Chapter 1

I came down off the mountain, hearing gunshots at home. I was looking for one of our cows hidden in the woods to have her calf. I found her and left her alone. I would return her with the rest of our five head a few days from today.

I had heard shooting at home about the time I found her, and I was anxious about it. We had threats ever since Pa had bought this sweet little bowl of land in the valley between the hills. It was an entire section with a small pond right in the center of the property.

Pa figured we could raise twenty or twenty-five head of beef long with crops and have a nice farm here. Ma was sick with heart trouble, and we knew she wouldn’t live too long. Ma and Pa Jenkins and I first lived in the wagon when we came here last fall. I slept under the wagon some and then in the shed for the horses until the cabin had a roof.

Pa and I built the log cabin during the winter and a shed for the five bred cows we had when we arrived. We had a work team and two saddle horses. Me, I was their fifteen-year-old son, Matt.

Things had gone well for us, and soon, the cabin was up and tight. Pa was one of the handiest men who accomplished many things. We had left the town where this dream Pa and Ma had held for years in their mind of a place like what we were building. A doctor had promised Ma that she would last at least five years if she took it easy.

Pa had saved enough money to buy what we needed, and the five head of cattle were all he and I could handle as we traveled the 800 miles to get here.

I came down from the hills and looked toward where Pa was plowing a vegetable garden patch. The team was down, sprawled out, shot dead, and Pa was lying on the ground. I looked and could see three men high-tailing it toward the woods on the opposite side of the valley. I studied the riders to lock them into my mind. I studied the last man riding a light-colored horse.

I recognized the horse and man as the rancher who had threatened us about taking up the valley. He was a rancher, Weatherly, who held rangeland on the other side of the hills. It was too far from where I was located for the gun I carried to be effective. I hadn’t heard that many shots—only three. They must have rode up to Pa, shot him, and then both horses, but I couldn’t tell.

Maybe they didn’t know enough that I was included in the family. I had never met Weatherly personally, but I was out when he approached Pa with his threats. He may have known about Ma, though, and she may have not come out to meet him. He didn’t worry about killing Pa, just killing out of hand and riding off. Pa had been no danger to anyone today because he wasn’t armed.

I stopped long enough to put Pa on my horse and led it to the cabin. I found Ma lying on the floor under the window. She was gasping for breath, clutching her chest. “Matt, I think I saw that Rancher, and I think it was the one who was upset we bought this land. The man from the other side of the hills, I’m sure it was the same horse he rode. Pain hit me when I saw our horses go down, anyway, and I guess I felt it was the end of me.

“You pack up and get out of here, or they will kill you too. Please don’t bother with Pa and me, and someone will bury us. You become a good man and don’t try to get even. You’re too young now to go after them. You’ll be just getting killed yourself.”

I stayed holding Ma, and she lasted about two hours before she shuddered and lay still. I didn’t go out and stir around at all. I watered my horse when it was dark and got the other one out of the shed. I put Pa’s saddle on his. I wrapped my Pa and Ma in blankets, loaded them, and headed for where I could easily dig alone now in the lantern light. Ma and Pa went into the earth with a prayer over them.

Back at the house, I gathered food, a rifle, a six-shooter, two sacks, one of food and ammunition, and personal papers. I found Pa’s spyglass, ensuring the strap was good enough to hang from the saddle horn.

I lifted the stone before the hearth and removed a copy of the deed to the land and the money in the cache. I took a glass jug, filled it with coal oil, and took two canteens for water. I also wrapped up a few of Pa’s tools and packed them on the extra horse.

I didn’t weigh much and hadn’t yet experienced my full growth, but I was strong from working under Pa’s direction and often did a man-sized day’s work.

I didn’t cross the land but went around the valley to where I had seen the three riders enter. I let Pa’s horse have its head, and it followed the trail where the horses had traveled several hours before.

The horses did as I hoped, never hesitating to continue in the dark. I had never ridden this way before. After a few miles, I came out on the other side of a hill and could barely see a lantern glowing in the open valley. I traveled around, not going out into the valley and away from the buildings. It was getting streaks of light in the sky when I halted the animals and made camp in a little glen. There was enough browse for a few hours— now it was time for what I was planning.

I slept some, not at ease, missing my Ma and Pa. At full light, I could see stirring around the ranch buildings. Smoke was coming from a chimney near the bunkhouse, and I could see men heading for it. That must be a cook shack. There was no smoke from the ranch house, and finally, I saw two men come out carrying rifles and go into the cook shack. They were all in there for the greater part of a half hour.

Suddenly, they trooped to the bunkhouse. They came out with rifles, mounted the horses, and emptied the corral. I could make out the ranch owner on his light-colored horse. Didn’t I wish I could shoot and kill with certainty? I wasn’t sure and didn’t know much about guns, so I sat slumped in the saddle.

A man came out of the cook shack with an old dog. The dog was so old he could barely move. The man walked with him and threw a blanket in the sun for the dog to lie on. He then turned into the big barn and was gone for fifteen minutes. The barn doors opened from the inside.

Soon, a pair of led horses wearing harnesses came around the side of the barn and backed into the barn. The man drove out, sitting on the seat of a spring wagon, and headed off across the land toward where I knew the town lay. That had to be the cookie after supplies.

When he was gone from sight, I rode toward the barn and inside onto the barn floor. The barn was half-full of hay. A big freight wagon was on the other end of the barn floor, and I saw a stabled team of big workhorses through a door. I loosed these and led them out, waving my arms until they went out into the fields. I debated shooting them but decided not to, and the same for the old dog.

I was surprised to see another stable beyond the house, blocked from my sight by the more oversized barn. I glanced in and saw more stabled horses. I let these loose as well.

I pulled the bottle of coal oil out of the saddle pocket and went into the hay barn, splashing some on the hay at the top of the ladder. I saved some for the bottom near the floor. I closed one big door, and when I threw a Lucifer into the soaked hay at the bottom, I closed the other big door. I mounted my horse and returned to the glen to get my other horse.

I walked him into the rushing crick and downstream, reaching some stony ground. I reversed and rode him up through a pass between the hills. Just before I entered this, I turned and looked toward the ranch buildings. The fire showed through the roof, and fire ash was in the air. I had seven hours of daylight left, and I used it all. I could go upstream or down if I found a crick where no tracks would show.

By the next day’s evening, I was more than a few miles away. I had made no contact with anyone, but I knew it wouldn’t last, and I was right. I was tired, and I had pushed my horses. I woke up when someone was speaking to me. “Hey, Kid, what are you doing camping here all alone? It’s a good place; my friends have used it before.”

I had a story ready. “I was run off when a big ranch drove us out. Parents are both dead. I thought of a whole lot of things to get even. I know little about guns and stuff like that, and I’m only fifteen. I figured I would get on with a ranch somewhere where I could learn about things and get a little age on me. I should know enough by the time I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Well, son, that sounds like a good thing to do. There are four of us here who have a small ranch. We could teach you some of what you need to know. It’s off the beaten track, and we only go out to sell our beef. That’s where we have been and are heading home. You can follow along with us if you’d like.”

“I’ll do that.” These men I had hooked up with traveled fast, and I couldn’t guess how far we traveled. It didn’t matter. On nights when we stopped, I helped with camp chores and spent much time rubbing the horses dry. I didn’t say much, and the four men didn’t either. Sam, Mike, and Rick might be ten years older than me. Rocky had to be Pa’s age, well into his Forties. We headed into the uplands finally.

Rocky declared we were almost home. I saw a cloud of smoke rising from the tree tops the next mountain over, but I didn’t mention it. It must be we weren’t alone in this area. We pulled into a good-sized opening with cattle grazing. I estimated it held about 300 head and more of different-aged cattle. The cabin was rough but large enough. It was old, though. The horses had a three-sided shelter. It looked like I had to build my own for my two animals. I’d have it done by snowfall and have a place to sleep.

I was tired and late getting up. I was the last one to hit the bunk last night, too. I saw the horses cared for like I did every night for the previous three.

“Kid, what’s your last name? Pick one out of the air if you don’t want to tell us.”

“Thought about that already. I haven’t heard you say what yours is either, so I expect you have one that you use different than what you were born with,”

I paused and said, “I’m using Abbot, my mother’s name, but I don’t mind you calling me Kid.” I hadn’t spoken about whether Abbot was my first or last name.

“Okay, Kid Abbot, it is. Why don’t you go out and look the cattle over? The boys and I usually meet together when we first get home.”

“Good enough. Make sure you tell the boys I want to stay with you. Tell them I won’t be traveling often to town or anything. That’s for a while until I learn how to protect myself. I’m pretty good with a rifle already. I’ll get out my hand gun, and someone, maybe you, will teach me how to use it. Someday, I expect to want to use it.”

“You killed anyone, and the law is looking for you?”

“No, I haven’t killed—yet. That’s for the future. I did something that caused someone a lot of hurt, and they likely will want to do me in.”

“Okay, fair enough. What have you got for a weapon?”

“It is an almost new Colt .45. I have a few boxes of shells too.” Rocky nodded. I went out and watered and fed the horses, saddled my own, and headed out on the range.

I was gone for more than two hours. When I came back, I could tell the men in the cabin were happy and had a few drinks. “Kid, we talked about you living with us for a while. We also discussed what we could teach you. We are an easy-going bunch and haven’t been too happy in the real world; all of us are having troubles. We caution you that if we have anyone visit, please don’t answer any questions about us put to you.

“At times, we leave the place for a few days. That keeps us from being bored, but you don’t seem to be the type who would rub us the wrong way. We will be showing you how cattle are handled while being watched over.”

I interrupted, “My Pa and Ma bought a piece of land about twice the size as this one. We were getting it going, and then they died. My Pa was breaking ground for Ma’s garden. If you are ever in a town with a blacksmith, maybe you could get a plowshare. I can build a plow beam and carve out some handles for it.

“One of those satchels I have has Pa’s tools in it. I have a little money for the share and the bolts to put one together. You could buy some seeds, and we can have some fresh vegetables to go with our meat.”

“Kid, I know you will earn your keep and more. We are tickled we ran into you. Make a list of what you need to make a garden, and one of us will get it for you. You could go to town yourself, you know?”

“I’d rather not. I can draw you a picture of what I need if it is something that a smith has to make.”

“It sounds like a plan.”

It took a few days for me to decide what I needed. In the meantime, I had two men scouring the woods for a dead oak tree that wasn’t lying on the ground. When they found one, I had them hook a rope to all the straight pieces and drag them to where I could use them. It was a young tree about 13 inches at the butt and nine at the top. The grain was straight, and I had five eight-foot logs to make timbers and boards.

Rocky said, “I see your tools and don’t know what half of them are for. How in hell do you know what they are used for?”

“My Pa was a wheelwright and manufactured wheels for wagons going west. He also had a forge to shape all the iron for the wheels. He and Ma thought they would go west after a while when they heard back from some neighbors about what a rich piece of land could produce. It was last spring in March when we started. Ma was the one to decide Pa. I was interested and damned excited about it myself.

“We found the land okay, not knowing Pa had purchased it through a land company. All our dreams ended a few weeks ago. I’ll get a little older and able before I am finished with what happened. As I said, I depend on you to teach me what I need for that. In the meantime, I’ll push my loss to the back of my mind and bring the hammer down on someone who deserves it later.”

“Kid, hate is driving you, I take it?”

“As good a reason as any, if you say so. Oh, I will need a mule to do the plowing with. Do you think you can find one with a harness? I could make the harness, but that’s better done in the wintertime.”

“I’ll find one, or maybe a single workhorse.”

I still did most of the barn chores and began working on the plow frame. I made wooden wedges and was preparing to split them into boards and dimension timbers. I made the beam first and then made the frame where the handles fit into notches. Rich and Mike headed for a town where they knew of a good smith.

I made a list of other items I wanted to build. I had enough money to buy a harrow to cut up the sod after plowing if they could find a General Store that had one in stock. I offered to pay, but they guessed they could scare up the money for what I needed.

Otherwise, I’d have to have a smith make the metal disks. Pa had never made one, so I didn’t have much of an idea of how to begin building it. The last thing I wanted on the list was iron to make into a ring so I could make a wheel for a barrow. That would save a lot of carrying stuff if I had any luck with the garden.

Two men took off early the next day and said they would be gone for at least three days. It allowed me to check out the smoke I had observed the day I arrived here. I did morning chores, saddled my horse, heading for the mountain that rose next to this one. I figured it must be four or five miles. I was just curious and didn’t anticipate any danger.

I took my time riding around the corner of the highland, down into the dip that divided the two mountains, and came out high up on top of the next one. I looked down through the forest and couldn’t make out anything. A promontory was to my right, so I gigged the horse over there.

I could see a whisper of smoke going straight up halfway down the mountain. I had been here a handful of weeks, so it must be a permanent party living there.

I eased my horse down through the woods and startled a deer, it running straight down. Suddenly, I heard a musket shot and could barely make out powder smoke through the trees. I was close enough to listen to a crash and some thrashing around. That quieted until I got close and then saw a horse down.

I went closer and saw an old Indian lying on the ground. The horse was down and couldn’t get up. It wasn’t much more than skin and bones and old. Then I saw the broken leg, knowing the horse needed to be put out of its misery.

I went down and sat the old Indian upright. He had a bump on his head and now was returning to consciousness. I was behind him, facing away. I moved just a little, and the Indian was startled, and he looked up at me. Fear covered his face.

He said something that I couldn’t understand. He leaned over and started crawling away from me. He pulled a large knife from under the blanket he had on. The horse was in pain and still trying to get up. The head was down the hill, and he struggled to hold it that way so he could kill the animal.

I went down beside him and held the head while he stuck the knife into the horse. My horse didn’t like the smell of the blood, and I was glad I had sense enough to tie him.

When the horse got through kicking his life away, the Indian started to open up its belly. I held the front legs apart while he did his best to reach the chest area. I looked and found a stone so he could hammer through the bone. He dug around, bringing out the heart, liver, and lights. Then, he proceeded to cut the tongue out.

I left him, going to my saddlebags, and handed him an old pillowcase I kept with me to put small game in. The Indian smiled at me when I held it open.

We pawed the guts out, and then I tied the front legs and head together with a piggin string from my saddle. Tying the rear legs together, I led my horse around and tied the rope around the front legs of the carcass. I boosted the Indian into my saddle and led my horse downhill through the trees.

We soon met kids, about six or seven years of age, running toward us. The last kid was a girl, a bit older. They must have heard the shot of the musket, and when the Indian didn’t ride in, the squaws sent the kids looking for him.

The oldest kid jabbered to the older man. He jabbered back, and the kids saw the horse’s leg was broken and knew why it was dead. Tears came to the girl child, and I guessed maybe nine or ten. Soon two squaws went up the hill with two more children, these younger. It took five minutes for the Indian to explain, then we started downhill again. It was another quarter mile, at least.

The girl came up beside me, and I patted her on her shoulder as she ran ahead. Tears had stopped, but she looked awfully sad.

We reached the encampment. There was one more squaw, this one very pregnant and a little older than the two who had come looking for the ancient Indian. She didn’t look happy that a white man had invaded her world. She calmed down after the old Indian harshly told her what happened. I knew she would never be friendly because I soon figured she was the boss even over the old Indian, her father or grandfather.”

Immediately, she began giving orders to save the meat. I found a place to sit out of the way. She waddled over to a stream from a good-sized spring and began washing and cooling the liver. The kids welcomed me, and I was invited for a meal.

It was dark by the time the liver was cooked. I knew I couldn’t find my way home and resigned to staying the night. I received the largest portion when the meat was cooked, and some corn hoe-cakes were cooked on the hearth.

Again, I received two sizable ones, and each kid got a very small one. The three squaws and the old Indian got one about three inches. Food didn’t look plentiful, and I knew I was cheating the little ones on food.

I took a healthy bite from the first hoecake and chewed it slowly, nodding that it was delicious. I then broke off a small piece and handed it to the smallest child, giving each of the six at least one more mouthful. I then tackled the liver. It was very strong to taste, different from fat beef liver, but that may have been the old age of the horse. It was cooked well, not overdone, where I would have had to struggle with chewing.

When I took the last hoecake in hand, I took a big bite like last time and began chewing. There was anticipation in the kid’s faces to see if I would share again. The pregnant squaw jabbered something at the kids, and they looked crushed. I smiled then and shared the same as before.

It was now time to talk. I could see that the Indians were asking me where I was from. I pointed up on the next mountain. They understood when I said cow and mooed. About that time, I was handed an Indian Blanket and laid my head on my saddle as the place to sleep.

In the meantime, more fires were built, and I could see the three women were to butcher the old horse. The fires heated several kettles, and it looked like they would be cooking much of the meat.

It was cool, but I was placed near a fire, so I was comfortable. The blanket I was given was more of a robe, with a rabbit fur lining stitched together of well-tanned, pliable buckskin leather. A half-beaded design was partially sown with a few beads but not finished. I sat and watched the squaws carefully peel the horsehide away and then cut the meat into a kettle and swing this over the coals.

All the kids slowly disappeared into each one of the three tepees. Sometimes, I would like to inspect how these Indian shelters were constructed. I finally laid back and slept. Each time I came awake, the squaws were still working, and more of the skeleton of the horse was taking shape. I awoke when it was just beginning to get light in the east. One thing I noticed when I went to put my boots on was that someone had picked them up, and when they put them down, they were in a different place. The right one was where the left one was.

I was up and saddling my horse. The old Indian came out, and I shook his hand. He was smiling, so I knew we were friends. I didn’t try going home the way I had come. I knew I would hit the trail I had come in on weeks before by heading directly east. I found a narrow trail, which the Indians used, and made good time. I could canter at a good clip, so I knew I would be home to get breakfast.

I rode into the yard, and I could tell Rocky was pissed. “Where in hell have you been? I’ve been waiting up all night for you. You told me you were never going into town, and here you come, riding in after being gone all night.”

“I’m sorry about that. I was delayed and couldn’t make it.”

“What do you mean you were held up? You better have a good excuse.”

“Okay, did you know Indians are living on the next Mountain? I ran into them yesterday and gave the old one a hand. He was bucked off his horse when it snapped its leg. He killed it, and I helped drag it down to where there were three tepees.”

“Did the Braves rough you up?”

“No braves, just three squaws, and seven kids besides the old man. The Indians shared the liver that came out of the horse, and by that time, it was dark, and I didn’t know how to get from there to here. I wouldn’t be climbing around on no mountain after dark.”

“Makes sense, I guess. You sure you didn’t have any trouble?”

“No, I didn’t. It was fun seeing some of the Indians besides you guys. I helped them, and they made me supper for being so helpful. Just as a thank you, I guess. I was interested, never being so close to Indians like that.”

“Where were the Braves?”

“I have no idea. I couldn’t talk to the Indians. The women weren’t old like the man. I guess he was a Grandfather or something. One of the squaws brought me out a heavy robe to sleep in. I was right between the fires where they worked all night cutting up the horse. It didn’t look like they had much to eat, and I didn’t hog right into what they served me.”

“You better look for ticks and fleas if you used one of their robes.”

“I could tell the robe had never been used before. It was all put together with beads in some attractive design. I’m hungry, can I make breakfast now,”

“Yeah, don’t go off again without telling us.”

I wanted to explain more when he asked about the squaws, “Were the women pretty?”

“I don’t know, I guess, about the same as all young mothers you would see in one of our towns with many kids. I wouldn’t call them ugly. The squaw who was in charge, I think, is pregnant, but she worked as hard as the other two.”

Sam laughed at Rocky about worrying about me not coming home last night. “He is worse than a mother hen.” It made me feel good for some reason.

I went right to work building the plow frame. I completed the plow by early the next afternoon. Rocky and Sam watched me. I notched the pieces together using homemade wooden dowels to peg the two major pieces.

Rather than making a separate handle, I drilled a hole through the upright and made another dowel that went through this long enough for hands to grasp. This upright went down through the beam and pegged together. I found a worn-out horseshoe by the barn and drilled holes to attach it at the long end of the beam where the horse was to be hitched. I was now waiting for the iron plowshare to connect to the upright.

Thank God, I had sense enough to bring Pa’s drills and chisels when I left home. Pa had taken care of these, and they were sharp. Whether I could sharpen them when dulled, I wasn’t sure. I had watched him and would do my best. Rich and Mike drove in, with Mike sitting on a two-wheeled cart pulled with a mule between the shafts. We could use this to load horseshit on and spread it where we were going to turn the land over.

I didn’t have to build a wheelbarrow to move the fertilizer. I’d make one someday. The men showed more interest than expected about how much help the men would give me.

I didn’t bother about unloading the cart tonight except for the plowshare. The holes were already in place for this, and I could see where I could build another brace farther along the Beam to make the plow much stronger.

“We bought all kinds of bolts and screws, not knowing what you would use. There is an 18-inch railroad track to use for an anvil. The smith said you would need one. There are several pieces of strap iron to bend for bracing, too.”

“Did you inquire about disks for a harrow?”

“There are six of them in the cart. I explained what you needed them for, and the salesman said that would be enough for busting up sod for a home garden. I’m glad you drew that picture of it. That calls for a beam long enough for a seat while you are driving the mule. The smith drew you a picture of what would work.”

“You guys did great. How about seeds?”

“Got them, too. We didn’t know how much to buy. The General Store had something of everything. He made quite a sale. We bought a whole bushel of seed potatoes and twenty-five pounds of baking beans. We bought a hundred lbs of regular beans. We paid more for the twenty-five pounds of seed beans than the hundred to eat.”

I laughed. “You got taken and are the same beans, but that’s okay.”

“We bought beet, carrot, and turnip seeds. We picked up five pounds of onion sets and a couple of packages of onion seeds. I like onions, so will those seeds make onions before winter?”

“They certainly will. We’ll be planting early enough so they will mature like the sets.”

Rocky laughed,” If you bought too much, the Kid can give them to his nieces and nephews. He is an uncle to a whole bunch of papooses, now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell him, Kid, what you have been up to.”

After I explained, everyone laughed at it, kidding me about eating horsemeat, for one thing, and then me needing a squaw to make me a man. It upset me a little, for thoughts of having sex with a female, white or Indian, hadn’t bothered me. I knew what sex was for I had traveled with Pa and Ma, and I was at least that aware.

The three squaws I had met hadn’t triggered and longing for a need of that kind. I saw the squaws as mommies with children, and these were my only thoughts. Hell, I wasn’t quite sixteen yet. When I was barely fourteen, I kissed two girls, one time at a party. It was fun, but so what?

It led to Rich and Mike discussing getting laid while in town during their trip. It’s not unusual for most towns, and the one I grew up in, you knew where men went for that kind of action. I asked the question, “I hope you guys aren’t going to bother those squaws. They have braves and would be mad when they returned and found out we had been bothering them.”

“No, no one will bother them, Kid.” It was Rocky speaking.

We tried out the Plow the next day. I had to correct and adjust the angle of the plowshare twice. The first time, I had it where it didn’t cut into the soil deep enough, and I had it right the second time where it would go down about five inches and turn a furrow about eight inches wide. It would take many trips back and forth across an acre of land.

“Do we want to plant a whole acre? I know we have seeds enough to?”

“Hell yes, we can feed the extra to the Kid’s Indians.”

“Okay.” We found that the mule was apt to wander away from the first furrow, and the person handling the plow was too busy trying to keep the mule in line and steer the plow at the same time. We weren’t that busy, so one person was suggested to lead the mule and the other on the plow. It prevented gaps where the soil wasn’t plowed or the plow was going down the furrow not plowing. Anyway, it got done while I was putting the harrow together.