Shatto (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series)

by Roy F. Chandler

  Although supposed to be exercising their horses, Rob and Amy rode back slowly. Rob was always a little sad after selling a horse. They put so many hours into raising and training the animals that it became not unlike sending forth children into the world.

  By the time they reached Bloomfield, Rob was feeling better. As they entered the town, he suddenly turned around in his saddle and rode backwards through the heart of the village, solemnly nodding and greeting amused acquaintances.

  Amy said not a word until he turned around and was well beyond the Square. She rode close and punched him soundly in the ribs. Her grin was wide and she said, "Rob Shatto, the whole town already thinks you are peculiar. Don't make it worse."

  Rob grinned back, thinking her remarkably beautiful and young looking. He stuck his reins in his teeth and vaulted easily from his horse to land behind her saddle. He held her around the waist with one hand and kept his reins in the other. He whispered in her ear and her laughter rang clear and strong. Rob touched her horse into quicker motion and they rode double beyond the town.

  +++++

  Chapter 26: 1847

  Sometimes it seemed to Rob that Chip and Ted would never learn. They forgot about as fast as he'd tell them and too often their minds wandered or they would get to fooling around.

  Then, he would see one of them do something about as well as anyone ever would and he would know that despite all the failures they were learning, and that through some inexplicable process the lessons sunk in.

  He knew so many things that most fathers didn't that he despaired of being able to show them everything from which they might profit. The subjects alone appeared endless, and the details within each subject were countless. Many of the things he tried to pass on were otherwise unobtainable, and many were points learned in a harder society. Rob knew their value, and he included them among the more prosaic things boys learned.

  "Chip, when you fight with a knife, hold the handle just as you would a sword. That gives you the most reach and you can cut or thrust either way.

  "A fighting knife should be long and sharp on both edges. A skinning knife should be short and sharp on one side. Shape your knife edge on the biggest diameter stone you can find, sharpen it on a fine hand stone, and hone it on a leather strap. Trying to use a dull knife causes slips and accidents. You won't cut yourself with a sharp blade."

  +++++

  "When you are hunting or scouting, never look over the top of a downed log. Your head sticks out plain and unnatural. Peer around an end of the log. Never look around the edge of a tree for the same reasons. Get down low and peer around near the ground or through brush.

  Animals don't look up, so a tree makes a good deer or turkey stand. Don't ever get in a tree to ambush a man. It can be too easy to get trapped there, and men sometimes know enough to look up."

  +++++

  "A brass front sight is best in woods because it shows up well in poor light. You can't see a black front sight as well in brush, but on the plains or in the high mountains, blacken your front sight so that it stands out clear without sun glare.

  "Light guns are for playing and for shooting squirrels. On serious hunting, you don't want man or animal moving after you let fly, so, use the heaviest caliber gun you can handle."

  +++++

  "Breaking a horse is a bad choice of words. A horse beaten into line isn't nearly as dependable as one trained. A horse is not too smart. Take your time and teach it by going over everything a thousand times. Most horses have been taught only enough to get by when things are normal. That's why they stampede over snakes, wagons, and lightning. Seeing we spend half our waking hours riding, we ought to train item better.

  "Never run a horse on a hard road!"

  +++++

  'There will come a time when you will want to shoot around the left edge of something without exposing your whole body. Learn to shoot either left or right handed so you can do that naturally. Shoot with both eyes open so you can see what's happening around your target. One eye shut leaves you blind on one side and an Injun might get one into you before you know he's there.

  "Your gun should fire as your sights fall into line. Struggling to squeeze a trigger while your sights bear then wobble away will allow your game to escape or your enemy to shoot first.

  +++++

  "When choosing a wife, remember that she will be a lot like her mother." ("A lot of girls I know don't look like their mom's, Pap!")

  "Some don't look like their mom's, but most will act like them. They will keep the same kind of house and they will cook the same. They'll be about as kindly or as mean, and don't forget, they will turn to their mothers for advice and help. Yep, if you want to see what your gal will be like in twenty or thirty years, just look at her mother!"

  +++++

  'The best deer hunting is at dawn and dusk. At noon take a nap, just like the deer does. A deer beds on a slope above where he browses. He points his butt into the wind and looks where he can't smell. You've got a better chance trying to fool his eyes than his nose. Young does make better leather than bucks and they taste better, but shoot off your does and there soon won't be many deer.

  "Don't shoot a bear just uphill from you. Bears always fall down, and he could come rolling right down onto you. Bears are mostly long fur and long legs. Make your shot careful or you won't keep your bear down."

  +++++

  "It's a fact to remember that you can often tell where a rider is from by his horse harness. Now, in steep mountain country, a rider uses more harness than the single girth we are accustomed to. That's why we have all these extra straps hanging around. Riding land that is nearly straight up and down requires a double girth. The rear strap isn't cinched tight, but it keeps the saddle from flopping up too high. You also use a crupper, running back under your horse's tail, to hold the saddle back when moving down steep slopes, and probably a martingale to prevent a horse from tossing his head on a steep climb and maybe going over backwards."

  +++++

  "Now, look close at all these tracks. A man's footprints tell a lot about him. It's plain enough that long steps show fast walking and if there's no heel print, the man's sprinting. But, if you look close, there's more. If toes point out, your man is no woodsman and is probably too fat. Some people say Indians walk pigeon-toed, but that's wrong. Most people that toe-in are knock-kneed and move clumsy. A man steps longest with his best foot and if he's barefooted, that foot will show a wider track. As most people favor the same side for foot or hand, you can tell right-handed from left-handed men. Good woodsmen point their feet pretty straight and don't leave deep heel marks."

  +++++

  "Getting exhausted is a mountain man's greatest danger, and it is true to some degree anywhere. When you are tired, you make mistakes—you take the easiest way, and you don't do things you should. Rest whenever you can because even a catnap can bring you back fast. If it is a serious time, extra rest just might give you a necessary edge."

  +++++

  "Ted, that's no way to crawl! Your butt sticks up a foot above everything else. Some Cheyenne would think it was a buffalo hump and put an arrow through it. When you crawl, start from flat out, use your elbows and knees, but always move a hand out front first. After it's down quiet and solid, bring up a knee, but never so far forward that it's under your hip. That's what jacks your rump way up in the air. Because you've got to keep your head low when you are crawling, get your ears working and keep them listening. Move terrible slow. Stop often to rest and listen. If it was safe, you wouldn't be crawling, so take your time and let the turtles and bugs march right on past."

  +++++

  "There is a special thing to remember. The words to explain are hard to work out because all I am talking about is an idea. Maybe we could call it a way of thinking.

  "Anyway, those that have learned the way are real, complete and content. Those that haven't often don't know they are missing the best, because there is no pain involved. But believe me, the best is passing the
m by.

  "It seems to amount to this: Every day is just as important as the next one, just as this month or this year is as special as any one coming up. A man has to teach himself to enjoy 'right now.' You have to break off your hurrying or pause in your labors to look around, to see how good things are, to appreciate everything around you.

  "Always allow time for sniffing air and wet rain, for looking at clouds, woods and game, and for enjoying the sight or thought of your friends and family. Don't ever abandon today, hoping another time will come up better. There is good in the worst of situations and the best men make sure they see the good at least as much as the bad.

  "It could be, boys, that I've just told you the most important fact you will ever hear in your whole lives. I'm surely hoping you can act on it."

  +++++

  "The old frontiersmen were all great runners. Old Rob could run all day without tiring, and you have heard lots of times about Jack Elan running home from beyond the Ohio River. Now, to be a real long distance runner takes two things. First of all, your muscles and wind have to be in condition and used to it. But just as important, is being able to pace yourself. That means making yourself slow down when your legs tire or your breathing gets hard.

  "Out west, the Apache Indians are known for running further day after day than a horse can travel. They do that by moving slowly and steadily. Any time their wind gets short enough that they start panting, they slow down a little more, but they never completely stop.

  "The man that hurries will burn himself out and have to quit, but the runner that just eases along carefully without straining can go on just about as long as he wishes.

  Those are the only secrets to running miles on end."

  +++++

  Chapter 27: 1847

  Leaning idly against the corner of the hotel, Rob saw Chip and Ted coming up Main Street, riding together on one horse. They rode bareback, wearing only old trousers with their mud-caked bare feet dangling. There was an old gunnysack filled with something hard balanced behind Ted, so Rob guessed they had been down at Rice's dam catching snapping turtles.

  A number of older youths were across the street and they stopped to watch the Shattos approach. A fat boy of about sixteen stepped out into the street and said something to Chip. Rob was too far away to hear, but he saw both Chip and Ted stiffen a bit, and the other youths laughed and slapped at each other.

  The Shattos rode on and the fat boy called after them. This time Rob heard him.

  "Hey Shatto, ain't you allowed out without your little brother taggin' along?" Chip looked grim.

  "Hey boy, you ain't scared to stop and talk, are ya?" When the horse kept walking, the boy's face got mean.

  "What's the matter kid? Won't old peg-leg let you 'sociate with us common folks?" Rob saw Chip's face turn real cold. He had never seen his boy look that way, and he felt goose bumps jump under his shirt.

  Chip reined the horse to a stop and swung a leg across the horse's neck to drop lightly to the ground. Ted, looking scared half to death scrambled after him.

  Chip pushed Ted off to the side where he would be out of the way and walked up close to the bigger boy. Rob thought maybe he should step out and separate the boys before they got going too good, but Chip had a right to settle his own squabbles and interference would just put it off for another time.

  The fat youth put a big hand against Chip's chest, "Now don't get too close, Shatto. I ain't fixin' to get that horse smell all over me." He turned a little to receive the plaudits of his crowd and Chip was all over him.

  Rob couldn't decide just what Chip did. He appeared to be up around the other boy's head, punching, slapping, grabbing, and scratching. The big kid bawled like a calf and grabbed at Chip, flinging him flat onto the ground.

  Chip came up so quick Rob couldn't half believe it and he was back into the fat boy's face with hands flying. Again, the bigger youth grabbed and punched at Chip, getting him away and knocking him to his knees. Then Teddy landed on his back, hands grabbing at the bully's hair. The boy roared with pain and struggled to get Ted off his back. He bellowed for help, but his gang was laughing and urging the two Shattos on.

  Chip was at him again and the fat boy's squallings sounded scared and desperate. A man on the hotel porch called, "Hey Krouser, your boy's gettin' torn up out here."

  A burly figure, almost a larger edition of the fat boy in the street, appeared at the door and Rob recognized him as a local tinsmith who spent more time in the bar than at his shop.

  Krouser cursed and said, "Them damn Shatto kids!" He reached inside, came up with a broken off buggy whip, and started off the hotel porch.

  Rob leaned into view and called real clear, "Krouser!" The man's head turned toward him and he came to an uncertain stop. "Be careful how you use that whip!"

  Krouser blinked dull eyes, licked at his lips, then turned and walked across to the melee.

  The fight had gone on. Ted had gotten flung aside and was back in and climbing the Krouser boy's back. Chip kept getting knocked away by the older youth's flailing arms but he too was back in. Through the clouding dust, Rob could see blood on the wailing fat boy's face.

  The tinsmith lit into the fracas with curses and swipes of his whip, but they were controlled and about evenly distributed. Ted made a run clear of the whip and stayed safely away. Chip backed away from his bawling opponent, but planted his feet and let the switch lash his legs without giving another inch.

  Krouser gave his boy a few cuffs and pushed him toward their shop. The watching youths laughed aloud and Krouser routed them with angered slashes of his whip.

  Chip stood his ground and the tinsmith glowered at him, but with Rob watching he thought better of his obvious desire to give Chip Shatto a switching to remember. He stomped off after his boy grumbling threats and promises,

  Rob stayed back out of sight as the boys mounted the horse and rode east on Main Street. They had an old man they liked down there. Rob figured they would give him the turtles, then ride on home.

  +++++

  He was on the porch nearly an hour before they rode in. They put the horse away and came to the house.

  Chip had a swollen lip, and one eye was developing a blue arc under it. Both boys showed welts from Krouser's whip. Chip had some good ones.

  Rob said, "How does the other fellow look?'

  Chip grinned ruefully and touched his fat lip gingerly, "Hope he's worse off than me, Pap."

  Ted was jumping up and down excitedly. "You should have seen it, Pap. Old Chip scratched his face up something awful. He just sunk his claws into Fred Krouser's face and tore out handfuls. Chip looked just like a panther clawing away at fat Fred."

  Chip laughed, still rueful, "If there was a panther around it was Ted, Pap. He climbed onto Krouser's back and gave me a chance to get at him. Krouser'd buck him off and Ted would be back on before he even hit the ground."

  "Who won, do you figure?"

  Ted was sure that they had because Krouser had been yelling for help the whole time, but Chip considered his answer more carefully. "Well Pap, as far as the fight went, I reckon we about held our own. Mr. Krouser split us up with a buggy whip, but if it had gone on we might have gotten licked. I was getting real tired and Fred's awful strong.

  "He's always yellin' stuff at us and I just got enough of it. I don't expect he'll bother us much again. But if he does, he'll get it again and I've been thinking of ways to handle him better next time."

  Rob sent them off for a wash below the spring before supper and as they disappeared into the woods, he sent his panther's scream after them. He heard their boyish laughter and Ted's terrible imitation.

  +++++

  Rob and Amy had been to the courthouse. They rode toward a small group of men on the hotel porch without more than noticing their presence. Coming abreast, a voice spoke suggestively of Amy, and Rob saw color rush to her cheeks.

  The tinsmith affected a tall black hat called a stovepipe and Rob saw it on the porch. They kept riding
and heard the voice again. This time, Rob was sure it was Krouser. The remark was vile and there was nervous, subdued laughter on the porch.

  Probably Krouser had brooded about Rob curtailing his use of the buggy whip. His bullyboy son getting well marked by the much younger Chip Shatto was surely mentioned within the drinking fraternity, and that, too, might have clouded the man's judgment.

  They rode on as far as Church Street before Rob pulled up. Amy said, "Now Rob, there is no need. They are no accounts and we can ignore them."

  Rob's voice held a grim coldness that she remembered from earlier times, "No Amy, the day hasn't come when I have to turn away from deliberate foul mouthings of my family.

  "That was Krouser spouting off. He's father of the boy that picked the fight with Chip and Ted. It's more than time he learned to pick at another family."

  She put her hand on his arm. "Rob, be careful. It isn't worth getting hurt over."

  He swung away, touching his mare into a full gallop. Ahead, the hotel porch stood empty. He figured the drinkers had stepped back into the bar room.

  One man looked out as Rob's horse skidded to a haunches-down halt. Rob landed, moving before the horse stopped. The man's eyes looked big as porringers. He said, "Oh my Lord!" and scurried off along the porch.

  Rob bounded across the hotel porch and into the dim saloon. The only sound of his coming was the solid thump of his rubber-tipped peg striking the wooden floor.

  Two men pushed away from a side table, anxious to be clear, and he saw Krouser leaning over the bar with his back to the door.