my other wagon? I’d be willing to pay him for his trouble.”
Heck swept the sorry excuse of a hat off his head, revealing a receding hairline. He reached into his back pocket, pulled a mostly-red, soiled handkerchief and used it to rub his forehead dry of the sweat that had collected. “Let me ask around. I just might be able ta help ya out there.” He then wiped the inside rim of the hatband and replaced the hat back onto his head, tilting it just a mite to the right in the process. He then stuffed the handkerchief back into his hip pocket.
Sam figured there was no other reason for keeping the man from whatever it was that he’d been doing and said, “Well then, I’d say that that just about completes our business.”
“Peers like.”
“I reckon we’ll be ready to go by Thursday morning then. In the meantime if you come across someone--”
“I’ll do just that,” Heck said, then spit and grinned.
Their business completed the two shook hands and went their separate ways. Sam was eager to find Jay and tell her the good news. Their ranch was just on the outskirts of town, and he made good time getting home.
“Jay!” he called as he pushed through the doorway and into the main house.
“I’m in here…in the bedroom.”
He entered the bedroom and greeted his son first. “Hi, Tom. You being a good boy today?”
“Uh huh,” Tom said and held his arms up and out to his pa, obviously wanting to be hoisted up.
Sam lifted the boy and held him perched atop a forearm. “We got us a spot in the train,” he said to Jay. “We’re leaving this coming Thursday at daybreak.” The look in her eyes was the same one he had seen before when she had realized that they were leaving their life in New York to come to Missouri.
“That soon, huh?” she asked and tiredly pushed her way up from her task of sorting through the personal items in the chest that took up the space at the foot of their bed. She then approached her husband and said softly, “Put Tom down, Sam. I really could use a comforting hug right about now.”
Sam lowered his son onto his feet and took her in his arms. He pulled her close.
“I’m scared Sam,” she said as she buried her face against his chest.
He patted her back tenderly and closed his eyes as he too wondered if they were indeed doing the right thing.
Chapter 3
Sam hitched up the team while Jay set about putting the final touches on getting Tom ready to go. He knew that she would then say her final farewells to the ranch, vowing to never forget the fond memories it held for her.
Sam pulled the schooner to the front of the main house where Jay and Tom climbed aboard. They completed the short trip to the rendezvous way before the sun had peeked its orange brightness above the eastern horizon.
Heck had been true to his word and had found someone to drive the extra wagon for them. He’d come up with a young fella of seventeen by the name of Darrell Henderson. Sam had met with the boy the evening before and had come to the conclusion that despite being a bit on the peculiar side, he was an all right sort of a youngster. He was to meet them at the rendezvous that morning with the Conestoga.
He was tall and lanky, about two or three inches over six-foot, with the slenderness of his frame giving the false impression that he was even taller than he actually was. On his head perched a shapeless brown hat, worn pushed back which allowed an unruly shock of blonde hair to escape and dangle over one of his intensely blue eyes. He wore a slightly-tattered, gray, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of gray woolen trousers that, not unlike the hat, had also seen better days. The whole thing was held together by a set of frayed, light-brown suspenders.
“The wagon master said you was lookin’ for a driver, that right?” the boy asked from behind an unwavering gaze that Sam figured could have only come from a well-directed upbringing.
Sam focused his attention on the boy’s face rather than his clothes. “Yeah. You applying for the job?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
The boy lowered his gaze and scuffed the toe of his boot in the soft dirt. He then started drawing small circles with it. “On whether or not me’n your horses’ll git along.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Does ta me.”
“You’re saying--”
“I’m sayin’…if I don’t git along with the bunch I’ll be drivin’, then I reckon I ain’t drivin’ ’em…simple as that.” Darrell rested his gaze on the sturdy-looking Conestoga that occupied the area at the side of the main house. The canvas sides had been tied up, revealing the items that had been stored inside. “That the Conestoga they’ll be pullin’?”
“Sure is. It’s loaded with furniture and things that the wife seems to think she just can’t do without. There’s a schooner right behind it that’ll be carrying me and my family.”
The boy nodded his understanding. He then reached back and latched onto the tail of the dirty, blue handkerchief that hung from his right hip pocket. He pulled it and wiped the sweat from his brow, pushing the floppy hat even further back on his head in the process. “I wanna meet the horses,” he said matter-of-factly. He straightened the hat before replacing the handkerchief.
“Never heard it put quite like that before. Folks generally say they’d like to see the horses.”
“That’s most likely ’cause they don’t know no better. I figger horses are ’bout the same as most people; some’re alright and some ain’t. Reckon they all got their own notions ta deal with.”
Sam liked what he was hearing. There seemed to be a simple-minded kinda freshness about this youngster that was setting real good way down deep inside. “You think you can handle that big of a wagon with a six-up pulling it?”
“Yep, long as they like me and I like ’em right back.”
Sam grinned at the straightforwardness of the fella. “You say you want to see the horses, huh?”
“What I said was…I wanna meet the horses. But I reckon I’ll meet ’em when I see ’em.”
“Well, c’mon then.”
The boy lagged a bit behind, keeping his gaze intent on the animals as he and Sam approached the corral. He caught up and asked, “Can I have my pick?”
“Uh…sure. I don’t see why not, doesn’t make any difference to me. I like ’em all. Picked ’em out myself,” Sam said proudly.
They reached the fence and Darrell stooped his way between the bottom two rails. “Did you ask any of ’em if they wanted ta make the trip?” he asked as he patted the rump of the nearest animal.
“Eh…well, no…no I didn’t. You reckon that should be a consideration, do ya?”
The youngster glanced back over his shoulder. “Could be,” he said simply. He then began to meander in for a closer look-see.
He spent the next few minutes wandering among the animals, patting rumps, pulling up lips, checking front teeth and running a hand down a foreleg from time-to-time, occasionally raising one to gander at the condition of the business side of the hoof. On one occasion he used a fingernail to pry out a small stone.
A puzzled look came into Sam’s eyes when the grading of the horses didn’t stop there. He furrowed his brow as he watched the kid talking softly to each of the animals in turn. Sam was too far away to hear exactly what was being said but he was amazed to see each react in its own way. Some would bob their head, while others would shake theirs. Still others would wiggle an ear or maybe flutter their lips with a rush of air. Some would even paw at the ground. He was spellbound by what he was seeing and he felt mighty stupid even considering what he was thinking.
Finally, the talking done, the youngster patted one last rump and climbed back between the fence rails. He then placed a booted foot on the bottom rail and while continuing to look at the animals, said, “Good bunch a horseflesh ya picked out.”
“I already know that, but do they like you?”
“Some do. Some don’t.”
“Do enough of ’em like you to make up a team?”
“Yep, sure do. I’ll take both a them two bays, the one over there with the blaze on her face,” he pointed at the one he meant, “and that one with the stockin’ on her left front.” He pointed that one out also. “That big chestnut, the good-sized sorrel and that other sorrel.” He continued to point out each of them in turn as he spoke.
“That’s only five,” Sam reminded him.
“Yeah, I know. I’m still thinkin’ on the last one.”
Sam waited patiently for the kid to make his final choice.
“Okay…against my better judgment, I’ll hitch up that gray mare over yonder.” He indicated the mare with a jutting of his chin.
“Why are you thinking it’s against your better judgment?”
“Well, I figure she’s a real good mare…might even be the best of the lot, but she’s in foal.”
Sam was taken by surprise. “What? How do you know that?”
“She just told me. But she peers like she has a genuine hankerin’ ta make the trip and I reckon that’s good enough for me.”
Sam was feeling more than just a little befuddled as he raised his hat by holding the brim between a thumb and index finger. After scratching his scalp with the three remaining fingers, he replaced the hat and watched the youngster as he headed toward the wagons. He wondered at the boy’s sincerity as he followed him. There was nothing to indicate that the youngster was trying to get his goat, but it was just a mite hard for a grown man, with even so much as a single speck of common sense, to buy into the fact that a fella could not only talk to horses, but would even want to. Sam quickened his pace.
“Them horses tell you anything else?” he asked after catching up with him just short of the wagons.
“Yep.”
Sam wondered what that could have been while the youngster took his time checking over the Conestoga, being meticulous in his inspection of its condition.
The Conestoga wagon had been developed back in Pennsylvania as a freight hauler. It was especially suited for travel over bad roads and had a capacity of up to six tons or so. The floor curved up slightly at each end to prevent its contents from shifting around inside. It was an ideal selection for hauling the Bartlett’s furniture.
“Looks to be in pretty good shape,” Darrell said after completing his walk-around. “Believe I’ll take on the job if you’re of a mind,” he said, stating what Sam figured he already knew.
“Yeah, I’m of a mind. Now what about wages?” Sam eyed the boy suspiciously, expecting the worst. “How much do you figure the trek’s worth?”
“I figger we’ll decide on that once we get to where it is we’re going. I’m wantin’ ta make the trip anyways, so I’m figgerin’ you’re doin’ me a favor as much as I’m doin’ you one. I ain’t one ta be robbin’ folks what are doin’ me a favor.”
That made good sense to Sam and he stuck out his hand to seal the bargain. “Sounds like we got us a deal then,” he said and smiled at his new driver. “So, what do you prefer folks call you?” Sam asked as the youngster accepted the offering.
“Well…I reckon most folks has kinda latched onto callin’ me Stretch.”
“Seems fittin’ enough. You can call me Sam.”
“Well now, who’s this? I thought I heard you talking to someone out here.”
Stretch quickly snatched the hat off his head and flushed a crimson red as the sudden appearance of what was most likely Sam’s missus had taken him by surprise.
“Oh, hello, sweetheart. This is Stretch. He’s agreed to drive the Conestoga for us.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. ah…Stretch.” She extended her hand and waited for the inexplicably nervous young man to accept it.
“I-I, ah…” He timidly reached out and managed to make contact with her hand by barely touching the fingertips.
“Not much of a handshake if you ask me,” she said as she glanced at Sam.
“Best I can do, ma’am…under the circumstances,” Stretch said and nervously fingered the brim of the hat between the fingers of both hands as he cast his eyes toward the ground.
“And just what kind of circumstances might those be?”
Still keeping his gaze lowered, he continued to fidget with the hat before answering, “Well…ma’am…it’s just that…well…what with you being a female and all…”
“That’s what I thought.” She looked at Sam. “Are you gentlemen just about finished with your business out here?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he replied.
“Good. Dinner’s real close to being put on the table and you, Stretch, are going to accept my invitation to stay and help us eat it.”
“But, I--”
“But, nothing. You come along now and wash up.” She unexpectedly sided up to the terror-stricken boy and hooked her left wrist around his right elbow. She lifted the front of her dress with her other hand so it just cleared the ground and repeated the command. “Come on now,” she said and tugged gently on his arm.
It seemed to Sam that the poor youngster was a prime candidate for heart failure. The terror that shown in his eyes was proof enough that he was being subjected to way more abuse than any fella should ever have to endure. Sam remained behind and grinned as Jay towed Stretch toward the front of the house. They stopped by the door and she unhooked her wrist. Sam grinned as she pointed out the pitcher of water and washbasin that rested on the table next to the doorway. She then disappeared inside to finish preparing the meal.
Sam covered the distance to the washing table. He remained silent as he stood next to Stretch and washed his hands and face in the tepid water. After drying with the towel provided, he handed it to the boy and locked his gaze on the youngster’s eyes. “You have a little trouble around women, do ya?”
“You might say that. Never did have no call ta be friendly with one of ’em and--”
“Well…you might as well get used to it. Jay’s a friendly sort and I can’t imagine you being able to avoid her this entire trip.”
Stretch plopped the towel on the washing table. “Yeah…I know,” he sighed heavily. “Reckon I might as well go get me another dose a her,” he said before pulling his hat and running a pitchfork of fingers through his hair.
They entered the house where Stretch right away spotted little Tom with his arms wrapped around Jay’s leg. “You didn’t tell me you had a boy,” he said with a measure of delight that sent a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Now boys, I ain’t got a problem with.” He hung his hat on the peg provided by the door and squatted down to Tom’s level.
Tom, being none too bashful around strangers, unlatched himself from Jay’s leg and edged his way over to see who this new person was. As Sam looked on approvingly, and Jay went about completing the task of getting the meal laid out on the table, Stretch and Tom did their best to become friends. They seemed to hit it off real good. They talked and played with some of Tom’s toys until Jay announced that supper was indeed ready.
“You two need to put those toys away. It’s time to eat.”
The toys were placed back in the box where they’d been packed for the trip and Stretch reluctantly approached the table, his nervousness beginning to return. Sam indicated the chair to his left with a pointing finger. “You sit there.”
Jay put Tom in his usual spot and sat down opposite Sam.
Stretch quickly placed his hands in his lap and bowed his head.
“Tomorrow is a special day for us as we set out in search of our new home in this vast country You’ve created. Father, I ask that You watch over us and protect us while we travel.” Sam paused as Tom began banging his spoon on the tabletop.
Jay reached over, took it from him and patted her son on the top of his head.
Sam continued with the grace, “And Lord, be merciful in Your dealings with us and help us to make the right choices and decisions. And finally, Father, I thank You for this food that You have provided and for the wife that fixed it. Oh yeah…and thanks for this skinny youngster You sent us to drive the Conestoga and who, from the looks of him, surely needs to eat it…Amen.”
Stretch was obviously unsettled as he cleared his throat in nervous discomfort.
Sam took notice and asked, “You ain’t much of a Christian are you?”
“Well…eh…no, I reckon I ain’t,” he replied while shoveling a pretty good helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate.
“There’s no sense feeling embarrassed about it, Stretch. All it takes is a little desire to become one. Heck, who knows? It could happen when you least expect it. Sam glanced at Jay and caught her nearly imperceptible nod and accompanying slight grin. He returned his attention to Stretch who had wasted little time and had by then stuffed his mouth about as full of mashed potatoes as was humanly possible.
Stretch chewed the mixture with exaggerated effort, swallowed almost painfully, raised the spoon up in front of his face, and nodded. Finally, after managing to swallow just enough to leave room for a sensible response, he said, “Might could, I reckon.” He swallowed again. “But right about now I’d say it’d be a whole lot more sensible to say that I’m way more interested in doin’ justice ta these here vittles. Reckon I could use me some a that fried chicken over here.”
Chapter 4
Sam reined his team to a halt next to the Conestoga. He pushed against the brake handle with a booted foot, wrapped a half hitch of reins around the same handle, waved a greeting to Stretch, and climbed down. “Morning, Stretch. How’d you sleep?”
“Slept just fine, thanks. Looks like it’s gonna be a fine day ta hit the trail.” He inhaled deeply of the cool morning freshness. “I surely do ’preciate me a fine mornin’,” he added and tipped his hat to Jay. “Mornin’, Mrs. Bartlett. That young’un still sawin’ ’em off?”
“Good morning, Stretch…and yes, Tom’s still asleep.”
“I ’spect he’ll be awake soon enough. In fact just about anytime now, I’d say.” He pointed. “Looks like Heck’s a comin’.”
Heck reined up a short distance from the Bartlett wagons and quickly sent word out for all drivers to assemble for a short meeting. Sam passed the word on to the family in the wagon next to them and waited for the fella to pass it on to the folks in the next wagon. Sam then fell in step with him as the two of them, along with Stretch, headed for the spot that had been designated for the meeting.
“Morning. My name’s Sam…Sam Bartlett. This here’s Darrell Henderson. We call him Stretch.”
Pleased ta meet cha, Sam. Name’s Kyle Hendricks.” He nodded in Stretch’s direction. “Howdy, Stretch. Me’n the missus an’ young’uns is happy ta make yer acquaintance…the both a ya in fact.”
Sam wondered at the man’s drawl. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” he asked.
“Nope. Me’n mine hail from the hills a Tennessee. Been sittin’ here nigh onta two weeks now just waitin’ fer the next train ta form up. We been itchin’ ta mosey, but just naturally figgered it’d be best ta wait fer more folks ta join up with afore we lit out.”
“That’s most likely a smart decision on your part. I’ve been hearing stories about Mexican banditos robbin’ folks along the trail and would think a wagon out there on its own would be easy pickings.”
“Yup. That’s ’bout the way I had it figgered my ownself.”
They arrived at the gathering and Sam made eye contact with the wagon master, and gave him a nod in greeting. Heck returned the gesture, spit a stream of tobacco juice onto the trampled grass at his feet and commenced to wipe the dribble from the stubble.
Presently, it seemed that just about everyone had arrived and Heck commenced ta sayin’ his piece, “I called all a ya together before we get started ta let ya know what some a my rules are.”
He waited for the murmuring to die down.
“I can see from the reaction that some a ya ain’t perticalar fond a rules.”
Again the murmurs made the rounds. He held up a hand until things quieted down again.
“Well, fond of ’em or not ain’t the issue here. I got more’n just a hatful of ’em and yer about ta get ’em as well. So just keep yerselves simmered down and let me make ’em clear to the bunch a ya before someone here goes off half-cocked. We got us a long trip comin’ up…’bout five er six weeks, I’d say. There’s most likely gonna be times when there’ll be some dangers lurkin’ around an’ about.”
This time the murmuring was short-lived and died down on its own.
“When that happens, I’ll be ordering you ta circle up. Course I know some a ya ain’t got the foggiest notion what that means, but ya will shortly. Right after we get strung out on the trail, we’ll be practicin’ makin’ a circle. That way when we need ta do it fer real you’ll have a pretty good idea about what’s goin’ on. Any questions?”
No one spoke up loud ’n clear but Sam heard a couple of mumbles. He glanced around in an effort to see who might be the ones that could be of a hardheaded nature, but he was unable to put a finger on anyone in particular. He returned his attention to Heck.
“We’ll also be circlin’ up each time we stop fer the night. The horses’ll all be kept inside the perimeter…as well as the humans. If someone needs ta leave the confines during the dark hours, I’m issuin’ orders right now that you’ll hafta let someone know where yer headed and when ya expect ta be back. Is that clear?”
A fella of about thirty or so stepped forward and hooked his thumbs into the top edge of his belt. “Does that mean that when a fella needs ta go off and find a bush, he needs ta be lettin’ the whole world know about it?”
“That’s exactly what it means, that or any other reason. Don’t none a ya make the mistake a takin’ this too lightly. We got chances a meetin’ up with them Mexican hombres what’s been robbin’ folks out there, plus the fact that some of the Injuns has been gettin’ riled lately cuz of all the white men what’s been squattin’ on their land.” He eyed the group of concerned faces before continuing, “Once we get away from Independence and out into what I consider the wilds, we’ll be postin’ guards ever’ night when we stop. Each and ever’ one of the men will be asked ta take a turn now’n then. That’s all a part a bein’ in a train and I ain’t bein’ partial ta hearin’ no grievin’ about it, neither. If there’s anyone here what ain’t willin’ ta do his fair share ta protect the others…” he paused to look around at the concerned faces, “then that fella better just call it quits right here’n now and save hisself a whole passel a trouble. Is that makin’ it clear enough to ya?”
While Heck looked around, Sam did the same. His gaze came to rest on a group of three fellas who had scornful looks on their faces. His attention was drawn away from them as Heck continued, “Okay, that’s ’bout all I gotta say fer now. Just keep in mind that there can only be one man in charge a this whole shebang. I reckon it goes without sayin’ that you folks hired me ta be that man, so I’d appreciate it if I was given a free hand when it comes ta doin’ what’s necessary ta give us the best chances of makin’ a successful crossin’.” After a short pause, he continued, “With that in mind, we’re gonna string these wagons out now and I’m gonna be the one ta assign positions in line. Now, I know that you may or may not cotton ta who I put cha next to, but just trust me that I know what I’m doin’. If yer patient enough, it’ll come clear to ya after we been on the trail fer a spell.” He then took one last gander around the circle of faces. “Okay…as long as there ain’t no other questions what needs answerin’, I’d say ya all best be gittin’ on back to yer families an’ listen up fer my instructions.”
The group was anxious to get on the trail and dispersed quickly. Sam and Stretch made a final check of their harnesses and climbed onto the seats to await their orders.
“Sam,” Jay said softly as she placed a hand on his forearm.
He looked into her eyes. “Yeah.”
“Pray for us, please.”
“Sure.” Sam looked over and spied Stretch sitting aloft in the front of the Conestoga. “Stretch!” he called above the noises of the wagons closing in around them. “Come over here for a second!”
“Yessir!” Stretch hollered back and after securing the reins around the brake handle, climbed down. When he had reached the side of Sam’s wagon, Sam looked down and said, “Jay here asked me to say a prayer before we get started. I figured you might wanna be a part of that.”
“Sure, why not. I reckon it couldn’t hurt none…long as you ain’t askin’ me ta be the one doin’ the prayin’.”
Sam grinned, figuring he’d be working on the youngter soon enough to get that way of thinking out of his head.
They all bowed their heads as they waited for Sam to begin. “Dear Father, before You sits three low-down sinners. We thank You for all You’ve done for us and pray that You’ll watch over us as we start this journey into the vast unknown. Bless us, Lord, and keep Your protective hand on us. Help us to be better witnesses for You. And Father, I ask a special prayer for Stretch Henderson here.” Sam took a sideways peek at the youngster and saw him fidget just a bit. “Father, help him to drive that big old wagon like he had at least a speck of God-given good sense about him. In Jesus name I pray…Amen.”
Before Sam could say anything to him, the boy whirled on a heel and headed back to the Conestoga. As Sam and Jay looked on, they saw him brush a sleeve across his eyes.
“He’ll be under conviction real soon,” Jay said softly.
“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied. “Might even already be. That boy’s in for the surprise of his life once he realizes what he’s been missing and accepts the Lord Jesus into his life.”
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