A Man Called Scar

by Jim Cox

  “Ca-ca-ca-can I h-h-h-help?” asked Jake.

  “Everyone is needed if we’re to get the job done before cold temperatures and heavy snows set in.”

  “When do we start?” Liz asked eagerly. “I can help too, you know.”

  “Might as well get started first thing in the morning,” Douglas ordered. “We have some long, hard days ahead of us.”

  The racks inside the cave were built to hold the meat before construction started on the barrier across the canyon. Trees with long, dense limbs were marked to be cut, and by noon on the third day, the first tree was hitched to the draft team and dragged to the site. It required both big horses to pull the tree, even though it was moved across snow-covered ground. Tree after tree was cut and hauled to the canyon site before the tired, weary workers headed for the house in darkness.

  At day’s end, four days later, the workers had completed the barrier, except for the gate. “We’ll finish the gate tomorrow,” remarked Douglas.

  “I don’t know about that. Have you noticed the black clouds hanging over the mountain tops?” Thomas asked. They woke to a brisk storm bringing wall after wall of snow to the ranch. The snow accumulated in high drifts, causing outside chores to be difficult. The water in the washstand bucket outside the barn door was a solid cake of ice.

  When Douglas saw the expanse of white, he whispered to himself, “Guess the gate will have to wait until spring.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  There was no let up from the frigid temperature or the accumulation of snow, as the days of December passed. It was the beginning of winter, and the likelihood of better weather before spring was doubtful. Chores took up only a small portion of each day leaving a great deal of idle time, but folks stayed fairly busy with all sorts of activities.

  Christmas came, and the Double D prepared for a day of celebration with joyous attitudes. Liz enticed Bart and Jake to help her string a popcorn garland for a small pine tree cut a few days before. Herb and Thomas were in the barn putting finishing touches on presents they had made, and Mrs. Douglas was busy preparing a special Christmas dinner.

  They sat down to elk steak, chicken and dumplings, mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread. The nightstand was moved closer to the kitchen table, and three apple pies were placed on it. Before they ate, all eyes turned to Mr. Douglas who held the family Bible. They sat quietly as he turned to the Christmas story in the book of Luke and read aloud. When he had finished, they joined hands as he prayed.

  Not long after the meal was finished, the pies were cut, and slices were passed around the table; the men loosened their belts.

  Coffee was poured, and presents were handed out. It was the first Christmas at the Double D ranch, and each present was a treasure that would always be remembered. They were simple gifts of little commercial value, but to the receivers, they were priceless. All had been handcrafted. Liz gave Bart a braided belt she’d made from elk hide, and Bart gave Liz a necklace made from three elk antler tips strung on a rawhide strip. She immediately placed it around her neck.

  Bart continued his training workouts after Christmas, but he now wore the elk-hide gloves Mr. Douglas had given as a present. He had mastered the straight-line approach to punching and was now learning tactics as well. “Stay on your toes with your left foot forward and slightly spread apart from your right. It will improve your movement and balance. Don’t always go for the head, Bart. A good blow to the stomach is as effective, especially if a man is carrying extra weight. Most of the time, men won’t protect their midsections very well. After they receive several body blows, they’ll lower their hands for protection, leaving their heads vulnerable.”

  As time passed, the lessons became more sophisticated. Bart learned the hip roll and how to use his head for butting. He learned how to stomp his opponent’s toes if he was being held from behind. He practiced how to roll away from kicks, and how to apply painful pressure points. With each day, a new skill was mastered.

  Bart always allowed an hour for a vigorous workout with the punching bag. One day when he entered the room, Bart noticed numbers drawn on the bag. “What are these numbers for, Mr. Douglas?”

  “They’re to help your reflexes, Bart. When I swing the bag and call out a number, you’re to hit it.” Bart was to hit the number as it passed by him, no matter which direction the bag swung.

  “You’re getting a lot better,” commented Mr. Douglas after one of Bart’s energetic workouts. “These workouts are making you stronger, and your punching is much faster and more accurate. Your power has increased to the point you could hurt most any man.”

  “Do you really think I’ve improved that much, Mr. Douglas?”

  “If you continue working out like you have been, you’ll be able to defend yourself against most men by summer.”

  “Even at my size?”

  “Size plays a part, but technique is more important than size. Within a month or two, your technique will be sufficient to hold your own in a fight.” Bart could hardly contain his smile.

  The days after Christmas were well below freezing. Snow flurries came almost daily, and periodically heavy storms added inches to the already deep snow covering. By February, the snow covered the corral rails, and some drifts were well over a man’s head.

  To eliminate boredom during their time indoors, folks fell into routines. Most of the Double D hands spent their days reading, playing checkers, or enjoying lengthy card games. The Douglases had brought playing cards and a box of books from their home in Carolina. Thomas had brought a checkerboard and three boxes of law books from Flat Peaks. His books were stored in the barn.

  Liz and Jake were playing checkers one afternoon when Liz pushed the game aside and picked up a deck of cards. “Let’s play cards, Jake. You keep score. I’ll pass out the cards.” Liz pushed the paper and pencil over to him. He fumbled with the pencil for a few seconds and then pushed them back to Liz.

  “I-I-I-I’ve got to-to-to go to-to-to the b-b-b-barn, Liz. May-may-maybe your Ma will-will-will p-p-play cards with you.” Jake hurried out the door without putting on his coat, leaving Liz and her mother alone.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Liz said with a puzzled expression. “He sure seemed in a hurry to go to the barn.” Mrs. Douglas sat down at the table across from her daughter. “He doesn’t know how to read or count very well, Liz. He couldn’t write your names at the top of the sheet or add up the scores, so to prevent embarrassment, he made an excuse and left.”

  Liz was dazed. “How long have you known he couldn’t read or write, Mama?”

  “I’ve known for some time. On a couple of occasions, I saw him flipping through our books when he thought no one was looking. One time he was holding the book upside down. I’ve talked with Thomas about the situation, and he told me Jake didn’t start stuttering until his mother died. He believes Jake’s stuttering stems from losing his mother, but also from a lack of self-confidence because of his inability to read and write.”

  “Does everyone know Jake can’t read or write, Mama?”

  “Thomas has always known, and I told your Papa when I discovered the problem.”

  “How about, Bart? Does he know?”

  “Jake told him some time ago, but made him promise not to tell anyone—especially, you.”

  Two days passed before Liz brought up Jake’s literacy again with her mother when they were alone. “Mama, I’ve been thinking about Jake’s problem. I believe we ought to teach him how to read and write. We have plenty of time this winter for lessons before we get busy doing outside work.”

  “I agree, Liz. Why don’t you outline a teaching agenda? When you’re finished, I’ll examine it to see if I have suggestions. Afterward, you can explain your idea to Jake.”

  Jake was a little reluctant to accept Liz’s proposal, but after encouragement from the others, he agreed to start lessons. Mrs. Douglas suggested Liz start with one or two numbers for the first few days and limit the lessons to one hour. After that, things could spe
ed up to match Jake’s interest and aptitude.

  Jake was an eager learner. Within three weeks he could add and subtract three-digit numbers and was ready to start learning multiplication and division. He also started an introduction to reading.

  From time to time, Liz would have Jake demonstrate his newly learned skills following the evening meal. It was somewhat embarrassing to Jake but also encouraging when everyone praised him. Jake threw himself into reading. He could be found reading one of the Douglases’ books every spare minute. In fact, he became somewhat of a nuisance asking for help pronouncing the more difficult words.

  One afternoon, when Mrs. Douglas was helping Jake with his reading, she asked him what profession he wanted to take up to earn a living. She caught Jake off guard without a good answer. “I-I-I c-c-c-can’t do anything w-w-w-worthwhile w-w-w-with my s-s-s-stuttering,” he answered.

  “Your stuttering may cause some limitations, but you’ll probably stop stuttering someday. If it doesn’t go away, you need to be prepared. There are many professions a stuttering man can perform. What would be your first choice? Would you like to become a doctor, a rancher, a parson, a businessman? It’s time to start making plans for the future. You’re growing like a weed, Jake. You’ll soon be a young man ready to go off on your own.”

  “I-I-I’ll g-g-g-give the ma-ma-matter some thought, Mrs. D-D-D-Douglas.” Jake hesitated for a minute or two and then with a smile said, “I-I-I believe I-I-I’m already a-a-a little taller t-t-than Bart.”

  Thomas walked up one day when Bart was flipping through one of the books Jake had finished. “Do you like to read, Bart?”

  “Yes, I do, but it’s been over a year since I read a book. I’m probably getting kind of rusty.”

  “I have several volumes of law books in the barn you’re welcome to read. I could pick one out that might interest you?”

  “Thanks, I’d like that.”

  After the three retired to the barn’s fireplace that evening, Thomas handed Bart a black, leather-bound book titled Commentaries on the Laws of England by William Blackstone. The book was worn from use, and several pages had handwritten notations on them. “It’s a very special book, Bart. Blackstone wrote other volumes concerning the rights of people, and they’re used by most of our universities. When you finish this volume, I’ll give you another.”

  Thomas explained to Bart the influence Blackstone’s books had on the laws of England and their subsequent application in the United States. He said Blackstone’s books outlined the rules of democracy. That the majority should rule but the minority must be protected.

  Thomas quoted from other parts of the book and suggested Bart read a chapter then discuss it with him.

  Days turned into weeks and weeks became months. On the first of April, the sky cleared, the days became longer, and the sun started warming things up. The temperature still demanded coats, but the anticipation of spring was on everyone’s mind.

  By mid-April, the gate at the box canyon was built, and plans were being made to round up the cows and any horses they could find.

  Early one April morning, the four men left in search of the cows. The sun was bright, but the air was chilly. Snow covered the ground on the north side of the hills and in some places was still several inches deep. Coming to the Indian trail, which was void of fresh unshod tracks, the men headed east. They rode four miles on the trail before entering the trees in search of the cows.

  An hour had passed before they found old tracks leading to the protective cliff. Although no animals were present, a matted trail was found going in a southeasterly direction. They followed.

  The tracks went into the prairie where they separated into three main paths. The men stayed with the center trail. After riding a couple of miles and crossing three ridges, they found the cows scattered on a hillside. The men halted their horses and observed.

  “How many head would you say are in this group, Thomas?” Herb asked.

  “I’d say there’s over a hundred head here.”

  “I see some calves standing around,” injected Bart. “They’re real young. Will they be all right? Isn’t it too cold for them?”

  “They’ll get along fine, Bart. It’s the time of year for calving, and in a few weeks there’ll be a calf beside most every cow.”

  “Maybe we’ll have the three hundred head needed to qualify for the free-range registration?” Bart suggested. The men smiled and gave a favorable nod.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The next morning when the men came in from chores, Mrs. Douglas had a large breakfast prepared. After eating, they mounted their horses and rode southeast in pursuit of the cows. Following Thomas’ instructions, they each brought their bedroll, a rope, a canteen, and a large bandana. Douglas led a draft horse carrying food and other necessary items for camping. Their course followed a direct route to the cow trail south of the Indian trace.

  A few cows were lying down chewing their cud when the men topped the final hill, but most of the herd was standing peacefully with heads lowered. The men dismounted and made plans.

  Thomas, who had more or less assumed the role of range foreman, started giving orders. “Bart, you’ll handle the west side of the drive, and Jake, you’ll take the east side; Herb and I will bring up the rear. If we see any problems, we’ll come to help. Remember, the herd’s going to be wild during the first hour or so, wanting to split off, but stay calm, they’ll settle down after a while and follow the lead cows. It’s our job to keep the lead cows going in the right direction.

  “It will be dangerous, especially to start with, so be careful and don’t take chances. Stay on the outer edge of the herd, and whatever you do, don’t go in amongst the herd. If you do, your horse might get excited and stumble. You could fall off and get trampled. If the cows start getting nervous, or problems arise, ride away from the herd. The original Vincent cows have been driven before, so it won’t be long before they’ll remember what’s expected of them and lead the others forward.”

  Thomas explained their first objective was to bring the herd into a tight, oblong group before starting to move the herd north. He told the men to swing the end of their ropes to keep the herd’s attention. He also reminded them that a loud noise could cause a stampede, especially with a maverick herd. Cows with newborns or ones in the process of giving birth should stay behind and be collected at a later date.

  The men rode to their positions about a quarter of a mile away. For the first thirty minutes, the cows would not cooperate. They’d break away, but the riders would patiently bring them back into the group. Patience ran short, but eventually, the horses caught on and practically herded the cows on their own. Occasionally, a stubborn bull would amble off, but would soon return, not wanting to be separated from his harem. It was a slow process, but the circle tightened little by little.

  By midafternoon, they were inching forward a little. A few of the older maverick cows were reluctant to move, but the constant pushing from cows at the rear kept the herd advancing. Pretty soon, a long-horned brindled cow took charge of the herd as if she were their boss. She started up the trail at a fairly fast pace, seeming to know where she was going; the balance of the herd followed.

  An hour before sundown, the men called it a day and stopped in a basin covered with lush grass. A small creek ran through the west end of the basin, providing the cows with a much needed drink; after their fill, they moseyed off to graze.

  “We’ll make camp a ways down from the hilltop. You boys gather several armloads of chips and start a fire. I’ll get the water for coffee.”

  After the men had put everything in place for the night, they settled down to a meal Mrs. Douglas had sent along. Over coffee, Thomas outlined the problems that might arise during the night. “Indians are normally the herd’s main concern, but we won’t be bothered. Sometimes, wolves or other critters come prowling about, and even if they don’t attack, they can excite the herd. However, the greatest danger is a thunderstorm. It can be brutal. The
crack of lightning can cause a stampede.”

  When the shadows grew long and the cows started to lay down for their early night’s rest, Bart and Douglas rode off to their first, two-hour watch. Bart went to the west side of the herd and Douglas went east. It was a quiet night for the watchmen, except for one incident. Bart saw the silhouette of a wolf crossing the hilltop, but the cows weren’t affected. One by one, cows stood to eat and then would lie down again. This rotation occurred throughout the night but come first light, the cows were up, seeming ready to move.

  The boss cow headed off at a fast pace, and the herd followed. Hours passed slowly, and the spring sun beamed down. The rising dust from the pounding hooves made the riders pull their hat brims low, squint their eyes, and use their bandanas. Sometimes, small calves would fall behind but would eventually scramble about and find their mothers. The morning was uneventful as the herd moved onward. Shortly before noon, the herd’s pace quickened. “Must be water ahead,” suggested Douglas.

  “Looks that way,” answered Thomas. “We’ll let the stock rest and fill their bellies for an hour or so. They’re docile and easier to handle if they stay watered and fed.”

  After the stop, the herd continued their westerly pace for two hours and came to the northern trail leading toward the Double D homestead. The men turned the herd north, and they plodded on. The day was coming to an end when the boss cow crossed the Indian trace, heading up the last hill before the ranch buildings would come into sight.

  “There are Indians watching us,” Thomas said as he and Douglas crossed the trace. “They’re behind those trees to the west.”

  “I’ve been watching them,” responded Herb. “Think I’ll cut out a couple head of young stuff for them.”

  “That’s a good idea, but be careful.”

  When the sun was setting, and the western clouds were in a golden, orange glow, Liz and her mother stood on the bridge watching the herd move toward the box canyon. As the last of the cows passed, Mrs. Douglas turned and said, “We’d better hurry and prepare supper, Liz. We have four hungry men coming.”