Chapter 3

And I was born ... the next of kin -
The next of kin to the wayward wind

“Joss, you need to take some of your money you’ve gained by working here and go outfit yourself with three or four suits of tough ranch working clothes. Get some boots too, instead of them gol-danged ugly-ass lace-up shoes you wear. And for damn sure, buy yourself a hat! You’re gonna keep on working out in the sun bare-headed and end up with a half-baked brain if you’re not careful.”

After promising Polk that I’d stop and visit if I ever come close to Kansas City again, I loaded the packsaddle on, Ol’ Blue – the packhorse Polk had made me a gift of.

Though I was ready to leave – I hated to leave – but I knew I couldn’t stay. The yearning to see what’s waiting on the other side of the tomorrow’s sundown, is already pulling at me. Polk told me that he hated to see me go. But, he also told me that he understood the need to keep going while I was young.

“Joss, this is something you’ll have to take care of while you’re a young man. You’ll never be able to settle down on that spread you dream of, if you don’t go scratch this itch to roam, in your youth. Give ‘em hell out there, Son. To the men who come against you in anger, make ‘em pay dearly for messing with the man called, Joss Wayward. To the women who come at you with their arms open, make ‘em feel loved. Give each of them some special remembrance of you that they alone can hold dear to themselves...

“Come back to see me one day, Joss. I want to hear all about your travels. When I was your age I never gave in to my own yearning to ride with that wandering wind and chase the sundowns. I’m getting older now, and I catch myself looking back, wishing I had thrown a saddle on that restless wind and at least took off to anywhere. If I’d ever had a son, I’d want him to be just like Joss Edmon Wayward. Come back to me one day, Son. Let me live that lost journey of mine, in the tall tales of your adventures.”

Polk gave me a map of Kansas. Then he gave me a map of America too, with all the states and territories outlined and named on it. He gave me a brass pocket-watch with a flip-up cover, then he handed me another one that matched it. Or so I first thought until he told me different.

“This is a compass, Joss. I’m sure you know about them, but have you ever used one?” He asked as he flipped the cover open it to show me the dial.

“I’ve never even seen one but I know what they are. Polk, are you really giving this one to me?”

“I sure am. I’ve kept the watch and the compass for years, just in case ... but I never used them. I want you to have them, they’ll both come in handy as you travel.”

He showed me how to wind my watch the same time each day, and told me to be careful not to wind it too tight. He showed me how to read my compass too, and I was tickled to have two such fine instruments made of brass, as these pieces he’d given me.

We crossed the bridge over the Missouri with Red looking all around as he and Blue tromped across those heavy, rough-cut, weather-beaten boards. I could feel Red’s body ease up a little when we were on solid ground again.

“We’re in Kansas, Boys. There is a big ol’ country still ahead of us out there somewhere, and we aim to see all of it we can.”

There was a town on the west side of the river, but it wasn’t near as big as Kansas City, back across the big old wide Missouri. With my compass in my hand, I pointed Red toward Topeka. Topeka lies almost due west of Kansas City. Sixty some-odd miles over there somewhere, according to my map.

We weren’t out to blaze any trails, so I just let Red pick out a fast walk and he took it from there. He’d been a wild horse living on the plains until about a month ago. But he’d spent most of the past three weeks in a stable. I figured if we made thirty miles the first day, we’d be doing good. I knew from the way Red liked to step off some distance, once he saw the trail stretch out as far as the eye could see, he’d get us there in less than two days of daylight travel. Ol’ Blue is a big dapple gray. In the sunlight, he does look sort of a faded blue color. He’s a tall, long-legged gelding that Polk told me had never been ridden by a man, but was the best damn packhorse he’d ever run across.

The first day on the trail, time seemed like it had been hurrying toward sundown, but then late in the day, it looked like time was slowing to a crawl when the blood-red sky shaded the whole western horizon. I started looking for a place we could spend our second night together on the trail. The first night, it had been just Red and me back in Missouri. It sure wasn’t anything to brag about either. I was hoping we’d both get more rest tonight.

I had noticed a tree line bordering a river on the north side of the trail for quite a ways, and I turned Red over that way. We come upon what I figured out to be the Kansas River, when I looked at my map. We were at the conflux of the Kansas and a smaller, unnamed river which ran west-southwest from this point. The grass was green and the shade was cool, this late in the day.

After I’d watered them, I put the feedbags on Red and Blue, with ample amounts of oats for them.

With enough daylight left for a few practice shots with my pistol, I loaded my .44 and walked out a few feet away from them, to shoot another few rounds. I had yet to strap the long black holster and bullet-filled gunbelt on my hip as I traveled. But as I used it today, I knew tomorrow was going to be the first day I’d wear a gun.

Already, I could hit what I looked at, even down to the smallest of leaves floating in the river, or a knot on a tree at the water’s edge. The second time I loaded the cylinder, I took to pulling the gun out of the holster a little faster with each shot. Shooting at my targets from the hip, without aiming ... Just like Polk had schooled me. The more times I pulled that big handgun, the more natural it felt to my grip.

With six shots coming from six draws of my Colt, I hit all six of my targets. Then I loaded and shot up two more cylinders before I stopped for the day. I was pleased with the way gun handling was coming natural to me like Polk said. I’d never even picked up a gun until I discovered the rifles at Polk’s livery.

Red and Blue had finished their oats and both were looking at me with their heads raised high when I walked back toward them. I knew what they wanted and took their feedbags off so they could graze. Then I staked them out on long separate lead ropes.

I took Polk’s advice very serious, about my safety on the trail. Before sundown, I walked a big circle around where we’d make our camp tonight. I’d never been much of a coffee drinker, so I didn’t build a fire.

I’ve come to like my coffee best, boiled early on a frosty day when the north wind is blowing hard – howling so loud, it sounds like the lonesome, whining call of an overloaded, westbound freight leaving Sedalia railyards on a cold clear winter morning.

I walked out past the treeline, looking up and downriver until I was satisfied there was no one around. Just as dark settled in, I tied my horses closer to where I had my saddle, the packsaddle, and my bedroll laid out. I didn’t tie Red to my foot this time. I did tie his lead rope to the saddlehorn. I had my bedroll laid out so my head was on his saddle.

Once dark set in, the sky was clear and though the moon wasn’t up yet, the stars were so bright, it looked like each of them had lit up at least twice.

I’d never been afraid of the dark as a kid. Lots of times, even back when I was little, I’d get up in the night and walk out away from the train yard to lay back on the slope of the railroad bank, looking up at the stars. I learned about the constellations in school and could pick out most of them. The easiest of them being the Little and Big Dippers. I knew the North Star was the brightest, and sailors used it, along with the sun and moon to navigate the seas.

As I settled down in my bedroll with my head on my saddle, I realized that if there was such a thing as blessings in this world, I was one more blessed young man. I thought of those boys back there in Sedalia who worked in the loading pens, wading cow shit and mud nearly up to their knees. Most of them would never travel more than five miles from where they were born.

For the life of me, I never did understand how a man could live like that.

I don’t even remember closing my eyes, but I come up out of that bedroll holding my pistol in both hands when Red nudged me.

I was fully awake as soon as I sat up. I realized there was light in the eastern sky. Red was just as anxious to see more sundowns settle on different places, as I was.

We made Topeka well before sundown the second day, but I decided to stay the night here and leave out early in the morning. I put Red and Blue in the same stall at the livery, to save money; then decided to look for a place to take a bath. That was one of the things I had become accustomed to while I stayed at Polk’s place. I took a hot bath every other day at the barbershop and I damn-well loved it.

The hostler told me that I could get a hot bath for a dime down at the barbershop, which was next door to the hotel. He told me that I could get a hot meal for a quarter at the hotel, and I headed that way with a clean suit of clothes stuffed down into my poke.

Topeka is just as modern as Kansas City, it seemed to me. They have oil-burning streetlamps and they keep the horse shit scooped up and hauled off the dirt streets.

Most of the men I saw were dressed just as I was, with a few men wearing suit-clothes and neckties. Even those men wore big hats and big guns, like mine. Most all the womenfolk wore long dresses with bustles riding high on their butts. Just seeing them walk, as that bustle bounced and wobbled from side to side, makes a boy like me get an itch in his straddle.

When I stripped for my bath, I laid my pistol on the wooden staging platform, just at the end of my long, tin bathing tub. I sat down in the hot water, reaching back to make sure my pistol was well within reach.

Polk had cautioned me about that. Telling me that a man sitting in a bathing tub naked, is just as apt to get robbed as he is asleep in his bedroll. I wasn’t about to get robbed. I had plans for the money I had worked hard for and saved.

I heard some men coming out of the barbershop for a bath, even before they came out the door onto the wooden platform where the five bathing tubs are lined up. I’d picked the tub at the very far end, next to a wall that looked more like a wooden fence.

There were three of them. They were all drunk as hell too. I know when a man is drunk, I lived with one thirteen years back in Sedalia.

They were stripping for a bath when they realized I was in the tub at the far end. I had a feeling there was about to be trouble, and washed my hair as fast as I could. Water was streaming down my face after rinsing the soap from my hair using the bucket of clean water next to my tub. I reached for one of the drying towels hanging on the fence near me. Making sure I never covered my face completely, I dried my hair. Then I took a long leather lace and tied my hair behind my head while it was wet. Since Ma took sick back a year or so before she passed, I’d never had it cut. Didn’t intend to ever again either...

I was drying my lower body when one of the three hollered at me.

“Hey, Boy! Ain’t you kinda young to be out here taking a bath alone? Ain’t you skeered some full grown man will come along and miss-take you for a girl, with that long hair of your’n?”

The others laughed at their friend. Those two were sitting in their tubs already. Their loud mouth, drunk friend was naked, bent over his tub, a hand on either side with one foot in and one foot out.

I never answered, pulling my denims up while keeping an eye on him the whole time.

“BOY! I’m talking to you! Can you not hear? Did you not wash the dirt clods and cow shit outta your ears?”

I was sitting on the wooden bench, pulling my clean socks on when I saw him take a step toward me. His foot slipped on the wet staging boards, but he caught his balance on the side of his tub. I’d finally gotten my last sock and boot on when he took another step toward me and nearly fell off the platform again. When I had my shirt on and buttoned up halfway, I reached for my pistol and gunbelt. As I strapped that .44 on my hip, I felt like I was somewhat safer. I stuffed my dirty clothes down inside my poke and turned to walk past where that last drunk was still trying to stoop over forward and step into the tub of water without falling.

Just as I walked past him, he stuck his foot out behind him, kicking at me, trying to trip me off the wooden staging platform. His head was down and his ass was up as he bent over the tub with his hands gripping the sides. He was looking back between his legs and laughing like hell. I turned to put my boot against his naked ass, shoving him head first down into the tub of water.

His friends were still laughing when I walked back through the barbershop. Then I heard the young man cussing and calling me all sorts of nasty names.

“What happened back there?” The barber asked. He was sort of grinning.

“That loud mouth drunk wanted to play like he was a bad-ass bully. Then he tried to trip me when I was walking out. I put my boot in his ass and shoved him head first into the tub of water.”

“His daddy owns the hardware store across the street. That boy talks to everyone like that. Folks have complained to the law about him, but their complaints go unanswered. Just stay clear of him if you can. He’ll be passed out on the street, before the night’s over.”

“I’ll be gone from here soon after daybreak. If he’ll keep his drunk-ass away from me, he won’t have any trouble out of me.”

“You’re leaving early tomorrow? I thought you may be one of the new hired hands out at Kirkendall’s Double K Ranch.”

“No. Just passing through, making my way over to somewhere else.”

“Well, if you’re in no big hurry making your way over to Somewhere, Kane Kirkendall is hiring horse wranglers with some experience. He pays top dollar to the better ones.”

“Where do I see about this wrangler’s job? I may be interested in hiring on for a week or so.”

“You can get a flyer at the hotel next door. You can read on it where to go and who to see.”

“I’m headed that way to eat, I’ll take a look at it. Thanks for the hot bath and the job tip.”

When I entered the hotel, I picked up a flyer at the hotel desk then stood in the wide doorway of the dining hall, looking over the crowd, trying to see a small table so I could sit by myself. I spotted one in the far corner, across from where I stood. I made my way toward it, weaving around the tables and chairs where folks sat.

The table was big enough for two, but there was only one chair. I pulled the chair around so I could sit with my back to the corner of the room and look out over the crowd. I had just opened the long, cardboard bill-of-fare when a man stepped up beside me. I looked up to see him scowling down at me like he was mad.

“Boy, I was aiming to sit in that chair. I saw it just as I walked in, then you came up and took it. You’ll have to find another place to eat, I reckon.”

“Mister, I too saw this table and chair from the main doorway. There was no one sitting here and I came over to sit down for a quiet meal. I reckon I’ll just stay here and have my meal, since I’m already sitting here comfortable and relaxed like I am.”

“Boy, where’s your manners? I told you that I was about to sit there when you come across in front of me and took my favorite seat. Now, if you’d rather not cause a ruckus in here, you’d better move on and leave a grown man to have a peaceable meal!”

He’s a big, burly, heavy-built man with a well-tended beard and a twist of hair hanging from under his tall hat. He’s dressed in nicely starched and ironed denims and a denim vest, with his britches legs stuffed down into his shit-covered boots. His hands are as big as my own. He’s wearing a pistol on his right hip. His fingers on his right hand are trembling and I knew he wasn’t accustomed to not getting his way. I wasn’t about to back off now. I had to make a stand in my life sometime and now was as good a time as any to start.

With the bill-of-fare opened in front of me, I slipped my .44 out and laid the barrel across my leg. I looked down at the list of food items as if he wasn’t there and had never spoken.

The man hauled off and kicked the front leg of the chair I was sitting in. When I looked up at him, his right fist was drawn back as if he was about to bust my head with it. When I moved that bill-of-fare over and pointed my long barreled Colt up at him, I backed the hammer real slow with my thumb. That double click was the loudest noise in the whole dining hall by then, as everyone had stopped talking and turned to see what was happening back here in the corner.

“Mister, you’re bothering me, standing over me as I try to decide what to have for supper. Would you kindly step over there and find another empty chair to pull up and join me. There’s room for two if you’ll agree to sit here and behave as if you, yourself have manners of your own.”

He never said a word. His face was blood red, as he turned to pull an empty chair from a table behind him. When he turned with the chair in one hand, he was smiling. He sat down in that chair and shoved his big right hand out across the table. I grabbed a handful of his hand and he grinned at me.

“Boy! I never met a man whose hand filled my own the way yours does. The name’s, Kane ... Kane Kirkendall. What’s the moniker you answer to?”

“Joss ... Joss Wayward... Sir,” I answered, adding the, Sir, to make it plain that I did in fact have some manners.

He laughed a booming laugh and the crowd of folks in the dining hall picked up right where they had been interrupted, talking and eating as if nothing had happened.

“Where you out of, Joss?”

“Sedalia, over in Missouri. I have a flyer here in my shirt with your name on it. Says down at the bottom that it was printed at the Topeka Sun newspaper office and that you’re looking to hire wranglers out at your spread.”

“That I am, Joss. You don’t look old enough to be a skilled wrangler. How old are you anyway?”

“I’m fourteen ... No offense, Mr. Kane, but I’ve never seen any aged wranglers. Seems they don’t last long, riding broncs early in their lives.”

“You’ve had some education shoved your way too, Joss. You don’t fit the mold of a drifting, uneducated fourteen year old wrangler here in Kansas. Have you had some education in bronc riding too?”

“I did have a strict, very stern schoolmarm who’s first lesson was to teach me that an education was at times, more valuable than experience. I won that big Red Roan of mine, stabled down at the livery, when I rode him after no one else could. He gave me quite a bit of experience before we were through dancing around in that corral together.

“Where’re you headed, and how long are you willing to stay and work for me before you leave, Joss?”

“Mr. Kane, did you just now offer me a job as a wrangler?”

“That I did! Now, how long will you stay with me?”