11 comments/  4146 views/  2 favorites

Tumbleweed Ch. 01

By: woodmanone



I believe I've found my niche. Westerns, set in history or in modern times, and/or detective stories are what I like to write best. I may try my hand at a romance or two in the future but I'm comfortable with my little play area. 

I hope you enjoy this story of the exciting times following the Civil War. 

My usual statement follows. Constructive comments, critiques, and emails are solicited and appreciated. 

******************** 

Young Jeremiah Santee first heard the term "bastard" when he was eight in 1873. 

Early one evening when he was returning to the shack he and his mother shared, carrying food scraps in a bucket from the kitchen of Rosie's Café. Hers was one of the best liked and busiest eateries in El Paso, Texas. Rosie was a big hearted, large woman who had no children of her own and had sort of adopted the boy. 

Jeremiah bumped into a man coming out of the saloon. "Little bastard. Watch where you're goin," the man said in an angry voice. He aimed a kick at the boy and it made him angrier when he missed and fell on his backside. 

"C'mon Billings, he's just a boy," the man's friend said. 

"The law shouldn't let bastard kids like him run around town with decent folk," Billings replied. "You heard the stories about his Ma and that Santee feller." His friend pulled Billings in back into the saloon but not before waving for Jeremiah to leave. 

"Ma, what's a bastard," Jeremiah asked when he got to the shack they called home. They were just sitting down for the only full meal they would have that day. 

"That's not a nice word Jeremiah." Emily Santee was sure what was coming. "Where did you hear it?" 

"I bumped into a man coming out of Thompson's saloon and he called me a bastard. Said the law shouldn't let bastards like me run around town with decent folk." Jeremiah was too young to realize the insult intended by Billings. "What did he mean Ma?" 

Emily sighed; she'd hoped that it would be later in Jeremiah's life before he had to face the truth of that derogatory term. She'd decided that if and when that term came up she would be truthful with her son and explain. 

"Jeremiah, the word means a person whose parents weren't married." 

"So what does that have to do with me? 

"Your father and I were sweethearts, I guess you'd say. We planned on getting married after he came back from the war?" 

"What war?" 

"It was the War Between the States. What some in the South called it the War of Northern Aggression." Emily paused as if she were remembering better times. 

"You told me Pa died a hero," Jeremiah said. 

"I did, and he was a hero." Emily sighed knowing she'd have to tell the boy the whole story. "Your father, Steven, and I were engaged before he left to fight with the First Virginia Cavalry. He didn't want to marry me until he came back from that damn war. It wasn't until he had been gone for a couple of months that I knew we were going to have you joining us. Jeremiah, he never came back; he was killed in the last battle of the war at a place called Appomattox Courthouse." 

"Where's that?" 

"It's in Virginia," Emily answered. 

"We live in Texas. Why would Pa go to Virginia to fight in the war?" 

"Steven was born in Virginia and moved out here with his folks when he was 15." Emily didn't think the boy should know that Steven's parents would have nothing to do with her and Jeremiah. She didn't want her son to know the vile hurtful things Steven's parents had said about her and her son. 

When Emily found out she was pregnant, she'd gone to the Santee's. They were less than thrilled that the young woman claimed to be carrying Steven's child. The Santee's called her a tart and a whore and ran her off their ranch. 

After Jeremiah was born Emily used Steven's last name for her and her son; she wanted the boy to have his father's name even if they hadn't been legally married. Emily eked out a life for her and Jeremiah. Her parents weren't around to help having died in an Indian raid several years before Jeremiah was born. 

Emily Santee wanted Jeremiah to go to school but some of the children were cruel, as only children can be. Some of them repeated things they heard from their parents, teasing and ridiculing Jeremiah until going to school was a torture for the boy. The bullying continued for several weeks and Emily finally allowed Jeremiah to quit going to the school. She taught lessons to him at night after they had supper. He was a smart boy and learned to read, write, and do simple arithmetic quickly. 

Jeremiah talked to the owner of the livery stable the day after he stopped going to school; Jeremiah was eight years old but he convinced Sam Moore to hire him. Moore knew the boy's story and felt sorry for him and his mother. He had the boy muck horse stalls, feed the horses, and do clean up chores around the stable. Being the kind of person he was, Sam paid the boy the same as he would a grown man. 

He also convinced his sister, who owned the general mercantile to hire Emily as a clerk. Emily and Jeremiah's life was a little easier with the money they were now earning. They were able to move out of the drafty barely standing shack into a small room at Ma Stewart's boarding house. Emily did several chores at the boarding house to help pay their rent. 

******************** 

Jacob Hightower pulled his mount and his pack horse to a stop at the livery stable. Both animals seemed to sigh in gratitude that their journey was over, at least for that day. He slowly stepped down, tied his horses off to the hitching post, put his hands on his lower back and stretched. Jake resembled a big cat in his movements; a mountain lion to be exact. 

At 6 feet, Jake was taller than average. His tawny, sandy colored hair was worn long over his ears and covering the collar of his shirts. The mane of hair reminded people of a mountain lions' pelt. He was long, lean and moved with no wasted motion; Jake had an air about him like he was just waiting to spring into action. Add to the picture his unusual yellow flecked, brown eyes and a person could see the resemblance to a mountain lion. 

Guess I'm gettin too damned old to take hard riding, he thought; horses are tired too. He chuckled and added, "Hell I'm only 32." Jake, and his animals, had traveled the over 200 miles from Fort Stockton, Texas to El Paso in just over six days. It was early summer and the temperatures during the day in this part of Texas were in the low 90's. There had been what was called a Comanche Moon that gave enough light to ride at night so he could avoid the heat of the day. 

Once he left the ranches and farms around Fort Stockton, the country was a hard unforgiving desert with only a few trees, mostly Mesquite with a few Palo Verde here and there, and damn few waterholes. Creosote bushes, scrub brush, and tumble weeds were the only other vegetation. 

Jake rode from dusk until midday the next day and rested the horses until dusk that evening. He'd make camp, feed and water the horses, and sometimes light a fire to make coffee. His food consisted mostly of beans and bacon with a few pieces of jerky thrown in. The tumbleweeds came in handy for fires, providing just enough flame to cook coffee and heat beans. 

Gathering tumbleweeds for his fire, the second day out from Fort Stockton, Jake laughed. "Me and the tumbleweeds are alike. We blow around all over; never resting in one place too much." 

Jake's trail cut the Rio Grande and his trek became a little easier. Along that border between the U.S. and Mexico it was a mite cooler because of the river and the cottonwood trees that grew along its banks. Twice during his journey, Jake had to run his horses to avoid groups of bandits and thieves that preyed on travelers along both sides the river. 

It wasn't cowardice that made him run. "No need to get into a gun battle unless I have to," Jake said aloud after outdistancing one gang. 

In any case, Jake was glad when he rode into El Paso. 

******************** 

Jake had started his trek in St. Louis where he'd met with a representative of a manufacturing company headquartered in Hartford, Connecticut. Jake had just resigned as a deputy county sheriff in Fort Smith, Arkansas when he saw an item in the weekly newspaper. The article was from the Colt Firearms Manufacturing Company and they wanted to hire men familiar with firearms as traveling salesmen. He sent a telegram and a meeting was arranged in St. Louis. Jake traveled by train to that city on the banks of the Mighty Mississippi and had two interviews with the company representative. The first interview took about an hour and consisted showing the company man how well Jake could handle both pistols and rifles; the man was very impressed with Jake's skill. 

Jake's experience with firearms, both pistols and rifles, came while serving as a Captain with Major General George Custer's cavalry in the War Between the States. It gave him plenty of practice as he was with Custer for four years. He carried and used a Remington New Army 1858 .44 hand gun and a Henry repeating rifle of the same caliber while with Custer. 

His last battle had been when Custer's command attacked a Confederate supply train at Appomattox Station on April 8th, 1865. The next morning General Robert E. Lee fought an early morning battle at the town of Appomattox Courthouse. The Union forces kept his army from advancing to Lynchburg to resupply. It was the final battle of the war; Lee surrendered the evening of April 9th. 

After Lee's surrender, Jake stayed with Custer for a couple of months. He'd thought about making a career out of the cavalry but the peace time Union army wouldn't be maintained at war time levels. A lot of the soldiers would be mustered out. There was a glut of men vying for the positions of officers; this was true of the enlisted ranks also. 

Many of the men who had been promoted during the war were returned to their previous rank; some Generals reverted to Colonels, Colonels to Majors and on down the line. Even some of the Lieutenants and Captains were now back to being Sergeants. The ones who kept their ranks had been in the army before the war began. 

Jake had a fine record serving with Custer and knew he could stay in the army, but he would probably be demoted to Lieutenant or even Sergeant. It wasn't pride that made him decide to leave; he just didn't want to be under the command of some know nothing, politically appointed officer. Jake had seen what poor officers some of those men were and how they endangered the men under their command. It'd be better to find my own way, he decided. 

After leaving the army, Jake visited a few cousins and such that still lived in his home state of Missouri. He was there for almost a month before moving on. Jake had worked as a cattle drover, stage coach guard, wrangler and lawman for six years before going to work for Colt Firearms in the spring of '72. 

Colt Firearms Manufacturing Company made him a salesman after the first interview. Jake was asked to show his proficiency with pistols; his years as a lawman in Fort Smith stood him in good stead. He was a very accurate shot and faster than most men on the draw, which he needed as a deputy sheriff; although he usually carried a 10 gauge, short double barrel shotgun called a coach gun. His skills with weapons were necessary for him stay alive in that dangerous profession in the dangerous town of Fort Smith. 

The second interview was a bit longer. Jake was told of his duties, how he would demonstrate the new Colt Peacemaker and take orders for the weapon as well as other Colt products. Each man hired would have a sales territory and his district would include south western Arkansas from Little Rock as far west as Fort Worth and north to Fort Smith. 

When he took the job with Colt, Jake packed his beloved Remington in his saddle bags; he refused to totally give up what he considered an old friend. The Colt is a fine weapon and I don't have a problem selling it, but my .44 has been with me for a long time, he thought. It saved my life more than once and I wouldn't feel right letting it go. 

******************** 

Been just over three years now, Jake thought as he looked around for someone to talk to about boarding his horses. And now I'm setting up a new sales area in the Southwest; mainly the far reaches of west Texas and on into New Mexico and Arizona. 

It's a good life if you don't mind not being in one place for very long, he continued his thoughts. Three weeks earlier, Jake had taken a train with his new samples, from St. Louis to San Antonio. From there he'd taken a series of stagecoaches to Fort Stockton where he'd bought his two horses and made the ride to El Paso. 

Time to rest a bit before I start setting up the new sales route, he said to himself. Jake looked toward the big double door entry to the stable as a young boy of about 10 came out. The boy saw Jake and walked over to him. 

"Want to stable your horses Mister?" 

"Yes I do son. Can you help me with that?" 

"Sure," the boy answered. "It'll be a dollar a day for both your animals. How long you gonna leave them here?" Before Jake could answer the boy said, "Six dollars for the week." 

"I plan on being in town for about ten days. What kind of deal can I get?" 

The boy thought for a few seconds and answered, "How about nine dollars for ten days?" 

Jake smiled at the boy's horse trading. "Don't sound like much of a deal son. Would you take seven dollars?" 

The boy thought again. "No sir, but we'd take eight." 

Nodding his head, Jake replied, "We got a deal then." He stuck out his hand and shook hands with the boy. 

They led the horses into the open area in the center of the stable. Stalls lined both walls and a few had other horses in them. As Jake unsaddled his mount he grinned and admitted to the boy, "I would have paid nine dollars." 

"I would have taken seven," the boy responded and returned the grin. "I'll feed your horses an oat mash every morning, give em fresh hay every day, and make sure they're watered. We'll let em out into the corral so's they can stretch their legs. I'll take good care of them Mister." 

"Name's Jake Hightower," he said. 

"I'm Jeremiah," the youngster replied. Jake and Jeremiah shook hands again. 

The boy led the saddle horse into a stall with fresh straw on the floor. He took a measure of oats and put it in the feed box at the back of the stall. Coming back to the center space, he looked at the pack animal. 

"Best get your boss or a man to help unload the panniers," Jake suggested. He knew that each pannier carried 75 pounds of guns, ammunition, and the other products that he sold. 

"I can help you with them Mister," the boy offered. 

"You're a bit short on one end Jeremiah, they're pretty heavy." 

"Help you get them down for 50 cents," Jeremiah offered. 

"All right son, but if I have to tote the whole load you get nothing. Deal?" Jake and the boy shook hands again. 

Jeremiah took the lead rope and guided the pack horse over to one end of the stable. He took a hook off a peg on the wall that had a rope tied to it. Jeremiah attached the hook to an end of a one of the panniers. He motioned for Jake to grab the other end and started hauling on the rope. 

"Tote your end," Jeremiah said. 

Looking up, Jake saw that the rope ran through a block and tackle that was fastened to a thick log beam that ran across the stable just under the roof line. He realized that he could have unloaded the pack animal all by himself using the pulley system. Jake smiled in admiration at Jeremiah's way of making extra money. The boy is a born salesman, he thought. 

"Do you have someplace safe I can store these?" Jake asked. "Wouldn't like them to be broke into or stolen." 

"Got a tack room over there," Jeremiah answered and pointed. "It's got a big ole lock on it." 

"Sounds good to me." Jake and the boy half carried and pushed the panniers into the tack room. 

Pushing the door to, Jeremiah put a big lock through hasp and closed it. He handed a key over and said, "Wells Fargo uses that type of lock for their strong boxes; it oughta hold. There's only two keys. Mr. Moore has the other one." He smiled and added, "That'll be another dollar a day." 

"I'm all ready paying you eight dollars," Jake objected while trying to hide a grin. 

"That eight dollars is for your horses," Jeremiah said. "Ifin you want us to guard your gear it's a dollar a day for the two panniers." The boy paused and then said, "Tell you what, I'll make you the same deal as I did for the horses; nine dollars for use of the tack room for ten days." 

Jake took a $20.00 gold Double Eagle and two one dollar coins out of his vest pocket. He tossed them to Jeremiah. "It's eighteen dollars for the horses and there's an extra four dollars. I expect the horses to be curried and brushed at least three times while they're here." 

Jeremiah nodded and then helped Jake take the pack frame off his horse. The boy led the pack animal into the stall next to the saddle horse; again putting a measure of oats into the feed bin. Jeremiah was curious about what the two panniers carried but decided it weren't none of his business. I reckon if Mr. Hightower wants me to know, he'll tell me, Jeremiah thought. 

"There a good place to stay while I'm in town?" Jake asked. "Somewhere close to the livery." He grinned at the boy and asked, "You gonna charge me for that information too?" 

"No Mr. Hightower," Jeremiah replied. 

"Since we're doing business together, Jake's close enough son." 

"Yes sir. Well, one place is the hotel that's south of here at the end of the street, but they're real proud of their rooms." 

"Proud of their rooms?" 

"Yes sir Jake, they charge upwards of two dollars a day for a room." 

"You said one place, is there somewhere else?" 

"Yes sir. You could stay at Ma Stewart's boarding house. She charges the same as the hotel but you get two meals a day and it's real quiet. Ma Stewart don't allow drinkin or loud behavior at her place." 

"Okay, you sold me. Which way is the boarding house?" 

Jake followed the boy as he stepped outside. "It's that big white house there," Jeremiah replied and pointed to a house about two hundred feet north of the livery. 

Picking up his saddlebags, Jake nodded at the boy and walked to the house Jeremiah had pointed out. The large home could have been a hotel. Two stories, painted white with dark green trim on the windows, doors and shutters it stood out from the rest of the homes and buildings along Front Street. The house had a porch on the ground floor that wrapped around three sides of the building with a balcony across the front on the second story. 

"Pretty fancy for a boarding house," Jake said as he rang the pull bell at the front door. 

"May I help you?" It was a big woman who had answered the door. 

She's big not fat, Jake thought. "Miss Stewart? I'm Jake Hightower and I was hoping you might have room for another boarder. The hand at the livery said I'd like your place better than the hotel." 

"Come in Mr. Hightower," she replied and motioned him into the house. 

The entryway had a high ceiling and was a large space with a wide wooden staircase leading up to the second story. You could see a railing around the second floor and there were several doors around the three sides of the walkway that opened on to it. On the left of the entry were two doors opening onto what Jake would have called a parlor and a formal living room. On the right side there were also two doors; one led into the kitchen and the other into a dining room. The dining room had a very large table with two men sitting around it waiting for supper. 

"It's Mrs. Stewart, Amada Stewart. I'm a widow." Amada studied Jake for several seconds, long enough that he became a little uneasy. "You're just in time for supper," she said. "Toss your bags on the bench there and hang your gun belt and hat on the coat rack. If you've a mind there's a place out the back to clean up. You can go through the kitchen. Come to the table when you're ready; I'll hold supper for you. " 


Tumbleweed Ch. 01



"Yes ma'am," Jake answered. The statement about cleaning up was more like an order than an invitation or suggestion. He dropped his bags on the bench and took off his hat, putting it on the rack. Jake hesitated before undoing his gun belt but finally hung it on the rack too. First time I've had it off since Fort Stockton, he thought. He hurried through the kitchen to the back stoop and quickly washed his face and hands using the pump which sat on a large table. "Place reminds me of a southern plantation house," Jake said softly to himself. 

As he returned through the kitchen he watched as Mrs. Stewart and a younger woman fussed around getting the food ready to serve. Jake smiled to himself at the difference between the two women. Amada Stewart was about 5 feet 4 and almost as big around as she was tall. 

Jake guessed her age between 50 and 70; it was hard to judge a person's age when they lived in the harsh west Texas weather. If she'd spent a lot of time working outside she could be years younger than she looked. Her gray streaked chestnut colored hair was drawn back into a bun. Amanda moved with the grace of a woman much smaller and the economy of someone who had done this job innumerable times. 

The other woman was much younger; Jake judged her to be about 25. She was slender but from the way she carried the different pots, skillets, and large serving bowls she was strong. If she was a man you'd call her wiry, he thought. When she turned toward him, Jake saw a pair of cornflower blue eyes to go with the strawberry blond hair. 

"This is Emily Santee Mr. Hightower." Ma Stewart said. "Emily this is Jake Hightower; our new boarder." 

The young woman nodded at Jake and returned to getting supper ready for the table. He returned the nod and watched her for a few more seconds before he headed toward the dining room. Fine looking woman, he thought as he took a seat at the table with the other guests. 

The dining room table was carved wood and very large; it could seat twelve comfortably. The table, its matching chairs and a six foot long sideboard with a granite top were pretty much the only furnishings. Large floor to ceiling windows gave light during the day and there were several coal oil lamps hanging on the walls to provide light for the evening meal. 

"Howdy," greeted one of the men at the table as Jake sat down. "Name's Jim Bishop and this is Enrique De La Vega," he said motioning to the other man. 

"Jake Hightower. Good to meet you Mr. Bishop, Senor De La Vega." 

"What brings you to El Paso, if you don't mind my askin," Bishop said. 

"Don't mind at all," Jake replied. "I'm setting up a trade route and going to use El Paso as my base." 

"You're a salesman then," De La Vega offered in slightly accented English. 

"Yep, that's me, just a traveling drummer." 

Ma Stewart and Emily came through the swinging door that led to the kitchen with their arms and hands full large serving bowls and a big platter of fried chicken. They set the feast on the table but neither Bishop nor De La Vega reached for the food. Jake also held back to see what was proper. 

When the ladies had finished serving and sat down, Ma Stewart bowed her head and said Grace. "Gentlemen, supper is served," she said after her Amen. 

"I sell ladies notions and supplies to general stores across west Texas," Bishop said. "Enrique there raises and trades horses. His ranch is just south of Juarez." 

Jake nodded and said, "Like to look at your stock Senor De La Vega. Gonna need a good saddle horse; the one I have is a decent mount but I want something special." 

"I would be happy to show you what I have at your convenience Senor Hightower." De La Vega somehow managed to bow while sitting down. 

"What's you line Mr. Hightower?" Bishop asked. 

"I work for Colt Firearms," Jake replied. 

Bishop nodded toward the rack where Jake had hung his gun belt. "Thought that was a mighty fancy rig for a cowboy," he said. 

Jake smiled. "Yes sir, that gun's special. Got to have something to show to customers, don't you know? If you like, after supper I'd be happy to show it to you and Senor De La Vega. Who knows? You might be my first sale in the new territory." 

"Enough talk of guns gentlemen," Ma Stewart ordered. "Now y'all eat before it gets cold." 

After everyone had served themselves, Emily took the bowls and platters of food off the table; putting them on the side board. Anyone that wanted seconds would go to the sideboard to refill their plate. Just as Jake picked up a drumstick, a whirling dervish came charging through the swinging door from the kitchen. 

"Sorry I'm late Ma, Aunt Amanda," Jeremiah said. His face was damp and his hair was slicked back from washing up. He wiped his not quite dry hands on his breeches as he came to the table. "Mr. Moore just got back and I had a customer come in and I had to take care of his horses." 

Jeremiah looked up and saw the customer he'd talked about. "Hi Jake, see you took my advice." 

"Howdy Jeremiah. Yes I did and from the looks of this supper it was the right thing to do." So Mrs. Santee is the boy's mother, he thought. I wonder where Mr. Santee is. 

Jeremiah walked over, kissed his mother's cheek and handed her several coins; Jake saw a ten dollar gold piece among them. "Mr. Moore gave me my wages from last week," he explained. 

Emily looked at the coins in her hand and smiled. "You had a very good week; I'm proud of you." She motioned toward Jake and said, "But I think you should address him as Mr. Hightower; I've taught you to respect your elders." 

"Mrs. Santee, if I may?" Jake offered. "Jeremiah and I have done business together and will probably do more. Your son is a first rate trader and I like to use given names with the men I've learned to respect. So if you don't mind, I'd be proud for the boy to call me by my given name." 

Emily looked at Jake for a few seconds and then she smiled. "Well, I suppose it would be fine. Thank you Mr. Hightower." 

Same applies to you ma'am, Jake added silently to himself. 

After supper Bishop, De La Vega, and Jake stepped out onto the front porch for a cigar; Jake took his gun belt with him. Jeremiah had started to follow but his mother reminded him that he had lessons to work on. 

"Aw Ma," he complained. "I already know how to read and do my sums. I want to see Jake's pistol." 

Grinning, Emily lightly swatted Jeremiah on the rump. "Go do your lessons." The boy walked slowly to the bedroom he and his mother shared, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. 

"It's a Colt Single Action Army .45, better known as a Peacemaker," Jake said as he pulled the pistol from its holster. He quickly unloaded the pistol and handed it to Bishop. The drummer nodded and passed it on to De La Vega; it was obvious that Bishop wasn't really comfortable with fire arms. De La Vega on the other hand looked like he was familiar with pistols. He worked the action and tested the trigger pull without dry firing the weapon. 

Jake smiled to himself at the differences between Bishop and De La Vega. Bishop looks to be about 40, Jake thought. The salesman was just 2 inches over 5 feet. The best way to describe his body was to call him round. His hair consisted of a fringe of salt and pepper that surrounded the bald crown of his head. 

In spite of his grandfatherly appearance he wasn't soft. The way Bishop held himself, the way he talked and the short almost jerky gestures showed that this was a man that had seen the "bear" on more than one occasion. 

Turning his attention he De La Vega, Jake saw the perfect example of a Spanish aristocrat. He doesn't look to be but a few years older than me, Jake thought. That is until you see his eyes; those eyes have also seen the "bear" and dealt with it. 

De La Vega was an inch or so taller than Jake with a whip cord slim build. His hair was black as the night and he wore a pencil thin mustache that almost gave him a sinister look . The experienced looking eyes were surprising in that they were a light gray. Jake learned later they were a gift from his Anglo grandmother. 

His natural light brown complexion had been darkened by the many years working out in the weather. His movements were easy and fluid giving the man a grace not matched by many in this part of Texas. The manner of his speech was polite and showed his education. Man's more than a simple ranch owner, Jake finished his thought. 

"This one has a 5 and a half inch barrel and a nickel finish for show," Jake told them. "You can also get it in 4 ½ and 7 ½ inch barrel lengths and in a blued finish." 

"I don't know all that much about hand guns," Bishop said. "But isn't that barrel a bit short for everyday carry?" 

Jake smiled. "I need to show my customers how fast you can get the Colt out of the holster and its accuracy." 

"You're a gun hand then?" Bishop asked. 

"I guess you could say that," Jake answered with a frown. "I was a deputy sheriff in Fort Smith so I had to know how to handle a gun." With a sad smile and a grimace he added, "Fort Smith had a nick name of "Hell on the Border" that it earned during and just following the Civil War." 

His thoughts drifted back to the events that caused him to leave Fort Smith. A rancher and his five hands had just finished a cattle drive and as usual the cowboys were celebrating in a local saloon. The saloon keeper sent his swamper to get the deputy because the cowhands had gotten a bit too rowdy. They began shooting at the spittoons on the floor in front of the bar. The men also shot at the piano over the piano player's shoulders; encouraging him to play faster and better. 

Jake was on duty that night and hurried to the saloon. He didn't really expect too much trouble; usually the appearance of the Sheriff or a Deputy was enough to calm men down. This time it wasn't. 

Walking into the saloon, Jake saw two men lining up their pistols to shoot at the piano; the other three men he'd been told about were nowhere in sight. "I think you've had about enough fun boys. Holster your guns," Jake ordered in a commanding voice. 

Both men turned. "It's the law," one of them said. 

"So what," his companion replied. "I don't intend for some two bit deputy to stop my fun." 

Jake stood with his 10 gauge coach gun propped on his hip. "Holster your guns," he ordered again. 

The men were standing with their arms at their sides; each man holding a gun. One man, followed by the other, raised their weapons toward Jake. The men were not gunfighters and extended their guns at arm's length to shoot instead of firing from the hip. Jake dropped the barrel of his shotgun toward the men and fired. The shotgun jumped in his hands as he fired both barrels and the two cowboys went down. 

"You son of a bitch," Jake heard from behind the bar just before a bullet hit him creasing his side and turned him toward the bar; another bullet narrowly missed him. He saw two more of the cowhands standing behind the bar with their pistols pointed at him. 

Jake dropped the shotgun and drew his Remington .44, firing as it cleared the holster. Both men went down and a third head rose from its hiding place behind the bar. The young man had his weapon raised but not pointed at Jake. 

"Don't do it son," Jake said. "Put the gun on the bar and step back." 

The youngster looked at his four friends and then back at Jake. "You killed them," he said in surprise. 

"They didn't give me any choice son. Don't you make the same mistake. Put the gun down." 

The boy looked again at his friends and screamed. He brought his pistol up and toward Jake. "Don't," yelled Jake and when the boy didn't stop, Jake's Remington roared again. The young man fell to join his companions on the floor. 

Jake checked on the men, kicking away their weapons. When he came to the youngster, a sadness came over him. The boy had been hit in the chest and there was no doubt that he was dead. 

"Damn kid can't be more than 16," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. 

Jake had the bartender send for the undertaker. He stopped at the doctor's to have his wound cleaned and bandaged. The doctor wanted Jake to stay at his office for a while, just to be on the safe side. 

"Hell Doc, I've cut myself worse shavin," Jake insisted and went back to his own office. 

The next morning when Sheriff Timmons came in, Jake handed him his deputy's star. "I'm done Tom," he told his boss. "I killed a 16 year old boy last night." 

"From what I heard, the boy didn't give you a choice Jake. You had to protect yourself; nothing else you could do." 

"I could have shot him in the shoulder when he popped up from behind the bar with that gun in his hand. He would have been messed up some but at least he'd still be alive." Jake walked toward the door. "See you around Tom." 

Two weeks later, Jake saw the advertisement in the paper and sent a telegram to the Colt Firearms Manufacturing Company. 

******************** 

"I think I would like to see the pistol in action," De La Vega said. "Perhaps when you look at my horses you could show me." His words brought Jake back to the present. The Mexican smiled and added, "If I buy one I will be the envy of my men and my neighbors." 

Jake smiled to himself. Got my first customer before I even got started in the new territory, he thought. He and De La Vega talked about price and when the delivery of his gun could be expected. Customers would have to wait for their purchase to be shipped from the factory in Connecticut; Jake didn't part with his samples nor the gun he carried. 

"At your convenience Senor De La Vega." 

"I am returning to my hacienda tomorrow Senor Hightower; you are welcome to ride with me. My estancia is just across the border in Zaragoza; it is an easy morning's ride. " 

"It would be my pleasure Senor; I'll meet you at the livery at first light." 

To Be Continued



Tumbleweed Ch. 02



The story of Jacob Hightower continues. Please read chapter 1 to follow the flow and story line. 

Constructive comments, critiques, and emails are appreciated. 

******************** 

Chapter Two 

Jake was at the stable at 6 AM. He saddled his horse and going to the locked tack room got two additional pistols and a three of boxes of 45 caliber shells to take with him. Two of the weapons had the 7 ½ barrel and one was in the five inch style. The shorter pistol and one of the longer ones were blued and the other 7 ½ was nickel. 

He packed the extra pistols in his saddlebags. Gonna need the extras cause De La Vega and maybe some of his men will want to shoot the Colts, he thought. And no one but me shoots my gun. Shortly Senor De La Vega joined Jake and they rode out of El Paso by 6:30 on a sunny morning. 

"We will take the road along the Rio Grande and stay on the American side," De La Vega told Jake as they rode. "The river makes a bend and it would be a shorter trip if we cut across through Mexico, but we will take the river road on the American side." 

"Why ride the long way around Senor?" 

"There are banditos all along northern Mexico near the borders. There is no need to face them to save a few miles." 

"I understand," Jake replied. "I ran into a few on my way to El Paso." 

The land they rode through was mostly level but with a slope up from the Rio Grande. Close to the river it was lush with tall reeds at the water's edge and cottonwood trees lining the bank, but higher up the grade it was desert like with mesquite, palo verde, and several types of cactus. The areas between the cottonwoods were covered in a coarse grass which made it good land for grazing stock. 

It was early summer and the west Texas heat was still a month or so away. It was pleasant riding near the Rio Grande but later in the year the sun would begin to bake the desert like areas on each side of the river. They crossed the river and as they rode away from the life giving water, the trail began to wind through some small rises and hills. The vegetation had abruptly changed to the desert plants. 

At the two hour mark Jake asked, "When will we get to your estancia?" 

"We have been on my land for the last 20 minutes," De La Vega answered. "You can see my hacienda from that rise," he added and turned his horse off the trail and toward the small hill. Stopping at the crest of the rise he pointed. "There is the hacienda. We'll be there in within an hour Senor Hightower." 

On the horizon Jake could barely see a bump that must be the ranch house. "That's got to be another 10 miles or so," he said. "How big is your estancia?" 

"It runs along the Rio Grande and eastward for many miles," De La Vega replied. "I have title to 4100 hectares; that's about ten thousand of your acres." Pointing to a large green lush area surrounding the house, De La Vega explained, "The hacienda was built over a deep water spring called Aqua de Dios. That means..." 

"Water from God," Jake translated. 

Pointing to the abundant green areas, De La Vega explained, "We enclosed the spring with a wall and use a bucket to get water for the hacienda, much like a well. The runoff from the spring is diverted into underground channels that are used to irrigate the gardens. We grow many things and only buy supplies such as flour, grain, and other staples from the mercantile." 

The men sat and looked over the land for a few minutes, giving their horses a breather. De La Vega led the way down the far side of the hill back to the trail. Three men rode from behind another hill and blocked the trail so De La Vega and Jake had to pull up. 

Jake had a habit of riding with his right hand close to his pistol. Before stopping his horse, he slipped the safety strap loose to free his weapon. Then he sat with his right hand on his thigh, just in front of his holstered Colt. 

"We want our money De La Vega," one of the men yelled across the 30 feet that separated the two groups. He was speaking Spanish but Jake understood him. Jake had learned "Mex", as they called it in Texas, over the three years he'd done business in east Texas. 

"I owe you nothing Juan," De La Vega replied. "Nor you Neto and Carlos." 

"We're due our wages for last month." 

"The money you got from the cattle you stole was more than your wages. Ten head wasn't it? Consider yourselves fortunate that I did not have you jailed." De La Vega slowly moved his hand toward his pistol. 

"They hang rustlers in East Texas," Jake offered. "Don't reckon it's much different around here." 

"This is none of you business Senor," Juan said. "It would be best if you stayed out of it." 

"You made it my business when you blocked my trail," Jake replied. 

"They also hang rustlers in this country Senor Hightower," De La Vega said. He spit toward the three men. "But you three weren't worth the trouble at the time. Perhaps I should reconsider." 

Juan screamed his anger and pulled a pistol. Before he got the weapon clear of the holster, Jake's Colt barked and the man fell from his horse holding his shoulder. Neto wasn't as lucky; he went down as Jake stopped him as he tried to bring his rifle to bear. The man was dead before he hit the ground. Carlos raised his hands into the air. 

"Madre Dios," he yelled as De La Vega pointed his pistol at Carlos. "Don't kill me." 

"Get your friends and get off my land," De La Vega ordered. 

Carlos dismounted, helped Juan back onto his horse and draped Neto across his saddle. He rode away leading the other two horses and glancing over his shoulder to make sure De La Vega and the gringo didn't shoot him in the back. 

Jake waited until Carlos was over a hundred yards away before reloading his Colt. "Reckon we can go see your horses now Senor De La Vega and I'll give you a demonstration of the Colt." 

"I believe you should call me Enrique after our little adventure together and I shall call you Jake." De La Vega smiled and added, "And I've already seen what your fine pistol can do. You are very fast." 

"Hit that fellar Juan just where I wanted to," Jake said. "But I've got to admit the second man hurried me a mite; didn't have time to place my shot." 

"That speed must have come in handy in face offs while you were Deputy Sheriff," Enrique remarked. 

Jake shook his head. "Truth is most times men shoot from behind cover or try to get around behind you. That stuff about showdowns at high noon is hogwash. The dime novels make up those stories to sell magazines. Don't usually happen that way." 

"Never the less, you are very skilled Jake," Enrique replied. 

It was just over an hour later that the two men pulled their horses to a stop in front of the hacienda. Before either man could dismount a groom came to take the mounts. Enrique motioned Jake through the gate leading into the house. 

"Come, we will have something to eat and then I will show you the horses I have for sale. Take care of the horses please Juanito," Enrique asked. 

Jake followed his host through a court yard with a garden of flowers to the rear section of the house. The hacienda surrounded the court yard on three sides. The thick adobe walls of the building gave the interior court yard cool relief from the very warm spring weather. In the corner, next to the rear wall, there was a well with built up rock sides and a bucket hanging over the opening. 

As Enrique and Jake entered the house, a young man brought a wash bowl, a pitcher of water, and two towels so that Jake and Enrique could clean the trail dust off their face and hands. Washed and refreshed the men entered a large dining room. The same young man and a young woman served the food when the men sat at the huge dining room table. After the meal, Jake showed Enrique the three pistols he'd brought with him. 

"I think I would like the long barrel one with the nickel finish," Enrique said. 

"That pistol is $50," Jake said. "I will telegraph your order as soon as I get back to El Paso." 

"Perhaps the type of mount you're looking for will be here Jake." Enrique asked as they walked to the corrals that joined the stables. There were ten horses in the fenced area. 

Jake perched on the top rail of one of the corrals and looked over the horses for sale. He listened as Enrique talked about each of the animals; praising their strengths and being honest about any short comings. After several minutes, Jake had sort of decided to look closer at two of the horses. He was sure they were good animals but they really didn't reach out and grab him. Hell, I'm looking for a good saddle horse not a thoroughbred, he thought. 

A big horse charged out of the stable door with a groom following him and losing ground. "Stop him," the stable hand yelled as he tried to grab a rope trailing from the horse's halter. Jake jumped off the rail and stepped in front of the charging horse, catching the lead rope. The stallion reared up on his hind legs and got ready to attack this latest obstacle to his running. 

"Easy, easy," Jake said in a low soothing voice. Talking softly, he was able to walk a step at a time up to the horse's head. He slowly held out his hand so the animal could get his scent. The animal tossed its head a couple of times and then extended his nose to smell the human that had stopped his getaway. Jake continued to talk and was able to stroke the horse's nose, forehead and scratch its ears. As he calmed the animal he took a closer look at this whirling dervish. 

The horse's coat was a deep black, gleaming in the sun. Its mane and tail were thick and full; flowing and longer than the average horse. The animal was about 16 hands at the shoulder and was strongly built and compact. Its neck was long and broad, the chest was massive and the hindquarters were strong. The big black had an air of elegance as if the hoopla surrounding him were nothing. 

"Bet you could run all day and most of the night," Jake said in admiration as he stroked the horse's neck. 

The stable hand finally struggled up to Jake and the horse. "Diablo negro," the man said in anger and reached for the lead rope. "Wait until I get you back in the stall." 

Jake pushed the hand away and glared at the groom. "You're not a black devil are you fellar," he said to the horse and led him to the corral. 

"Enrique, pardon me for intruding but I don't believe this horse should be punished for just being a horse," Jake said. Pointing to some marks across the animal's rump he continued, "Those are whip marks; the horse was just trying to get away from a bad situation." 

"Diego, have you been whipping this horse?" Enrique asked the groom in an angry tone. 

"Patron, it was necessary. The animal is very head strong and must be made to do as he is ordered." There was no apology in the man's voice. 

"I've warned you before Diego; I do not want my horses to be beaten while you are training them." 

"I have broken many horses Senor. I know my job and will do it as I see fit." 

"Then do your job on another estancia Diego. You are dismissed," Enrique said with a grim smile. "I will be back at the hacienda shortly to pay what you are owed. You can pack your things while you wait for me." 

Diego had a look disbelief on his face that plainly asked how dare anyone tell him how to do his work? He stomped off toward the bunk house; muttering what Jake was sure wasn't kind things about the Patron. 

"I'm sorry Enrique," Jake offered. "Didn't mean to cause a problem." 

"No, no Jake. This has been coming for a while. Diego and I disagree about horses. He believes you must break an animal but I think you must train them; almost like children." Enrique smiled. "And since I am El Jefe, my way is the way it will be done." 

"This is a beautiful animal," Jake said as he tied the lead rope to the top rail of the corral. 

"Yes he is. He is an Andalusian pure bred. His sire and dame were brought to this country from Spain. I bought him in California last year." Shaking his head Enrique continued, "I may have wasted my money though. He is very high spirited and hard to train." 

Jake was still stroking the big black horse. He carefully ran his hand over the horse's chest, withers, and over the rump. Jake also looked at the legs and hoofs. This is a strong animal, he thought. 

"Come Jake, I will show you some other horses I have for sale," Enrique said and started to walk away from the corral. 

"I've found the animal I want Senor," Jake replied. He placed his hand on the Andalusia's neck and leaned against its shoulder. The horse nickered and lean back into Jake. "That is if I can afford him," Jake added. 

"You are a good judge of horse flesh Jake. If you can train him he will be an excellent mount." Enrique looked thoughtful for a minute. "I am in your debt so I will make you a present of the Andalusia." 

"Thank you but no Enrique. I could not accept. This horse has to be worth $600 or more." 

Thinking for several seconds, Enrique smiled. "As your country men would say, I'll tell you what I'm going to do." Jake smiled at the salesman's comment. "I will take your horse in trade for the Black. In addition, I will take one of those fine pistols of yours and $200. You may pay the $200 at your connivance." 

Jake started to object but just then the horse pushed its head into Jake's hands, wanting him to continue scratching its forehead. Whispering into the big black's ears, Jake asked, "You going to let me train you big fella?" 

"I'll take your generous offer Enrique," Jake said and extended his hand to shake on the deal. "And gracias." 

"Perhaps you should stay here at the estancia for a few days so that you two can get to know each other," Enrique suggested pointing at the horse and Jake. 

Jake thought for a minute as he stroked the horse's neck. "I think that is a good idea. Thank you for your hospitality." 

******************** 

"So you are leaving us this morning," Enrique said as Jake saddle the Andalusia. 

The afternoon that he arrived and for the next two days, Jake had been with his horse almost constantly. He used the gentling tactics he'd learned as a boy to gain the trust of the big black. Jake slowly introduced his horse to a saddle and a bit and got the animal used to the weight and feel of the saddle on his back. He finally mounted and rode the horse on the third evening of training; first around the corral and then for a short distance from the hacienda. 

"Yep, it's time for me and Viajero to head back to El Paso," Jack answered. 

"You told me you had named your horse. But why El Viajero?" 

"Viajero is Mexican for Traveler," Jake replied. "And that's what we're gonna be doing; traveling from town to town." 

"I understand," Enrique said. "It's a meaningful name." After Jake mounted Enrique shook hands with him. "You and Viajero are always welcome at the estancia. Vaya con Dios." 

******************** 

Although the trip back to El Paso normally would have taken only till midday, Jake and Viajero didn't stop in front of the stable until just before dusk. Jake had stopped several times along the trail to continue training his horse. He began to teach the horse to neck rein, react to knee pressure and the shifting of Jake's weight in the saddle and different gaits; especially the canter. 

Feeling the way Viajero moved, Jake knew the horse could go all day at a canter. All during the training he talked to the big horse. After moving at a canter for a couple of hours, Viajero fought Jake a little at the slow gait. Jake smiled and few miles from El Paso, he let the horse have his head. 

The big black horse stretched his neck out and ran. Jake knew the horse was powerful but he was surprised at the speed of the gallop. As they came into the edge of town, Jake pulled Viajero down to a fast walk. He patted the horse's neck and calmed him down after the run across the desert. 

"Take it easy Via," Jake said in a soothing voice. Although the weather was still less hot than it would be later in the summer, it was still very warm. Via's coat was covered with sweat and trail dust. 

"Hi Jake," Jeremiah said as he ran out of the stable. Jeremiah's eyes opened wide and he stopped. "You got a new horse," he exclaimed. 

"Howdy Jeremiah. Yep, sure did. This is Viajero," Jake replied as he stroked the horse's neck. "I call him Via for short." He followed the boy into the stable and put Viajero into a stall next to his pack horse and unsaddled his mount. Motioning to Jeremiah he said, "Come say hello." 

"Wait," Jeremiah said and went into the office. He returned with an apple. Jeremiah offered Via part of the apple. Sniffing at the offered treat, Via picked the apple from the boy's palm. Jake and Jeremiah brushed and cleaned the trail dust off the horse then left for Ma Stewart's boarding house. 

"Ma, look who's back," Jeremiah said as he and Jake walked into the dining room. 

Emily was putting the serving dishes on the sideboard and turned as she heard Jake make his way into the dining room. "Welcome back Mr. Hightower," she said with a smile and pointed to a place at the table. "You're just in time for supper." 

Mrs. Stewart came from the kitchen. "I've held your room for you Mr. Hightower." 

"Thank you ma'am. I'll pay for the days you held it." 

"No need; Mr. Bishop is the only other guest." 

"Howdy Mr. Bishop," Jake said to the salesmen. Bishop had a mouth full of food; he just waved and nodded. 

Emily quickly put two pork chops, a piece of corn on the cob, and a large serving of mashed potatoes and gravy on a plate and brought it to the table. "You must be hungry after your long ride," she offered as she sat the plate in front of Jake. 

He nodded and she sat down across the table from him and watched him eat. Mrs. Stewart watched Emily watching Jake and smiled. Young man has made an impression on the girl, Stewart thought. 

"Hi Ma, hi Aunt Amanda. Would have been here sooner but Jake came in with his new horse." The boy had washed up outback and as with most boys, his hands were still wet and he dried them on his pants as he came into the dining room. The boy hurriedly filled a plate and sat down. "You should see Jake's new horse Ma. He's really something." 

"What are you gonna do now Jake?" Jeremiah asked. 

"Jeremiah!" Emily protested. "Mr. Hightower's business is his own." 

"It's fine Mrs. Santee. Jeremiah and I are business partners in a way." Looking at the boy, who had a big smile on his face, he said, "Reckon I'll set up a place here in town that I can use to get deliveries from the factory; probably the general mercantile. Then I'll start riding my new route, demonstrating and selling the Colts." 

"Where will you go Mr. Hightower?" Emily asked. She was impressed and interested in this well spoken man and didn't realize she was being nosey just like Jeremiah. 

"I'll head over to Santa Theresa, then up to Canutillo, and on up to Las Cruces." He did some quick addition in his head. "That's close to 60 miles one way. On later trips, I may head on over to Deming; it's a bigger town. Should get more customers there. Might head over to Fort Bliss," he added with a smile. "This first trip should put me back in three weeks or so." 

Jake looked at Mrs. Stewart. "Like to stay here when I come back Mrs. Stewart. If that suits you ma'am." 

"I think we can arrange that Mr. Hightower," she responded. Amanda Stewart liked the young man. He was soft spoken but not shy, he treated her and Emily with respect, and was polite and friendly. His parents raised him right, she thought. 

In the days before Jake hit the trail, he sent telegrams to the towns he was going to visit. The messages told newspapers, in the towns that had them or the owners of general stores and a few saloons that he would put on a demonstration of the Colt Peacemaker and take orders for the pistol. 




Tumbleweed Ch. 02



Three days later, Jake was up at first light. He put the sawbuck saddle on his pack horse and filled the panniers with his Colt samples, shells, and trail gear. The he saddled Via, which took a little more time. The spirited stallion had to be calmed before he would accept the saddle. Once saddled, he seemed anxious to hit the trail. 

******************** 

Santa Theresa, New Mexico looked like a sleepy little town as Jake rode into it. According to the sign at the outskirts of town, there were just under 200 people living there. He knew that although the town wasn't much there were several prosperous ranches in the area and cattlemen and cowboys were always good customers for firearms. Jake had made the nearly 13 mile ride from El Paso in time for a mid day meal. 

He had lunch at a Mexican cantina and let the barkeep know about the demonstration he planned for the next day, which was Saturday. Saturday was come to town for supplies day for most of the ranchers and a shopping day for the town folk. 

Jake found a few boys playing around the stables and paid them to hand out flyers he'd had printed in El Paso; it was a practice he would repeat in most of the towns he visited. The flyers told people where and when he would show what the Colt Peacemaker could do. 

Santa Theresa didn't have a hotel as such, just a boarding house, and Jake didn't like the looks of it. He was used to the clean well kept house that Amada Stewart ran and this place didn't stand up to the comparison so he slept in the stable with Via and his pack horse. 

Another reason he slept with his horses was that he wasn't impressed with the security at the stable; he'd hate like hell to lose Via. Probably fewer bed bugs here than at the boarding house, he thought as he spread his bedroll in an empty stall.  

The next morning on the edge of the town, Jake set up a few targets and a table he'd gotten from the cantina. About 10 AM, people began to gather for the show he'd promised. He waited until the 50 or so people settled in and then began the demonstration. 

"Gentlemen," he greeted and then noticed a few women in the crown. "Excuse me, and ladies," he added. Picking up one of the Colts from the table he said, "This is a Colt Single Action Army in .45 caliber; also called the Peacemaker." 

Jake showed that the pistol used metal cartridges and how quickly and easily it could be loaded and reloaded. He explained the different barrel lengths and finishes. 

"Now I'll show you what this weapon can do." As he finished speaking he turned, drew the pistol, and fired. Jake hit each of the six targets he fired at. Then he invited the watchers to examine the guns more closely and shoot them. After almost an hour the show was over. 

"I'll be in town until mid day Monday to take your orders," he told them. Jake sold ten pistols that afternoon. Since the general store was small, and Jake didn't like the looks of the owner anyway, the pistols would be shipped to El Paso. Jake would deliver the weapons to their new owners on his next trip through Santa Theresa. 

Canutillo, Texas was another small town but almost twice the size of Santa Theresa. Jake had left Santa Theresa at mid day on Monday and rode into Canutillo in a little over two hours. He used the same tactics as he the first time; letting the saloon owner and the owner of the general mercantile know about his show and again hired some boys to hand out flyers. People, mostly men, gathered at Jake's location shortly before dusk on Tuesday evening. He sold twelve Colts before he left town on Wednesday morning. This time Jake was able to set up the delivery of the Colts with the owner of the general mercantile. The owner would be paid a commission for handling the deal. 

Jake had close to thirty miles to Las Cruces and he pushed Via and his pack animal until mid day. The distance was a hard day's ride and he didn't want to spend the night on the trail. He found a shady spot by a water hole about half way and stopped to let the horses rest for almost two hours. Jake watered and fed his animals and rested himself. 

Las Cruces was larger than the other two towns combined; having over 2000 residents. He was able to find a nice hotel that had its own stable and got a room. Jake planned to stay a week in Las Cruces and do at least three demonstrations. He sold thirty guns on this trip to the bustling town with promises for more business. 

The only problem in Las Cruces came when one of the ranchers decided he wanted to take one of Jake's guns instead of waiting for a delivery. "Reckon I'll take this one," the ranch, one Japer Bowden by name, said as he hefted a nickel finished Colt with a 7 ½ inch barrel. They were standing in front of one of the numerous saloons in Las Cruces. 

"Can't let you have one of my samples Mr. Bowden," Jake replied. "Need them to show people and make sales. I'll have your weapon to you in about three weeks." 

"You don't understand sonny. I said I'll take this one." Jake could tell by Bowden's look and attitude that he wasn't used to people saying no to him. 

Bowden was larger than life. In earlier times he would have be a mountain man; he still had that same wild unkempt look about him. Jasper had a big bushy moustache and long hair, hanging down to his shoulders. The man was about 50 years old, although it was hard to tell his age because of his weathered face from years spent working on the range. Bowden was a man of means as seen by the way he dressed. And unusual for Texas this close to the Civil War, he was a Negro. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Bowden, but you're the one who doesn't understand; you can't have that gun. You'll have to wait." 

"Sonny, I'm not someone you can order around. I'm a free man and I usually get what I want." Bowden held the Colt in question in his left hand and his right slowly dipped toward his holstered gun. 

"Well, Abe Lincoln may have freed all men Mr. Bowden, but Sam Colt made em equal," Jake replied. "Do you really want to tangle with me?" His own hand hovered over the butt of his own Colt. "Don't do it; I'd hate to have to shoot you." 

"Jasper, are you plum loco?" The bartender from the saloon asked; he'd come to the door when he heard the big man's loud voice. "You saw this boy shoot; Hell, he's faster than a thought. You'd be dead fore you more than touched your gun." 

Bowden looked at the bartender, then back at Jake and lifted his right hand away from his pistol. Shaking his head, he said, "Pardon me Mr. Hightower. Don't know what I was thinkin. Sometimes I get too cantankerous for my own good." Handing back the Colt he paused and added, "I'll wait for your delivery." He then walked to his horse, mounted, and rode back toward his ranch. 

Jake relaxed, nodded at the bartender and finished packing away his sample Colts. 

******************** 

Another day and I'll be home, Jake thought. He laughed at himself. Who thought I'd find so much in El Paso? There's a good job, selling something I believe in, and then there's something more important. He was thinking of Emily and Jeremiah: even Miss Amanda crossed his mind. 

Over a four month time span, Jake had made several of his sales trips and not only over the same route each time. Several times he rode east and spent a few days at Fort Bliss demonstrating his Colt and selling to the soldiers and the townspeople. 

After each trip, no matter where he traveled, he couldn't wait to get back to El Paso. He now thought of Miss Amanda's boarding house as his home. Emily and Jake had started to spend time together after supper. First they would sit on the porch. On the Sundays he was in El Paso, they went to church together and sometimes on picnics afterwards. Emily and Jake grew closer with each of his trips 'home'. 

Amanda Stewart also thought of her place as Jake's home. She liked the young man's manners, his willingness to do man type work around the house; but most of all she liked the way Jake was with Emily and Jeremiah. That girl has had problems enough in her life, Amanda thought. And he and the boy get along real good. Hell, if I was 30 years younger I'd set my sites on Jake. 

Jeremiah and Jake were getting closer too. Jeremiah had liked the new comer because from the first, Jake never treated him like a child. Jake was impressed with Jeremiah's adult type attention to business and yet the boy was still a boy. The boy shows a maturity that not many youngsters could, Jake thought. Then he chuckled, remembering boy's excitement and then dedication in taking care of Viajero. 

Jake leaned forward and patted the big horse on the neck. "I think you've made a friend Via," he said. "You get brushed every day even when I don't ride you and he always brings you an apple or carrot." 

Via pulled on the reins. The slow lope they were traveling at didn't suit him; he wanted to run across the desert. "Take it easy big guy, we got a ways to go yet," Jake soothed his horse. "I'll let you run when we get closer to home." 

To Be Continued.



Tumbleweed Ch. 03



By Woodmanone copyright September, 2015

This is the concluding chapter in Jake Hightower's story. Please read the previous two chapters to give you an understanding of the character's actions and the story line.

I bet you know the next part. Constructive comments, critiques and emails are welcome.





Tumbleweed Ch. 03



Jake squatted down behind a Creosote brush. The desert had cooled down considerably during the night from the heat of the day. A small light breeze blew into Jake's face and he shivered a little in the chill as the sweat on his face dried. The cool air apparently affected one of the sleeping forms as he stood and put a dead Mesquite branch on the fire; the figure was the only one that didn't have a bedroll. The fire flared up with the added fuel and Jake saw Emily's face in the glow.

He wasn't sure of how to get Emily away from the men. Jake didn't want a gun battle with the men if he could keep from it; Emily might be harmed in the crossfire. Finally after a few minutes thinking he began to make his way to the side of the camp where Emily was sleeping. 

Jake used all his skills so he wouldn't make a noise as he crept up to the camp. He was down on all fours and crawled forward; making sure to avoid dead brush and branches. It took him almost ten minutes to get close to where Emily was sleeping. Kneeling next to her, Jake leaned down close and put his hand over her mouth. 

Emily opened her eyes, tried to sit up and scream. When she saw Jake, she sort of slumped and then grabbed him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Jake put his finger across his mouth to warn her to be quiet. Then he motioned for her to follow him and led her away from the camp.

As they left the circle of light cast by the fire, one of the men sat up and saw them. "Hey," he yelled which woke up the other two. "Get back here," another one shouted and started shooting at Jake.

Via had been munching on some buffalo grass that had escaped the desert heat. He raised his head as Jake and Emily scurried to where he was standing. Picking up the reins, Jake wrapped them around the saddle horn and helped Emily to mount up. After she was in the saddle she moved her foot and Jake used the stirrup to climb up behind the cantle of the saddle.

Turning Via back toward Fort Quitman, Jake spoke to the horse in a quiet voice. "Sorry old son, I'm gonna have to push you some more. We need to get Emily back to the fort and safe." The big black nodded his head and Jake put him into a very fast lope; almost a gallop.

After a few minutes with no sounds of pursuit, Jake slowed and followed his usual practice. They rode, at a slower pace, for about half an hour and then slowed even more to a fast walk for half that time. This was where the routine changed. Jake would dismount and run along beside the horse holding onto a stirrup; after ten minutes or so he would remount and resumed the lope.

At midday, just before the sun reached its highest point, Jake guided Via into the same grove of Mesquite trees that he had used when he was following the men and Emily. This was the first time that Emily and Jake had had a chance to talk. 

"Are you alright Emily? Do they hurt you?" Jake asked.

"No other than a bruise or two I'm fine. They made some vile suggestions, taunts and threats but they didn't bother me."

"Do you know why they didn't just leave you once they got a good distance out of El Paso? Why were they taking you to Los Frailes?

"I heard one of them say they could get a lot of money selling me to the Comancheros in Los Frailes; I think Lem was his name." Emily looked down for a few seconds and added. "I wasn't gonna be a play toy for a bunch of Comancheros; I would have made them pay before I killed myself."

Emily gave Jake a grim smile and shrugged her shoulders. "Why are we pushing so hard Jake? Their horses are about done in and I don't think they could catch us. They were complaining about how long it was gonna take them to get to Los Frailes."

"Via is about rung out. I had just got back to El Paso after a hard day on the trail when I found out they took you. The big guy didn't get more than an hour's rest fore we came after you. He got a couple of hours rest at Fort Quitman but he's been carrying me at a fast pace for a few days now. I know he's strong but it's bound to catch up to him."

Jake smiled at Emily. "I'm glad you didn't have to face the Comancheros." Then in almost a whisper he added, "I don't know what I would do if you were not around." 

He made sure than Via got water, using his hat as a bucket so the horse could drink. As Jake and Emily tried to rest in the sparse shade of the Mesquite trees, about every half hour Jake would wet his bandana and tie it across the big black horse's nose. After two hours rest they each took a long drink from the last canteen and Jake emptied the canteen into his hat for Via.

"We can get back to the Rio Grande and Fort Quitman by morning," he explained. "But not if Via breaks down. Right now he needs the water more than we do."

"Do you really think they will come after us?" Emily asked. 

"They might since we didn't get away clean and even if they don't, Los Frailes is a lot closer to them than Fort Quitman is to us. They could go on to Los Frailes, pick up fresh horses and come after us. I want to get you safe at the Fort before that can happen.

Jake had Emily mount, take the reins and put Via into a fast walk. He ran and walked along holding on to the saddle as he had done before. This time he was able to run along for over a half an hour. Then he let the horse rest for close to an hour before he got up behind Emily and put Via into a lope. It took less time for Jake and Emily to return to Fort Quitman than it had for Jake to catch up to Emily and her captors as he'd had to find and follow their trail. He pushed Via harder than he wanted to but felt he had to put miles between Emily and those men. 

As Jake, Emily and Via topped the crest of the rise overlooking the Rio Grande, they slowed to a fast walk. Via was an extremely strong horse but even he had slowed until the walk was about all he could manage. The river was just over two feet deep at the crossing and Jake sent Emily and Via across. He followed along behind them carrying his Winchester, looking over his shoulder watching for riders.

Emily rode onto the shore close to a four man squad of troopers washing clothes in the river. They seemed surprised to see the young white woman, on an obviously tired and lathered horse, cross the river from the Mexican side. They were just as surprised to see a man wading along behind her while watching the far bank.

The soldiers walked to Emily but waited until Jake came up to speak to her. "You all right Ma'am?" One young trouper asked. Turning to Jake he said, "You folks look about done in."

Smiling Jake replied, "We'll be fine after a good meal and a couple of days rest. Is Sergeant O'Flynn around?"

The young man nodded and turned to go find his sergeant. "And who is wantin to see the O'Flynn?" The Sergeant Major asked as he came to the river bank. "Oh, tis you Mr. Hightower. And this must be herself that you went to rescue."

Jake, even though he was tired enough to fall down on the riverbank had to smile at the sergeant's Irish brogue. "Emily Santee, this old war horse is Sergeant James O'Flynn."

"That's Sergeant Major O'Flynn Miss," he said tipping his army issued Stetson. "Let's get you both up to the fort. It's a meal and a rest that you both need." Looking at Jake, he added, "I'll treat that fine charger of yours as if he was my own; don't worry about him."

Shortly Emily and Jake were in the mess hall being waited on by the cook and two of his helpers. Sergeant O'Flynn got a huge cup of coffee and sat with them as they ate. Before they finished, Major Flores joined them.

"I'm glad to see you accomplished your mission Mr. Hightower," he said. Turning to Emily, Flores stood at attention and bowed from the waist. "Major Tom Flores at your service Miss Santee. If there is anything you need while you are here at my fort, please let me know."

Turning Flores faced Jake. "I would assume you and Miss Santee having had something to eat now need to rest." Looking at O'Flynn, the Major said, "Sergeant Major, see that Miss Santee is made comfortable in the visiting officer's cabin and put Mr. Hightower in the empty NCO quarters." 

Turning his attention back to Jake and Emily he said, "Please join me for supper later this evening in my quarters. I would like to hear the story of your adventures. Shall we say at 6:00, after you've had time to freshen up and rest?" He bowed to Emily again and returned to his office.

Sergeant O'Flynn led Emily to the officer's quarters and had a small horse trough, no more than 4 feet long and 2 feet deep, brought into the cabin. "For sure it's a bath you will be wanting Miss. I'll have the boys bring you hot water. It's sorry I am that we can't offer a fine young lady as yourself better."

"Thank you Sergeant O'Flynn. You are very kind."

"And you fine sir," O'Flynn said as he turned to Jake. "It is the trough out behind the stable for you or the river for the likes of you."

Jake had to grin again at the Irish brogue of the old veteran. "I'm not one of your dandies from Dublin Sergeant; the river will be fine enough for me."

O'Flynn directed his squad of troopers to bring buckets of hot water to Emily and he also had them bring her a pair of pants and a shirt from the smallest trooper in the company. "She'll be wantin to get out of them dirty things, she will," he explained to Jake. "We don't have a dress shop on post so it's trooper's clothes she'll have to wear."

Carrying a spare set of pants and shirt from another soldier, Jake made his way back down to the Rio Grande. The Sergeant walked with him, carrying an Allin Springfield army issued rifle. "Quiet as a church it is now," he explained to Jake. "But those Indian devils like to give us a surprise now and them. I'll just post myself as guard while you are away from your weapons."

 "What are your plans Mr. Hightower?" Major Flores asked at supper in his quarters.

"With your permission Major, I'd like to stay at the fort for a couple of days before I go back to El Paso," Jake answered. "My horse needs to recover from the work he's done over the last few days; he should rest up a bit. I'll arrange for Emily to take the stage tomorrow morning."

"I don't want to take the stage Jake," Emily said. "If I have a choice I would like to ride back with you."

Jake smiled and nodded at her. "Reckon we'll need to find you a horse."

"You are welcome to our hospitality here as long as you feel the need." Flores looked at Jake for several seconds and asked, "And what of the men who abducted Miss Santee, Mr. Hightower? How did you deal with them?"

"Those men are still living Major. I was afraid of a gun battle with Emily in the way so we stole away into the night and back to Fort Quitman." Jake gave the Major a grim smile. "But if I ever run into them again, I won't be so accommodating."

Major Flores nodded. "I understand. By the by there are two or three places in the town to purchase horses. I would suggest Senor Reyes; he seems to have the best reputation and horses." He smiled and said, "If you can't find an acceptable animal, the U.S. Army will loan you a mount; but you will have to return it. Have to keep the accountants in Washington happy you know."

 Two days later, just after lunch, Jake, Emily and Sergeant O'Flynn walked into the small town that had grown up around Fort Quitman. Jake and the Sergeant were both armed; Jake with his Colt and O'Flynn carried his Springfield rifle. 

The village had been there for a hundred years or more as the head of the trail to Guadalupe and points south and east into Mexico. It was established because of the natural shallow ford for crossing the Rio Grande. The houses and business had grown somewhat due to the establishment of Fort Quitman but it was still a small village.

"I'll introduce you to Senor Reyes," O'Flynn said as they walked. "A devil he is, but an honest one. But keep your wits about you and don't trust him too much. He's first and foremost a horse trader. It is the better he will treat you when he sees you under my wing."

"This isn't the first time I've bought horses," Jake replied. "But thanks for your help."

O'Flynn introduced Jake and Emily to Senor Reyes. The horse trader led them to a large corral which held the horses he had for sale. Jake pointed out a couple of horses he liked and Reyes had them brought to a hitching post outside the corral for inspection.

Jake ran his hands over the legs, chest and croup of the horses. He liked the young gray mare and turned to Emily. "What do you think about this mare Emily? Does she suit you?"

"I don't really know that much about horses Jake. Would you choose for me please?'

Nodding, Jake turned to Reyes and asked the price of the mare. Reyes replied and Jake shook his head. So began what would be a long negotiation of offers and counter offers. Jake and Reyes enjoyed the give and take that was part of the buying of horses. Emily watched for a few minutes and then wandered over to examine some stalls that had things for sale.

She was trying on a knitted shawl, turned and froze. Standing at the next stall was Lem and the other two men that had kidnapped her. When he saw her Lem smiled and nudged his companions. Emily looked for an escape but the men were between her and Jake.

"Well lookie here boys. It's our lady friend. Hello Missy," Lem said with an evil smile. "I was hopin we'd find you here. Reckon we'll have to tie you up this time for our trip back to Los Frailes."

Emily was standing next to a table with knives for sale. She picked up a large butcher knife and swung back to face Lem and the others. "I'm not going with you this time," she declared.

Lem slowly pulled his pistol, pointed it at Emily and said, "I reckon you will Missy or I'll shoot you where you stand."

"Go ahead," she challenged. "I'm worth nothing to you dead."

"Well we'll just have to wrestle you down now won't we," Lem replied and holstered his gun. "Little slip of a girl like you won't stop us."

"No, but I will," Jake said as he walked up behind the three men. His hand hovered over the handle of the Colt at his hip. At his side, Sergeant O'Flynn had his Springfield pointed in their direction; the hammer was pulled back and the rifle was ready to fire.

Lem turned to face Jake and O'Flynn and pointed to his companions. "There's three of us and just two of you," he offered.

"Soon there won't be any of you unless you drop your guns." Jake pointed toward the fort with his left hand. I'm going to take you to the Major and have you jailed until the Marshal from El Paso comes to get you. You'll stand trial for robbing the stage depot and for kidnapping Emily. You'll probably hang."

"Ain't gonna swing on the end of no rope," Lem said pawing at his gun.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Jake replied as his Colt seemed to jump into his hand. He fired at Lem and the man next to him hitting them both in the chest and they slid to the ground. The sound of O'Flynn's Springfield was added to the noise of the gunfight and the third man was knocked off his feet.

Emily ran to Jake and hugged him. He carefully took the knife from her and held it out. "Suppose we ought to tell the Major about this and get someone to pick up the bodies."

"You go see the Major," O'Flynn suggested. "I'll get a squad of my troopers to take care of this garbage."

 "And Sergeant Major O'Flynn assisted you in protecting Miss Santee?" Major Flores asked after Jake told him about meeting and dealing with Lem and his companions. 

"Yes sir, he kept the third one off my back while I dealt with the other two."

Flores smiled and added, "The Sergeant Major is a good man and somewhat of a force of nature." The Major poured each of them a cup of coffee. "I suppose you'll be headed back to El Paso soon."

"I've found Emily a horse and dealt with the men that took her." Jake smiled at Emily. "I guess you could say my work here is done. We'll leave tomorrow morning."

Shortly after first light, Jake and Emily said good bye to Major Flores and to Sergeant Major O'Flynn. Emily hugged O'Flynn. "Thank you for helping Jake. Come see us in El Paso first chance you get."

"You'll always be welcome at my fire Sergeant Major," Jake said while shaking O'Flynn's hand.

Jake and Emily mounted, waved one last time, and set on the trail back to El Paso. They figured it would be a three day ride if the weather held and they didn't run into problems on the trip.

The first night, sitting around a fire, Emily told Jake the story of how she'd been taken and what happened on the trail. She hadn't talked about the ordeal while at Fort Quitman and Jake hadn't wanted to push her. 

"It was strange," Emily concluded. "Lem was the leader. He didn't bother me and he wouldn't let the others bother me either. As I said other than one time I tried to run away and he grabbed me, I was well treated." She smiled, reached across the small space that separated them and took his hand. "I was very glad to see you in the fire light that night."

She stared at the fire for a minute or so. Looking up at Jake she said, "I wasn't going back with them. I would have cut my throat if I'd had to."

Glad you didn't have to do that," Jake replied. "Jeremiah needs you." In a softer voice, almost under his breath, he added, "I do to.

Emily looked at him and smiled: she had heard his quiet words.

The second night on the trail they talked about what they would do when they got back to El Paso as they sat with the fire almost between them. "I may sleep for a week," Emily said with a small laugh. What do you plan on doing Jake? When will you leave on your next sales trip?"

He stared into the fire for several seconds then looked up at Emily. "I'm not going on any more sales trips. I'm gonna open a gunsmith shop in El Paso. That's why I was in such a hurry to get back to you and Jeremiah after the last one. I've already talked to Colt Firearms and they agreed to give me bargain prices and I will promote their guns in the area." 

"That's wonderful Jake."

Standing up, Jake moved around the fire to Emily's side. "That means I won't have to travel near as much."

"I'm glad," Emily replied. "Jeremiah will be glad too; he misses you when you're gone."

"The other thing I will do is never be far from your side again. I want you and Jeremiah with me Emily." He took her hand and said, "I don't want to be a tumbleweed anymore. Will you marry me?"

Emily almost leaped to her feet and put her arms around Jake's neck. She kissed him and then hugged him tight. With her arms still around his neck, she leaned back. "Can we push a little harder and get home tomorrow?"

"Should be able to do that; the horses are rested and it's only about another five or six hour's home. Why?"

Emily gave him a big smile and answered, "Mrs. Stewart and I have a wedding to plan."

The End