Esther

by Jim Cox

  Norm didn’t make much of a contribution during the next four games until he found himself shuffling again. He dealt out the five hands and minutes later passed out the call cards. Norm took on an inward smile. Ain’t no one gonna beat this full house I dealt myself, he thought with his eyes on his cards. However, when he looked up, the brother across the table was staring at him with a sour face—he hadn’t picked up his hole cards. “What’s wrong,” Norm said, “Ain’t you gonna pick up your cards?”

  “Not when they come from a crooked dealer.”

  “Are you calling me a cheat?” Norm blurted out as he stood.

  “Mister, you’re about the best bottom dealer I’ve ever saw, but your hole cards came from the bottom. I thought I saw you pull one from the bottom the last time you dealt, so I was watching extra close this time—you’re a cheating card shark, mister.” Then the accuser stood, pulled his coat to his back, and tucked its tail into his belt. Very carefully he removed the leather safety strap from his gun hammer.

  Both men were ready. Coats were back, safety leathers on their holsters dangled, hands were held close to their sides with extended fingers, their legs spread wide, and the most important factor of all for a fast shot…eye contact. It was the first thing that gave away a draw.

  Norm stood with a cocky sideways smile; no one had ever come close to beating him in a draw, and he’d been challenged many times—this man didn’t have a chance. The eyes of both challengers stayed fixed on each other, waiting for a signal—nothing else was seen, not even the accuser’s brother who had slipped unnoticed beside Norm holding an Arkansas Toothpick.

  They drew. The accuser’s gun had only partially cleared leather when he saw Norm’s gun barrel pointing at his chest. Norm’s face turned into a wide grin as he looked across the table into the eyes of a frightened man. But then, Norm’s expression changed as he felt an excruciating pain in the left side of his back. When he reached for the hurt, he felt the warm sticky substance, and when he pulled his hand back to look, it was red with his own blood. A terrible feeling began to come over him—something was wrong—he couldn’t stand anymore, and his knees buckled. As he went down on his knees still gripping his gun, he saw the brother beside him holding a bloody knife. The man hit the floor with a bullet hole between his eyes at the same time as Norm collapsed. John kneeled at his friend’s side and saw red bubbles coming from Norm’s nose and mouth. With his dying breath, Norm whispered in John’s ear that he had money hid under the horse trough.

  By the time John rose from Norm’s side, the other two card players had disappeared along with their dead brother and the money that had been on the table.

  »»•««

  Norm’s body was buried in the foreigner’s section of the town’s cemetery at mid-morning the following day. Only John and his family attended—words were not spoken.

  John lingered until after their noon meal and then started thinking about what he should do with Norm’s possessions. He already had the two thousand dollars from under the horse trough and another three hundred he’d found in Norm’s vest pocket. This will be plenty of money to support my future gambling, he thought. Norm’s horse and gear along with his clothing and other personal items were given to Mark. After much thought, John also gave Norm’s gun to his son.

  Esther thought the tragedy of Norm’s death might shake her husband up and cause him to stop his gambling and the other bad habits he’d fallen into, but as she was soon to learn, it hadn’t. As soon as supper was over, without saying a word, John was off to the saloon.

  Chapter Ten

  “What is it, son? What’s got you so excited?” Esther asked the next morning when Mark entered the boarding house, grinning from ear-to-ear, after feeding the horses.

  “Look what I found in the barn, Ma,” Mark said, pulling out a wad of money from his pants pocket. “There’s nearly seven hundred dollars here!” he said, waving the money about before handing it to his mother.

  “Where did it come from, son? Is it your Pa’s?” she asked while flipping through the bills.

  “Pa always sleeps with his head on his saddle. This morning when I picked it up to put it on the saddle-rail, I saw the money laying on the straw under it. I’m figuring it’s Pa’s, but I ain’t sure.” Mark’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know who else it could belong to?”

  “Where’s your pa, Mark? Is he asleep in the barn?”

  “I ain’t sure where he is, Ma, but he ain’t in the barn.”

  “Fix us a cup of coffee, son, while I hide the money in our bedroom. I’ll be right back.”

  After she’d taken a couple steps, Mark called to her, “Where’s Joan, Ma? Do we need to keep this from her?”

  Esther nodded, “She’s in the sitting room helping Mrs. Hux do some mending.”

  By the time his mother had returned to the kitchen, Mark had two cups of steaming coffee sitting on the table. The occasional clicking of their cups against saucers was the only sound the two made. Finally, Esther cleared her throat, leaned toward Mark with serious eyes, and said in a whisper, “Son, we have to hang on to this money under all circumstances. I hate to say this, but your Pa’s gone wayward and isn’t likely to take care of us any longer.” Mark showed his disappointment and agreement with a nod as his mother continued, “He’ll get mad when he finds it gone, and accuse us of stealing his money, but we have to stand firm and deny we have it—we have to lie about the whole matter. I imagine he’ll slap me around, trying to get me to fess up, but I won’t. He may even hit you too, but don’t give in.” A long minute passed. “Think you can do this, son?”

  “I ain’t gonna give-in, Ma, but I ain’t gonna let him hit you either. He’ll have to come through me, and I have Norm’s gun now,” the boy said with a stern face.

  “I’ll have no talk like that, John Mark Taylor. You put that gun away upstairs and leave it there. I don’t want you ending up like your pa.”

  “Just the same, I ain’t gonna let him hit ya’.” His mother nodded her thanks.

  Mark and Esther tried to stay busy throughout the morning, but in reality, their minds were never far from thoughts of what John would do when he came back and found his money gone. Would he be in a hostile mood and slap ʼem around? Would he leave ʼem?

  »»•««

  It was mid-afternoon when the front door swung open, and two fair-size men assisted John inside—one on each side. John was holding his side and looked a mess. His left eye, above a swollen nose crusted with blood, was black and swollen closed. His face was bruised with lacerations under both eyes. And the one under his left eye was at least three inches long. His shirt front had been ripped open with buttons missing, and his shirt and pants were smeared with blood, undoubtedly his own.

  Mrs. Hux looked on in shock while Esther and Mark quickly headed toward John to be of assistance. “What in the world happened to you?” Esther said as she approached her husband.

  “He ain’t up to talking, Ma’am…he ain’t been able to tell us a thing,” one of the men said. “We found him unconscious about an hour ago behind the saloon near the outhouse. When we got him inside the saloon, the bartender recognized him and told us to get him out of his place and bring him over here. Mrs. Hux looked like it didn’t set too well with her, but she kept her tongue as the men settled John into Esther’s room.

  By mid-morning the following day, John was moving about with short, careful steps to help ease the pain from his bruised, tender ribs. His left eye was now cracked open, and his facial lacerations had crusted over a bit. In total he was doing better, considering what he’d gone through.

  After slowly eating a bowl of stew at noon, John sat at the table drinking coffee and explaining to his family how his injuries had taken place. He said the two brothers of the man Norm had killed, slipped into the barn in early morning when he was sleeping, tied him up, and drug him down the alley to the back of the saloon. Then in retaliation of their brother’s death, they’d proceeded to kick and hit him ʼtil he los
t consciousness.

  When John had finished with the explanation, he rose and started hobbling toward the back door, heading for the barn. Esther looked at her son with tight lips.

  Several minutes later the back door slammed, and John limped into the kitchen with a snarled face. “Where’s my money?” he shouted, walking up to the table where Mark and Esther sat. “I ain’t gonna ask you a second time before I start swinging. Give me my money.”

  “What money, John? We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Esther said in a calm tone.

  “I had over seven hundred dollars under my saddle I was sleeping on when those hoodlums tied me up and drug me out of the barn. It ain’t there anymore.”

  “I bet those brothers robbed you, Pa,” Mark said.

  “They couldn’t have, ʼcause when they were dragging me out of the barn, I looked back and saw the saddle hadn’t been moved. You’re the only ones who could have taken it. Now give me my money.”

  “We ain’t got it, John. Go look in the barn again. Maybe you overlooked it,” Esther said as she took a step backward, getting out of John’s reach.

  “I looked good…it ain’t there.” Turning to Mark, he demanded, “Give me my money.” When Mark shrugged and again said he didn’t have it, John swung a hard, right fist that hit Mark on the chin, knocking him to the floor. With a cocked arm, he turned to Esther, expecting her to defend Mark, but instead, he found himself looking into the barrel of a gun held by Mrs. Hux.

  “Get out of this house before I shoot ya’ and don’t come back! You’re the scum of the earth, John Taylor, beating up on women and children—I ain’t having it in my house. I’ve shot men before, and I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Now get out.” The old woman was braced for the situation with a stern expression, a cocked gun, and a finger on the trigger ready to pull—not a soul in the room doubted her word. John’s stare at the old woman was penetrating, but he knew better than to cross her, so he turned and hobbled toward the door with a snarl on his battered face.

  The slamming of the back door sounded as the other guests came down the stairs asking what all of the commotion was about.

  “I’m sorry we caused a disturbance,” Esther said, showing signs of embarrassment. The couple nodded, and the room became quiet for several minutes as everyone found themselves at a loss for what to do or say.

  Mrs. Hux moved to put her gun away, and Esther asked, “When will you be leaving for the barge, Mr. Connors?” All eyes turned to her, wondering why she was asking.

  “The barge won’t be leaving for five days, but we’ll be heading out day after tomorrow. It only takes two days to get there, but we want to give ourselves extra time in case we have trouble.”

  “How big is the barge, Mr. Connors?” Do you suppose there’d be room for our family? There would be three of us going plus our team and wagon.”

  “Don’t you mean four, Ma? We have four in our family,” said Joan.

  “Not any longer, Joan. From here on out, there’ll only be the three of us. Your pa isn’t coming,” said Esther. Joan frowned with tight lips but kept quiet.

  When Esther turned her attention back to him, Mr. Connors answered her question. “I’m sure there would be room for the three of you, ma’am, but I’m not sure about your team and wagon.”

  “I’ve got coffee and an apple pie ready to be eaten,” Mrs. Hux called out interrupting the conversation. Folks smiled and gathered more closely around the table.

  It wasn’t long after the pie was eaten and coffee was drunk when Mark opened the back door on his way to the outhouse, then returned calling out, “Ma, come quick, Pa’s leading our team and Norm’s horse toward town.”

  Gazing out the door at her husband’s back, Esther said, “I imagine he’s taking the horses to the livery to be sold, son.”

  “How are we gonna get to the barge without our team, Ma?”

  Without hesitating, his mother said with a tone of determination, “We’re going, son, even if we have to walk.”

  For the next minute or so they both watched John walk away with the horses. “Son,” his mother said as her eyes brighten, “I want you to go to the livery and buy a pack horse capable of carrying a good size load of items we’ll need on our trip. Don’t let the smithy talk you into an expensive saddle horse—get the cheapest pack horse available.” As Esther was walking toward the stairs, she called back to Mark, “Stay here, son, while I go get ya’ some money.”

  When Esther returned, she handed her son sixty dollars. “There’s fifty dollars for the horse, Mark—don’t pay more than that for it,” she said, “and here’s another ten dollars for clothes we’ll need. Get us all heavy coats, gloves, and a pair of boots. Since we’ll be walking, men’s boots would be best for Joan and me—we both wear size nine.”

  Mark was pushing the back door open to leave when his mother called. “Don’t let your pa see you, son.” Mark gave a knowing nod and set off.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Taylor family, which now consisted of only Esther, Mark, and Joan, left the boarding house at the crack of dawn. They walked the entire day with only three rest stops; one being a noon meal break and the other two stops to rest and soak their sore feet in cold creek water. The new boots Mark had purchased the day before were a bit stiff and uncomfortable. The day had been long, and the sun was now casting long dark shadows. It was time to stop.

  Mark walked ahead of his mother and sister leading the pack animal and found a likely location to camp in a thick grove of pine trees near a rippling creek. He took the pack off of the mule and led the animal to water. Mark smiled as he watched him take a drink, recalling his mother’s expression when she saw him return to the boarding house barn with a mule, instead of a horse. There had been no horses available in their fifty-dollar price range. Mark had seen the mule standing off to one side. He was smaller than the run-of-the-street mules, was a mite thin, and after studying on the matter, Mark looked into his mouth to determine his age—something over fourteen years. The mule was pretty old, but Mark felt he’d do fine. Blue was his name and cost twenty-five dollars.

  After Blue finished drinking, Mark took him to a patch of grass, hobbled him, and then dragged a couple of dry limbs into camp. Soon they had a fire going with supper cooking and coffee water on.

  It was a peaceful evening, sitting by the fire with full stomachs and cups in hand, listening to katydid chirp and distant coyote howls. Other than the dancing light from the flames, the night became very dark under the canopy of pine trees, causing the travelers’ tired, weary bodies to become relaxed and ready for bed. Mark added slow burning logs to the fire, and soon the bedrolls were filled.

  Blue rested on folded legs a few yards away. Joan had already fallen asleep, and Mark and Esther lay awake with thoughts of their future.

  Several minutes passed. “Are you asleep, Ma?” Mark whispered softly.

  “No, son; I’m still awake. Do you want to ask me something?” There was a long pause.

  “Ma, why did you marry Pa? He don’t seem suited for you.”

  Esther thought on the matter and then answered, “It’s a long story, son. We’ll talk about it sometime, but not now; it’s time we get some sleep—there’s a long day ahead of us.”

  Esther lay wide awake thinking about the question her son had asked. Why did she marry John?

  It all started when I was fourteen at a summer church-yard social, Esther recalled. I was helping my mother arrange the bowls on the food tables when this handsome young man came walking toward me. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the job at hand but was unable to—I simply couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. He was extra tall, rather lanky but not too thin, with dark brown wavy hair, and eyes the color of the blue sky which seemed to radiate from his golden-brown skin. His facial features were perfect, and his smile displayed straight white teeth. “Howdy,” he said, “I’m new to the area—moved here two weeks ago. My name is John Taylor, but most folks call me Johnny. What’s yours?”


  Esther remembered being so engrossed with his looks and mannerisms she could hardly speak. Finally, she’d said something stupid she immediately wished she could take back, “It’ll be a while before the food will be served. You’ll have to come back.” Johnny had taken on a puzzled expression, gave her a nod, and walked away.

  “Who was that, Esther?” her mother asked. “He sure is a good-looking young man—wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I didn’t notice,” Esther had answered as her face turned a shade of pink.

  Folks gathered at the tables to eat, and Esther decided to find Johnny and repair the blunder she’d made. I’ll start off by welcoming him to our community, she thought, and then I’ll tell him my name and strike-up a conversation. A smile surfaced when she saw him towering above folks, but as she approached, Esther saw her best friend, Sarah, in a lively conversation with Johnny—smiling from ear-to-ear. She slipped back away and went to an empty chair beside her mother in time for the parson’s blessing, but didn’t listen to a word.

  The afternoon passed as folks gathered to gossip or talk about their crops, several played checkers, some pitched horseshoes, and a few of the young men turned the handles on the ice cream buckets. Esther made several attempts to talk to Johnny, but it seemed he was always talking to a girl and sometimes had two or three around him looking goggle-eyed.

  After the ice cream and pie had been served and eaten, folks started gathering their belongings and headed for home; it would soon be time for evening chores. Esther was never able to talk with Johnny again that afternoon, and she sat in the back seat of her family’s buggy all puffed up like a bullfrog as they drove away. Johnny was still surrounded with girls as they rode out of sight.

  Esther recalled the months following the church-yard social as an exciting time. She didn’t see Johnny very often, only at church events or at some town gathering like a dance or pie auction. When she did see him, Sarah was with him, all goggled-eyed and acting like a sick calf. But their actions hadn’t bothered her and Esther sluffed them off—she knew there were other fish in the pond and plenty were trying to get her attention. She knew she’d changed a lot during the last several months and was often told she was becoming a lovely young woman. Her slender, five-ten height developed into a well portioned womanly body with curves in all the right places accented by long sandy-blond hair, usually pulled back and tied with a ribbon.