Chapter 8

The call from Jeb relayed by Harlow that the wagon path was ready was even later than I expected. However, it came at a convenient time for me to act. Harlow, the dogs, and I took a Saturday to look at the field and the near jungle that was the near wall of the valley. We had no trouble getting in, but there was only one place where the dogs could get to the valley in such a way that I could see them and back them up with the shotgun.

A small section of the vegetation mass had been cleared, and I sent all four dogs there so that they would intimidate any hogs, especially boars, that they happened to find. There was not much delay before a sow showed up in the partially cleared area chased by all four dogs. That was a relief, now I knew that Sam was keeping the pack together while they hunted.

I fired at and killed the sow, but only a few seconds later there was a rifle shot. A bullet that I guessed to be a .44-40 from the sound of the shot plowed into the side of the wagon just below my legs. Son ... Of ... A ... Bitch!? Why would somebody be shooting at me? For that matter, why was somebody in or near that patch of nearly impenetrable brush?

I yelled out, "WHO THE HELL IS SHOOTING AT ME? DAMMIT, WHO IS DOWN THERE?"

There was no answer, but I figured that I had better investigate. I sure as hell didn't want to be shooting somewhere I might wound or kill somebody by accident. Harlow agreed with me that nobody else had permission to be on Hanson property. I told him that I wanted to take a look at the jungle from the other side, so we went by another road to cross the stream and approach the jungle from the other bank of the stream. All we knew for sure was that there was less of a tangle of brush on that side.

It took us nearly an hour to make our way to the far lip of the valley, and we could see down toward the stream. Harlow parked the wagon near a game-trail leading down the bank, and I left the dogs to guard the wagon and horses. On second thought, I took Sarah with us as we walked down the trail. I gave Harlow the shotgun with the short barrel to use, the one with the buckshot, and I kept the one with the long barrel, the one with the modified bird shot shells. That way, we had long range and short range defense against hogs, and the further advantage of Sarah along to warn us of hogs getting too close.

This bank was no where nearly as steep as the opposite valley wall, so it was much easier to follow the trail to the stream. That's where we got another surprise: there was a fairly elaborate camp set up down there with two tents for sleeping and a third tent stocked with supplies. Obviously, two people, presumably men, were spending a lot of time at the camp.

Neither person was there at the moment, and Harlow called out for them to show themselves since it was his property and not mine. By the way, we did see a pig hanging from a tree limb to bleed out. It must have been taken early this morning judging from what we could see.

This whole thing was damned suspicious because there were two road agents operating in the neighborhood, and this camp was conveniently located for them to use as a base. Harlow and I looked around, but we didn't touch anything just in case it was a couple of innocent campers who had wandered where they didn't belong.

Nevertheless, the situation did need following up just in case it was the camp of the road agents. There was nothing else for us to do but to follow up with a visit to the sheriff in Baker. John Black, the marshal of Winslow, could not be of much help because this camp was out of his jurisdiction, so we had to look to county authorities.

It was early enough in the day so that we could probably find the sheriff still in his office if we hurried to Baker to get there before dinner time. Fortunately, there was a road that would directly connect to the main road to Baker and save us about three miles of winding back roads. It was about 11:45 when we pulled up in front of the courthouse and rushed in to try to catch the sheriff before he left.

The sheriff, Henry Williams, was just leaving his office when we met him in the hall. Neither of us knew him, but the man we met fit the description of Williams as being a tall, skinny man of about 65 years of age. I took a chance and asked, "Sir, are you Sheriff Williams? If so, we have some urgent business to discuss with you. When can we talk to you?"

"Well, Son, you caught me. I was just headed to the nearby restaurant for dinner. If you join me, we can talk about your problem while we eat."

"That will be fine, Sheriff. I'm Jack Allgood, and this is Harlow Hanson."

"You are Jack Allgood? John Black of Winslow speaks well of you, so I figure that I can take stock in whatever you have to tell me. Howdy to both of you, but I want to hurry before Louise runs out of that wild hog that tastes so damned good that it must be sinful." We all laughed at that, and I said that it must be some of the wild hog that we regularly supply to the butcher shops of Baker.

After we sat down and ordered our meals, I explained to Sheriff Williams what we had found this morning. I asked him what we should do. "Well, I guess that I had better investigate right away. Are you free to show me the camp?"

We ate like three hungry men, and I had to admit that Louise had done a very good job with the wild hog. However, we did not dawdle, and Sheriff Williams followed us back to the valley edge in his buckboard. Just before we left Baker, Sheriff Williams had said, "These may be the two road agents what have committed at least two murders. With that in mind, I had better deputize you both as Deputy Sheriffs just in case we get into a gun battle. I'll take my riot gun along to be sure."

I said, "Harlow and I also have shotguns that we know how to use, so we can take care of ourselves. Also my hunting dogs in the back of my wagon can put up a good fight if we need them."

At the valley edge, I set three of the dogs to guard the wagon and buckboard while the sheriff, Harlow, Sarah, and I went down the trail. When we got close to the camp, Sarah began to growl deep in her throat. That was a sure indication to me that there was danger ahead. I whispered a warning to Harlow and the sheriff.

We inched our way out of the brush and saw two men lazing back on some branches and leaves near the campfire. Plates and cooking utensils were nearby, so it was apparent that they had just finished eating. That was immediately suspicious because the time was pushing 3:00 o'clock. Where had they been during regular dinner time? We Arkansas country folk were almost religious about getting our dinner as near noon as possible, so these men looked like they had been up to something around that time.

We three held our guns where they were immediately available, and the sheriff said, "You men are trespassing on private property, and I'm the sheriff of Bollard County. These two men are my deputies. I'm arresting you for trespassing." The sheriff had come prepared with handcuffs and leg irons. He sent Harlow back up the trail to fetch those implements.

I whispered to the sheriff, "These look like the two men I met on the road to Winslow nearly seven months ago. If they aren't the road agents you want, I'll eat my hat. I'll bet they were the ones to take a shot at me early this morning."

The two men were still reclining on the ground when Harlow got back with the handcuffs. He had not brought the leg irons because the men could never have climbed the hill while wearing them.

The sheriff ordered the man on the left to stand up. As he did, the man on the right rolled over to a pile of stuff near him and pulled out a pistol. He was swinging it toward us when I reacted kind of automatically and put a "slug" into his belly. The hole going in was not impressive, but the hole coming out sure was! Most of the man's back disappeared in a mass of flesh and blood. As one would expect, Harlow was stunned by this and didn't move, but the other arrestee started running away. As soon as he turned to run, the sheriff swung his shotgun around and blasted away at the running man's back. Later count showed seven #00 buckshot balls in the man's back, and he died before he could take two more steps.

During this whole thing, Sarah was on her four legs and ready to jump either man if the need arose. I was proud of her, and I told her so. She was pleased to receive the praise, and the sheriff complimented her on her steadiness.

Now we had the problem of getting the two dead men up the bank to the sheriff's buckboard. We looked in their pockets for identification and valuables before wrapping each body in a tent and using the windlass in the wagon to pull them up the trail. It was a good thing that the trail was mostly straight, so this was not as big a problem as it might have been.

Following that, we looked through the supply tent for anything worth salvaging. I found a glass jar with close to $100 in coins and bills. The sheriff turned his back and said, "I didn't see that!" It was obvious what he meant, so I gave the jar to Harlow who dumped it into his pants pockets. When we finished going through the camp, we didn't find anything else worth saving, so we wrapped up the storage tent and pulled it up the trail.

At the top of the trail, the sheriff paid Harlow $1 as his pay for one day as a deputy sheriff. He said to me, "Son, would you be interested in a regular post as a deputy sheriff. I'm getting too old to run around any more than I have to. Marshal John Black gave you a solid endorsement. I'm not asking your age and you're not volunteering the information, so I am ready to make the appointment permanent if I can talk you into taking the job."

"Yes, Sir, I'll take the job if it won't interfere with my regular job of killing wild hogs."

"No, I don't think that it would. Mostly, it will be an occasional delivery of court papers and rarely a job like this one. From what Marshal Black said of you, you can handle both jobs very well. The pay is $30 per month. Are you willing to take on the job?"

"Yes, Sir, you can count on me."

After a few pleasantries, the sheriff left for Baker. It was nice to get that check in the mail for $30 per month from the county. Even when you are rich, every little bit helps. Hell, if nothing else, I could put it toward our daughter's dowry.

Speaking of her dowry, the baby was due in a few weeks. Mary had convinced me that the baby would be a girl, and I would be very surprised if it turned out to be a boy. When it came down to the nuts and bolts of the thing, I couldn't care less whether the baby was a girl or a boy, but I have to admit that I was kind of looking forward to a girl.

Speaking of babies, Eve had delivered her pups, six of them, and they were weaned. Eve seemed to appreciate the time she spent hunting away from the pups, but she always took good care of them when she was home. Sarah had come into heat and had been serviced by Sam, so we were expecting pups about the same time that Mary dropped hers. Judy was due up in a month or so, so we should soon be overrun with dogs. Four of Eve's pups had been dogs and two had been bitches. At the moment, I planned to get rid of all of them before they got old enough to breed.

My God, I was close to panic when late in the evening Mary sent me to pick up Mrs. Burton, the midwife. Mary told me that there was plenty of time based on how long it took for her to deliver me, but I couldn't help rushing as fast as I could. Mrs. Burton nearly drove me crazy the way she was so slow to gather up her stuff and come out to the buckboard. I think that Dun had picked up my excitement because I had to hold him back to keep him from running. Of course, we made it in plenty of time, and I had to wait around for 10 hours before Elizabeth made her appearance.

Then, after the baby arrived, Mrs. Burton wouldn't let me in for an hour while she did whatever it was she did. One of the things she did was to clean up Mary and Elizabeth before she finally opened the door and called me. I practically ran into the room to see Mary and the baby. Elizabeth was already nursing when I got there, and she and Mary looked so good that I almost fainted. That had to be the best day of my life!

After some persuasion and some downright nagging, Mrs. Burton got me to take Elizabeth up into my arms. That was the nearest thing to being in heaven. Naturally, I had not seen many, but I was certain that Elizabeth was the prettiest baby ever born. I held her for a long time, and I was totally confused when Elizabeth started to cry. Then I understood why when my arm felt wet. Mrs. Burton took Elizabeth from me to take care of that problem. She showed me how to do that because that was going to be my job for a day or so until Mary got her strength back.

Thank God that Elizabeth didn't have to depend on me! Mrs. Hanson showed up that afternoon with a change of clothes and announced that she was going to look after us until Mary could resume the job. I was so relieved that I embarrassed her by kissing her on the cheek. I didn't know that Mary had arranged for that care weeks ago; I wished that she had told me about it. The Hanson's oldest daughter was going to do the mothering at the Hanson household until Mary was up and about. That was the value of friends!

The first few days after Elizabeth was born were hell for me. I had to go hunting to keep the commitments that I had made to a lot of people, but I hated to leave Mary and Elizabeth for more than five minutes. Nevertheless, I could not shirk my duties, and I went hunting on my normal schedule. I think that it was the third day before I could give the hunting my old standard of attention. Harlow and Ed assured me that there was no drop in the quality of our product nor delays in deliveries because I was not myself. I was glad to hear that, but I was embarrassed at the way I had fallen apart.

I finally stabilized and returned to my normal form. At least, I had reached that point before Mary teased me about it. She said, "I am sure that you were more affected by me having the baby than I was." That was the limit of her teasing, but her remark did make a point with me. I swore that it would never happen again, well, until the next time.

We were soon back to running Allgood Meat & Co. like a well-oiled machine. The only bad times we had was when there was a couple of weeks of steady rain. I had to shoot from under the canvas cover over the wagon bed, and the roads were in such bad shape that deliveries were a real problem. Nevertheless, we never missed a delivery, and I was proud of Harlow and Ed and their work ethic.

Not long after that, the cold weather started. Winter was on the way. We were so far south that I was not afraid of snow, but I was afraid of the winter rains and the occasional freezing weather. Most all of our work was done outside, and we would have to keep it up even in the worst weather. That was going to be difficult, but we had no choice.

At least, Harlow and I had been able to clear out most of the adult hogs that were interfering with Jeb's wish to expand his activities to include raising beef. It was certain that we had not gotten rid of all of the adult hogs, but there were so few left that they were not a problem for the men clearing that path to the stream. All we had to worry about now was keeping the hogs under control next spring when Jeb introduced his first beef cattle.

During the fall, my birthday came and went without much ado. Birthdays were not a big deal in our area at that time, so becoming 15 didn't make much difference one way or another. Mary and I did celebrate the occasion with an extra big evening in bed—we woke up Elizabeth a couple of times, but she went right back to sleep. Mary was now 33, and not too happy about it.

By the way, in case you are wondering about it, it was not so unusual for babies to be born under these circumstances in our area of the state. I can't speak to what went on in other places. Everybody knew that Mary was my mother, but the fact that she was also serving as my wife was just ignored. Our friends didn't care as long as we were happy, and nobody else counted, so what the hell?