Dakota Trail

by David R Lewis

  We got plumb up to that little stream where I had waited on Homer the first time afore I really woke all the way up. Homer looked at me some hard.

  “You alright are ya Rube?” he asked me.

  “I am now,” I said an’ nodded to him. “I just was awful tired I guess. I’m awake Homer. I truly am.”

  He studied on me for a minute, then smiled a little bit.

  “You wait here an’ I’ll go take a peek like I done yesterday. I know where I’m goin’ this time an’ I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  There was about a three-quarter moon shinin’ an’ not a cloud I could see anywhere. I got off Willie an’ ground-tied him on the south side of the creek so he could git hisself a bite to eat while I took a seat on the bank an’ listened to him rippin’ grass while I enjoyed the noise little critters was makin’ as they scuttled around. False dawn come an’ went, an’ the sky was gittin’ light in the east when Homer come back.

  “Take to horse, boy,” he said. “We got to hurry a little bit.”

  He turned away then an’ took off back across that creek, touchin’ his horse into a high lope. I checked my possibles, tightened the cinch, an’ clumb up on Willie.

  “We got to git after it, Pard,” I tolt him. “Homer’s got a head start on us.”

  Willie knowed it. He went sideways for a few steps crossin’ that creek, then straightened out an’ commenced to run a little bit. In about five minutes I could see Homer off in the distance. When I come up on him, he grinned at me.

  “I reckon Willie was awake,” he said.

  “Where we goin’?” I asked him.

  “We’ll turn west in another mile or so. I watched them boys take out in that big buckboard with the canvas top. They was a short feller what went with ‘em.”

  “Lotus tolt us that they was a little Chinee fella that was on the trip when she got kidnapped. She said he cooked an’ stuff at the house an’ was the first of the bunch that took advantage of her. You figger that was him what took out on the wagon?”

  “I warn’t close enough to git a good look at him, but he fits the bill. Don’t make no differnce. If he’s on that wagon, he’s a dead man, Rube. He just doan know it yet.”

  For about the next hour or so we slowed the horses down to a short lope an’ kept on headin’ west. Finally Homer reined in an’ stopped. Both our horses was blowin’ some.

  “We oughta be a ways ahead a that wagon by now,” Homer said. “They was on a little worn trail, near as I could tell. We go north a couple a miles an’ I reckon we’ll run across it. We’ll turn back east when we do an’ run into that wagon in a little ways, just two fellers out on the trail. Then we’ll make damn shore they won’t never kidnap, nor steal, nor buy, nor sell, nor abuse, nor pickup an’deliver any more a them Chinee girls. Dirty sonsabitches are gonna pay for they deeds today.”

  I could see that Homer was kindly grittin’ his teeth. I nodded to him, but I didn’t say nothin’ about it. He turned his horse North an’ went off on a trot. Me an’ Willie follerd along.

  Homer Poteet ain’t what ya might call a normal man. When he got hisself a purpose, I had never seen him turn from it. He was about as fearless a fella as I had ever knowed. Even Marion Daniels would back up a little bit if he seen Homer was set on somethin’. He had the bit in his teeth, they warn’t no doubt about that. I stayed about fifty feet behind him an’ didn’t ask no questions. I figgerd he’d tell me anythin’ I might need to know.

  We come on that wagon trail in two or three miles. Homer brung his horse to a stop an’ looked back east down the way.

  “You got that little sawed off shotgun a your’n, do ya?”

  “Yessir, I do,” I tolt him. “In my right side saddle bag.”

  “Put it to where you can reach it.”

  I pulled that cut off twelve gage an’ the holster outa the bag, checked the loads, an’ tied it to the right side a the horn while Homer peered off down the way.

  “Bout a half a mile east an’ comin’ this direction,” he said. “Two fellers settin’ in the seat. I doan see that Chinee shithead.”

  “Mebbe he’s on the crates in the back,” I said.

  “Likely, Rube. That front seat ain’t terrible wide. Let’s git on the trail. You see me adjust my hat, you shotgun them ol’ boys settin’ on the seat. That might make the horses run off. If they do, let ‘em go. We’ll ketch up to ‘em easy enough.”

  He turned his horse back to the east then, ridin’ on where that little trail had beat the grass down some. Willie caught up with him an’ off we went on a slow an’ easy walk.

  In just a little ways I could see that buckboard off in the distance comin’ our direction. Shore enough, they was two fellas in the seat behind a couple a fair sized bay horses. I took the thong offa that little shotgun an’ tried to look as casual as I could. Homer smiled at me.

  It didn’t take too long afore we run across that wagon. Homer brung his horse to a stop a little off to the right of the trail. I eased Willie up next to him. That wagon come up to beside where we was. Homer grinned an’ spoke up.

  “Mornin’ boys,” he said. “Doan mean to hold you up none, but my horse is fixin’ to shed a shoe. Is they a town anywhere around this neck of the woods that might have a blacksmith?”

  The fella without the reins spoke up.

  “Keep goin’ the way ya are an’ you’ll run into the James River,” he said. “Foller it south an’ you’ll come on a town by the name a Huron. They’ll be a smith there, I reckon.”

  “Thank ya,” Homer said, “I appreciate yer information. You boys have a fine day.”

  He tipped his hat. I come up with that little twelve gage then an’ touched it off twice. The fella with the reins fell outa the seat. The other one kindly sagged down in the foot well. Shore enough, them horses bolted an’ turned away from us, steppin’ out from the trail in a high lope. Homer got down off his horse, pulled that terrible Sharps rifle a his, an’ set down on the ground. He rested his elbows on his knees, took sight for a second or two, an’ fired one shot. That wagon went on for a little ways, then commenced to wobblin’ some an’ fell over on its left side. That brung the horses to a stop an’ some a them boxes scattered out of the back. So did a short fella, limpin’ away from us as fast as he could go. Homer put another round in the breech.

  “Shot the hub of the left rear wheel,” he said. “Worked better’n I thought it would.”

  He took aim agin’ an’ touched that Sharps off a second time. Then he got up an’ looked at me.

  “I reckon the ‘yotes’ll have theyselves some Chinee supper tonight,” he said. “Let’s check on them boys an’ set the team up to be led. We doan want them horses showin’ back up where they come from.”

  When we got up to where that wagon was, I noticed that the fella what had fell down into the foot well had rolled out onto the ground an’ was kindly gaspin’ for breath. Homer looked at him for a minute an’ then shot him in the head.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Them horses was some skittish with that wagon busted up after fallin’ over on its side. The harness was all tangled an’ such. I went to ‘em an’ done what I could, pattin’ on ‘em an’ talkin’ real low an’ such for a spell until they settled down some. While I helt ‘em, Homer pulled a knife an’ commenced to cuttin’ on the harness until it kindly just fell off. I led ‘em away from that broke up wagon a little piece while tellin’ ‘em what wonderful animals they was. They both come to settle down quite a bit an’ I give each of ‘em a bite a Willie’s candy. They liked it. One of ‘em even come to bobbin’ his head up an’ down an’ askin’ for more. Who ever had harnessed ‘em had done it over they halters. Homer cut off a fair length of two reins. I took the harness an’ bits offa they heads an’ tied one a them cut reins to each halter. Then, with Homer leadin’ one of ‘em an’ me the other one, we struck off back toward camp. They come along with us right smart.

  It was about the middle a the mornin’ when we got back to where
Miz Jervis an’ everbody was. She come walkin’ over as soon as we pulled up.

  “Everyone all right?” she asked.

  Homer smiled at her.

  “That buckboard an’ the three that was in it ain’t never gonna be another bother to anybody,” he said.

  Miz Jervis studued on him a little bit. “In the ground, are they?” she asked.

  Homer shook his head.

  “No M’am. We warn’t startin a graveyard. We was leavin’ a message.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Thank you gentlemen for your time and trouble, and for being so dependable. I am in your debt.”

  “Unless you object,” Homer went on, “we’ll keep these two horses until this mess is over, then turn ‘em loose. They is fair broke an’ will find a way to a town or a farm. I reckon there is somebody out there that would be pleased to have ‘em. The only reason we have ‘em was to keep them from goin’ back home an’ tippin’ them ol’ boys off that somethin’ had gone wrong.”

  Homer an’ me tied them two horses to a river birch, leavin’ ‘em enough line to git a fair shot at some of the grass an’ water from the seep. Lotus come trottin’ up to where we was, give Homer a hug, then grabbed onto me quite a bit.

  “You are well, yes?” she said to us.

  “We’re doin’ fine, Miss Lotus,” Homer tolt her. “That wagon ain’t never gonna carry slaves no more, an’ that little Chinee feller ain’t never gonna molest no girl ever agin’.”

  Tears come outa her eyes, then, an’ commenced to rollin’ down her face. She give both of us another hug, an’ wandered off to be by herself for a spell. I swear to ya that my heart come to swell some. I looked at Homer an’ seen that his eyes was full. So was mine. We looked at each other for a minute, then walked off in differn’t directions.

  It was a fine thing is what it was.

  After a little spell, I went over to where Willie was tied, led him over to that seep, took off his tack, put on his hobbles, give him a candy, an’ turned him loose so he could git hisself a drink an’ a bite to eat. Miz Jervis come walkin’ up.

  “You look tired, Marshal Beeler,” she said.

  “I reckon I am a little bit, M’am.”

  “I suggest we take the day off,” she went on. “You and Marshal Poteet have accomplished a lot in the past two days. You men need some rest, and we’re not in a big hurry. We can wait another day.”

  “To tell the truth,” I said, “that sounds kindly good to me. I’m a little wore down. So is Homer, but he won’t admit it. He’ll wanna keep on goin’ I bet.”

  She smiled.

  “That is not up to Marshal Poteet, Ruben. What we do or don’t do is up to me, and I have made my decision.”

  She winked at me then an’ struck off toward where Homer was standin’ an’ talkin’ to Marion. It tickled me some is what it done.

  It was some fine, not havin’ nothin’ to do for a spell. When it come around to about the middle of the day, Carlton freshed the fire an’ got out that big ol’ skillet. He mixed up some batter with water outa that seep, throwed some bacon fat in the pan to melt a little bit, an’ commenced to fryin’ up some pancakes. He give the first three to Miss Lotus, along with a jug a maple syrup he got outa the wagon. She was grinnin’ like a possum with a ripe paw-paw.

  I gotta admit that them flapjacks an’ that maple syrup was some tasty. I et more than I prob’ly outa, then stretched out on my roll under the carriage. I was out among the ether an’ way down in that black hole when Miss Lotus come to pullin’ on my arm an’ woke me up.

  Ruben,” she said, “you should wake up now or you will not want to sleep this night.”

  It took me a little bit to come back to myself after bein’ so deep asleep. Even after I got up, everthin’ was still kindly fuzzy or somethin’. I went down to the seep an’ splashed some water in my face to kindly bring myself back. Willie was standin’ there lookin’ at me. I give him a bite a one a them candies. He et it an’ pushed his forehead agin’ my chest, lookin’ for a pat. I loved on him a little bit. When I turned around to step back to camp, I seen Miz Jervis standin’ there an’ lookin’ at me.

  “Remarkable,” she said.

  “Willie is a heckuva horse, M’am.”

  “I can see that,” she said, “but that is not what I’m talking about. I have watched you and Willie while we’ve on our journey. I don’t believe I have ever seen a man and a horse so tied to each other.”

  “He’s kindly my pal, I reckon. Him an’ me has been on the trail together for a little over seven years. He ain’t never let me down.”

  “And you’ve never let him down either, have you Ruben.”

  “I never have, an’ I hope to Hell…uh ‘scuse me, M’am. I hope to heck I never do. Me an’ him is shore enough pards. Another five or six years an’ Willie is gonna be gittin’ past his prime. My boy, little Bill, will be eleven or twelve by then. I figger him an’ Willie’ll git along some smart. They is already fine friends.”

  Miz Jervis smiled.

  “My husband and I were never blessed with children,” she said, “but if I could choose a son, I expect his name would be Ruben Beeler.”

  That hit me like a brick or somethin’, I guess. All of a sudden like, my ears was hot an’ I could feel tears comin’ to my eyes.

  “That there is a wonderful thing to hear, M’am,” I said. “I believe you have took a poke at my heart.”

  She put her arms around my neck then, an’ we hugged each other some. A slim memory of my mother flashed into my mind an’ I could feel them tears rollin’ down my face. We turned loose an’ she stepped back a little bit. They was tears on her face too.

  She sniffed a little bit an’ spoke up.

  “What is your wife’s name, Ruben?”

  “Her name is Harmony, M’am,” I said, wipin’ at them tears. “Our boy is named William Cole, but we call him Bill. My baby daughter is named Melody.”

  “I’d love to meet them sometime,” she said.

  I grinned at her.

  “Well,” I said, “you seem to tolerate Homer Poteet purty good. I reckon you could stand my family. I’d be honored if they could meet you, Miz Jervis.”

  “My name is Marie, Ruben. Just Marie.”

  She walked off then an’ left me standin’ there. To tell ya the truth, I was some got.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  I didn’t sleep terrible good that night. I reckon it was the upcomin’ day that vexed me some, an’ the responsibility comin’ up about gittin’ them girls took to Sioux Falls an’ keepin’ ‘em safe an’ the like. I warn’t exactly scairt I was gonna git shot or hurt or nothin’ like that, but they was quite a bit we just didn’t know. Like how many armed fellas might be in that farmhouse or how many girls we was gonna have to take care of. An’ they warn’t no way to scout it out neither. It was still on my mind when I got up. I went over to the fire where Marion was settin’ with Carlton, an’ got myself a cup a coffee. Marion kindly peered at me.

  “Fixin’ to run off are ya?” Marion asked me.

  “Thinkin’ about it,” I said.

  “Want me to sing ya a little song an’ ease yer brain?”

  “Lord no,” I said. “I already lost my mind. I doan wanna loose my appetite, too.”

  Carlton laughed an’ Marion smacked me with his hat. That, an’ the bacon an’ eggs fryin’ in the skillet, cheered me up quite a bit.

  It was a couple a hours after dawn afore we got the camp picked up an’ everthin’ loaded in the wagon an’ all. I took them two harness horses down by the seep an’ tied both of ‘em on as long a line as I could, hopin’ they’d still be there when we got back. Me an Homer took to the saddle along on either side of the coach while Marion rode inside with Marie an’ Lotus. Him bein’ some well knowed an’ all, he figgerd it was best if he kept hisself at a distance. His big ol’ App come along behind, tied to the back of the wagon.

  We was three or four miles from that farmhouse when Homer went on ahead. It warn’t
mor’n half a hour or so afore I seen him comin’ back. I rode out an met him.

  “’Bout a mile an’ a half ta go,” he said. “I snuck up some an’ seen one ol’ boy go out to the privy an’ another one come out the side a the house to go out to a shed behind the place. They was one more feller what took a set on the front porch an’ smoked a pipe. That means three that I got a eye on. I didn’t notice nobody else. None of ‘em was packin’.”

  “What’s the place look like?” I asked him.

  “Big ol’ square farmhouse two stories tall with a attic. They’s a Privy out behind it, an’ that shed the feller went to. West of the house about a hunnerd feet is a barn with a loft. Attached to the barn is a board fenced corral with four horses in it. Three bays an’ a chestnut. I didn’t see no dogs nor chickens. We come back to the place after dark, they ain’t no stock I noticed that would give nobody a warnin’.”

  “I’ll take lead while you go give Marion an’ Carlton the news,” I said.

  Homer reined away then, an’ I took out about a couple hunnerd yards ahead a the coach, lookin’ over the distance in front a us an’ wishin’ I had Homer’s eyesight.

  It warn’t long afore that farmhouse an’ the barn come into sight. I let the coach come up to me an’ tolt Marion. He said somethin’ to Lotus, got up from where he was settin’, an’ lifted up the cushion that was the bottom of the seat. Miss Lotus clumb inside that space an’ laid down. Marion put the seat back an’ closed it up.

  “Can she git enough air in there?” I asked him.