Have Brides, Will Travel

by William W. Johnstone

  “Good mornin’,” Possum finally replied, relieved to find he wasn’t about to be attacked. “Well, you sure as the dickens gave me a fright there for a minute. Whaddaya doin’ here this mornin’? I heard the cattle when they started out earlier.”

  “I figured I’d give you a hand, help you and the lady find Butcher Bottom,” Perley said.

  “You stayed back to help me and Emma?” Possum asked, finding it hard to believe. “Ain’t you anxious to get your cattle to market?” While he would appreciate some help, it was natural to have suspicious thoughts about the young man willing to leave the herd to go with him and Emma. He had to tell himself there was no way Perley could know they were carrying a huge amount of cash money in that broken-down old wagon.

  “Oh, I wanna see ’em get to the market,” Perley replied, “but they don’t need me to do it. My brothers will see to that. I’m not especially fond of working cattle in the first place. Besides, we figured I wouldn’t be gone more than five or six days, if that place is about as far as you said. We were talkin’ about it last night after you went back to your wagon. There’s a lot of wild lawless men ridin’ in northern Texas this time of year, so we figured it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of eyes and an extra gun with you. I brought a packhorse with me, so I’ve got my own supplies. ’Course, it’s up to you. If you druther I didn’t go along with you, just say the word, and I’ll skedaddle outta here to catch up with the cattle.”

  Possum hesitated before answering. There was nothing threatening about the young man’s appearance that would make him believe he was anything but honest in his offer to help. Before he could speak, however, he was interrupted by Emma, who called out from the wagon. “What is it, Possum? Is anything wrong?”

  “No, ma’am,” Possum answered and broke out a grin. “It’s just Perley Gates, stayed back from the rest of ’em just to give us a hand in gettin’ you safely home.”

  “Really?” Emma responded in surprise, pleased by the gesture on the part of the men of the Triple-G. “Well, we’re mighty grateful, Perley. I know it’ll take a little strain off of Possum, having somebody to help him.”

  “We’re glad to do it, ma’am,” Perley replied, resigned to the fact that he might be a week in catching up with the herd again. “I brought some coffee with me. Thought you might use a cup before we get started this mornin’.”

  CHAPTER 2

  They crossed over the Red River after having their coffee, preferring to wait for breakfast until they stopped to rest the horses. Perley was right in his assumption that they were out of supplies, but was surprised when they restocked at Doan’s Store. He had been convinced that Possum was just talking to save embarrassment when he had said they were not flat broke.

  From Doan’s Crossing, they followed a trail straight south that Emma thought she remembered. There was an odd-shaped knoll with one lone tree at the top and she was sure there could not have been another just like that one. To Possum, this was another indication that she and her husband had followed the cattle trail up through Texas. When Emma said they had crossed a river, then it was two whole days until they reached the Red River, Possum guessed she was referring to the North Wichita River. “I figure that to be about forty miles,” he said, thinking her husband had likely driven his wagon twenty miles a day.

  “I thought you said you were from Kansas,” Perley said. “You know more about Texas than I do.”

  “I am from Kansas,” Possum replied, “but it ain’t the only place I’m from. I’ve rode a lot of trails before I crossed yours.” He looked at Emma and grinned. “Yours, too,” he said. “I know a little bit about some parts of Texas, but I ain’t never heard of Butcher Bottom till I ran into Dan and Emma.”

  “That don’t surprise me none,” Emma offered. “Nobody in Butcher Bottom ever goes outside of it, if Raymond Butcher has his way—and he always does.” She smiled a tired smile when she remembered the day when she thought she was going to escape the fate of most of the other women who had been unfortunate to land there. She couldn’t help thinking now that she must be out of her mind to return to Butcher Bottom when she could choose to go elsewhere. Although leaving her a widow with a baby, Dan had left her with a comfortable sum of money. It bothered her not at all that it was money stolen from a bank. Like Possum, she thought of it as money stolen from a bank robber, that it was money the bank had already lost. Her problem was that she had no idea what she should, or could, do to provide for her and baby Daniel’s life. Her thoughts were interrupted when Perley asked a question.

  “Why do they call it Butcher Bottom?” he asked.

  “It’s not a very pretty name, is it?” she answered, then went on, “It was named for old man Simon Butcher. He was a preacher, so he said, and he convinced a small congregation in Mississippi to follow him to an unclaimed valley near the Brazos River. My parents were part of that congregation, and I wasn’t much more than four years old when we went there. Accordin’ to Reverend Butcher, they were gonna build their own country and provide for themselves, just like the Amish do, and live off the land.”

  “Your folks still live there?” Perley asked.

  “No, they’ve both passed away,” Emma replied. “Mama died three years ago. and Papa didn’t last but about six months after she was gone.”

  “Maybe I ain’t hearin’ you right,” Perley remarked, “but it sounds to me like you ain’t too happy to get back. With your mama and papa gone, why do you want to?”

  “ ’Cause I’ve got a sister there, and I don’t know no place else to go,” she said.

  “Seems to me about any place would be better than one you’re sure you don’t like,” Perley said.

  “That’s what I told her,” Possum said. “She won’t admit it, but I think she’s scared one of them men in that cult will be coming after her now that Dan’s dead.”

  “No, I ain’t,” Emma responded at once. “I ain’t even sure they’ll let me come back after I married a cattleman. Raymond says cattlemen are the devil’s seeds.”

  “Who’s Raymond?” Perley asked.

  “Raymond Butcher. He’s Simon’s son, he took over when the old man died. He’s a preacher, too. My sister, Rachael, said he liked to pitched a fit when I ran off with Dan, said his sermon was an hour long that Sunday.”

  “So you’ve got a sister there,” Perley thought aloud. He looked at Possum, who was grinning at him behind Emma’s back. “Well, that does beat all,” Perley said, unable to respond with anything appropriate. He was rapidly coming to the opinion that Emma was going back to Butcher Bottom because she was penniless and had no way to survive otherwise. It didn’t sound like much of a future for her and her baby, but there wasn’t anything he could do to help her. Resigned to that fact, he decided he’d do what he could to see that she found Butcher Bottom and her sister. “Your sister,” he thought to ask then, “is she married and got a family?”

  “Yes, Rachael’s married to Tom Parker,” Emma said. “They’ve got two children, both girls. Raymond says that’s a good sign because that means two more to bear children when they get old enough. But I think Tom wanted boys to help him farm. I haven’t heard from her since right after I left Butcher Bottom.”

  “I reckon so,” Perley said and decided that maybe it was best not to ask any more questions, and just concern himself with helping Possum take Emma home.

  They hitched up the horses and continued on along the trail they had followed since crossing the Red River.

  * * *

  Approaching what looked to be a sizable creek, judging by the border of trees along its banks, Perley reined Buck back to let the wagon catch up with him. When he was even with Possum in the wagon seat, he said, “Looks like we’ve struck a creek just when we need one. I expect we’d best stop now, get some food, and rest the horses.”

  “I expect so,” Possum agreed as he craned his neck to look toward the snake-like line of trees stretching across the prairie before them. “Looks like this trail runs right throu
gh that biggest bunch of trees yonder,” he said, pointing toward a point where the creek evidently took a sharp bend. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that weren’t a regular campin’ place for most folks travelin’ this trail.” He turned and pointed downstream a good five hundred yards where there was a wide section with very few trees. “I expect that’s where the cattle herds were pushed across.”

  A few minutes later, when they rode into the trees, they found an axle-deep creek, about twenty yards wide at that point. Seeing a small clearing in the trees on the other side that offered grass for the horses, they proceeded across. Perley and Buck crossed first to be certain of the depth and to make sure there were no hidden holes that might gobble up a wagon wheel. Once across, they discovered ample evidence that Possum had been right when he figured it to be a popular camping spot. There were several spots where campfires had burned. They unhitched the horses and Perley pulled the saddle off Buck. Possum came up beside him as he let the big bay go back beside the creek to drink. “That’s a right stout-lookin’ bay you’re ridin’, Perley,” Possum observed. “Why’d you name him Buck?”

  “’Cause he does,” Perley said. When Possum looked confused by his answer, Perley went on to explain that Buck wouldn’t permit anyone to ride him but him.

  Possum’s question caused Emma to ask one of her own, one she had wondered about from first meeting Perley. “Pearly Gates,” she asked, “Is that your given name, or just a nickname?”

  “No, ma’am,” he answered patiently, having had to deal with the question ever since he could remember. “It’s my real name. I was named for my grandpa, who was named Perley. It sounds like those Pearly Gates, but it ain’t spelled the same.”

  “It’s an unusual name,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am, it is that.” He smiled, thinking she could never know the half of it. He went then to help Possum, who was already busy collecting some wood for a fire. It wasn’t long before there was a hearty fire going and the coffeepot was working. After feeding the baby, Emma took over the cooking of the beans that had been soaking all morning and the frying of some sourdough pan biscuits to go with the smoked beef they had packed.

  * * *

  “Whaddaya think, Zeb?” Cal Hackett asked, his voice almost in a whisper. “They look kinda poorly.”

  “Maybe,” Zeb answered. “Don’t matter much. Poorly or not, they’ve got more’n we’ve got right now.” He and his two brothers had been watching the three people busy making a camp near the creek. “A couple of them horses look pretty good, ’specially the bay that one feller was ridin’.”

  “Wonder what that woman is cookin’ up?” Peewee muttered.

  “I expect we’d best go down there and find out,” Zeb said. “Let’s walk up a little closer to get a better look. See if we got anythin’ to worry about.”

  “I don’t see no problem,” Cal insisted. “I can see that from here. One of them fellers looks like somebody’s grandpa, and the other’n’s a young feller, but he don’t look like no problem to me. Even if he gives us some trouble, there’s the three of us against him.”

  “Maybe we oughta just pick ’em off with our rifles and be done with ’em,” Peewee suggested. He was thinking about making their move before they had a chance to eat much of the food Emma was cooking.

  “The last time we tried that was with them four drifters up on the Wichita,” Zeb reminded him, “and that didn’t turn out too good, did it? Killed that one feller, then the other three dug in that river bank, and we had to call it off ’cause we was runnin’ outta cartridges. And we’re still short, so I don’t wanna take that chance on it happenin’ again.” He paused to see if anyone was going to object, knowing they wouldn’t question his judgment. “And if we ride on in to their camp, it’s still just one young feller and one old man against the three of us. Right?” His brothers nodded in agreement. “All right,” he said, “let’s go down and pay ’em a friendly visit.”

  * * *

  Emma, tending her biscuits, was the first to see the three men riding across the little clearing. She was at once alarmed, thinking of the small fortune they carried in the wagon. She called out to Possum, who was checking the left-rear wagon wheel again to see if it had gotten any worse. When he looked up and saw her pointing toward the trees, he immediately picked up his rifle and alerted Perley, who was taking a look at Buck’s hooves. “Uh-oh,” Perley muttered after spotting the visitors to their camp. He immediately walked up to the wagon to join Possum and Emma.

  “This don’t look too good,” Possum commented to Perley when he joined them. “They got a look about ’em.”

  “Maybe just some drifters, lookin’ for a meal,” Perley said, even though he was prone to agree with Possum’s assessment.

  “Maybe so, maybe not,” Possum said. “You might have to use that six-gun you’re wearin’ if they ain’t comin’ to welcome us to Texas.” He was hoping at that moment that he could count on Perley, if their visitors didn’t have peaceful intentions. Perley didn’t have the look of anything beyond just a pleasant young man.

  “Howdy,” Zeb called out as they rode into the clearing, three abreast, and pulled up just before the fire. “We was passin’ by on the other side of the river and smelled your coffee a-cookin’, and we was wonderin’ if you might could spare a cup or two. We’ve been out for a long time, food and coffee, and a cup of that would sure go good right now.”

  “Well, now,” Possum said, “I reckon we could spare a cup or two. We’re runnin’ low on supplies ourselves, spent the last money we had to buy some beef from a trail herd we met at the crossin’.”

  “Where you folks headin’?” Zeb asked as he stepped down from his saddle. “Have you come far?”

  “Headin’ to a place called Butcher Bottom,” Possum replied. “We started out from Dodge City, up in Kansas.”

  “You’ve come a long ways,” Zeb declared. “Tell you the truth, I’m surprised you folks took this trail. Most likely because you’re not from around here, so you didn’t know about the toll to use this trail.” His two brothers stepped down then, both wearing poorly disguised grins.

  “You’re right, mister,” Possum said. “I ain’t never heard of any tolls on any trails in Texas, and that’s a fact.” He knew now what he had hoped not to learn. The three of them were lowdown road agents, looking to rob defenseless travelers. He figured his only hope was to convince them that they had no money. “I reckon we’re just outta luck ’cause we spent the last dime we had to buy this food we’re cookin’.”

  “I reckon you are out of luck,” Cal spoke up then as he and Peewee took a few steps to either side of Zeb. “It’s our job to collect the toll from folks cuttin’ across the county’s private land here.”

  “That’s right,” Zeb said. “Me and my brothers work for the county. We’ll just have a look at what you’re carryin’ in that wagon and see if you’ve got anything worth takin’ for the toll.” Emma, already frightened, almost gasped aloud in sudden distress at the thought. Zeb picked up on her reaction. “What’s the matter, little lady, is there somethin’ in that wagon you don’t want nobody to see?”

  Recovering her composure almost as fast as she had lost it, “It’s my baby,” she answered. “He’s asleep in the wagon. I had a devil of a time gettin’ him to sleep, and I don’t want you to wake him.”

  “There ain’t nothin’ in the wagon but some furniture and beddin’,” Possum said, “Ain’t nothin’ worth any money.”

  “We’ll just take a look in there, anyway,” Zeb said, his rude smile showing his confidence. “We’ll be real quiet so we don’t wake up your baby.”

  Up to this point, Perley stood to the side, a silent observer of Possum’s handling of the situation. It was fairly obvious these three were no more than common thieves, looking to take advantage of some unlucky travelers. He figured it was time to step in. “You fellows say you work for the county?”

  “That’s right,” Cal answered and took a longer look at him. “We’
re special agents for this county, and our job is to collect money from everybody usin’ this trail.”

  Perley nodded, as if he understood. “That’s an important job,” he said. When Cal nodded in response, with a self-important grin in place, Perley asked another question. “What county is this, anyway?”

  The smile on Cal’s face froze and he immediately looked to Zeb for help. Flustered as well as his brother, Zeb blurted, “It don’t matter what damn county this is! It’s just your bad luck you came this way. Now, I’m tired of foolin’ with you people. Let’s take a look in that wagon!” As if on cue, Cal and Peewee each took a few steps to either side of Zeb, ready for any resistance to their search of the wagon.

  “I expect this has gone far enough,” Perley announced calmly. “You fellows sure don’t work for the county, and there ain’t no toll roads in Texas, even if you called this game trail a road. So I expect you’d best get back on your horses and clear outta here before somebody gets hurt.” He slowly reached over to take Emma’s arm and gave her a gentle push toward the back of the wagon, never taking his eyes off the three facing him.

  The shock of disbelief on the faces of the three would-be robbers was reflected on Possum’s face as well. He couldn’t believe Perley had chosen to challenge them. All three wore their guns in holsters hung low and tied to their legs, like many gunfighters he’d seen. If Perley didn’t keep his mouth shut, he was gonna get them all killed.

  “Mister,” Zeb pronounced, after a long moment’s pause, “You can step aside, or we’ll walk over your dead body. Either way, I’ll have a look in that wagon.” He was certain there was something valuable in the wagon, else they wouldn’t have objected to the search that much.

  “I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Perley said, “so it’s best if you do like I said and ride on outta here.”

  Possum looked nervously back and forth between Perley and Zeb Hackett. He figured he was looking death right in the face. A single thought suddenly flew across his brain, The Gates brothers had sent Perley to help them because he was crazy, and they figured it better to have him away from the herd. He was moments away from telling the bandits to go ahead and look in the wagon when Cal suddenly dropped his hand on the handle of his .44. The events that followed would remain a blur in Possum’s mind amid the rapid reports of gunfire, so quick in succession they almost sounded as one shot, instead of three separate ones. He stared in disbelief at the sight of Zeb Hackett lying dead, a bullet hole near the center of his chest. To his right, Cal was sitting on the ground, his right sleeve already soaking with blood from the wound in his shoulder. To his left, Peewee was crawling on the ground, dragging his wounded leg as he tried to reach the pistol he had flung from his hand when he was hit. “You’d best pick up that pistol before he reaches it,” Possum heard Perley calmly advise. Still in a fog, his own gun cold in his holster, he did as he was told and picked up Peewee’s weapon.