Chapter 12: Jason

As Jase rode out of Chattanooga that fine April morning once more on the road toward home, he thought about what he was leaving behind.

Is Sally the girl for me? Do I like a woman to be that aggressive and willful? What would I do for a living if I stayed in Chattanooga? Gambler? I'm good at it, but it's a very dangerous occupation and not one for a family man. Business investor? I already have a start on that one! Hardware store clerk? I've already done that for my father and didn't really care for it. Gunslinger? That one has a limited future! Lawman? I had that job offered as Sheriff in Chattanooga, but had declined that one. Horse rancher? I still hoped so some day. Do I want to make a second commitment to any woman right now and maybe lose it all again like I did with Sue?

Mostly the same questions kept popping up in his mind ever since Appomattox. It was vexing! But the call of home and finding out how everyone fared now two years after the war was too strong. He had to go home first, then sort out the rest of his life.

The trail ride south and slightly east toward Atlanta was a half day old and Jase was still, off and on, ruminating about his young life so far. Jase leaned forward slightly to give an affectionate word and a pat on the neck to Baylor. A bullet whizzed over, taking his hat with it!

The sound of the shot quickly followed. It was the distinctive bark of a Henry, not a single shot muzzle loader or a pistol. During the split second all this registered in Jase's mind, he instinctively just kept leaning and tumbled from the saddle into the roadside ditch. Bushwhacker!

There was little to no cover in the shallow roadside ditch, so Jase just lay still where he landed on his stomach, playing 'possum. The horses had stopped a short distance away, along with Jase's Henry in the saddle boot. Nothing happened for a full ten minutes.

The bushwhacker was being cautious, not trusting that Jase was really hard hit. The morning sun was getting hotter by the minute, but Jase, with no little difficulty, managed to lay completely motionless. Finally, Jase heard sounds of movement coming up from behind. A voice called out

"I knows you ain't hard hit, gamblin' man, but you just stay still. When I pull the trigger again, I want you to see it comin'! You killed three of my partners in that bank job in Knoxville some time back and I aim to get my revenge--and those gamblin' winnin's you're a carryin'! I be trackin' you ever since. Just got lucky last night as I rode in. Follered you out this mornin'. Now turn over, real slow like!"

As he complied, Jase said, "Your lookout shot at me first, I was just defendin' myself."

The outlaw replied, "Makes no difference, you killed 'em. You hit Len hard as he was gallopin' out and he died that night. You just got my hat. Now you leave that Colt on the ground and stand up, right slow and easy with your hands up."

The Henry followed Jase as he slowly stood. "Now, gamblin' man, here's where you get yours!"

As the outlaw's finger began to tighten on the trigger, Jase, in one swift and fluid movement, lowered his right hand behind his neck and flashed an "Arkansas Toothpick" through the air and into the chest of the startled outlaw! The huge Bowie knife with the long, slender blade went in nearly to the hilt!

The force of the strike pushed the outlaw backward a couple of steps and forced the Henry upward in reflex as it discharged harmlessly into the air above Jase's head. The outlaw crumpled, dying as he went down.

"Tarnation," said Jase, "that was a close one!"

Jase checked the body over as he withdrew his knife and wiped it on the dead man's shirt. He found the bloodied makin's for smokes in the shirt pocket, but little else. The man was all but broke and carried no identification other than a folded reward poster with a sketched likeness that could be the same man. The poster listed a five hundred dollar reward. Jase went to his horses and led them back to the body. Jase ground hitched his mounts and loaded the body onto the outlaw's own horse and tied it on across the saddle.

The distance to Ringold wasn't far. Jase tied the outlaw's horse behind Brax and started off. The local law accepted his story of what happened and Jase also collected the five hundred dollar reward money. Bounty hunter as a possible line of work crossed Jase's mind as he collected his due.

"Just great," thought Jase, "Bounty hunter, gambler, pistolero, horse rancher, investor, lawman. Just what I needed, another choice!"

Jase also sold the horse, tack, and Colt with it's pistol belt for a very tidy little sum. He kept the Henry. He now had a booted rifle on either side of the saddle. Jase stocked up on supplies and ammunition at a general store and headed back out on the trail.

As the small towns, Dalton, Calhoun, Adairsville, and Kingston came and went, Jase again marveled at the vast evidence of destruction wrought by Sherman and his troops three years previously. He knew that it would be even worse on the other side of Atlanta, in the direction of home. He shuddered with the thought.

It was early June before Jase finally rode into the northern edge of Atlanta. Federal military occupation of the South was in great evidence already since the Republican Congress had passed the Reconstruction Act of 1867. Carpetbaggers and scalawags were also much in evidence in local and state government, businesses, and other positions of influence.

Although in truth, not all of those of such persuasion were as bad as common belief would have it. Many honestly came to help the South rebuild, albeit, enhancing their own wealth in the process, but with no evil intent. However, very few Southerners would accede to this viewpoint and even fewer of those who had or still lived in the path of Sherman's advance through Georgia! Jase had not yet decided on what to think about this issue.

Atlanta, two years after the fact, was still a shambles, but rebuilding at a feverish pace. Jase stopped at a livery and made arrangements to put up his two horses. He inquired about and was directed to a nearby hotel, modest, but clean and reputable.

Although Jase's family had maintained accounts with their local bank in Milledgeville, the bulk of their money was invested through a long term association with a major banking institution in Atlanta. After a stint in a barbershop for bath, shave, and haircut, Jase dressed in a clean outfit and went to see these bankers.

Banker Benjamin Small greeted Jase warmly

"Jase, how good to see a representative of your family and to meet you personally. I've not heard from your father or anyone else in the family since the middle of the late war. We have been trying to contact someone."

Jase replied, "That doesn't sound good. That gives even more urgency for me to get home and find out what's what there. I've been two years already, trying to get there."

Mr. Small then asked, "What is it we can do for you now, Jase?"

Jase first asked about whether any Carpetbaggers had muscled into the bank.

"No," replied Mr. Small, "They tried, but we have enough influence with certain connections we maintain, that we've been left alone. We run our own business, still."

"That," said Jase, is just what I wanted to hear!"

Jase then proceeded to tell Mr. Small about his bank arrangement in Chattanooga and to give him the contact information.

"Since I don't know where I'll be in the immediately foreseeable future," continued Jase, "I will make my contact with you and you can advise me about the state of affairs from Chattanooga or any other place I may do business. I'll, of course, render a consultant fee for you for this service. Meantime, I've another considerable sum of money that I need to git shed of before someone relieves me of it by some other means."

Mr. Small then said, "Jase, I think a good place to invest some of your money would be in railroads. The entire railroad system of the South has been destroyed in the war. It is being rebuilt at a rapid pace. This is the ground floor for investors during this boom time of building. Large stock investments now will pay off handsomely in the future. After all, business can't survive without the railroads."

Jase replied, "I think that's a good assessment, Mr. Small, let's do it. Draw up the appropriate papers with the terms I'll dictate and I'll be back to sign them before I leave for Millidgeville."

Mr. Small replied, "Good, I'll have the papers ready!"

Tarnation! thought Jase, I seem to be turning into an investor whether I like it or not, almost as an afterthought even as I got other things on my mind about what I aim to do!

Jase was escorted by Mr. Small from his office, back to the lobby. With a firm handshake of friendship, Jase went out the door to return to his hotel room. Once back in his room, he had some time to kill before supper. A nap seemed a good idea.

Two hours later, Jase rose and splashed off his face and eyes with water from the pitcher. He sat down in a chair to read the newspaper he picked up in the lobby, but grew restless and laid the paper down.

Damn! he thought, I sure do have an itch for female company again. All winter with Sally sure spoiled me good. I surely do need to dip my wick again. Think I'll go down and talk to the desk clerk.

Jase had to ring the push bell several times to summon the clerk from the back office. Old Tom, as he was known, came out muttering, "I'm comin' young man, I'm comin'. Keep your pants on!"

"That's just the point," quipped Jase, "I want to take them down--with a woman, of course. Where are the reputable places a man can 'relax' and have some fun?"

Looking around carefully first, to see if anyone was in listening distance, Old Tome said, "Ifn you mean the kind of fun I think you do, You'll find the red light district three blocks straight east of here along tenth street on the other side of the tracks.