by Lou Bradshaw
Driftin’
By Lou Bradshaw
Copyright © 2015 by L E Bradshaw
Cover art Copyright © by L E Bradshaw
Driftin’ is a work of fiction and is strictly a product of the author’s imagination. It is not intended to represent any person or persons whether living or dead.
No part of this book may be copied or reproduced by any means without written permission from the author or his representative.
Dedication
This story is dedicated to the memory of my brother, Merritt Bradshaw. When we were living with one relative or another, sometimes together, and sometimes apart, we were three little Bradshaw kids adrift in the World War II years and the backwash that followed. My younger sister and I had only one thing we could count on, and that was our big brother Merritt.
Books by Lou Bradshaw in order of publishing date.
Ben Blue series:
1. Hickory Jack
2. Blue
3. Ace High
4. Blue Norther
5. Cain a Ben Blue companion
6. One Man Standing
7. Rubio a Ben Blue companion
8. Spirit Valley
Shad Cain series:
1. Cain
2. Cain… just Cain
3. Driftin’
Humor:
1. A Fine Kettle of Fish
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Chapter 1
I stood there like a schoolboy in my city duds. Dog lay a few feet away looking up at me and whimpering. It may have been the first time he’d ever seen me nervous, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Angelina Maria Elena Isabella Baca-Ramos sat across the small low table from me. We were in her family’s home in the foot hills of the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. Her mother and father had disappeared to some other part of the adobe.
She dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief and looked up at me. Her face showed signs of not having dabbed enough, for there were still tears present on her reddened cheeks.
“Shadrac… you know I will forever be in debt to you for what you have done for me and my people.” I was waiting for the “but” and then it came. “But… I cannot marry you or anyone now, and maybe I will never marry again. To marry you would be the worst thing I could do to you.
“I cannot stand the thought of a man touching me… I could never be a true wife to you…Please forgive me.” Then she broke down and sobbed into her kerchief.
Standing there I felt like an overdressed lump not knowing what to say or do. I knew what she’d been through, and strangely enough, I understood. It had been a year since I had found her in the mountains looking more like a wild and wounded doe than a woman. And I had hoped it had been enough time, but I realized that there may never be enough time.
I moved the table away and hunkered down on my heels in front of her. Taking her hands in my right paw, I lifted her chin. Her eyes were closed and her face was wet and tormented.
“Angelina, look at me.” Her eyelids fluttered and she opened them. “It’s all right, Angelina… I was mostly kiddin’ anyway… I really just dropped by to show off my new Denver duds… just wanted you to see how nice I could clean up.”
She couldn’t keep from laughing through her tears. Then she pulled a hand away and blew her nose. The other hand squeezed mine. It was awkward, and I was sorry for causing her to have to remember the ordeal.
“Thank you for understanding, Shadrac… you will always be special to me, and if I was looking for a husband, your cabin would be the first place I would look.”
I smiled and stood up saying, “Well, would you look at the time. I really need to be running along.”
Dog knew it was time to go, so he stood up and walked to the door. He was a right canny dog, and he generally knew what I was thinking as soon as I had it sorted out. I think he knew all along that this wasn’t going to turn out good. He’d been draggin’ his feet for fifty miles. Next time I plan to make a fool of myself, I’ll consult with Dog first.
“If you should ever change your mind, all you need do is send up a smoke, and I’ll come a runnin’… Tell your ma and pa I said good night.”
She walked me to my horse holding on tight to my hand. I knew she felt safe when she was with me, but that wasn’t enough. I guess she just didn’t feel the way I did, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it, other than accept her feelings and get on with my life.
After all, what was I to think I should deserve such a woman as Angelina? What was I but a big old lanky mountain man thirty years out of touch? I reckoned I was a man who just didn’t fit in with civilized folks. I didn’t fit in with civilization no matter how many dude suits I might buy. I was a sow’s ear, and nobody was ever goin’ to make me pass for a silk purse.
I rode along for several hours, doing nothing but cursing my luck and feeling sorry for myself. I hadn’t given my horse and Dog a thought. I was just moping along. When it dawned on me that they had both just walked about fifty miles just to have to turn around and start walking back. So I started looking for a place to stop for the night. It wasn’t their fault that I was such a lunkhead.
~~~~~ o ~~~~~
Two days later and back at the cabin, I was still moping around like a big old fat Tennessee bullfrog. I was just sitting there not looking at anything or doing nothing for hours at a time. Dog was just sitting at my feet most of the time. Occasionally, he’d look up to see if I was still breathing.
Finally, I broke through the gloom and said to myself…Shad Cain, you intend to sit here moanin’ and whinin’ for the rest of your life? All right… she didn’t accept your offer…at least she didn’t shoot ya… so drag your carcass up and find something to do… saddle up and take a ride…anything.
Standing up, I said, “Well, Dog, let’s go somewhere… where would you care to go?”
He just looked up at me and started wagging his tail as if to say, “You choose, Cain.”
“Well, Dog, I’ve been to California a couple times, but I never got all the way to that big blue water ocean they got out there… I’d kinda like to look at it… What do ya think, ol’ feller?”
“That’s what I thought… well, what’re ya waitin’ get to packin’.”
He didn’t say much, but he turned around two or three times looking for something to pack. I don’t reckon he had much to pack, except maybe a couple of bones and some fleas. When I gave it a little thought, I didn’t have much to pack my own self. So I put what I thought I’d need in my duffle and took everything else back into the cave that connects to the cabin. It ain’t easy getting into and out of it. If you don’t know how to get it open, you won’t get in there at all. And if a fella ain’t real careful in there…. Well, I just don’t like to think about that.
Bright and early the next morning, me, Dog and my new horse, Bud were on our way to Creede. I lost my good roan horse up in western Colorado a while back. Some crazy woman tried to shoot me and wound up shooting a mighty good horse. My friend Ben Blue showed up one morning with a two year old buckskin colt. He let on that he just had an extra horse th
at needed to be worked. But it didn’t take a trained eye to see that boy was a nephew to the big grey Ben rode. I didn’t want to take it, but I knew he felt responsible for me losing the roan. So I just thanked him kindly and accepted the big fella.
I named that big boy, Bud, and promised to take good care of him. Well, I was about to give that horse a look at some country like he ain’t never seen before. The last thing I did before we left that morning was write on a piece of tanned elk hide:
If yore hungry theres some canned food in the cubberd to eat
If you brake somethin fix it If you steel somethin I will find you
Cain
Of course, there wasn’t much there for anyone to steal except some old hides and some bedding. I reckon I’d be a little miffed if someone took my big cooking pot, but otherwise there was much worth hauling off.
We were in Creede that afternoon, but we were too late to do any banking, so I figured a visit to my favorite saloon and a good meal would do me and Dog no harm. My old pal, Percy was sitting in his place out front of the saloon. He seemed happy to see me and Dog, so I invited him in for a drink.
As we walked in, the barkeep was already drawing my beer in a glass and one in a bowl for Dog. He had Percy’s drink poured before we reached the bar. As I was standing there with Percy, listening to Dog lap up his beer, it dawned on me that I’d made friends here. It was beginning to feel like home. Ranchers, farmers, miners, and merchants were all pretty decent folks. They all seemed to know my name and most were quick to give me a big “Howdy”.
It’d been a long time since I’d had any kind of a regular home. I hadn’t had a home since I was fourteen years old and my pa sent me off to the western mountains, to keep me from getting tangled up in the war that was about to start. Tennessee was a long way away and a long time ago. I never went back to Tennessee after the fighting was over.
I wondered if I would ever come back to my cabin high up on the south flank of Marble Mountain. Well, I was planning on it, but one never knew what the fates had in store. All I knew was I needed a holiday, and I was determined to have one.
“Percy,” I said after he had two drinks to my one beer, “you had your supper yet? I’m gettin’ kinda hongry… how bout you?”
“Danged if I hadn’t plum forgot about eatin’. I was havin’ such a good time talkin’ with you and Barney here… it just slipped my mind.”
Barney gave me a knowing smile. He’d known Percy for a long time, and he knew that the old fella wasn’t fooling anyone. The old man hadn’t done anything wrong, except living about ten years longer than his bank account did. He wasn’t the town drunk by any means, but he enjoyed a swallow when it was available. I tried to help when I could, but he had pride, and that was about all he had.
I made camp on the edge of town. I guess I could have easily enough stayed at the hotel, but the weather was fine, and I didn’t want to be cooped up inside. The air had a softness to it that made a body just feel like soaking it up. Of course, it would be cool before morning, but I’d just pull my blanket tighter and add another stick to the fire.
As soon as the bank was open, I was in there getting some traveling money from my savings. I don’t normally spend much money and it just sits there growing all moldy, so this holiday will help keep the bank vault smelling better. I told the teller to give me the oldest and moldiest money in there. He just smiled and said, “Sure thing, Mister Cain.” But what he brought didn’t look too bad. So I left and went to see if Percy had eaten his breakfast yet.
Over coffee, I told Percy about the trip I was planning and that I wasn’t sure I’d be coming back or not. He grew sort of melancholy and said, “I’d sure miss seein’ you come to town boy. And it ain’t just because you’re so generous. I just like seein’ you every couple of months.”
That made me feel good and bad at the same time. I don’t guess I’d ever really had anyone say they’d miss having me around. Oh, I got friends flung all over the west, but they’re all like me. They came and they went with the seasons or with their whims. If I’d see them after a couple years, we’d have a nice reunion and soon be off with the winds. But nobody ever said they’d miss me. I guess those are the sort of things that happen when a fella builds a cabin and makes a home… I slipped a twenty dollar note in Percy’s pocket and bid him farewell.
It was about forty miles to Del Norte, and I could make it easy in two days. If I could catch a ride on an ore train at South Fork, I could make it in half that. Of course that would depend on making a connection and if they had a stock car hitched up. It really didn’t matter much to me, but I’d like to save wear and tear on poor ol’ Dogs footpads. He never seems to complain about much, so maybe it don’t matter to him neither.
As luck would have it, they were loading an ore train when we got to South Fork. They didn’t have a stock car, but they had a flatbed right in front of the caboose. They’d be pulling out first thing in the morning, and they said I could ride the flatbed if I wanted…. I wanted.
Chapter 2
The brakeman said I could ride in the caboose with him, but I wasn’t sure how Bud and Dog would react to hanging around on a moving platform, so I stood out there with them. The brakeman said we would be traveling at about fifteen miles an hour. It was like being in a runaway buckboard behind a good team that was in a race with each another.
Bud didn’t like it at all. He didn’t much care for the sound of walking on boards. When the train started moving, I thought I was going to have trouble, and there were a few scary minutes. I had him facing the rear, so wind wouldn’t be in his face. All I could do was hang on to his cheek strap and brace my feet. But after about a mile or two, he spread his feet and lowered his head. Dog laid down at my feet and went to sleep. Soon the buckskin settled down and was able to shift with the movement of the train. His head came up and it looked like he was enjoying the scenery. By the time we got to Del Norte, the only one uncomfortable was me.
I was able to catch a north bound at Del Norte and booked passage up to Cheyenne for a coach seat, a dog riding in the baggage car, and a horse in a half empty stockcar. I spent as much time up in the baggage car, as I did in my paid for seat. It took a little over three days to reach Cheyenne. I’d sit on a crate next to Dog, yarinin’ with the mail clerk, and whittlin’. The mail clerk wasn’t too interesting but at least there weren’t any yellin’ kids or cryin’ babies in the baggage car.
Every time we’d stop for more than a few minutes, I’d take Dog out and let him sniff around and take care of business. There were five other horses in the cattle car for Bud to gossip with, but I’d go in there and mess with him a little anyway.
We had a two hour stop in Denver, so I took Bud and Dog out for a little fresh grass and exercise. We were all getting a little lazy and cooped up. I didn’t go into town with only a two hour layover, so I bought a couple of sandwiches in the station and shared one with Dog.
I figured riding the rails at forty miles an hour would be something like the lap of luxury, but it was getting a little tedious. I may have been better suited for it, if I’d a put on my fancy courtin’ clothes. I had brung them along just in case I wouldn’t be presentable enough to get into California. I could just imagine them standing at the boarder turning scruffy looking folks out. I’d been down in the southern desert and up in the Sierra Nevada’s, but now I was heading for San Francisco.
Cheyenne was wild and wooly, but it had been that way every time I’d been there. The only difference was it was bigger, so the wild and wooly was spread out farther. We had an overnight layover this time, so I got my ticket to Frisco and made arrangements for Dog and Bud. I saddled up and we went down town. There weren’t any of the old mountain man crowd around, but I renewed some old acquaintances with bartenders and saloon gals.
One of the gals said she still had that carved duck I’d given her years ago. She told me that a drummer tried to buy it from her, but she told him it was her retirement fund. Well I didn’t know if i
t was that good, but she thought it was and it made her happy to think it.
I spent the night in the railroad stable, and the next morning I was loading my horse, dog, and the rest of my gear. I’d stopped the night before and got some fresh meat scraps and grain. Bud wasn’t too crazy about the idea of a feedbag, but he didn’t mind what I put into it.
The third day out of Cheyenne, I was beginning to think train travel wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Oh, it was fast alright, but it was boring, especially out on the prairie. You could see for miles and miles in all directions. There wasn’t a tree anywhere unless it was hugging a river or stream. The highlight of the day was when you’d see some buffalos or wild horses. If someone saw a family of Injuns on the move, the train would nearly tip over with everyone crowding to one side or the other for a look.
There were a few hills, and sometimes they were of a fair size. If they weren’t too high, the railroad would just cut a gap in them and go right on through leaving high walls on both sides. Other times, if they were too high those fellas would drill a tunnel through them. I would imagine what the hill was made of would decide what they did to get the tracks past them.
I was in the baggage car visiting with the mail fella as we started going through one of those high banked gaps. We were on a slight uphill grade, but it was enough to slow the train down. The mail clerk started acting fidgety. Then he reached into a drawer and came out with an old Walker Colt.
“You expectin’ trouble?” I asked.
“Just being cautious.” He said. “There’s been a number of holdups at the end of this cut. By the time we get to the end, the train will be going pretty slow…and we’re carrying gold.”
