A Yondering Read online

it. After he fed the stock we stood by the corral and watched his two plow horses, and my rangy mule dig into the hay. He took out his pipe and knocked the leavings out on the fence post. He got her loaded proper, and lit her up. He threw his hip side long, like he was up to a confab.

  “Mr. Allen, my daughter takes a real shine to you. Did you ever think about settling down?”

  “Mr. Cary, are you offering me your daughter to marry?”

  “I reckon I am son, and you could do worse. Right off I spotted a goodness in you. Out here on the edge of the frontier we can’t take all the niceties to court a girl. Melinda would make you a good wife son. I wouldn’t offer this to just anyone.”

  “Mr. Cary, I do really appreciate what you are saying, and what you are offering I take to heart very deeply, however I am for seeing the western lands, and if I married her I am afraid I would just up and put her on a wagon later in spite of what I swore to do, and she would end up on the cold prairie scalped by injuns. So you see, I dast not do it!”

  Cary looked at me out of his kind Irish eyes, reached over and shook my hand, “I so respect your honesty my boy. If you should change your mind before a long time passes you could return here to my home, and be welcome. Will you be off for those western lands soon then?”

  “I shall leave tomorrow at day break if it suits you Mr. Cary.”

  “It does. The sooner the better for as I said, Melinda has taken a shine to you.”

  The next morning at day break I prepared a small pack of my meager belongings, and caught up my mule. Since I only had a bridle I didn’t look forward to riding that mule’s sharp backbone.

  As I led the mule up to the barn, Cary was waiting in the dog run, “Here is a saddle and rifle for you boy.”

  “I can’t take those Mr. Cary, it wouldn’t be right I should deprive you of needed gear.”

  “These belonged to my son, you are to take them, I have other saddles and rifles for my own use.”

  “I thought Melinda was your only child…I just assumed…”

  “My son was killed in a skirmish with injuns two years back. They raided the farm, and if it had not been for him, all would have been lost. My boy would have wanted you to have the gear.”

  Cary threw the saddle on the mule and cinched it up, “I don’t know what to say Mr. Cary.”

  “Say nothing my boy; now here…get up there, and take the rifle…may God protect you.”

  I got up on the mule and gave him a little kick toward the trail that led away from the farm, and as I was leaving, Melinda came running up to the mule, “Here Jason Allen, take this sack of food with you.” She smiled up at me with tears in her eyes. I reached down for the food, and touched her on the shoulder, “Goodbye Melinda.”

  “Goodbye Jason Allen, I won’t soon be forgetting you.”

  I’d no doubt that if I had staid on to marry her, love would have bloomed before three suns went down. I looked back, and she looked so pretty just standing there watching me ride away.

  I kicked the mule up a notch, but I had a sad feeling in the pit of my stomach that I would never lay eyes on them again…never. How is it that God makes such fine people, and yet, makes others such as the man who shot me? These were my thoughts as I turned the mule out on the road toward the Mississippi river. Perhaps he made all men to stand tall, and be counted where it mattered, yet some took the wrong path.

  I camped the night in some trees off the road, I was taking no chances. As I ate my meager supper I thought again of the mans hand, a blur of movement and the shock of the bullet as it smashed into my own chest. I made up my mind to obtain a pistol at the first opportunity and practice until I could do the same. As I have said, I didn’t take to man killing, but there were men who made no never mind to my objections.

  The next day I rode into the little town of Bean, which consisted of a few places of business each side of a wagon road. The town didn’t look like much, but more than I was used to. There was a drinking establishment at the center of the town, and these establishments were the places where folk gathered, and I meant to inquire as to a ferry across the Mississippi. I tied the mule to the hitch rail and walked into the saloon with my rifle in hand. There was a man standing at the bar who had a low tied holster. The man turned, and his face turned red,”You…” he said as he reached for that gun. I had only to tweak the rifle barrel a bit, and I fired. The fifty caliber bullet smashed him back and he dropped to the floor.

  There were three other men in the place with shocked looks on there faces at what had transpired. One of them walked hesitantly over to the man on the floor, and reached down to feel his pulse, “He’s dead! He shot him cold, and he’s dead!”

  Another man said, “He reached for his gun first, I seen him, it was quick, but he reached for that pistol first, and if the boy hadn’t of shot him he would have kilt him dead.”

  The men looked at me, and I looked at them, “He shot me off my mule a week or two back as I was watering my mule, and if it hadn’t been for the Cary’s I’d be dead. I ain’t a goin’ to let a man do that again if I can help it.”

  “Thomas Cary the man you are talking about mister?”

  “Yes, after this man shot me they took me in, and cared for me.”

  “The man you shot there is Gall Reynolds, he’s been rip roaring around the country killing and stealing, and nobodies been able to stand up to him. He was almighty fast with that gun. It’s a real pleasure to send him down to the undertaker, I reckon his gear, and the spotted horse outside is yours, although it’s little enough reward.”

  He reached down and unbuckled the gun belt, slid it out from under him, and handed it to me. It was an 1851 Colt Navy, a fine a weapon as any I had ever seen.

  “The reason I came in here is to inquire of the nearest ferry across the river, I am heading out to the western lands.”

  “There is a man who has a horse boat about ten mile up river, he charges a dollar a horse if he ain’t drunk.”

  “I reckon I’ll be going.”

  I walked out the door, got on my mule, leading the horse and lit a shuck out of Bean thinking some might be in a hanging mood. I checked my back trail, and no one followed me. It was two miles to the banks of the Mississippi. I struck up a trail that led up the river from there. The trail wound in and out of thickets that I didn’t much care for. I spotted the horse boat through the trees tied up to a rotting planked dock of a sorts. There was an old rundown cabin a few feet away. I helloed the cabin and an old heavily bearded gent came to the door.

  “I need to cross the river sir.”

  “You came to the right place mister, it’ll cost you a dollar a horse, and you can ride free.”

  “Well, lets get on across then.” I handed him two dollars.

  “Fred, Roy…get on out here, we got us a customer!” The old man yelled toward the house. Two big strapping boys of about sixteen came out pulling on their suspenders. We walked the horse and the mule out onto the boat, the mule not liking it much at all, but he soon settled down as the boys and the old man began the long paddle across the river. I taken an extra paddle tied to the side of the boat. The paddle was a wide paddle that only a strong man could pull, and I did the best I could to drag it through the water. My chest hurt some, but my wound had healed well under the hand of Melinda. I thought about her as I paddled. We paddled the boat toward the upstream and when we reached the middle of the river let the boat slowly slip downstream until it was aimed at the docks on the other side.

  The boat eased up to the dock with hardly a bump, “I’ll say one thing Mr. you boys can sure handle a boat.” I handed him an extra ten cents as I led the stock off the boat. I waved goodbye to them as I swung into the saddle, and for the first time I really felt like I was on my way west. I rode for a day before I was able to get game. A deer was directly ahead of me feeding in a clearing. The mule with his small hoofs allowed me to get close enough for a shot from the saddle. I aimed for a head shot and the deer dropped like a rock. I hobbled the
stock in the small clearing and went to work skinning the deer.

  By the time I had him skinned the sun was going down. I made a small fire and began cooking some of the deer meat for my supper. I rolled the rest of the meat inside the skin, and hung that on a nearby limb so the bugs and blow flies couldn’t get to it. I would jerk the meat on the morrow for the long trip ahead of me. I would ride across Arkansas to the Oklahoma territory, and from there, meander through Colorado and on into the Wyoming territory.

  I was almighty hungry and I was rolling the hot deer meat around in my mouth to keep from burning my tongue when I heard branches breaking in the trees behind me. I rolled over to my rifle, and came to a sitting position mighty quick as the memory of getting shot flashed across my mind.

  “You better come on out of there mister or I aim to let loose with this here rifle!”

  “I ain’t got no gun mister! Honest I ain’t!” A voice called back from the woods.

  “Well come on out slow where I can see you, I done had to kill me one man, and I don’t spect I would like to kill me another one!”

  I was getting mighty shaky when a