Parson Sam Blane in HOPE (Episode 10)

XXXVII.

Royce Lee remained calm and stood perfectly still. Although the two men in the street facing him were in dim light, he could clearly see the first man’s eyes. Lee had already picked him as the first he would have to kill. The second man, he calculated, was merely a follower and probably much slower on the draw.

Lee had faced down other men in gunfights. The first time, he was terrified—and relieved when he saw the other man fall. The second time, he walked away with much more confidence. He had proven to himself he could hold his own, and that the first time had not been a fluke. After he had killed his third man in a gunfight, he had become familiar enough with the situation to make him more dangerous than most other men alive. He still felt jitters in his stomach. But he had learned to channel the nervous tension into lightning speed and deadly accuracy.

Lee had never sought out a face-to-face showdown. But, like a bad dream, he still found himself in the middle of one from time to time. His style normally hinged on stealth and surprise. In a gunfight, on the other hand, the odds were much too even—and anything could go wrong.

Over time, however, he had come to accept the fact that the occasional nightmarish gunfight was simply a symptom of the kind of man he was.

A warm breeze floated in from the southwest, carrying away the stench of stale liquor that had hung in the air outside of the saloon. The low humidity had dried Lee’s throat more than usual and his tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth. All the while however he kept his attention focused on the first man’s eyes.

Then something poked him in the back. “Hey, what’s going on here?”

A man exiting the saloon had swung the door partially open until it had struck Lee in the back. Keeping his gaze steady on the steely eyes of the man in the street and his right hand ready near his gun, Lee quickly sidestepped to his right. When the man stepped out of the saloon Lee grabbed him by the arm. Without turning his head, Lee asked, “What’s your name?”

“Bill Townsend.”

“Step away, Bill. Watch what’s gonna happen here. You’re my witness.”

Meanwhile a second man who had been exiting the saloon saw Lee facing the two men in the street. He turned back into the room and yelled, “Gunfight!”

The saloon erupted into a roar of sheer panic as men scattered everywhere. Those at the bar dashed toward the center of the room to escape the line of fire. Those in the center and at the rear of the room rushed to the window and drew back the curtains so they could witness the spectacle.

Lee heard the commotion inside the saloon but he did not allow it to distract him. When a solemn hush finally fell upon those in the saloon, he spoke in a calm voice to the men in the street. “If you two are determined to make this the night you die, I’ll oblige you. The best I can do is promise to put a bullet in each of you that will kill you quick. No use you laying in the street suffering.”

“That’s some pretty big talk when there’s two of us and only one of you,” the first man grunted.

“I’ve given you fair warning.”

The second man in the street glanced at the first and whispered, “I don’t like this, Jim. I got a feeling he ain’t bluffin’.”

“Don’t worry, little brother, I can take him.”

“You’re fast, Jim. Everybody knows that. But we don’t know anything about this fella.”

“You’re not turning yellow on me, are you?”

“Aw, Jim. You know me better than that. I’m just telling you I got a bad feelin’ about this guy.”

“He made a fool out of me in the restaurant. I can’t let that go. Now you follow my lead. When I draw, you draw too.”

Lee stood unruffled. He knew the two men were talking between themselves but they spoke in whispers so that he could only distinguish a word now and then. Still, he knew that talk, rather than action, was a sign of doubt. When the men finally stopped whispering, however, he knew the moment of truth had grown closer.

“It’s not too late to walk away from this.” Lee’s tone was matter-of-fact.

“We ain’t walking away, stranger.”

“Well then, whenever you’re ready.”

Lee knew that one of the unwritten laws in a gunfight is to detect precisely when one’s opponent makes his move to draw and shoot. Because the hand is quicker than the eye, Lee never focused on his opponent’s hand. Instead he focused on the man’s eyes and then watched the man’s hand with peripheral vision. Because the delicate muscles around the eye are particularly sensitive to stress, the eyes always had a way of communicating the moment a man went for his gun. A squint, a blink, a quiver—any kind of change―was all Lee needed to detect before he himself drew and fired.

Each man is the sum total of his experiences. He tends to repeat behaviors that reward him, and eliminate behaviors that penalize him. As a result, Lee had created a rule for himself: Never make the first move in a gunfight. Yet, waiting for an enemy to go for his gun could be nerve-racking. To counter negative thoughts Lee had tried in the past to not think at all, but he had found that impossible. What worked instead was to repeat in his mind: “Smooth and easy, smooth and easy, smooth and easy.” Lee had learned that repeating the words kept his mind calm, and when the moment of truth finally came, a calm mind was his most effective weapon.

Not only did Lee never make the first move in a gunfight, but he waited long enough not to give the appearance he had made the first move. He always wanted onlookers convinced of the truth that he had acted in self-defense. Why? Not because he fancied himself some kind of hero. Not because he held some noble notion to give his enemy a slight advantage. And certainly not because he wanted to be fair. Rather, for purely selfish reasons, he wanted onlookers to testify to local authorities that he had acted strictly in self-defense.

For Lee, killing a resistant outlaw on the trail with no witnesses was a straight-forward perfunctory task. But in a town with many onlookers, killing a man who was probably liked by some of the citizens, and loved by his family, was a sure path to trouble with the law.

But now he was trapped. The two men in the street were not going to let him walk away. In the back of his mind he loathed the idea of wasted time tangled up with the law. Additionally there was the matter of Miles Stayton. Even now, as Lee stood outside of a saloon in a town where he had only wanted to buy a pair of boots and a hat, eat a steak, and purchase a horse, Miles Stayton was getting away. And Lee had a big score to settle with Miles Stayton.

“Smooth and easy, smooth and easy, smooth and easy.”

Then the very slightest blink! But Lee saw it in slow motion as if a giant rain cloud had momentarily eclipsed the bright rays of the sun. Simultaneously the man’s hand flashed to his gun. The man’s pistol had cleared leather and was almost level when Lee’s bullet struck him hard in the chest. The impact lifted the man’s feet off the ground and violently thrust him backwards until he landed flat in the dust with a sickening thud.

Instantly Lee trained the pistol on the second man in the street. He fanned the hammer with the meaty part of his left palm. At that moment, two events happened at the same time. First, the gun did not fire. Second, he saw the man lifting his hands in the air.

“Don’t shoot!” the man cried in a shaky voice.

Lee straightened and pulled in his chin. His gun had misfired. The river water must have penetrated the cartridge. He wondered whether the next bullet would fire or not. He also wondered if the man in the street had realized the gun had misfired.

“Keep your right hand in the air. With your left hand reach down, unbuckle your gun belt, and let it fall.” As Lee gave the command he pulled the hammer all the way back into the firing position and held his aim steady on the man.

“Okay mister. Only don’t shoot!”

Lee watched the man carefully. The man’s words and tone of voice indicated he would comply. But would he?

The man slowly lowered his left arm until his hand was near the buckle.

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

“What’s the matter, mister? Your gun won’t fire?”

“I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Now unbuckle the belt.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

The man’s right hand dropped quickly to his gun and he drew it out of the holster.

With only a split second to react Lee squeezed the trigger. Again the gun did not fire. He quickly fanned the hammer. Nothing. Desperately and with lightning speed Lee fanned the hammer again.

The bullet fired and hit its mark just in time. As the man in the street doubled over, he pulled the trigger on his gun and the bullet penetrated the dirt, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Then the man collapsed to the ground.

XXXVIII.

When Lee heard a gentle knock, he stepped to the door and opened it.

Elijah stepped back when he saw the gun in Lee’s hand. “You ready, Mr. Lee?”

Lee holstered the pistol. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Lee and Elijah walked down the stairs. When they reached the lobby the man who had rented them the rooms stood up behind the counter. He pointed at the clock on the wall. “You were supposed to be out first thing this morning. It’s nearly nine o’clock!”

Neither Lee nor Elijah responded. Without missing a step they walked through the lobby and out the front door.

When Lee saw the three horses that Vince Hackett had tied to the hitching rail he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Whoa,” he muttered. “Looks like we did get a steal.”

Lee did not have to guess which horse was his. His was the sorrel. The mettle in the beast’s eyes and the way the horse watched him, combined with the lean muscular body, told Lee this indeed was a fine animal. He confidently approached and gently said, “Easy, big fella.” He placed a firm hand on the horse’s neck and patted him several times. He walked around the horse and stopped in front of him. Then he parted the animal’s lips and checked the teeth. He figured the horse was about four or five years old.

“Where’s Moses?”

“Elijah, I need to talk to you.”

“Alright, Mr. Lee. But what did you do with Moses and what are these two extra horses for?”

“Elijah, I don’t know how to say this right. But Moses is going to be taken good care of for as long as he lives―which we both know won’t be for too much longer. From now on, you got yourself a darn fine trail horse and also a pack animal to carry the supplies we’re gonna buy this morning.”

“But I loved Moses. He and I were best friends.”

Lee watched tears come to Elijah’s eyes. “Darn it man, let me give you a good dose of reality. First of all, I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long without being lynched. They got whole organizations of racist white folks who would love to catch you alone on the trail, just so they can hang you. Besides, you’re going about trying to find your family all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean wandering around in the South is gonna get you killed. You’ve seen how these people treat you. There’s a way to find your family, but it’s not the way you’ve been going at it. Now I suggest we get you some supplies for the trail and that you head north in a hurry and stay up there. Before we leave town I’m gonna show you precisely how to find your family. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Lee. I want that more than anything.”

“Okay then. You’re gonna have to trust I know what I’m talking about. Vince Hackett, who sold us these horses, took Moses. I paid him to do it and Hackett will take good care of your old friend. That should put your mind at ease. Now mount up. Let’s find us a gun shop and a general store.”

After Elijah swung up into the saddle, he glanced at Lee. “But Mr. Lee, don’t you think you should have asked me before you took Moses?”

“Would’ve you let me take him?”

Elijah shook his head. “No!”

“Now you know why I didn’t ask.”

XXXIX.

The gunsmith inhaled a short draw of cigarette smoke and blew it out his nose. “Yes sir. We got the new Peacemaker.”

“I’ll take one.” Lee withdrew the pistol from his holster and set it on the counter. “Will you take a few dollars off if I give you this as a trade-in?”

The gunsmith glanced at Lee’s gun. “I’ve got no use for that.”

“Neither do I. It’s been soaked in the river along with the cartridges. Take it and do whatever you want with it. A good oiling should fix it up but I could never trust it again. You also need to reload all the cartridges with fresh powder.”

The gunsmith withdrew a new Colt .45 Peacemaker from a glass case and set it on the counter. “Now this is a fine weapon.”

“That is nice. I’ll take two of ‘em.”

“You want two?”

“You’re right. Make it three.”

“Three? But they’re fifteen dollars a piece! And three’s all I got in stock.”

“Now you’ll be able to order more. And I’ll take three, no five, boxes of cartridges.”

“What are you planning to do, mister? Start a war?”

“The war’s already started. And I lost the first battle. I don’t plan on losing any more. Reach up there and hand me that belt with the two holsters.”

Lee unbuckled his own gun belt and set it on the counter. He pulled the cartridges out of the loops and replaced them with the .45 caliber cartridges from one of the boxes the gunsmith had set on the counter. When the gunsmith placed the new holster on the counter, Lee filled all of those loops as well. Then he loaded all three Colts with five cartridges each, being careful to leave an empty chamber beneath the firing pin. He withdrew the few remaining cartridges in the box and stuffed them into his pocket. “Better give me two more boxes.”

“I’ve only got one more box of .45s, mister. You’re cleaning me out!”

“Alright, give me one more box.” Lee pointed to the rifle rack. “I’ll take two of those. They’re the new Winchester ‘73s, aren’t they?”

“Yes sir, they sure are.”

“Good. Give me a couple of scabbards for them too. Also I need a scatter gun. Twelve gauge with short double barrels. And ammo for it and the Winchesters. Give me two cleaning kits for the pistols and two for the rifles.”

After the gunsmith set the rifles and shotgun on the counter, Lee immediately loaded them to full capacity.

When the gunsmith totaled the amount Lee pulled the wad of bills from his pocket and paid the man. Then he strapped on the gun belt and slid a .45 into each holster. When he picked up his old gun belt he slid the third .45 into the holster. After he picked up the rifles, the shotgun, the boxes of cartridges, and the cleaning kits, he turned to walk out.

The gunsmith hurried around the counter and scurried to open the door for Lee whose arms were full. “Thank you mister. I’d say you’re loaded for bear.”

“Not for bear. Something much more dangerous.”

Lee walked out onto the sidewalk and stepped down into the street. He strapped one scabbard holding a Winchester onto his saddle and placed two of the cleaning kits along with several boxes of ammunition into a saddlebag. Then he strapped the other rifle scabbard onto Elijah’s saddle. He took a piece of rope and tied the shotgun to Elijah’s saddle horn. Then he placed the other cleaning kits and the remaining boxes of cartridges into one of Elijah’s saddlebags.

Elijah, sitting in the saddle, watched with incredulity as Lee methodically tended to business.

Finally Lee held the single-holster gun belt up to Elijah. “Here. Put this on.”

“Oh Mr. Lee, I don’t wear a gun.”

“Start.”

“But I don’t rightly know how to shoot.”

“Learn and learn quick. I gave you plenty of bullets for practice. Practice Elijah. Practice as if your life depended on it. Odds are it does.”

XL.

It was almost noon when Lee and Elijah finished strapping the array of supplies that Lee had purchased from the general store onto the pack horse.

“Mr. Lee, I’m startin’ to feel real guilty. You’ve spent a whole lot of money on me, starting with that steak dinner. And I’ve never spent a night in a hotel, much less in one that has a bed I’d like to sleep a week in. These horses must have cost a fortune and you also paid Mr. Hackett to look after Moses for the rest of his days. Why even that cook in the restaurant said Mr. Hackett has the nicest spread around. The guns—well, you believe they’re necessary. And when I think about it seriously, the Lord holds no grudge against a man defending himself. But these supplies. It’s just getting to be too much. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate everything somethin’ fierce. But there’s no way I can begin to repay you. Mercy me, I doubt I could repay you if I turned over every nickel I made from now until the Lord takes me home.”

“Quit talking foolish, Elijah. I got more money than I know what to do with, and I got nothing better to spend it on. The money I used last night and today will barely make a dent.” Lee paused a moment and then smiled. “Since you’re in so good with the Lord, maybe He’ll count what I’ve done as a good deed.”

“Are you a Christian, Mr. Lee?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’m sorry to tell you this, but the Lord can’t count anything you do as a good deed. It doesn’t matter how good it looks in the eyes of men.”

“What do you mean? People do good things all the time. When you pulled me out of the river, that was a good deed, wasn’t it?”

“Yes sir. The Lord will surely count that in my favor.”

“Well then what’s the difference?”

“Can I talk plain, Mr. Lee?”

“Of course. Talk straight, Elijah.”

“The Lord only counts deeds as good when they’re done for the right reason—and there’s only one right reason. That’s to glorify the Lord.”

“What do you mean ‘glorify’?”

“It means doing things that honor the Lord. When you sin, you dishonor the Lord. So you don’t sin, as much as humanly possible anyway. Instead you obey His Word.

“You do things to help your neighbor. After all, God created your neighbor, even your enemies, just like He created you. If your neighbor asks, you share about what Jesus has done for you. Whenever you serve others, you serve the Lord.

“Spending time with the Lord in thankful prayer is another way to honor Him. You also glorify the Lord when you give Him proper credit for the good things He provides. When you take personal credit for your gifts, you rob the Lord of what is rightfully His and you’re forgetting He gave them to you in the first place.”

“But the Lord has nothing to do with what I’ve done.”

“That’s right, Mr. Lee, and it’s a shame. When a person doesn’t believe, he does things mostly to please himself. A man can help another man and that’s a good thing as far as men understand. But the Lord knows when you’re doing something for yourself and when you’re doing something for Him. What you do is only a good deed when you do it for the Lord. That kinda leaves you out if you’re not one of His children.”

“Well, I don’t believe in that stuff anyway. It makes no difference to me if the Lord counts it good or bad.”

“I’m right sorry to hear you say that, Mr. Lee, because you’re missing the most important part.”

“What’s that?”

“When it’s time to die you’ll be glad you’re a believer sure enough. But believing and obeying the Lord is also the absolute best way to live.”

“Yeah well, all this talk is wasting time. I want to get out of this town pronto. Come on, let’s go.”

“What’s your hurry?”

“I’m expecting the sheriff to pay me a visit. And that can only mean trouble. But we got one more stop to make.”

“Okay, Mr. Lee, but please think about what I said. Ask yourself if you’re happy with the life you’re living. When you admit you’re not, I hope you’ll get down on your knees and ask the Lord to save you. Then you’ll know what true life is.”

“Yeah, well, maybe some day. For now, let’s get going.”

The men mounted up and rode along the street until they came to a sign that read Pine Bluff Weekly Herald.

“What’s this?” Elijah asked.

“It’s the best way to find your family.”

“You mean, read the newspaper?”

“Let’s go in. I’ll show you what I mean.”

XLI.

When Lee and Elijah entered the newspaper office, a man leaning over a printing press glanced up. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Lee noticed an awkward curl to the man’s mouth when his gaze shifted to Elijah. Lee fully expected the man to say Elijah was not allowed in the office. Before the man could speak however Lee said, “We want to place an advertisement.”

The man straightened up and walked to the desk in the front of the room. He sat down and withdrew a piece of paper from a drawer. Then he picked up a pencil and held it over the paper. “Okay, what do you want the ad to say?”

Lee stepped forward. “Say: Two hundred dollar reward for information leading to the whereabouts of—” Lee looked at Elijah. “What’s their names?”

“Minervy and Nelly and Lucy Ward.”

Lee pointed to the paper. “Write that.”

The man looked up. “Okay. Who’s gonna hold the reward money?”

“Can you hold it?”

“Yes, I suppose I could. I’ll say in the ad that whoever has the information should contact this office. Where are you staying so I can contact you?”

“Elijah here will have to telegraph you now and then. He doesn’t stay in any one place. Now I want that advertisement in your paper and in other newspapers.”

“What other newspapers?”

“All across the country.”

“All across the country? How about we put the ad in some of the major newspapers. Like New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Atlanta, and a few others.”

“Okay. How much is that?”

“How long do want the ad to run?”

“I don’t know. How long will something like that take?”

“Let’s start with a month.”

“Look,” Lee said, “let’s do it this way. I’ll give you, say, two hundred dollars plus the two hundred dollar reward. You run the ad in as many newspapers as you think are likely to get a result for as long as the money holds out. Can I trust you to do that?”

“Oh yes. I run a legitimate paper. Couldn’t stay in business long if I ever cheated a customer.”

“Alright, good.”

Lee pulled out the bills and counted out four hundred dollars. “Okay. Is that it?”

“Yes sir, I’ll take care of it for you. Just telegraph the Herald now and then with where you’re at, and I’ll keep you informed. I’ll have to spend some of the money to telegraph you back.”

“That’ll be fine.” Lee glanced at Elijah. “Come on, let’s go.”

Just then the door opened. When Lee turned, the sheriff was standing in the doorway.

TO BE CONTINUED

Parson Sam Blane in HOPE (Episode 9)

XXXI.

As Royce Lee sank deeper in the water his consciousness sank deeper as well. He was barely aware of his surroundings and his body was quickly becoming numb.

Then something hit him in the forehead with just enough force to startle him into a fully alert but confused awareness. After a moment he realized his own knee had struck him in the head. His feet had landed on the bottom of the river and as his downward momentum forced him into a crouching position his head had struck his knee.

With all his might he pushed off the bottom with his legs and stroked with his arms. After only a moment his head popped above the water. He realized the current had swept him downriver to a point where the water was much shallower. The river itself had given him new life.

He stroked with tired arms and kicked with weary legs until exhaustion quickly overtook him. He struggled to stay afloat but to no avail. This time however his feet hit bottom before his head went under. With faltering steps he began to walk toward the riverbank. The current lifted his feet off the bottom and set him down a short distance away. The repositioning happened twice more as he was simply too tired to resist drifting with the current.

Dizzy and exhausted, he still had the presence of mind to scan the riverbank for the rider he had seen earlier. If he were caught now so close to the bank the gunman would surely kill him.

With the last of his strength he headed for a tree along the bank. The tree had pushed a large root through the ground into the water. The root was under an eroded portion of the bank that formed a muddy ledge.

When he reached the root beneath the ledge, the water was still chest high. He grabbed the root and tried to recover enough strength to climb onto the bank.

Hanging on against the current however was quickly draining his energy. A bit longer and the current would sweep him away. With tremendous effort he lifted a leg over the main root and raised himself enough to roll into a tangle of smaller roots. Then he collapsed unconscious.

Many hours passed until a cold hand awakened him. The first rays of the morning sun reflected off the water and he could see his arm had fallen through the roots. His hand below the water felt like it was freezing. As his body began to come alive he felt the aches and the stiffness. When he lifted his hand from the water he heard a distinctive crack of a portion of his bed of roots. He

instantly lay still, fearing the roots would let go and dump him into the river.

Then he heard a different sound. A scrape. Then another. He tried to place the sound. He slowly realized it was the sound of a metal fork scraping across a metal pan. Someone was above him! The person above him was eating food off of a metal pan. Again he listened. Now he could hear the crackle of a campfire.

He looked up and out trying to determine whether he was visible from the bank. He decided he could not be seen. Then he heard the roots crack again and they suddenly dropped him about a foot closer to the water. If the roots were to let go and he fell, the splash would alert the man above him. And he entertained no doubt that the man above him was the man determined to kill him.

XXXII.

Elijah Ward had been a free man for almost ten years. Countless ugly scars on his back from the bite of a whip were only a small testimony to the many years he had suffered as a slave in the South.

The last he had heard, his wife and daughters had been sold to a plantation owner in South Carolina. When he had arrived shortly after the war however he found many cities in ruins and no sign of his family.

During his travels he sustained himself by taking odd jobs. Between jobs he was forced to beg for food. He traveled from one town to another searching for his wife and daughters. He hoped at least to hear some word about where they might be.

Over the years he had crisscrossed much of the country numerous times but not once had he obtained information regarding the whereabouts of his family.

While working a job in Illinois for a farmer named Ben Stockard, Elijah’s luck seemed to change―at least for a time.

Stockard was an elderly widower. His wife had died of typhoid fever several years before, and Stockard was extremely lonely. In the evenings when Elijah came in from the fields Stockard would invite Elijah into his home to sit and talk. Over time Stockard began to gain comfort from Elijah’s homespun wisdom and his stories from the Bible.

One evening Elijah confessed to Stockard that the stories he knew from the Bible were stories he had been told as a youngster but that he had never been taught to read. He confided that, outside of finding his family, his greatest desire was to learn to read the Bible stories for himself.

Grateful for Elijah’s company in the evenings Stockard began to teach Elijah to read. Because of Elijah’s great desire to understand the written words of the Bible he was a fast learner. During the day while working in the fields he would mentally review and rehearse what Stockard had taught him the previous night.

The process however was laborious for both men because not only did Elijah have to decipher sentences and paragraphs but he had to learn the definition of many words. But inevitably the letters on the pages began to speak to him. For the first time in his life Elijah began to read the stories of the Bible. And everyday in the fields he praised and thanked God for the ability to learn of Man’s Redeemer from His Word.

As the weeks passed Stockard’s depression began to dissipate. Teaching Elijah to read occupied his mind and he himself began to take interest in the promise of peace and comfort offered through salvation.

On a cold winter night the two men knelt by the fire and prayed to God. Elijah led Stockard in the prayer of salvation and Stockard took it to heart.

In less than a year however Stockard died. Elijah and Stockard’s only son who had traveled from Ohio were at the old man’s side when the Lord took him. Before Stockard died he thanked Elijah for the company and the comfort he had provided. Knowing Elijah’s desire to find his family and also that the farm would be sold after his death Stockard gave Elijah one hundred dollars and a mule. The rest of Stockard’s money and the property would pay off debts and then serve as the inheritance for his son.

The morning after Stockard died Elijah headed out on the mule that he renamed Moses. In his pocket he had more money than he had ever seen before. He decided to search across the country on a line traveling west then east then west again. Each time he crossed he would work his way progressively south. If he had not found his family before he had reached the southern tip of the United States he would start over in Illinois progressively working his way north.

One evening in May he stopped and made camp beside a river. Before he crawled into his bedroll he spent an hour reading the book of St. John. It was his tenth time reading

through the Bible from cover to cover. He had traveled many miles and the one hundred dollars had run out long ago. Again he had resorted to working odd jobs.

The next morning he rekindled the campfire and placed the last of his beans over the flames. The sky was spotted with high cumuli that blocked the sun in patches. Slender groups of rays beamed down through the holes in the clouds like spokes of a giant wagon wheel. He finished the beans and tossed the pan onto the ground, planning to rinse it in the water before he packed his gear.

“Thank you Lord for such a beautiful morning. You sure do know how to put on a show. Now Lord if you could see your way clear to provide a job on the next farm for your humble servant, I sure would appreciate it. And kinda watch out for me, Lord. The people here in the South don’t take so kindly to colored folk. Please bless my Minervy and little Lucy and little Nelly―except I guess they’re not so little anymore. You know my heart even before I ask but you know I gotta say it too. You’d make me the happiest man in the world if you’d show me where my family is. But I’m always grateful for your love anyhow. You have a nice day, dear Lord, and I’ll talk to you this evening―unless of course something comes up in the meantime.”

Just then he heard a loud plunk, splash!

He stood up thinking a giant fish had jumped out of the water and had splashed down again. He walked to the riverbank in case the fish jumped again. But below him hanging onto a root against the current was a man!

“Mercy me, Mister! What are you doing down there? Here, grab my hand!”

XXXIII.

When Royce Lee awoke he found himself completely naked in a bedroll. He looked over and saw a man sitting beside a fire reading the Bible. A coffee pot sat on the fire. “Who are you?”

“Elijah Ward. Who might you be?”

“My name is Royce Lee. Are you alone?”

“All except for the Lord.”

“You seen anybody else around here?”

“Ain’t seen hide nor hair of anybody since I left the last farm, Mr. Lee.”

“Where’s my clothes?”

Elijah pointed.

Lee turned his head and saw his clothes hanging on a line strung between two trees.

“I’ll get ‘em for you. They been dry for some time. When you came out of the water you collapsed. Been asleep most of the day.” He stood up and walked to the clothes line. “How’d you fall in anyway?”

“It’s a long story. Got any grub? I’m starving!”

“You asked for the one thing I’m out of. Got some coffee though.”

Elijah bent down and handed Lee his clothes.

“You’re out here without any food?”

“Ate the last of the beans this morning. Sorry.”

“Well, Pine Bluff’s not too far south of here. We best get started.”

“Okay, if you’re feeling up to it. I’ll pack my gear.”

Lee put on his clothes. From his vest pocket he withdrew a thick wad of bills. They were dry but wrinkled. He figured they would spend just the same. He looked curiously at Elijah. The man had not disturbed the money at all.

Elijah kicked dirt onto the fire until he was sure it was out. “Okay, Mr. Lee. I’m ready to go.” Elijah pointed to the mule. “We can ride double on Moses but we’ll have to take it easy. He ain’t as spry as he used to be.”

“That’ll be fine.”

XXXIV.

“What do you do, Mr. Lee?”

The mule had been ambling along the trail to Pine Bluff for about fifteen minutes. Already Lee was becoming frustrated with the snail’s pace. “I ain’t one for talking much. Can’t we go any faster? I’d like to get there before the first snow.”

“Moses—”

“Ain’t as spry as he used to be. I know.”

“If you ain’t one for talking much, will it get on your nerves if I talk?”

“It could.”

Lee pulled the six-shooter from his holster. He examined it and then spun the cylinder. He raised his arm and took aim at a lizard on a rock about twenty-five yards away.

When Elijah heard the distinctive double-click of the hammer he raised his eyebrows. “You ain’t gonna shoot me, are you Mr. Lee?”

“Of course not. You saved my life.”

Elijah turned his head and saw where Lee was pointing the weapon. “I wouldn’t—”

When the hammer fell the lizard exploded into vapor. Simultaneously, the mule jerked his head up and half-reared. “Whoa boy! Whoa!” Elijah pulled in the reins, trying to control the frightened animal. Lee grabbed onto Elijah to avoid falling off.

“I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Lee. Moses ain’t used to gunfire.”

“So I noticed.”

After the mule had settled down he fell into a steady stride but now with more life in his steps.

“Well, I never thought I’d say this but now we’re getting somewhere.”

Elijah turned his head and saw Lee’s smile.

Lee withdrew a bullet from one of the many loops in his gun belt and replaced the spent cartridge. Then he holstered the weapon. “She fires but she’s gonna need a good oiling.”

“You feel better now, Mr. Lee?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You make your living with a gun?”

“Yes, I do.”

Elijah fell silent. He perceived no threat but he realized he was riding double with a dangerous man.

“Thank you Elijah for pulling me out of the drink.”

Elijah turned his head and eyed Lee. “You do feel better.”

“What are you doing out here with a small amount of gear and no food—and you probably ain’t got a nickel to your name.”

“The Lord provides, Mr. Lee.”

“Well, I don’t know about the Lord. But when we get to Pine Bluff—if we ever do―I’m gonna provide you with a big juicy steak.”

“Mercy me, Mr. Lee. A steak!”

“The first thing I’m gonna do though is buy me a pair of boots and a hat.”

The two men traveled along. Over the course of the ride Elijah told Lee all about his experiences since he had become a free man and how he was searching for his family.

With absolutely nothing else to do Lee listened, in-between bouts of frustration with their excruciatingly slow progress toward Pine Bluff. At this pace, he thought, Elijah would be in heaven long before he ever found his wife and daughters.

By the time they reached Pine Bluff the sun had dipped below the horizon and only pink reflected rays lit the sky. Lee had never been so glad to ride into a town.

Before long Lee nudged Elijah. “Stop. Wait for me here.”

Lee slid off the mule and hurried into a shop along the street. When he came out Elijah noticed Lee was wearing a new pair of boots and a Stetson. Lee grabbed Elijah’s hand and swung up onto the mule. “Okay, let’s go.”

They had gone another block when Lee nudged Elijah again. “This place looks good.”

Elijah turned and saw Lee pointing to a restaurant. “Alright.”

When the two men entered the restaurant, heads turned. The waitress came directly over to the table and looked at Elijah. “You’re not allowed in here.”

Elijah immediately began to stand up.

“Sit down,” Lee said firmly.

Elijah began to sit down when the waitress raised her arm and pointed to the door. “Out!”

Elijah began to stand up again. Lee turned and gave Elijah a stern look. Elijah sat down again.

The waitress turned hurriedly and walked through the swinging door to the kitchen. Almost immediately a man wearing a white shirt, white pants, and an apron came out of the kitchen and walked to the table. He glared at Elijah. “The waitress already told you to leave. Now I’m telling you. Get out.”

When Elijah began to stand up Lee glanced at him. “Quit doing that!” He turned to the man. “We’ll take two of your best steaks with all the fixin’s.”

The man was unmoved. “We don’t serve his kind in here.”

Lee slowly lowered his arm and placed his hand on the butt of his pistol. “You’re gonna serve him.”

The man hesitated, eyeing the weapon. He glanced up at Lee who held the man’s gaze. “You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, would you?”

“Why not? I figure with you out of the way, I could get back there and cook the steak myself. That way I’d be eating it instead of out here talking about it.”

The man hesitated. Finally he said, “Alright Mister. I don’t want any trouble.”

“I want those steaks tender and juicy. And I just might switch plates with my friend here, so they both better be good. And make it snappy. I haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Alright sir. Coming right up.”

Lee glanced at the other customers who had been watching the scene. Except for a couple of men sitting at a table near the window, everyone averted their eyes. The two men turned to each other. One said something under his breath and the other one snickered. Finally they stood up. As they did Lee lowered his hand below the table.

When the two men reached the table, one said to Lee, “Around here we got a name for a fella like you.”

“I’d keep that name to myself. I ain’t looking for trouble but if you want some you came to the right place.” Under the table he pulled back the pistol’s hammer and the men heard the clicks. “You’re gonna spoil a lot of people’s dinner when you’re laying on the floor bleedin’. Now I’ll count to ten in my head. I suggest you leave before I finish counting. And I’m already on five.”

“Come on, Jim. Let’s get out of here. They ain’t worth it.”

The two men turned and hurried out.

The man in the apron had been standing, holding the plates. After the two men hurried out he approached and set the plates on the table. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“I need some information. Who sells the best horses in these parts and where can I find him?”

“That would be Vince Hackett. You can probably find him at the saloon across the street. He’s normally in there this time of night.”

“Is he an honest man?”

“Sir, he built the nicest spread around by standing on his word. You won’t find a man more honest. He’s a business man though. I’d remember that. But he’s fair-minded.”

Lee nodded. He reached over and switched plates with Elijah and looked up at the man in the apron.

“Don’t worry, sir. They’re the two best steaks I had.”

“Okay. Go on and let us eat in peace.”

Halfway through the meal, Elijah looked up. “Can I ask you a question, Mr. Lee?”

“If you must.”

When that man in the apron came out unarmed, you wouldn’t have really shot him, would’ve you?”

Lee glanced at Elijah. “No.”

Elijah nodded. He cut another bite-sized piece of meat and lifted it to his mouth.

“Probably not.”

Elijah jerked his head around and looked at Lee.

Lee stared ahead blankly, chewing his steak.

XXXV.

When the two men walked out of the restaurant, Elijah said, “Thank you, Mr. Lee. I haven’t had such a good meal since―well I guess that was the best meal I ever had.”

“Don’t mention it. You grab Moses and tie him up down there. Then meet me inside.” He raised his arm and pointed to a hotel sign halfway down the block.

When Lee entered the hotel, a man behind the counter stood up. “Yes sir, need a room?”

“Give me two for one night.”

The man craned his neck, looking around Lee. “Got somebody with you?”

“He’ll be along in a minute.”

“Okay, that’ll be five dollars.”

“Five! That’s a bit steep, ain’t it?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll give you four and not a cent more.”

“Alright Mister. Two rooms, four dollars.”

“And they better be nice rooms.”

“They’re nice and the beds are comfortable.”

As he said it, Elijah opened the door.

When the man heard the door open he craned his neck again, “You’re not allowed in here.”

Lee placed his hand on the counter. “He’s the other room.”

“Oh now wait just a minute.”

“How much?”

“You don’t understand. I could get in a lot of trouble lettin’ somebody like that stay here.”

“Mister, you don’t know what trouble is. But I’d take great pleasure in learning you. Now how much more?”

“Well, seein’ as I got no choice—”

“You don’t.”

“Make it ten extra.”

“Let’s make it twelve total. Two for me, ten for my friend.”

“But—”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Alright, twelve. But you both gotta be out first thing in the morning. I don’t want nobody seeing. Understand?”

Lee turned to Elijah. “Take your key and get settled in. I’ll be back.”

“Where you goin’?”

“To see a man about a horse.”

A few minutes later Lee had walked down the street. When he pushed open the bat-wing doors of the saloon, the room was smoky, crowded, and loud, all particularities Lee disdained.

He approached the bar and told the bartender he was looking for Vince Hackett. The bartender pointed to a table near the back of the room. Lee made his way through the crowd to the table. “Which of you is Vince Hackett?”

“I’m Hackett.” The man sat back in his chair and lifted his hand to his chin. He quickly looked Lee up and down.

“I’m interested in a horse.”

“You want to buy a horse?”

“Three, actually. Two good trail horses and a pack horse.”

“Sit down, stranger.”

A man sitting beside Hackett stood up and moved to an empty chair around the table. Lee sat down.

“So you want to buy three horses. I can accommodate you. But it won’t be cheap.”

“How much?”

“I only breed the very best, you understand. Animals like that are worth a lot of money.”

“How much?”

“Four fifty.”

“Two seventy-five.”

Hackett laughed. “I’m sorry, Mister. You came to the wrong fella. I’m talking about the very best animals in these parts. You’re interested in crowbaits.”

“The first one has to have spirit, speed, and stamina. I figure that’s worth one twenty-five tops. The second must be even-tempered and able to spend long hours on the trail. That’s worth seventy-five. The pack horse, well, he’s worth maybe fifty if he’s strong. That’s two fifty. But I’ll throw in an extra twenty-five.”

“You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. I might could come down to four hundred, but you’d be getting a steal.”

“None of ‘em can be gun-shy. That’s worth an extra fifty. I’ll make it three twenty-five.”

“No, it’s four hundred or nothing.”

“Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll pay what you’re asking. But for that you have to take an old mule and put him out to pasture. Make sure he’s got shelter in the winter and that he stays well-fed. Then you got your four hundred.”

“Take an old mule? For how long?”

“For the rest of his natural life.”

“Mister, who are you? Why you’re loco! Something like that could cost me a bundle. Besides I don’t want a mule roaming around on my ranch.”

“How much to take the mule?”

Again Hackett raised his hand to his chin. “How old is the mule?”

“He’s old. You won’t have to care for him long but you have to guarantee he’ll be comfortable for however long he lasts.”

“I wouldn’t consider anything like that for less than a thousand.”

“Throw in the tack and we’ll make it twelve hundred for everything.”

Hackett laughed again. Then he shook his head. He glanced around at his friends at the table. “I think I’m gonna need another beer. How about you gentlemen? Stranger, you want to have a drink with us?”

“No thanks. What about the twelve hundred?”

“Tell you what. Make it thirteen hundred cash on the barrel head and you got yourself a deal.”

Pulling out the wad of bills, Lee glanced at Hackett. “Done. Have the three horses out front of the hotel up the street by first light. When you bring the horses, take the mule. If there’s a problem with any of the horses, I’ll be paying you a visit.”

“There will be no problem.”

XXXVI.

When Lee walked out of the saloon, the two men he had confronted earlier in the restaurant were waiting for him. One look, and Lee knew evil was on their minds and that they were deadly serious.

He stood just outside the doorway, aware that the light from the saloon outlined his figure. The two men, on the other hand, were standing in the street where it was much darker.

Immediately he reached down and unstrapped the thong from the hammer of his pistol. Then he allowed his arms to hang at his sides.

TO BE CONTINUED