Hell on the Prairie (17 page)

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Authors: Ford Fargo

Tags: #action, #short stories, #western, #lawman, #western fiction, #gunfighter, #shared universe

BOOK: Hell on the Prairie
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As I understand it,” Cook said,
“you
could
pay cash for the
building, but you need what cash you have in order to buy products
for the business?”

Asa nodded,

Cook stood. “I’ll talk to the bank
manager.”

He disappeared into a back office to confer
with the manager, Melvin Lohorn. It was several minutes before he
returned and sat back down.


Mr. Lohorn agreed to accept your
one-hundred-dollar down payment on the three hundred dollar price,
with a payment of thirty dollars due on the first of each month. He
stressed that –the
first
, not
the second. I have the papers for you to sign. Or mark.”


What’s the interest rate?” Asa
asked.


Eight percent.”


That’s kind of steep.”

Cook shrugged. “Believe me, it took some
convincing to talk him into that. The letter you brought made all
the difference –the Crown W is the biggest ranch in these parts,
and a good word from its foreman goes a long way. Jake Andrews is
honest as the day is long –and his boss, old man Sparkman, is
cantankerous as, well, as a man can be. No one wants to get
crossways of him, that’s for sure. If not for that, we’d most
likely not be offering you any loan at all.”

Asa leaned forward and smiled –but not with
his eyes.


Did you tell Mr. Lohorn what color I
am?”

Cook paused. “Well, that may have slipped my
mind. But no one really wants that old place, and I want to get
what we can out of it while we have a chance. So for goodness sake,
make your mark and leave before he comes out of his office.”

Asa signed his full name and passed the
paper back to Cook.

Asa Pepper, who’d spent more than five
decades a slave, walked out of the bank that day a businessman and
property owner. He had found his place in the world.

***

They arrived at the jail, which was attached
to the sheriff’s office. Quint and Asa, injured though they both
were, gamely attempted to help Doc Munro carry the unconscious
cowboy from the back of the buggy to the jail –fortunately, the
deputy on duty, young Zack Zacherly, came outside and relieved them
of their share of the burden. They lodged the prisoner on a cot
inside a cell, and the doctor began to work once more on his
injuries.

Quint started to walk away –Dr. Munro called
out to him without looking up.


You’re not going anywhere, deputy,
until I stitch you up. I’ll be finished here in a moment, at least
for now.”

After the doctor’s ministrations on him were
complete, Quint ushered Asa to the front door.


Walk over to the marshal’s office
with me,” Quint said. “And let’s talk.”

They left Sheriff Satterlee’s jail and made
the one-block journey to Marshal Gardner’s office, which was empty
–the Marshal was making his own rounds.

He motioned Asa to sit in a ladder-backed
chair. Quint wet a towel for Asa’s head, now swollen from the blow
the deputy had given him.


Hold this cloth on your head Asa,” he
said. Asa reached up and held the towel in place.

Quint took a seat behind his desk, “Any time
you’re ready.”

Asa removed the towel and lay it on the
desk, then sighed and began to talk.


His name is Watson Brown,” Asa
announced. “Everybody called him Watty. Some four, five years ago,
me and him both worked for the Circle T ranch, over near
Sweetwater, on the Brazos, down in Texas. He’s a cattle drover. My
wife Ruby did the cooking for the ranch hands, while I took care of
the buildings and growings.”

Quint looked surprised. “I didn’t know you
came from Texas, Asa. I guess I figured that you’d come from
somewhere deep in the south.”

Asa smiled. “Everybody’s from someplace or
another. I was born in Tennessee, not far from Memphis. My momma
and daddy were both slaves when I was born. A man by the name of
Simon Thatcher owned us. He never really treated us bad, not the
way some white folks did. He let me marry a woman he owned. Ruby
and I never stood before no preacher or nothing, we just lived
together, but before long everybody knew we was married. That’s how
it was for folks like us. Sometimes Simon would give us a little
money we could spend in town for clothes and tobacco and candy. I
liked the old man, he had a good heart. It wasn’t a bad life –it
was just life, we made the most we could of it.”


You don’t talk like an ignorant
former slave, Asa,” Quint said. “Fact is, every other time I’ve
heard you speak before, especially when Marshal Gardner is near,
you sounded like you were fresh out of the cotton
fields.”

Asa nodded. “Marshal Gardner thinks all
black people are ignorant, so I just give him what he expects.
Missus Thatcher taught me to read. She insisted that all of us
learn to read and cipher. She said we’d get along better if we were
educated.”

Quint nodded. “That was damned decent of
her.”


It sure was,” Asa said, “especially
since it was against the law.”


Go on,” Quint said.

Asa took a breath, “Simon and Missus
Thatcher had themselves a son, Jonas. He was a fine young man. He
grew up quick, and acted a lot like his daddy. When Jonas was about
twenty-five he got itchy feet. He said he was tired of farming and
wanted a more exciting life, so one day he took off and went to
Texas. About six months later, Missus Thatcher took sick and died.
When Jonas had come back he started talking to the old man about
selling out and moving to Texas to raise cattle. Simon would not
have any of it; he was not about to sell and leave the family home
where his wife was buried. Jonas argued some, but nothing came of
it. After awhile Jonas left, and we didn’t see him again until four
years later when Simon up and died from some fever. Word got to
Jonas and he came home right away. Within the year, Jonas gathered
me and Ruby, and two others, together and talked to us.


I’ve sold the place,” he said. “We’ll
be moving to Texas come Monday morning.”

We left, just like he said. We had
everything packed into eight wagons. Me and Jimbo drove along what
cattle Jonas had, thirty head or so, including two milk cows. Jonas
sold all the chickens and hogs. It took us near a month to get to
where Jonas had bought a ranch in Texas that he named the Circle
T.


It didn’t take long before we were
settled in. We’d never been any place further than twenty miles
from home before. Ruby and I were both homesick, but Jonas told us
that we should forget the old place and make a good life right
there. He said things were changing and that there could be a war
coming; that it wasn’t safe for us in Tennessee any longer. It
turned out that he was right –about moving, and about the war. They
say that the Union Army stripped and burned the old home place so
there’s nothing left there now but memories anyway.


Jonas had about ten cowboys he hired
to take care of the cattle. There must have been three or four
thousand cows there. He never had me do any of the cattle work. He
said I was too old –that there was plenty of work for me to do
maintaining the buildings, hay fields and gardens. And that’s what
I did, same work as always, while Ruby did house chores and
cooking.


One day Jonas called me and Ruby and
the other two slaves to his front porch. He said the war was over
and we were now freed; Mr. Lincoln had signed it into law. Jonas
told us that we were free to leave, that we could go away if we
wanted to. It was a shock to all of us.


Jonas said that he’d like us to stay,
that we were like part of his family, but that he would understand
if we chose to leave. He said that if we stayed here, he would pay
us for the work we did every day. The others thanked him for the
consideration, but wanted to go out and make their own way. Ruby
and I chose to stay. At the end of every month Jonas would come by
and give us each an envelope with money in it, just like he paid
the ranch hands.


Everything was fine for a time, until
the spring of ‘sixty-seven. That’s when Jonas made a deal to take a
herd up to Abilene, Kansas, and sell it. He hired a bunch more
cowboys to handle the herd, and bought a big string of
horses.


The night before they were to leave
on the drive, everyone wanted to get to bed so’s they could get an
early start. That’s everybody ’ceptin Watty and another man named
Burl Stimson. Jonas Thatcher told all the hands to stay out of town
and get rested. He wanted to get started early without a problem.
Watty and Burl were both young and head strong, though, and
sometimes stupid. They didn’t listen. They waited until dark, then
snuck off and got juiced up. That would have been fine –they’re the
ones that would be sick come morning. Except they didn’t want the
party to stop. Ruby and I were asleep in the little shanty house
Mr. Thatcher built for us; it was a ways back from the main house.
Those two drunks woke us up. Burl was a nasty bastard –even in
daylight hours he was always pulling pranks that got others hurt,
and he just laughed when something bad happened to anyone. When he
got to drinking, he was mean as a bear, ready to whup ass on anyone
that got in his way, or just for the fun of it.


Watty wasn’t like that until he
started running with Burl. Usually Watty wouldn’t do anything more
than stand by, egging Burl on to some mischief. But that night was
different –they were both crazy drunk.


They woke us up banging on the door.
Burl was giggling and laughing,

“’
Open up in there! Come on out! I
want me a black woman, I ain’t never had one! We’re coming
in!’”


Watty made the mistake of pushing
through the door first. I hit him with the stove poker, stuck the
curved end in his jaw. Burl was right behind him. He swung a big
fist that hit me on the side of the head. It was enough to put me
out.


When I woke up, Ruby was dabbing a
wet cloth to my head. She told me what had happened while I was
out. Watty was out of his head, being drunk and full of pain after
having the poker stuck in his jaw. He had wrenched it free and
dropped it on the floor, then ran outside. Burl had gotten ahold of
her and was intent on having his way with her. Her screaming and
the commotion had woke up everybody. Burl was on top of her when
Jonas and two others came in. She said that Jonas commenced to beat
Burl senseless with that same stove poker that I had used to down
Watty with. He swung one time too many, and cracked Burl’s head
open.


Watty had gotten on his horse and
pulled his six-gun, then started shooting when Jonas and the others
went through the door. A bullet hit one of the drovers, Fred
Wilson, and killed him. Watty managed to ride away. We buried Fred
and Burl come daylight. I volunteered to dig the graves. I’d of
killed Burl myself –him and Watty, too, if I’d had the chance.
Jonas delayed the drive a few days while he and the others looked
for Watty, but he was long gone. Jonas went to the sheriff and a
wanted poster was put out for Watty, for killing Fred
Wilson.


Jonas had hired a fella to do the
cooking on the drive, but after what happened he let that man go
and said that he wanted me and Ruby to go along and do the cooking.
I know he did it to protect us in case Watty came back to even
things up.


It was a big camp. We had near twenty
men to feed three times a day. I’m not sure that first cook could
have handled it by himself anyway. Jonas may have said something to
the others, but not a one of them ever mentioned anything about
Burl and Watty the whole trip. They were real good boys, real
respectful to Ruby –and me too. When we got to Abilene in July,
Jonas paid everyone off, including Ruby and me. He gave each of us
a hundred dollars for wages, then handed me two more hundred dollar
bills besides.”

“‘
I want you and Ruby to stay in
Kansas,’ he said. ‘Kansas was a free state even during the war, and
I think there’s more opportunity for you folks here than there is
back in Texas.’


I’ll always believe that he felt that
there might be some sort of reprisal for Burl Stimson’s death if we
were to go back.


Before Jonas left he told me that he
knew a man named Jake Andrews, that was the foreman for the Crown W
Ranch, near Wolf Creek. He said for me to look up Andrews and tell
him that I had been working for Jonas Thatcher. He gave me a paper
that said I was a good man and looking for a new start. Ruby and I
left Abilene and went to see Mr. Andrews.


Jake Andrews was a friendly man, and
he smiled when he read the note from Jonas –‘I wish I could have
seen Jonas while he was in Kansas, he’s a good man. You come highly
recommended Asa, but right now I’ll tell you the truth –we don’t
have a need for you and your wife here on the ranch. If I were you,
I’d go over to Matthias. It’s a settlement within a day’s ride of
here –all made up of colored folks from Back East, Exodusters they
call themselves. Maybe there’d be an opportunity for you folks over
there. It’s a growing place. You’re welcome to spend the night
here, though. Anyone that’s a friend of Jonas Thatcher is a friend
of mine. We did some droving together down on the Brazos a few
years ago.‘


Before we left the next morning, Jake
Andrews told me, ‘If you ever need anything, I want you to come
back and see me.’


He seemed sincere. He even shook my
hand.”

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