Parson Sam Blane in HOPE (Episode 8)

XXVIII.

Royce Lee was not a bounty hunter for the money. He did it because he thrived on the danger of hunting the most cunning animal of all: his own kind.

Though Lee was not yet middle-aged, his body ached from continual rigorous travel. The thick brown hair of his youth had thinned out considerably and he regularly found loose brittle strands when he took off his hat at night. Years earlier gray hairs had begun to show at his temples and now the gray hair covered most of the sides of his head. His skin regularly exposed to the sun was leathery in texture and extremely dark brown.

His face, more than anything else, showed the years of living on the edge, the countless miles traveled, and a dim reflection of each man he had killed. His eyes were gray and gloomy, his cheeks hollow. His mouth was normally dry and it hung open, as if perpetually prepared to vomit the poison of the evil he pursued and of the evil he himself had become. The most distinctive feature of his face was the long deep scar that reached from the back of his right jaw to the center of his chin. The Indian who had branded him for life had not been as lucky.

Lee knew, and cared for, nothing about women. He had never owned a home. He had never worked a regular job. Neither did he know nor care about how even simple things worked. He could not have herded a single cow. He could not have hitched a team of horses or repaired a fence on a ranch. He was a man completely out of touch with the world around him. Out of touch except in one respect: He was a master at knowing how a man thought.

How a man thought made him predictable. And a man’s predictability was his greatest betrayer.

Lee had captured or killed outlaws who were smart and those who were dimwitted; those who were fast and treacherous, and those who were slow and posed no threat at all. But each man was unique and challenged him in a slightly different way. Lee lived for that.

Almost from every aspect Lee was anti-social. He held no affection for people, places, or things. He preferred being outdoors far from towns, taking in stride the sun and the rain, the heat and the cold. Yet his occupation required information―information that sometimes could only be obtained by riding into a town. A quiet ride in, a few pointed questions, a quiet ride out. He did not drink nor smoke nor hire women for sex. Normally his mind was occupied with only one thought: What would be his prey’s next move, or three, or six?

Whenever the time came to end the chase, he did so with absolute resolution: one chance to surrender and live to face a jury and a rope. Or one wrong move that would end it all. Most had made the fatal mistake, which Lee had come to prefer. Dragging along a live outlaw sometimes hundreds of miles to face a jury was much more dangerous than leading the man’s horse with the body draped across the saddle. Yet he would dutifully deliver the outlaw intact when the man had surrendered.

What crime the outlaw had perpetrated against society held no interest for Lee. Nor did the size of the reward. The amount of cash he had collected from bounties over the years was substantial. But, other than the small portion required to keep him outfitted, the money meant little.

What mattered was the chase.

The twists and turns of his prey gave him something to contemplate and understand, something to counter and overcome. Lee was an expert at patience and persistence. He had captured or killed every man he had hunted. Not one had escaped. Not one.

XXIX.

Miles Stayton was a middle son of the Stayton clan. As a child he had noticed the attention of his father and mother centered on his older and younger brothers, particularly Travis the oldest and Little Joey the youngest. Although he had not questioned why that was the case, the relative lack of affection had caused him to turn inward. As a result he had grown up the most self-reliant and the most wayward of all the Stayton sons.

During his youth he had developed his own method to gain the family’s attention. He had found clever cynical comments caused his parents and his brothers to turn their heads in his direction. Whereas his motivation was to amuse the family, his remarks inevitably were taken as obnoxious. He had therefore become known as the smart aleck of the clan.

Yet Miles was one of the more intelligent sons and he possessed a knack for satisfying not only his needs but many of his wants. He had learned from an early age the fiercest competitor received what limited resources were available. What he wanted therefore he took, often at the point of a gun.

As all the Stayton sons, Miles had been introduced to guns at an early age. When he discovered how persuasive a weapon could be he devoted himself to developing skill and confidence in the expert handling of a firearm. Outside of his brother, Gil, Miles was the fastest draw of all the sons. That characteristic coupled with a volatile temper had sent four men to boot hill and had made him a wanted man in Texas.

By the time he was sixteen years old he had lost much of his interest in family affairs. Shortly after his seventeenth birthday he left home. He drifted north. When he ran out of money he robbed a stagecoach, killing the guard. When the local sheriff formed a posse, Miles experienced what it was to be a hunted man. The posse had surprised him one night shortly after the robbery. He was wounded in the side before he killed two of the men and narrowly escaped with his life. The pain and shock of the incident had shown him the penalty for carelessness and he vowed never to be caught off-guard again.

He had traveled through many towns of the West before he drifted into Fort Smith on a cool rainy night. Gambling at draw poker in a saloon he found himself holding an Ace-high flush. The drunkard betting against him showed two pair but did not have the cash to pay the loss. In exchange the man signed over the deed to a small farm in southeastern Arkansas.

Eventually Miles visited the property, never planning to stay and abhorring the thought of becoming a farmer. But when he arrived he found the cabin comfortable and the land attractive. After a time he decided to plant a few crops and he was pleasantly surprised at the rich harvest. He found he could easily subsist off the farm and he began to enjoy the security of owning property. Ever wary however that the past might show up on his doorstep he was unyielding in maintaining his skill with a gun.

Then in the spring of 1873 he received a telegram from his father. On a night in middle May he packed, and the next morning he headed out.

Almost from the time he left he had felt a strange sensation. Again and again he asked himself whether he had forgotten something―something essential. The first night out therefore he took careful inventory of his gear. He found nothing missing.

His thoughts were mostly occupied with the anticipation of meeting his pa and brothers in Oklahoma City. Three years had passed since he had seen his family and he tried to imagine how each of his brothers might have changed. He was especially eager to see his pa and to determine how he had faired during the interval.

Still, somewhere in his mind a small blank spot caused him to pause every time his train of thought centered on the void. What was that?

The lack of knowledge of what could be causing the subtle distress caused him to pull in the reins. He turned in the saddle and looked behind him. He held the horse perfectly still for several minutes. Scanning left and right, near and far, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

He pulled the brim of his hat lower to block the glare of the afternoon sun. Then he nudged the horse with his spurs. After only a hundred yards his mind tripped over the mental blank again. This time he consciously lingered on the void, knowing it meant something but not knowing what. After a moment a shiver raced down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

He abruptly pulled in the reins and the horse stopped. He jerked around in the saddle and looked behind him. Again nothing.

destination after they had passed Pine Bluff and the man had been heading directly toward the Oklahoma town.

Lee had figured however to end the chase even as early as tomorrow night. To do that, he would have to find where the man had gone. He figured the man’s most likely diversion was to the river where the man could hide his tracks in the water.

To make sure, he began riding in wide arcs, trying to catch sight of a hoof print or a broken twig or the particular lie of a few blades of grass. A half hour passed before he found what he was looking for. A horse’s shoe had scraped across a rock. He rode a little farther and came upon the leafy branch the man had used to cover his tracks. He frowned with disappointment and he shook his head. No use playing any longer. The time had come to He quickly took stock of his location. He had been traveling at a leisurely pace in a generally northwest direction. He knew the Arkansas River was east of him by no more than a few miles. He veered the horse from the trail and brought the animal to a lope in that direction.

When he reached the river he walked the horse into the shallows along the bank and reversed direction. He rode southeast for nearly a quarter mile. Then he rode up onto the bank. By now the sun had sunk lower in the sky and the trees along the bank filtered the light. He rode another mile and then stopped and made camp.

The next morning he was awake before dawn. When he mounted up he turned the horse southeast again. He rode along the riverbank for nearly three miles. Then he turned west to rejoin the trail he had been riding the day before.

As he approached the trail his instincts were on high alert. He brought the animal to a halt alongside a large boulder. After dismounting he retrieved the field glasses from one of his saddlebags. Resting his elbows on the boulder he examined the area in every direction. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.

He mounted up and walked the horse onto the trail. Before long he saw his own horse’s hoof prints from the day before. They were the only tracks on the trail.

He walked the horse for a quarter mile, carefully looking for a second set of tracks. He found none.

“Get up.”

His thoughts again turned to his pa and brothers. The telegram he had received several weeks ago read:

WADE, CLEM DEAD. PARSON BLANE, ABILENE, KS, CULPRIT. MEET OK CITY LATE MAY/JUNE –PA

The purpose of his trip therefore was clear. After joining up with the family they would ride north to Abilene and kill this man, Parson Blane. Interesting, that the man was a preacher. Also interesting that Pa would want him along. Normally Pa and his brothers did not need his gun. But then again Hickok was Marshal of Abilene. That circumstance might warrant the extra hardware. Whatever the reason, Miles was happy for the chance to see his pa and brothers and to help take revenge for the deaths of Wade and Clem.

XXX.

Royce Lee knew that a wanted man, more often than not, was a hunted man. And a hunted man would do almost anything to escape the hunter. Circling back to check his trail was a common tactic among hunted men. Lee had witnessed it countless times and had developed habits to remain undetected.

First, he always followed a man at a distance that would allow the man plenty of time to double back on his own trail before Lee ever arrived at that location. Second, he never directly followed the man’s path. Instead he rode a quarter mile to the right or left, drifting only occasionally onto the man’s trail to make sure the man was still traveling in the same direction.

Sometimes Lee’s technique of tracking a man was burdensome for him, especially when he was forced to ride through high brush. But his method had proven so successful over the years that he entertained little thought of altering it.

By noon he had already detected where the man he hunted had rejoined the trail after doubling back. A corner of his mouth curled up. It was a tired trick. And it showed no imagination. He wondered whether he should cut the chase short to end what was fast becoming a bore.

Lee removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. His stomach growled and he felt the pangs of hunger. He turned his horse east. “Come on, boy, let’s go over to the river.”

At the river he let the horse drink. Then he walked the animal a few yards from the river’s edge and staked him in the grass. He pulled a bar of soap from a saddlebag and walked back to the riverbank. He took off everything except his boots and waded into the water and washed himself thoroughly.

When he was done he threw the bar of soap onto the bank. He remained in the shallows for several minutes enjoying the relatively cool flow of the water. Then he walked onto the bank and sat down on a patch of grass to drip-dry.

His thoughts returned to the man ahead of him. The man was the brother of Al Stayton whom he had already killed. This man was proving no craftier than his brother and again Lee thought of ending the chase. Perhaps his next victim would present more of a challenge.

He stood up and put on his clothes. Then he retrieved some jerky and a corn dodger from a saddlebag. He sat down on the riverbank and thoroughly chewed his lunch, washing it down with water from his canteen.

Finally he drew the six-shooter from his holster and checked the load. After he wiped the gun clean with his handkerchief he slipped the revolver into the holster and strapped the thong over the hammer.

An hour later he had reached the trail and casually looked down to check the tracks.

None was there.

He cocked his head. “Hmm.” He carefully looked in every direction. Nothing.

For the first time in a long time, he smiled. The game had begun.

“Alright Pardner, where’d ya go?”

He rode a few hundred feet, scrutinizing the trail. Perhaps the man ahead of him had brushed out his tracks with a leafy branch. Sometimes one could distinguish the brush marks, sometimes not.

He figured that by following the trail long enough he would be able to detect the telltale signs of the man’s brushing out the tracks. But soon he concluded the man had left the trail altogether.

Still it was of little concern. He already knew where the man was headed: Oklahoma City. It was the next major destination after they had passed Pine Bluff and the man had been heading directly toward the Oklahoma town.

Lee had figured however to end the chase even as early as tomorrow night. To do that, he would have to find where the man had gone. He figured the man’s most likely diversion was to the river where the man could hide his tracks in the water.

To make sure, he began riding in wide arcs, trying to catch sight of a hoof print or a broken twig or the particular lie of a few blades of grass. A half hour passed before he found what he was looking for. A horse’s shoe had scraped across a rock. He rode a little farther and came upon the leafy branch the man had used to cover his tracks. He frowned with disappointment and he shook his head. No use playing any longer. The time had come to end the game. He lifted the reins and gave a quick jab of spurs.

At the river’s edge he quickly located where the man had entered the water. Now he had a decision to make. Which way? More than likely the man would not have doubled back on his trail again so soon. He therefore turned northwest and began looking for tracks where the man had exited the river.

After a quarter mile without finding tracks he pulled in the reins. He arched his back and lifted his arms over his head and stretched. He should have found the tracks by now. After another quarter mile he reined in again. Surely the man would not have walked his horse for a half mile in the water. Would have he? Finally, after he had ridden a total of more than a mile he knew something was wrong. There should have been tracks leading out of the water but he had found none.

He took off his hat and scratched his head. He peered at the opposite side of the river. Surely the man would not have crossed the river. On the one hand crossing the river would have put the man on the wrong side of the water to reach Oklahoma City. On the other hand the river was deep and wide. The man’s horse would have had to swim the width and fight the current as well. Judging by the distance to the opposite bank he seriously questioned whether the feat could be accomplished.

The only other possibility was that the man indeed had reversed direction when he first entered the water so as to double back on his trail a second time within two days. And the thought of that possibility gave Lee pause. If the man had doubled back a second time he had brought Lee in much closer than Lee was comfortable with. The possibility always existed that the hunter would become the hunted.

Reluctantly he turned his horse around and began following the riverbank to the southeast. After retracing his trail for about a mile he began looking for tracks where the man had come out of the river. He kept alert, carefully scanning the trail ahead. He was wary of an ambush.

After another quarter mile he spotted the tracks of the man’s horse from the day before but he still had not found fresh tracks. After another mile he came upon the man’s camp from the night before―but still no tracks leading out of the water. The situation was becoming downright frustrating!

Again he looked across the river.

He dismounted and walked to the water’s edge. He knelt on one knee and splashed water onto his face. Then he wiped away the water with his hands. He looked closely at the river, the current, and the opposite bank. What had been the last resort had become the only resort. The man must have crossed.

When he mounted up he walked the horse into the shallows and drew up. Carefully he reviewed what he was about to do. The danger was his horse would exhaust himself before they reached the other side. In that instance they both would probably drown. He had to be sure in his mind that the man he was after had indeed crossed the river. Could he have missed the man’s tracks? Had he somehow been tricked?

When he nudged the animal with his spurs, the horse did not move. “I know, boy. It’s a long way across. Let’s try for a little ways and see how we do.” He spurred the animal with authority and the horse headed out. After several steps the bottom fell away and the horse began to swim. Lee hung onto the saddle horn and allowed his body to stretch out and glide in the water.

After about a hundred yards, Lee looked over his shoulder at the riverbank he had left behind. He could clearly see the current was taking them downriver at fair speed. He listened to the horse’s breathing for further signs of tiring. The animal’s respiration had already become slightly labored. Lee raised his head and tried to glimpse the distance to the opposite bank. But from his viewing angle it was impossible to judge. All he could see ahead of him was water.

“This is nuts!”

He pulled on the left rein and the horse’s head slowly came around until they were headed back to the bank from which they had come.

The horror that happened next came quickly and without warning. An instant before he heard the thunderous roar of the rifle shot, he heard: Phtt! Whack! The blood from the horse’s head splattered onto his face and into his eyes. The horse immediately went limp and began to sink. By the time Lee released his grip on the saddle horn the sinking horse had pulled him five feet under.

When Lee popped above the surface he coughed out the water he had swallowed and he struggled to catch his breath. Again he heard the distinctive sound of a bullet’s whir and he felt the projectile pass within inches of his ear. Quickly he drew in a breath and submerged.

Beneath the water he pulled off his boots. Then he stroked with his arms and kicked with his legs to bring his body parallel to the surface. He swam as far as he could until he had to surface for air.

He began to tread water just below the surface and tilted his head back. When he breached the surface only his mouth and nose were above water. He spent several moments in that position, catching his breath. Then he filled his lungs with air and submerged again.

Now his objective was to allow the current to sweep him downriver until he was out of range of the gunman. Additionally he had to make best use of his strength. Each time he submerged therefore he took several strokes toward the bank.

After a time he risked surfacing. He treaded water for several moments, breathing in desperately needed oxygen.

He heard no gunshots.

After another few moments he began to swim toward the riverbank. He could see the current had taken him farther downriver and that he was still a long way from the bank. Luckily he was a strong swimmer but, even so, he seriously questioned whether he could negotiate the current and the distance to the river’s edge.

He began to swim in easy breast strokes, keeping his head above water and trying to regulate his heart rate and to calm his nerves. After several minutes he began to shed the panic that had plagued him since his horse had been shot. But the shock of the incident had been like a blow to the stomach. Much of his strength had been drained away in the hysteria of the ordeal.

Slowly the distance to the riverbank decreased and for the first time he sensed a glimmer of hope that he just might make it.

If the glimmer of hope burned like a candle, the flame quickly extinguished itself when Lee glimpsed a fleeting movement on the riverbank. Instantly he stopped swimming forward and began to tread water. There it was again!

Someone was riding along the river’s edge. Lee entertained no illusions regarding the rider’s identity. The man who had tricked him was determined to finish the job.

Once again Lee submerged and began to swim underwater but what little strength remained was fading fast. Whenever he surfaced, the oxygen did little to renew his energy.

Additionally the cool water had already begun to lower his body temperature. That fact combined with the necessity to swim underwater, which deprived him of a ready-supply of oxygen, depleted his energy at an accelerated rate. As the long minutes passed sheer exhaustion steadily overtook him.

Finally he surfaced. He had neither the strength nor the oxygen reserve to worry about the gunman possibly spotting him. He must get to the riverbank at all costs.

He swam on, but his strokes were slow and weak.

Before long he began to lose mental focus. Each stroke now was governed only by the instinct to survive―one arm in front of the other over and over again. Occasionally he kicked his legs. All perception of time faded from his consciousness. He was mindful only of the water and the impulse to swim for his life.

Several minutes passed.

Finally he was too weak to swim forward anymore. He began to tread water but his strokes were too feeble to keep him afloat. His head sank below the surface. The fear of drowning produced a spurt of adrenaline that he used to kick his legs to surface momentarily. Then he sank again.

One more spike of fear. Once more he surfaced. When he sank again he tried to stroke and to kick but his arms and legs only twitched. He sank deeper.

TO BE CONTINUED

Parson Sam Blane in HOPE (Episode 7)

XXIII.

The rain had hung on for most of the night. By morning the overcast had somewhat broken up and occasionally the sun peeked through the clouds. The air smelled fresh and clean but the ground was soggy and spotted with water in small murky puddles. To the west the sky was marked with dark clouds heavily laden with more rain.

As Julie walked to the corral behind the boarding house she tried to step on tufts of grass that would keep her boots dry. But her effort was to little avail. The farther she walked, the muddier her boots became. When she stepped across a shallow but particularly wide puddle she lengthened her strides, placing only that portion of each boot that contained her toes and the ball of her foot into the water. The puddle responded with a splish, splish, splish as her steps forced the water up and out, sending ripples to the puddle’s edges.

When she looked up and saw Grace, the horse’s ears were pricked and the animal was looking directly at her. Precisely at that moment a burst of sunlight shone through the clouds and reflected from the animal’s golden coat and blond mane. The horse’s beauty caused Julie to stop and stare.

“Hello, girl,” she finally said. “Look here. I brought you an apple.”

Julie held the apple in her palm, fingers close together and her hand flat, as Charli had taught her. Grace chewed the apple with obvious delight as Julie stroked the animal’s neck.

Julie retrieved Grace’s blanket, saddle and bridle from the small shed beside the corral. The horse stood patiently as Julie saddled her.

After Julie led Grace out of the corral and closed the gate, she placed her boot in the stirrup and swung up. “Okay, girl. Let’s go.”

XXIV.

Mr. Theophilus Little, the town’s Mayor, was a man involved in many civic and business activities. He owned a lumber yard located at the corner of Walnut and First Street. He was also the president of the city council and the president of the school board.

The supply wagon had arrived early in the morning and Little was busily checking the order as one of his employees unloaded the wagon. He did not notice Julie when she rode up and dismounted.

Julie quickly surveyed the situation and guessed that the man standing beside the wagon was probably the man she sought.

“Excuse me sir, I’m looking for Mr. Little.”

Without turning the man said, “You found him. Ed, how many two-by-fours did you count?”

“An even thirty, boss.”

“Well, check again. There should be thirty-five.”

“Mr. Little, I’m Julie Weber.”

“Do you mind if we talk here, Miss Weber? I have to get this wagon unloaded.” Little scribbled something on the form attached to the clipboard he held in his hands. Then he turned his head and glanced at Julie who had stepped beside him. “I was surprised when you chose to come to Abilene so soon. I thought I was clear when I said you should arrive in the fall.”

“I know, but I wanted to arrive early and get settled in. I heard Mrs. Somerset has already retired. I figure you’re going to need someone to teach summer school.”

Little smiled faintly. “We don’t have summer school, Miss Weber.”

“I figure it’s time to start one.”

Little turned again. Keeping his gaze on Julie, he called, “Ed, did you find those other five?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, the order says thirty-five!”

“I’m looking, boss.”

“Miss Weber,” Little said calmly, “there’s no summer school and the next school year starts in the fall. I’m afraid you arrived much too early.”

“What about the remaining time for school before summer vacation? I was told the children have not attended school for a month already. And there’s at least another three weeks before school should be let out.”

“Mrs. Somerset’s health was a factor in ending school early this year. The next classes don’t start until the fall. That’s when I indicated you should arrive.”

“Now that I’m here, I see no problem in finishing out this school year, holding summer school, and beginning the next school year in the fall.”

Julie watched her comments register on Little’s face. The man’s countenance had begun to turn red and Julie braced for an angry response.

“Here’s the other five, boss!”

Little turned toward the man on the wagon. “Good!” he called. Little again scribbled on the form. “Now, let’s unload the two-by-sixes!”

“Okay, boss.”

“Miss Weber, I’m awful busy right now.”

“Yes, I understand. When would it be convenient for us to meet again and discuss this?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Mr. Little, I plan to restart school on Monday. Then I plan to hold classes during the summer for those students who are behind and for those who want extra credit. In the fall, we’ll start the regular session again.

“Now, I’d like to talk about the horrible condition the schoolhouse is in and the cost of bringing it up to standards.”

“I see thirty two-by-sixes, boss,” Ed called.

Little took a step away from Julie as if standing next to her was beginning to make his blood boil. He read from the order form. “Ed, there’s supposed to be thirty-five of those as well!”

“Okay, boss, I’ll check again.”

“Miss Weber,” Little said without looking up, “there’s no money in the budget for any of what you’re suggesting. Additionally, you will not receive your first paycheck until the fall. I’m afraid you arrived early for nothing.”

Julie drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Mr. Little, are you forbidding me to teach the rest of the school year and to hold summer school?”

“Forbidding you?”

“Yes. I’m willing to teach for no pay until the fall. My primary concern is for the children’s education. I brought all my savings and, with a little luck, it should last until I begin receiving pay in the fall.”

Little turned and looked directly into Julie’s eyes for several moments. Finally he said, “Okay, Miss Weber. You can do whatever you want concerning the school. I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Little. You won’t stop me, but it sounds like you won’t help either.”

“Lady, what do you want from me?”

“Would it be too much to ask for some of that lumber you’re unloading? The floor in the schoolhouse has holes in it and some of the desks need repairs.”

“Oh no. Every piece of lumber you see here is going for the construction of the new church.”

“Okay, Mr. Little. I understand. Thank you very much.” Julie held out her hand.

Little looked down at her hand. After several moments of silent debate, he reached out and the two shook.

XXV.

When Charli arrived at the schoolhouse, the palomino was tied to the hitching rail. As she swung down from the saddle, the door opened and Julie walked out.

“Hello Charli.”

“Hiya Julie. I brought the buckets and the scrub brushes and the soap.”

“Good. We’ll fill the buckets from the pump out back. Washing down the inside will probably take most of the afternoon but, after we’re done, will you show me where they’re building the new church?”

“Sure. Ya figger on askin’ for help fixin’ up the school?”

“Yes.”

“Old man Little didn’t come through for ya, huh?”

“Yes and no. He said I could do anything I want concerning the school. But he also made it plain there’s no money in the budget for a summer school session and for making the needed repairs to the schoolhouse.”

“I figgered ya be on your own. I’m tellin’ ya. School is not that big a deal around here.”

Julie had collected the buckets and was walking toward the back of the schoolhouse with Charli in tow. She stopped and turned. “I plan on changing all that, Charli.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet. But there must be a way to make people understand that a formal education is important to every child.”

“Maybe in the East that’s so. But this land is different, Julie. Life is tough out here. Ranchers and farmers need their kids to help with the chores. Kids have to know how to ride and rope and how to plant and harvest. Cows have to be milked and animals have to be fed and watered everyday. And there’s a hundred other things that must be done just to keep a ranch or a farm goin’. The old man and the old lady on a homestead just can’t do it all. Why, shoot! Some of them have lots of kids just to have the help they need to survive.”

Julie remained silent for several moments. She trusted Charli’s knowledge of the West enough to know her young companion was explaining the simple truth. “So, what’s the answer, Charli? To just give up? I can’t do that.”

“No, I’m not sayin’ give up. I’m just tellin’ ya what you’re up against. Schoolin’ is not that important.”

“But it is important, Charli. It’s extremely important. The right formal education is the way to freedom from a hand-to-mouth existence. In many cases, it’s the only way for a young person to break the cycle of hard physical labor required simply to survive. Make no mistake about it, Charli. Poor people do without.”

Charli bowed her head. “I spose that’s true. There’s been many a time when I wished I could buy a new saddle. And old man Riley just got in a shipment of those new Colt pistols. Man! What I would give to be able to buy one of those!”

“You see? That’s what I’m talking about. Only it’s about more than just having more money. It’s about having a wider range of opportunities and about actualizing more of one’s potential. It’s about providing security and comfort for one’s family and about contributing to society.”

“We contribute to society, Julie. Why we sell the best horses in the county. Just about anybody will say that.”

“Yes, Charli. Grace is proof of that. I bet there’s not a better horse in the county.”

“Exceptin’ mine, of course.”

“What I’m saying is the right formal education can throw open the doors to a whole new world of opportunities! Charli, think what it would mean if you had the knowledge to perform the surgery that saved someone’s life. Or imagine that you had the knowledge to present the argument in a courtroom that saved a forest from destruction. Or that you had the knowledge to design a bridge across a raging river. I believe God gave each person a special talent that should be nurtured and then used for His glory. I also believe the best way to develop one’s talent is through the right formal education. When we know what the great minds in our field have produced in the past, we can stand on their shoulders to make our unique contribution to the present and to the future.”

“Wow, Julie. You keep talkin’ like that and you’re gonna make me want to come to school.”

“For those with lesser ability it doesn’t have to be on the same level, though it’s always best to aim high. It could also be very simple. Everyone should at least know how to read the Bible, the greatest book ever written. Also there are so many other books to read. Some, for example, describe places one will never be able to visit. The world is so much bigger than most people know, Charli. Part of the benefit of the right formal education is that it edifies and informs the individual as nothing else can.”

“What do ya mean when ya say the ‘right’ formal education?”

“Part of what I mean is that the education is tailored to the individual. Studying to be an engineer, for example, might be the right education for you. But studying to be a lawyer might be the right education for me. Understand?

“Also a person must obtain the terminal degree in his field. No one begins to build a house and quits halfway through. Having a Bachelors degree in Psychology, for example, is best used to qualify for the Masters and then the terminal degree in that field, the Ph.D. In the job

market having merely a Bachelors in Psychology is not worth much. I know because my roommate in college quit school after she received her Bachelors in Psychology and she wound up not being able to get a job in her field at all. Many other fields of study are like that as well. So, once one starts his education, he must continue straight through until he has earned the highest degree in his field!

“Also, one must consider the right time to obtain his education. The best time to gain one’s education is immediately after high school and to attend school without interruption until one has obtained the terminal degree. To wait until later, or to interrupt one’s course of studies for any reason, poses the serious risk of not being able to complete one’s education. So, the right formal education means all important considerations regarding one’s education are met satisfactorily.”

“Okay, I get it.”

The two walked to the pump and Charli began filling the buckets with water. After Charli had filled the second bucket, she said. “You used some mighty fancy words back there, Julie. But I think I know what ya mean about education bein’ important.”

“Well, it probably all comes down to this: Most everyone wants a better life and especially a better life for his children. In many, many cases, the right formal education is the key to that better life.”

“Ya sure ya don’t believe that just ’cause you’re a teacher?”

“Charli, because I believe that I became a teacher. I may not be cut out to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or an engineer. But my hope is that I will have a hand in teaching children who will one day become those professionals.”

Julie picked up one of the buckets and Charli picked up the other. Together they walked toward the entrance of the schoolhouse.

Julie glanced at Charli. “Now what about you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“What about me?”

“Do you attend school?”

“I haven’t been in school since I was a kid.”

Julie held back the urge to chuckle. To her Charli was still a ‘kid.’ “Do you know how to read?”

“I know what the signs say around town.”

“I mean, can you read a book?”

“No. But that don’t make me stupid.”

“Of course it doesn’t, Charli. In fact you’re about as savvy as any young person I’ve met. It seems a waste though not to put your intelligence to better use.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was just wondering where your interests lie.”

“You mean, what do I like to do?”

“What do you love to do?”

“I love horses, Julie. I love to ride like the wind. That’s my favorite thing.”

“Do you love all animals or just horses?”

“I love all animals. I like animals more than I like people. People can be mean and hurt ya. Animals can be mean too. But normally it’s ’cause they’re scared or ’cause they’ve been mistreated.”

“So you would want a career caring for animals.”

“A career?”

“Yes. Something you love and can devote yourself to and earn enough money to buy that saddle and that gun you want.”

“Aw, you’re talkin’ crazy.”

“Okay. If you say so.”

“Hey. You’re not trying to trick me into coming to school, are ya?”

“No, Charli. Education is something you must want, something you want almost more than anything else. And you’ll never want it until you understand what it can do for you and for your family and for others.”

“Aw, no. I’m happy the way I am.”

“You’re happy being uneducated?”

“I’m pretty smart already.”

“Being smart and being educated are two different things.”

“Look, Julie. You’re pushin’ pretty hard. I just don’t want to come to school. Okay?”

“Okay, Charli. I’ll drop the subject. I was just wondering if you had a calling. Most people do, you know.”

“What’s ‘a calling’?”

“You know. Something deep inside you that keeps drawing your thoughts toward it. Almost like a secret wish, or like a crazy dream that if it came true―well, you get the idea.”

“I’ve got lots of crazy dreams, Julie.”

“No, I’m talking about that special one. The one that fulfills your mission here on earth.”

“Aw, there ain’t no such thing.”

“For some people there is, Charli. I guess they’re the lucky ones.”

“How are they lucky?”

“They have something to give themselves to. Something that arouses their passion for living.”

Charli looked up at Julie. Half-smiling she said, “Aw, come on. You’re makin’ that up.”

Julie stopped and turned toward the girl. “No, Charli. I’m very serious. Have you ever heard of Christopher Columbus for instance?”

“No.”

“He’s the explorer who discovered America. He believed a person could get east by sailing west—how’s that for a crazy dream? As a result he discovered this land we live in today, the greatest country in the world. He followed his passion, Charli. History is full of great men and women who had a dream and believed in it enough to make it come true.” Julie looked into Charli’s eyes. “It’s inside you, Charli, as sure as we’re standing here.”

XXVI.

When Julie and Charli entered the schoolhouse, Charli asked, “Okay, how do ya want to do this?”

Julie threw some soap into each of the buckets. “That’s easy enough,” she said, plunging one of the long-handled brushes into the water. Then she kicked the buckets over and the soapy water covered the floor. “We scrub every inch of this place until it’s spotless!”

The two worked continuously and silently for almost two hours. Occasionally Julie and then Charli would take the buckets and fill them with water from the pump. They washed the walls, the windows, the shelves, and the desks.

Finally, Julie said, “Okay, let’s keep filling the buckets until the whole place is rinsed clean. Then we’ll be done and everything can dry for the rest of the day and tomorrow.”

“Julie, were you serious when you said I might have a calling?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“In the beginning stages, Charli, your calling is between you and God. He has planted the seed in your heart. As the seed grows and you pursue the right formal education, your vision becomes more apparent. As long as you hold to your dream and doggedly pursue the academic goals that must be accomplished, you will one day be qualified and possess the credentials to practice in your field.

“You said life is tough out here. Charli, life is tough everywhere. It tests the spirit and like a white-hot fire melts away the impurities until all that’s left is what we’re truly made of. At the end when we lay down our lives, we want to know we gave our very best and that we fought hardest when times were worst. We want to know we gave life our all and that by means of the right formal education we became all we could have been. Anything less is a cardinal sin of omission.”

Charli stood silent for several moments. Then she nodded her understanding.

Julie picked up the buckets and walked to the pump and filled them with water. When she returned, she took one bucket and Charli took the other and they splashed down the room. They repeated the procedure again and again until, finally, Julie said, “Okay, that’s good enough.”

The two gathered up the buckets, the remaining soap, and the brushes. Then they walked out of the building to the horses. As Charli was tying the buckets to her saddle, she glanced over her shoulder, “You still want to go to where they’re building the church?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Charli. I must look a mess!”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

“Well, I guess it’ll be okay.”

By the time the two arrived at the construction site, the sky had grown dark and ugly. In the distance thunder growled and then tumbled across the heavens. The wind had begun to kick up the dust in the streets.

The construction site was a beehive of activity. People were everywhere. Some were hammering nails, some were sawing boards, and some were crisscrossing the site carrying needed materials to the various workers.

After the two dismounted, Charli turned to Julie. “That’s Ben Blackman. He’s in charge here.”

Julie turned her head and peered at Blackman who was speaking with a tall man with coal black wavy hair. The man was pulling on his shirt as the temperature had fallen a few degrees. Something inside her leapt as she watched the man. Unconsciously she touched her hair. Once again she reminded herself how untidy she looked and she felt embarrassed.

Charli began walking toward Blackman. “Come on.”

Julie stood still another moment watching the tall man with Blackman. Then the tall man turned and walked toward the building. Blackman followed the man for a few steps and then stopped. He waved his hands in the air and shouted, “That’s it for today. Let’s cover the lumber and the tools. We’ve got a storm coming!”

When Charli noticed Julie was not behind her, she stopped and turned. “Ya comin’?”

Julie shifted her gaze to Charli. “Yes, of course.”

Blackman glanced up when he spied the two women approaching him. He was busy rolling up a set of drawings and securing them with string.

Just then the first drops of rain began to fall.

“Hi Charli,” Blackman said. He tipped his hat. “Hello, Miss. Whatever it is, I’m afraid it’s gonna have to wait. I can’t let these plans get wet.” He tucked the drawings under his vest. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Even as Blackman turned and jogged away, the rain began to fall in earnest.

Charli said, “Come on. Let’s get to the horses!”

Before she turned, Julie looked toward the construction site where the crew was covering the lumber and the tools with tarps. She did not see the tall man.

“Come on!” Charli shouted as she turned to run.

Julie hesitated a moment longer. Almost desperately she searched the faces of the construction crew. The tall man was nowhere in sight. Then she turned and ran with Charli to the horses.

XXVII.

Julie handed a fluffy white towel to Charli and then began drying herself with her own. By the time they had arrived at the boarding house, both of them were soaking wet.

“Charli? Who was that man talking with Mr. Blackman at the construction site?”

“Which man?”

“Didn’t you see him? He was tall and had black hair. He was talking with Mr. Blackman when we got to the site.”

“No, I didn’t notice. Why?”

“Just curious, I guess. You sure you didn’t see him?”

“No, I don’t remember anybody. Why? Did he strike your fancy?”

“Oh Charli. Here, let me find you something dry to change into. How about a nice pretty dress?”

Charli raised her eyebrows and her jaw dropped.

Julie held up her hand. “Just kidding!”

TO BE CONTINUED