by Jim Cox
By December the temperature became bitter cold—sometimes several degrees below zero. Norm said it was especially cold because our altitude was close to three thousand feet. Strong winds came with the cold, freezing exposed skin within seconds if one went outside. Many times during bitter cold nights, when the wind was extra strong, the four horses were brought inside and placed at the back of the dugout.
Along with the cold, windy temperature, it snowed daily, and the accumulation rose rapidly. However, the cabin stayed comfortable inside, and they had all of the needed provisions. A large woodpile outside the door, snow to melt into water, and meat from a large elk carcass Norm had killed—they also had rabbit from time-to-time. John was nearly back to normal and was participating in games and other fun activities, but as customary, he didn’t help with the work. He called to Esther or Mark when he saw something needing done.
The close quarters of the small windowless enclosure were starting to get on everyone’s nerves, but folks stayed calm and avoided conflicts, knowing they’d move down off of the mountain within a few days where the weather conditions would be much better and eventually more favorable accommodations would be found.
Except for Mark, no one seemed to harbor a worry, but he had two. The horses were starting to become gaunt and looked shabby. Of course, their winter hair was extra-long causing part of their poorly look, but it didn’t hide their protruding bones. If the snow got much deeper, the horses wouldn’t be able to dig for what little grass they were now getting. Mark’s second worry was his sister. Norm was getting too friendly with Joan. He went out of his way to help with kitchen duties. He bragged on her a lot, sometimes even patting Joan’s back, and when he was around her, he grinned like a sick dog. Mark hadn’t been concerned with the goings on at first, but after taking a long look at his sister from a man’s standpoint, he changed his mind. She was a right pretty girl with long black hair that she kept pulled back and tied with a ribbon. She was tall, rather thin, but not thin enough to hide the fact she was starting to bloom. To develop and take on a womanly figure. I guess it’s time for this, Mark thought with an uneasy feeling, after all, she’ll be turning thirteen in a month. Mark had another thought. I’d better start watching out for the kind of boys she’s around—she ain’t old enough to start courting—especially with Norm, he’s way too old and not the sort of person suited for her.
Chapter Eight
Two days before Christmas, they started down the mountain after breakfast. John and Norm broke the trail, and the loaded wagon followed with Joan in the center, Esther on the right, and Mark on the left doing the driving. The day was nice for this time of the year. A bright sunshine, the wind was dead, and the temperature a bit warmer than what it had been but still several degrees below freezing as was evident by the lack of snow melting. Their clothing was not suited for such cold, so all three were wrapped in blankets with an extra one over their laps covering their legs.
The downhill trek through the snow, sometimes up to the wagon hubs was challenging for the horses. Often times, they jumped or even leaped forward when the snow got extra deep. Many times, it was up to their bellies; and because of their difficult pull, rest stops were made several times every hour. By the time they reached the foot of the mountain, it was afternoon, and the horses were exhausted. They took an extra-long rest, made coffee, and then got back on the trail.
Within an hour after coming off the mountain, they crossed the state line into Kentucky and by twilight came to a small village. It was a typical one street settlement with businesses on the end of town as they were entered—homes sat farther down the street. The business lineup included a mercantile, a café, a livery, and a saloon. A hotel was hoped for, but none was seen. Norm and John prepared to stop at the livery, but the place was clearly closed for the night with the double doors shut and the latch tongue in place, so they crossed the street with the wagon following and stopped in front of the saloon.
After dismounting and tying their horses, John told his family to stay in the wagon while he and Norm went inside for information. The men stood inside the batwings for a minute or so taking in the place. It wasn’t crowded, maybe a dozen men, mostly sitting around tables playing cards while barmaids went from man to man rubbing their shoulders and keeping their glasses full of the brown liquid. The bar at the back of the room was occupied with a couple of old-timers—John and Norm joined them. “You men are new to these parts,” a heavy-set man with slicked down black hair, wearing a dirty white apron said as he walked toward them behind the bar, “what can I do for ya’?”
“We need some information,” said John, “but first, bring us a bottle and two glasses.” The bartender filled the glasses half full of whiskey and sat the bottle close by. Both men quickly downed the whiskey and refilled their own glasses. Time passed as the man behind the bar pretended to keep busy by wiping things off, occasionally eying the two newcomers. After wiping his lips with the back of his hand, John motioned the bartender over and asked, “We pulled into town a few minutes ago and need a place to stay. Are there any accommodations close by?”
“Do you have money to pay for ʼem?” the bartender asked.
“We have money,” Norm said as he stepped closer to the bar, laying a five-dollar gold piece on it for their drinks. The bartender put the gold coin in a draw across the walkway, retrieved Norm’s change, and laid it on the bar beside the bottle.
“There’s a boarding house at the end of the street run by an old woman,” he finally said, “but she’s mighty particular about who she takes in. You gotta find her in the right mood, or she’ll turn you away.”
John spoke up, “Does she have facilities for horses? We have two drafts outside hitched to a wagon, and both of us are riding horses.”
“She has a barn; it’s plenty big enough to hold your stock,” the bartender said with a bit of sarcasm.
John picked up his glass and the bottle and turned to Norm. “Let’s see if we can get a seat at one of the card games, Norm. Get your glass.”
“What about your family, John? They’re waiting outside in the cold.”
“Let ʼem wait,” John said, “we’ll only play a hand or two.”
An hour later, Mark entered the saloon and walked up to his pa. “What are you doing, Pa? We’ve been waiting on ya’ for over an hour. It’s freezing out there.”
“Don’t bother me, son. I’m in the middle of a hand,” John said with a gruff tone. “We’ll be out in a bit.”
“We ain’t waiting any longer for ya’, Pa. Did you find us a place to spend the night?” His pa had turned back to his cards and didn’t answer.
Norm spoke up, “We were told there’s a boarding house at the end of the street, Mark; it’s where we figured on staying. Why don’t you take your ma and sister there and get settled in? Your pa and I will be along after a while.” Mark didn’t move.
“Didn’t you hear, Norm?” his father barked. “Take your ma and sister to the boarding house—now get movin’.”
“How are we gonna get settled in, Pa? We ain’t got no money.” His father took a long look at his son and then tossed him five dollars from his table winnings.
»»•««
Esther woke to the smell of bacon frying the next morning. She eased out of bed, not wanting to wake Joan, and tiptoed around Mark who was lying on the floor under blankets. After dressing, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. “Good morning, Mrs. Hux,” Esther said to the woman who was hovered over the fireplace turning potatoes while humming. She didn’t respond. Esther smiled, remembering from last night’s introductions she was hard of hearing. Mrs. Hux put the lid on the potato skillet and stood.
“Oh, good morning, Esther,” she said, a bit shocked, “I didn’t hear you come down.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you, Mrs. Hux,” Esther said with a smile. “I see you’re cooking breakfast. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“The bacon is already cooked, and the potatoes and biscuits
will be ready by six-thirty—that’s our scheduled time to eat breakfast.” After a short pause, she asked, “We have time for coffee; do you want a cup while we wait?” she rose to get the pot, not waiting for an answer. Esther noticed Mrs. Hux walked with a severe limp and the joints on her hands were all knotted up, and her fingers were crooked when she poured their coffee.
After a minute or so of table talk, Mrs. Hux asked, “What time did your man get here last night? I didn’t hear him come in.”
Esther shook her head. “He never showed up. I suspect he and his friend slept in the barn, but I ain’t sure. When Mark comes down, I’ll have him check on ʼem while he tends to the horses.” The older woman took on a suspicious look and then rose, heading for the fireplace.
Mrs. Hux is getting up in years, perhaps in her mid-seventies, Esther thought as she watched her leave the table. She’s certainly too old and crippled-up to be operating this place all by herself. Esther continued to size her up. She was short, rather plump, and had a round face full of wrinkles with white hair pulled back and twisted into a bun on the back of her head. Her gray dress hung to her ankles. The front was covered with a dark blue bib apron splotched with flour.
After returning to Esther from her task at the fire, Mrs. Hux refilled their cups and without hesitation said in a firm tone, “My man never treated me that way—he never stayed away from home in the evenings. At least, he’d always tell me where he was going and when he’d be home. Normally, after a hard day’s work, we ate supper, and then enjoyed the evening together. Of course, when the children were little, we spent a good deal of time with them.” The old lady thought on the matter for a spell and then said with a wide grin, “My man didn’t have much of an opportunity to cat around and get into things he had no business doing. We lived on a farm ten miles west of here with our closest neighbor two hours away.”
“How many children do you have, Mrs. Hux?”
“We had five, but two are dead. Elizabeth died from cholera when she was three, and our only son was killed when he was sixteen—a horse kicked him in the head while he was bent over hitching a trace—he died two days later. I have three daughters left, all of ʼem in their fifties. One’s in Pennsylvania, and two live in St. Louis. I have eleven grandchildren and three great-grandchildren at the last count. It makes my day when I receive a letter from one of them.”
“Do you ever get to see ʼem?” Esther asked.
Mrs. Hux looked away for a few seconds and then turned back with watery eyes. “I ain’t seen ʼem since they got married and left home when they were young.” There was a long pause. “I’ve been alone without family for neigh-on to twenty-five years—that’s when my man got killed—June 1832.”
Mrs. Hux could see the question in Esther’s eyes, how did he get killed, so she continued her story. “Like I said, our farm was ten miles west of here. The area was complete wilderness at that time—there wasn’t a town or settlement of any kind within fifty miles. We seldom saw a white person, and if we did, most of them would be traveling west to the goldfields. We saw Indians more often, but they kept to themselves and never caused us a problem until that terrible day in June 1832 when six painted renegade Indians rode up while we were eating supper. Without approaching the house or saying a word to us, they stole our horses and cows right out of our corral. My husband grabbed his gun, went outside, and shouted for them to put our stock back in the corral and to get off of our property. They only laughed and continued driving off our stock. My husband took a quick shot, and as he was re-priming for a second shot, an arrow struck him in his midsection, going all the way through his body. He staggered backward toward the door, and I hurried out to drag him inside. Before I got to the door with him, an arrow struck my right hip, and I fell in terrible pain. Somehow I pulled myself and my husband back inside the house, but there was nothing I could do for him. He died within the hour, and I was stranded on our cabin floor, bleeding badly, and unable to move.”
Mrs. Hux started to say more but cut herself short when Joan and Mark walked in. Then seconds later a couple by the name of Connors entered. We found out later they planned to catch a river raft on the Cherokee River in a few days and travel to St. Louis by waterway.
Mark fed and watered the horses, then two hours later Norm and John crawled out of the hayloft and came inside looking for something to eat. John tried to get Mrs. Hux to cook them something, but she laughed and said the only thing available was coffee. “Breakfast at her place was only served at six-thirty,” she told the men, “but the café in town served meals all day.” They left in a huff.
The day started to linger a bit, so Esther and her two children solicited jobs to do around the house and barn. Mrs. Hux wouldn’t accept the offer at first, saying she couldn’t afford to pay them, and she wouldn’t accept charity, but after a bit of coaxing she gave in. Mark spent the afternoon doing repair jobs in and around the barn while Joan and Esther did cleaning, mending, and various jobs in the house until supper and an early bedtime.
None of them saw Norm and John until the next morning. They’d apparently spent their time at the saloon until the late night and then slept in the hayloft.
The following two days were pretty much the same as the first day. Meals were cooked, general house and barn chores were done, and a sundry of other things. Norm and John missed their breakfast but came in the house at five-thirty sharp for supper. Afterward, they’d hang around drinking coffee for an hour or so, and then head back to the saloon for a night of drinking and gambling.
On the third evening when Norm and John started for the barn after supper to get their horses, Esther followed. “We need to talk, John,” Esther said while the men were saddling their horses.
Norm quickly reacted, “I’ll let you two talk. When you’re finished, you can find me at the saloon, John.”
“What is it, Esther? What do we need to talk about?” John said in a gruff voice.
“What are we gonna do, John? Me and the kids are stranded here with nothing to do. We don’t have money, no place to call our own, and in two days our rent will be due again.”
“Don’t worry about the rent money, Esther; I’ll give you money when the time comes.”
“That’s not all, John. I can’t figure out what’s to become of us? You don’t spend time with us, me or the kids. You slap me around like I don’t mean a thing to ya’. The law wants ya’ for stealing, you’ve become a drunk, and you gamble all the time. It takes money to live like you’ve been living, John. Where do you get the money?”
“I’ve changed, Esther. I’ve found the good life, the way a man should live. You don’t have to break your back doing manual labor; all you have to do is take from someone who has more than they need. I ain’t got no money worries anymore, Esther. Norm has learned me how to be a top-notch gambler.” John wore a big grin as he mounted to head out. When he came to the barn door, John turned and said. “If you don’t like how things are going, Esther, you can move on, but I ain’t going with ya’.”
Chapter Nine
The saloon was extra busy. It was Saturday night, and many of the surrounding farm families had come to town. Men settled into the saloon for a drink and a game or two. Norm waited for John to come along after his talk with Esther. He saved a chair for John at a card table with three tall men he judged to be brothers because of their similarities. While waiting for John, Norm took a closer look at the brothers. They didn’t look like farmers even though they wore dirty farm-style clothes hanging loosely from skinny shoulders. Their greasy hair hung past their collars, and their stubble faces indicated they’d not shaven for several days. They had deep-set, black eyes that danced about, taking in the room without turning their heads. Each had a swollen jaw from a wad of tobacco, causing them to occasionally spit on the saloon’s dirt floor. Norm inwardly grinned as he watched their Adams-apples bob up and down when they swallowed. Two of the brothers kept their wool caps on. He’d never seen the men before, but in spite of their rough appea
rance, they looked to be gullible and an easy target for a big haul.
After John arrived, it only took a couple hands for Norm to figure out he’d underestimated the strangers’ card playing abilities. He had held his own, keeping a little ahead, but John had already lost a considerable amount. Norm kept a keen eye out for cheating, but he didn’t detect any—the brothers knew the game. Barmaids filled the glasses at the table as soon as they were emptied, which was felt to be more frequent as the hands were dealt.
As the evening passed, Norm was getting a little nervous. Several hands had gone by since he’d won—his cards had gone cold. He still had a thousand dollars in his vest pocket, but the table’s stakes had grown to a couple hundred dollars. The high stakes coupled with the money he was giving John to keep him in the game could break him in an hour or two. He had two thousand hid in the barn, but he hated to lose.
Finally, Norm was dealt a good hand—three kings and two off cards. It wasn’t long until John, and one of the brothers threw in, leaving only three hands in the game. The pot grew. There was over four hundred dollars on the table, and over a hundred of it was Norm’s. His nervousness eased when he raked in the pot which had grown to over five hundred dollars. But then Norm’s cards reverted back to losers, and by midnight he found himself down to three hundred dollars.
Norm folded early the next two hands and then the deck was passed to him. He shuffled the cards extensively and dealt each player a card, circling the table five times. He was sure no one saw him deal himself three cards from the bottom. The pot was worth over three hundred dollars and his tension ebbed as he collected his winnings.
