by S. A. Glenn
Samuel’s blood boiled with rage; he wanted to burst through the window and wring the life out of that conniving bastard’s neck. “That son of bitch!” he uttered quite loud.
“Looouuuiiisss,” Katherine giggled.
Samuel heard her through the glass, stood in silence with amazement at her carefree reaction, and then saw an unchanged smile upon her seemingly willing face. “Now, she’s calling him LOUIS!” he declared aloud, wagging his head in disgust.
Two deep, wicked growls projected from behind him, paralyzing him with horror, the hair on the scruff of his neck stood on end. Images of the devil with deep red eyes and a wiggly tail flashed through his mind as he tried rationalizing what else it could be. With every bit of courage, he cautiously turned to greet the evil, seeing two pairs of eyes with two sets of jagged teeth, ferociously hoping for him to make a mistake.
Samuel knew that if he didn’t budge immediately with swiftness, that these two pissed-off rottweiler beasts were going to eat him. Without another thought Samuel leapt onto the fence like a cornered leopard. Mounting the top of it, the dogs uncontrollably barked at him. One of them bounded toward him, catching his boot with its teeth, pulling him back in. Samuel lost his balance then fell in their direction. He grasped the top of the fence, escaping the jaws of death by the skin of his teeth, and fell onto the safe side of the fence.
Right as the attack on Samuel’s life began, Louis Pierre yelled for a further performance by Katherine—and the audience flared up with acclamation, keeping the commotion outside unnoticed by them—but one person not with the others did hear the ruckus.
9:01
Fréderic stood in the kitchen and gazed out the window at the violent eruption of the dogs. He watched a man lying on the ground get up, catching a glimpse of his terrified face as the man escaped around to the front of the mansion. “Monsieur Simms!” he proclaimed, realizing that it was he who Sara started to address but kept hidden. Fréderic became suspicious of the two, wondering what they were up to. He sat at a small table to relieve the pressure on his aching, swollen knee. With his leg stretched out, he reclined, rubbing the pain-stricken area. Cupping his chin he thought about what trouble may lie ahead and what he must do about it.
9:02
Sara joined Louis Pierre next to the piano and kissed him on his ruddy cheek. He draped his arm around her, hugged her, then caressed her arm. They stood and smiled for one another, then listened to Katherine recite one of the hymns to God that she and Samuel had contrived.
9:07
Once again, the crowd conveyed its approval of Katherine’s talent. They reported it with their hands, some placing money into a glass on the piano. Katherine arose anew, giving appreciation to their compliments.
Louis Pierre bade a brief farewell to Katherine and Sara. “Please, pardon wa, my two prepossessing ladies, I shant be but a twinkle. I must check on my customers.”
The ladies curtsied.
“That was a sweet melody, Katherine,” Sara said.
“Thank… you… Mother,” she replied, hiccupping.
“Katherine Marie Jones Simms… you’re plum drunk!”
“I reck… on so,” she admitted, covering her mouth. “And I sound like my dear sweet hus… band,” she giggled.
“Oh! Speaking of him… he brought me here. He’s outside waiting to pick you up.”
“Bless his kind heart.”
Sara took Katherine’s arm, looking troubled. “What’s this I hear about you saying Samuel isn’t welcome here? Louis wouldn’t tell you that, would he?”
Katherine’s gaiety dwindled. She became quiet and still, except for an occasional sway. “Oh Mother. It isn’t any big deal. Louis just didn’t want any distractions keeping his clients from feeling uncomfortable, I guess… And the pay is very handsome. I told Samuel I’d use the money to buy furniture… And look, Mother…”—she grabbed the glass with the tips—“. . . there must be three, maybe four dollars in here.”
“Money isn’t everything, Katherine. I’m a bit disappointed in you… and Louis. Samuel’s outside in the cool weather, miserable about how he is being treated.”
Katherine said nothing, bowed her head in shame then sobered up. Peering back up, she said, “What should I do?” I’ve already made an agreement with Louis—and it’s not complete.”
“You made an agreement with Samuel, too… to honor and cherish him… remember?”
“Of course, I remember.”
“And you’re calling him Louis, now?”
“He asked me to…”
“I can’t tell you what to do, you’re an adult. You need to solve the problem on your own.”
Louis returned, smiling. But his happiness died as he laid his eyes upon the lowness of spirits within the ladies he was seeking. He stood in front of them. “What is wrong? What has happened? Why is there such gloom?”
“We are talking about Samuel,” Katherine told him.
“Monsieur Simms? Is he well? Please, tell me nothing has happened to him, I pray.”
“He’s fine, Louis,” Sara assured him. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Thank God!” A wisp of a smile emerged. “Then, what is it?”
“It is about…”—Katherine delayed—“. . . about you not wanting Samuel to be here because you thought that he would disrupt your soirée.”
Louis took a deep breath and released it with a sorrowful sound, then he placed his hand upon his forehead, bringing it down as though he were wiping clean his guilt-ridden face. “I am very sorry for being that way. I do not know what comes over me sometimes. I was quite nervous about this party—it is my first, you see. I simply wanted everything to be perfect, no bewilderments. I am ashamed! Please, forgive me,” he begged, lowering his apologetic head.
Fréderic witnessed his master facing the women with remorse.
“I believe you’re sincere, Louis. I forgive you,” Sara assured him. “But there’s one more person you must ask for forgiveness, and he’s the most important one.”
“Ah, yes! Monsieur Simms!” Louis declared. “He is outside, I assume?”
“He is…” Sara affirmed.
“We must bring him in right away, then. Let us find him at once!” Louis placed his hands at Sara’s and Katherine’s backs, steering them toward the front door.
Making their way outside, Sara led the mission to the carriage.
“Samuel, darling,” Katherine called out as she opened the carriage’s hatch and poked her head inside. “Someone wants to—Samuel? That is odd… he is not here.”
“Where could he have gone?” Louis asked the rhetorical question.
“Saaamuuueeel!” Sara shouted.
“Saaamuuueeel!” Katherine hollered.
“Monsieur Simms! Where are you? Please, I must speak with you… it is significant!” Louis Pierre yelled.
All became silent and still, waiting for a response, but only a few chirping crickets were heard—then in the distance a faint rustling in the brush was discovered, becoming louder. Waiting for the surprise they saw Samuel emerge, looking dazed and confused.
“Samuel! There you are!” exclaimed Katherine as she hurried over to him. “Where have you been, my love? Oh, my God, Samuel! What happened to you!?” she demanded.
He gazed upon her with a blank stare. Sara and Louis Pierre rushed over to them.
“What has happened, Monsieur Simms?”
“He has blood all over his hand!” responded Katherine. She held his wrist and showed the others the deep red liquid.
“What did you do, Samuel?” asked Sara, having a closer look at his hand.
Samuel became more alert, his glossy eyes faded. “I don’t know.” He reached for his head. “I can’t remember.”
“Looks like he has got a nice bump on his poll,” sa
id Louis Pierre, examining Samuel’s head.
“Did someone attack you, Sam?” asked Katherine.
He swung his head side to side. “I can’t remember, Kat. I just don’t know.”
“We must get him inside at once and have Fréderic dress his wounds,” instructed Louis Pierre.
“Come, Samuel. Let us help you,” said Sara, taking him by the arm.
“Yes, please, come. Let Fréderic take care of you.” Katherine took hold of his other arm.
They got him to the mansion. And like a sixth sense, Fréderic opened the door just as they reached it. Stepping out of the way he showed them to the kitchen. Samuel sat down at the small table. Fréderic fetched warm water, soap, and clean rags to cleanse the blood off of his hand. After doing so, he poured whiskey generously over Samuel’s wound.
“Bladder splattin’, nip dabbin’, son of a gun that hurts!” yelled Samuel, clenching his teeth.
“Auwy!” Katherine shared his pain.
Fréderic dressed the gash with gauze. Checking Samuel over, he found nothing else but the bump on his head. He placed a slice of chilled, raw sirloin onto it. “Stay away from the gardens, Monsieur Simms… or the hounds will have a feast of you!” he warned.
“Yes. They will think it to be dinner time if they smell that uncooked meat on your person,” joked Louis Pierre.
Samuel sat, bandaged as he held a slab of cold beef to his forehead. “How’d I get here, Kat?”
“You do not remember us bringing you to the kitchen?” she inquired.
“No. I mean, yeah. But how did I get HERE… to the mansion?”
“You drove me, Samuel. In the carriage,” explained Sara.
“It appears to be that that bump upon his head gave him a bit of amnesia,” Louis Pierre told everyone.
“I think he needs a doctor,” said Sara.
“I’m fine, ma’am. I just want to go home.”
Sara sighed and wagged her head. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“I’ll be okay; that is, if Kat will take care of me and read to me and keep me awake like last time… just like the doctor ordered.”
“Of course I will. Anything for my sweet man.”
“Oh, Monsieur Simms. I almost forgot: I am truly sorry that I did not invite you to the soirée. I was acting a fool. Please, forgive me.”
“No harm, no foul,” Samuel replied.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” responded Louis Pierre
CHAPTER 29
Early 1872 was bitter cold. The sawmill was only getting a few orders, and the saloon was not busy since folks were staying home keeping warm. The Simms couple had to rely on Katherine’s teaching salary of $2.86 per month.
Samuel decided to sell the promise ring for extra money. Not wanting to part with it in town in case someone figured out who once owned it, he ventured out of Wrangler to Saddle Ridge, a community a good two hours away. Bundling up with heavy clothing he saddled the horse then headed north.
Reaching his destination he brought his trusty steed to a strolling gait and made his way through the town. Samuel had never been to this place, so he took his time gazing at all the specialized shops. He thought about how he would like to bring Katherine here someday to visit the many stores. She would have a field day shopping here. But, then again, his mind shifted in thought, Katherine had lived in New York City: this small city would bore her. Yet, once again, his mind changed as he tipped his hat to a group of attentive, smiling ladies; Katherine might enjoy the delightful atmosphere this area possesses. “But, not till it’s warmer,” he said aloud, tightening his coat around his neck.
Finding a small business called “DAVE’S MERCHANTILE,” Samuel pulled over and dismounted, tying off the rein next to another one tied to a hitching post. Pulling up his britches then adjusting his hat he walked up to the door. A little bell jingled above his head as he entered the place. He removed his hat and leather gloves and shook off the cold as he trekked up the middle aisle.
A young woman with blond, shoulder-length hair wearing glasses and a pair of denim pants greeted Samuel with a warm smile. “Howdy, sir. How may I help you?”
“I reckon your name’s not Dave, is it?”
“You reckon correctly, sir. Dave is my grandpapa. My name is Goldie.”
“Nice to meet you, Goldie. I’m Samuel. And how you may help me is…”—he shoved his cold hand into his pocket and dug laboriously for the jeweled ring—“. . . letting me know how much you’ll give me for this.” He displayed it in his palm.
“Well, let me see. That is a very nice rock,” she said as it was handed to her.
“It’s a diamond,” he corrected.
“I know!” she kindly answered, viewing it with a jeweler’s loupe. Biting on the golden band, she sat it back into his possession. “I can give you eleven and a quarter for it.”
“ELEVEN AND A QUARTER DOLLARS?! THAT’S… that’s fine,” he exclaimed, calming himself.
“That is all I can give you, Samuel. I am sorry.”
“It’s a good deal, Goldie. I’ll take it.”
“Very well.” She wrote down something in a black book then took the ring from him and placed it into a metal box. Pulling out two bills and a shiny coin, she counted them out into his hand. “Ten and one make eleven, and a quarter makes $11.25.”
Samuel’s eyes grew as he saw all that money in his hand. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll spend it wise like.”
“And thank you, sir, for your business. Please, come again.”
Samuel stuffed the small fortune into his pocket, smiled at her, then headed outside to his horse. As he untied the rein he spotted a restaurant across the way. Wanting something to warm himself before he traveled back home, he walked the horse over and secured it, making his way into the diner for a cup of hot coffee.
A man who was lingering inside the mercantile exited. He waited outside in an alleyway, warmed his hands with his breath and waited for Samuel to leave, desperate to privately meet with him.
Samuel inconspicuously stashed the ten dollar bill into his boot, keeping his total earnings divided. He enjoyed his relaxing beverage, slowly drafting small tastes. He gazed out the window and realized the sun was getting low in the sky, so he gulped down the rest of his second cup. Leaving a generous tip, he buttoned up, placed his hat atop his head, then fitted his gloves on and headed for his horse. Releasing the bronco from its restraint he climbed up onto his ride, pulled to the left with the reins and led his horse south toward Wrangler.
“It’s about time!” growled the man that lurked between the buildings. He rushed over to his horse, staying out of sight as he followed Samuel out of town. The man took a shortcut to head off Samuel at the river for an ambush. Riding off of the road, he thrust his spurs into his horse’s sides, getting him up to top speed. Coming up to the bridge well before Samuel, he crossed it, waiting under the wooden passageway with ill intent.
Samuel was at a steady speed singing aloud a song called ‘Endless Love’ that he and Katherine had made up. Though he didn’t have the best singing voice, he tried his best. “Darling… what I need… is someone like you… Holding you and loving you… that’s what I want to do. Touching you with words of mine… willing to be in your life.” He and his horse trotted over to the other side of the bridge, still harmonizing. The insidious man suddenly came into view, startling Samuel’s horse. It stood on its hind legs, throwing Samuel off its back. Sitting on the cold ground, astonishing fright overcame Samuel as his horse ran away.
The man upon his nervous horse, calmed it down and pulled out a pistol from the leather case at his hip. “You got something I want, boy!” he declared as he pointed his firearm at Samuel’s chest and climbed off his horse.
Samuel froze with terror, no way out of his predicament. His short-lived life flashed before his eyes, seeing
Katherine as a widow. He couldn’t fathom why this person wished him harm—a thought entered his unsettled mind: What if the man knew who he was and planned on hauling him in to collect the reward? This was just as bad as being killed on the spot, since either way he would lose Katherine, forever. Showing a bit of bravery he stood, dusted off his pants with his hat, and positioned it back onto his head. Staring the man dead in the eye, he asked with a steady voice, “What do you want, mister?”
“I want your riches, fool! I know you got money! Give it to me and I’ll let you go!”
Samuel noticed that two of the man’s top teeth were missing, along with a foul odor that smelled like a rotting animal, projecting from his mouth. His clothing was old and torn, but they seemed to be clean. The hat on his head looked cheap as did his boots. “That’s it? You just want money?” Samuel asked with a smile, relieved that he may live another day. More than willing to part with a chunk of his change, he dug into his pocket and pulled out its contents. He stepped up to the rash stranger and placed the money into his weary hand.
“That’s it? I done came out here for a dollar-twenty? I heard that woman say eleven twenty-five . . . . Where’s the rest?” he demanded, gritting his teeth. He looked mean as he shoved the money into his pocket.
Samuel pitied the poor fellow. He could tell that the guy had had a rough life. Though the man was fearless enough to pull a gun, he didn’t believe that the man meant to harm anyone. Not wanting to part with all his worth, he said, “All I have is that, sir. At the restaurant I paid an associate ten dollars that I owed him. Now, please, mister, let me go like you said, so I can go home to my wife.”
