Stanly Bromly- Gentleman Adventurer(1) - Cover

Stanly Bromly- Gentleman Adventurer(1)

Copyright© 2007 by aubie56

Chapter 4

Stan was getting bored! He hadn't had any contracts in the last month and he was getting tired of the "gentleman of leisure" life style. Sure, he now had time to visit with the ladies and attend all of the opera he could stand, but enough was enough!

He decided to take the bull by the horns and go looking for adventure since it seemed to be avoiding him. He thought that he might find something interesting with a visit to Monterey. He had not been there and it sounded like a pleasant little trip, so he packed a carpet bag with his necessaries and, picking up his shotgun, headed out to the stagecoach terminal to see what life might have to offer.

He had to wait for more than a hour for the coach to be ready, but he spent he time in pleasant conversation with Miss Elizabeth Johnson, who was traveling with her mother to visit some relatives in Santa Barbara. It was after noon lunch stop when the trouble started.

The rain began to fall in torrents with almost no warning. They barely got the curtains closed before the wind started to blow so hard that the coach swayed from side to side even more than normal. They were about half way between relay stations when the world seemed to cave out from under them and they fell down the side of a cliff where the storm had washed out the road. The coach was torn loose from the horses and they disappeared into the storm. The driver apparently was thrown from his seat, because they never saw him again.

The coach rolled down the bank, tumbling over and over, and the passengers were thrown about as they unsuccessfully tried to hold on to their seats. The coach finally came to rest on its side, pushed up hard against a large tree. All three of the passengers had been rendered unconscious by the tumbling fall and they lay in disarray in the coach. Elizabeth woke up first and tried to push her way from under Stan, But he was too heavy for her to move.

"Mr. Bromly! Mr. Bromly! Please get off me! You are hurting me! You are too heavy! Won't you please move!"

Stan began to regain consciousness as he was shaken by Elizabeth and he heard her shouts. Finally, he came to his senses and climbed off her. "I beg your pardon, Miss Johnson. I had no intention of becoming so familiar on such short acquaintance. Are you injured?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Bromly. Now that I am no longer supporting your weight and can breath properly, I seem to be in good health. I am concerned about my mother, though. She is still unconscious. Can you tell if she is injured?"

"She does not appear to be bleeding, but I cannot tell anything beyond that. We must wait until she regains consciousness to learn of her health beyond that. In the meantime, since the storm has blown past us, perhaps I can clamber out of the coach and see what I may do to return us to a more comfortable position."

Stan climbed out of the door which was now the top of the stagecoach and looked around. He saw that the coach was on its side, but the tree was the only thing keeping it from rolling at least 50 feet farther down the bank. He looked up the bank to see how far they had fallen; they had rolled down at least 100 feet and were lucky to be still alive. The coach would have hit several large rocks if it had fallen all the way and certainly would have been broken up by the impact.

Stan could not see the road from his position atop the coach and was sure that nobody on the road could have seen them. The only visible sign of the accident was a path of crushed small trees and brush leading to their position.

Stan guessed that they were 15 to 20 miles from the nearest relay station which they would have to rely on for assistance. Since the terrain was hilly and broken in this region, it would take him the better part of a day to reach the relay station if he had to walk all of the way. However, he expected that a search party would be sent out after the stagecoach was several hours overdue. Therefore, if he climbed back to the road, and started walking toward the station, he would surely meet the search party as it came toward him. Resolving to do this, he climbed back into the coach to see if he could render any assistance to either of the ladies.

Mrs. Johnson had still not regained consciousness and the other two were becoming concerned. Stan pulled the cushions, such as they were, from the seats and placed them on what was now the floor of the passenger compartment. He then carefully arranged Mrs. Johnson on them to be as comfortable as possible. Fortunately, the canteens which the stagecoach management provided for the comfort of the passengers were still intact, Stan was able to dampen a cloth and gently wipe Mrs. Johnson's face. This did not seem to help, so Stan suggested that he leave the coach, again, while Elizabeth loosened Mrs Johnson's clothes (aka, her corset). Elizabeth agreed, so that was what they did.

A few minutes later, Stan was called back into the coach where he found Mrs. Johnson slowly regaining consciousness. She finally came completely to her senses and Stan checked her arms and legs for breaks. She was OK there, but she had a terrible headache; Stan found a place on her head where she had been struck a very hard blow. There was no blood, but there was quite a bruise.

"Oh, Mr. Bromly, what shall we do? Neither my mother nor I are used to this kind of experience. What will happen to us?"

"I propose to climb back to the road and leave a marker asking for help. Then, since it it too late today to do so, I will leave first thing in the morning to walk to the relay station to ask for help. You can expect me to return no later than tomorrow afternoon with all the assistance we might need. I must go now to set up the marker so that I can be sure to return before dark."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Bromly. That sounds like a good plan. What can I do to help?"

"Nothing right now, except to see to your mother's comfort. Use as much water as you need. There is a stream at the bottom of this hill where I can refill the canteens."

With that, Stan took up his shotgun and bandoleer of ammunition and climbed out of the coach. "Please hand me the canteen with the least amount of water and I will refill it now." Canteen slung over his shoulder, Stan made his careful way down to the stream. He rinsed out the canteen and refilled it. Stan climbed back up the hill, stopping at the coach to hand the newly filled canteen to Elizabeth.

His climb the rest of the way to the road should have been made easier by the downed trees, but holding the shotgun in one hand slowed him down a bit. When he reached the road, he spent about an hour using his bowie knife to cut some sturdy tree limbs to spell out "HELP" and display an arrow pointing down the hill. He then returned to the coach.

When Stan reached the coach and climbed on top, Elizabeth called out, "Mr. Bromly! Please help me out of the coach. I feel the need to... uh... refresh myself."

Stan pulled her out of the coach and helped her to stand on the ground. He admonished her not to go too far and turned his back as Elizabeth went behind a tree to relieve herself. Just as she was returning to the coach, Elizabeth let out a scream that might have been heard in San Francisco. "Bear!" she shouted and ran toward the coach.

Stan turned to see a medium sized brown bear charging after Elizabeth as she ran toward the coach. "Run around behind!" shouted Stan as he raised the shotgun. He fired two shots into the bear and quickly reloaded. The bear slowed down, but did not stop, so Stan fired two more times and reloaded. Still the bear did not stop, so Stan fired two more times. It took six shots with #00 buckshot to stop the bear, but Stan was still not sure that the bear was dead.

He helped Elizabeth up to the coach opening and then lowered her into the coach. He asked her to explain what had happened to her mother, who was screaming questions at the top of her voice. Stan held his reloaded shotgun in one hand and his bowie knife in the other as he cautiously walked toward the bear. The bear didn't move, so Stan cut its throat to make sure it was dead.

It was getting toward supper time and Stan wondered what he could do to provide some food. Fortunately, the ever provident Mrs. Johnson had packed a fairly large snack for Elizabeth and herself in case they got hungry during the trip. This was shared for supper and the three prepared for sleep. Stan drew Elizabeth aside and suggested that, since Mrs. Johnson had not been able to climb out of the coach to relieve herself, perhaps she could take advantage of one of the open windows to water the ground. Elizabeth nodded and Stan climbed out of the coach to give the ladies some privacy.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth called that the coast was clear and Stan could return. Stan demurred, suggesting instead that he sleep on top. This way the ladies would have more room and some privacy. Elizabeth thanked him and insisted that he take one of the buffalo robes to wrap himself in, in case it got cool that night. He took it, with thanks, and they all settled in for the night.

The next morning, Stan prepared to leave for the relay station. He insisted that Elizabeth keep the shotgun in case more bears, or other predators, came around. He thought that his bowie knife and throwing knives would provide enough protection for him and would not weigh him down on his walk, especially since he would be taking one of the canteens of water. He showed Elizabeth how to load the shotgun and asked her to save any emptied shells for reloading. With that, he left to climb the bank.

It was much easier to get to the road today since he had both hands available to help in the climb. He started walking toward the next relay station with a steady pace that he knew that he could keep up for hours. He drank from the canteen many times, making sure that he did not become dehydrated. He drank so much that he actually had to stop to relieve himself on two occasions. The weather warmed up and there was some humidity to contend with, so he began to sweat profusely. He debated taking off his shirt, but decided against it; the wicking action of the linen might keep him cooler.

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