Hickory Jack (Ben Blue Book 1) Read online

  The outlaw said that there was one prayer he remembered. As I walked around the corner of the barn I heard him saying, “Now I lay me down to sleep…”

  I went on up to the cabin and took the pan of hot water off the cook stove. It was good and hot, and I carried it out to Elizabeth. She had the blood cleaned up pretty nicely and was trying to stop the bleeding by holding a cloth to the wound. She washed the area with hot water then sprinkled some herbs and put the compress back on. She had Andy and me kind of lift him up so she could get the bandage wrapped around him a couple of times. Next, she tied the whole works together, and we rolled him over. Andy and I rigged a stretcher and carried him inside and laid him on the bed, so he could be more comfortable.

  Elizabeth told us that the bullet was still in there and needed to come out, but she would rather wait till Doc Abbot got there. The doctor had the tools for it and the skill, but if Uncle Joe started to run a fever, then she would have to try. We both thanked her for what she had done and told her she did a sight more than we could have. She said we ought to bring Aunt Alice in out of the sun, and she would start preparing her for the burying. When she said that I had to get outside, or else she would see me start crying.

  While I was standing on the porch wiping my eyes I heard that rat pistol pop, and I knew that the outlaw had tried to jump Mr. Thompson. Sure enough, the old man came around the barn and walked slowly up toward the cabin. We had just laid Aunt Alice on the table when he came through the door and said, “Can you believe it? That boy tried to jump me and I had to shoot ‘im. Said his name was John Muller, in case we wanted to say words over him. I got out my slate and chalked all the names down for the sheriff.

  Elizabeth shooed us outside saying she had work to do and Uncle Joe needed quiet. Old man… or should I say Mr. Thompson, handed me that rat pistol, and I checked the loads. It only had two shots fired. That meant that Andy had reloaded it while he was still in the barn. That was something I’d have to remember because Uncle Joe always said, “An empty gun don’t even make a good club.”

  I got up, went out in the yard, and started picking up the guns and other stuff that had been left lying around. I didn’t look at the man sprawled out on the ground. I picked up Elizabeth’s herb jars and bundle of bandages. Then I got the mule and drug that sled down by the tool shed. I was just keeping busy. I thought about that horse in the ditch down the road, and I felt bad about it kicking and suffering that way. So, I walked off that way to finish it if it was still alive.

  When I got there, it was still twitching and kicking, so I shot it in the head and felt a little better. Then I walked in to where I had found Uncle Joe and picked up what tools and such I had left there earlier. I found his hat and a pick and shovel along with his canteen. I guessed that all the killer wanted was a mule to ride. Well, he picked the worst riding one, and I hoped he got a boil. I finished up with some slashed harness leather and packed everything back to the house to wait.

  We waited and waited, for what seemed like eternity, but it was only about an hour and a half. The sheriff rode up followed by fifteen of our neighbors and townsfolk. They were both curious and in an outrage. All were armed and mounted for a chase.

  The sheriff talked to Andy and me, and we told him what had happened and what the third man was wearing and so forth. I showed him the names on my slate and he copied them down. When he got to Amos Poke he gave a little start and cleared his throat. “That’s a bad one.” he said, “I hear tell they’d run him out a Kansas. I guess they run him all the way down here to McDonald County. Well, we’ll just see that he keeps on runnin or stops for good.”

  Then he went to have a closer look at the two dead outlaws. He went through the pockets of the one in the yard and came up with mostly nothin’ except for a ten dollar gold piece and some silver coins. He jingled in his hand a couple of times and said, “That’ll get Miz Moore a fine coffin and pay for a spot on boot hill for these boys.” Who shot him?” he asked.

  Andy looked at me and said, “I did. I was over in the barn door. It was a lucky shot. I didn’t even aim.”

  “Good shootin.” the sheriff said, “Right through the heart.”

  The sheriff walked on around the barn to have a look at the other man. He stayed there a few minutes and then came back shaking his head. When he got close to the porch he said, “Whoee! That’d be a mean way to go – whoo wee!” He went on with, “Dangedest thing I ever saw. That feller had a bullet hole right smack in the top of his head. Don’t that beat all?”

  “I done that one, sheriff.” Mr. Thompson volunteered, “That boy tried to jump me while I was helpin him pray, so I had to shoot him.”

  “Well, don’t that beat all, Nathan?” was all he said to Mr. Thompson. He turned to Andy and me and said, “I’ll check the fliers on this here Winslow and Muller. There may be some re-ward money for you boys. We didn’t say anything.

  Next he called the men around him and told them they were all special deputies and that he knew where the outlaws were hiding out and that there were only four left. Then he told them, “If it hadn’t been the Moore’s they hit it would a been the Hankses, or the Clemmimses, or maybe even the Smithses.” As he called out the names, he pointed to members of the posse. He went on to tell them that he didn’t want any heroes, and they’d take them alive if they could, but if in doubt shoot to kill. He finished with, “We’ll share any re-ward money even up. I know for a fact there is five hundred dollars on Judge Poke.”

  The men were shouting and yelling as they went for their horses or mules. I had to hand it to the sheriff – he knew how to talk to a crowd.

  Before he left, the sheriff told Andy, “Boy, when the undertaker gets here, you tell him that your ma gets the finest coffin he can make and these others get pine. You also tell him that Winslow’s footin the bill.

  Andy nodded his thanks.

  The doctor arrived a little bit after the posse rode out. He and Elizabeth were in there with Uncle Joe for a very long time. When he came out, he told us that the bullet had gone through the shoulder blade, and it was pressed against the back of the heart or may have even pierced it a little. He also said that there was bound to be some bone fragments in there. Getting to the bullet would do more damage than the bullet itself had. It probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. He looked at Andy and said, “Andy, I can’t sugar coat this for you. Your pa’s going to die. I’d give him about a thousand to one odds, but we can pray for a miracle, and that’s all we can do. I doubt that he will make it through the night or even wake up.”

  With tears in his eyes, Andy got up and walked around the side of the cabin. The doctor looked at me and I had unashamed tears rolling down my face. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Son, you boys are goin to need each other now more than ever. So, be patient with one another.”

  The preacher arrived before the doctor left, and he had a wagon full of church ladies with him. They went in and commenced to pray over Uncle Joe, except for two of them who stayed in the big room helping Elizabeth. Then the rest of em went into the main room and prayed over Aunt Alice.

  Before long, more ladies and their kids were showing up with pots and baskets of food. Everyone stayed out in the front yard because of Uncle Joe bein so bad off. Despite all the crying and praying, it almost had the feel of a church picnic. Elizabeth came out and took charge of the gathering. Some trestle tables were set up and the dishes were laid out. It had been early morning since I had et, so I was getting pretty hungry. The food didn’t have any taste to it, and it was pretty hard to swallow, so I just kinda picked at it. Mr. Thompson didn’t seem to have any trouble with his appetite. I was going to have to give him some serious thought; he was some kind of a real man.

  I looked for Andy and found him up on the little hill above the cabin where his baby sister and grandpa were buried. He didn’t see me, so I just backed out of there and went on down the hill so he could be alone with his thinking.

  When the undertaker got there Mr. T
hompson told him what the sheriff had said, but somehow he got it a little wrong. “Seth,” he said, “the sheriff wants you to make up two of your very best coffins for Joe and Alice in there and bring them out in the morning. Them other two there – you can bury em on boot hill in burlap sacks. That’n there, Winslow, is payin the bill.” That wasn’t exactly the way the sheriff said it, but I didn’t see any need in correcting him. The undertaker then went inside to get a sizing for the boxes. After loading up the two outlaws, he headed back to the village.

  Elizabeth and her pa went back to their place to take care of chores and get some food set out for Cletus. She said she would spend the night to watch over Uncle Joe, and I was glad of it. I felt a lot better with her there.

  There was a steady stream of folks coming and going the rest of the day, and all of them bringing food. Around six o’clock the posse came back and they had our mule with them still in her collar. It seems that the gang had packed up and got out of there. The posse had followed a ways, but lost the trail in a stream. They were planning to head out early the next day with some dogs and a two-day supply of food. Two days would take them into Arkansas, Kansas, or the Indian Nations. If they hadn’t caught them by then they would have to give up and hope the law on the other side of those lines would take over. The prospects of that weren’t good.

  The men of the posse all ate a good meal and then each headed for his home with the promise to meet in the morning in the village.

  An hour later, Elizabeth came back in their buggy with a carpetbag, which I supposed was her clothes and other fixings. She said that her pa would come over after morning chores, and that Cletus would come over and dig the graves. After checking on Uncle Joe and seeing the preacher and the rest of the church ladies off she came and sat on the porch with Andy and me. She fussed with Andy until he put a little food on a plate and made an effort to eat. There was a bit of cleaning up of pots and plates, and the three of us pitched in. Someone had put together a campfire out in the yard for warming of food, so we just sat and watched it burn. Every now and then, she would go in and spend some time with Uncle Joe.

  We sat there for a while and she began to talk about how hard it is to lose someone and how brave we would have to be now. She said that the late war had left a lot of families in the same predicament. Then I heard her say something that I never expected to hear. She said, “Damn that war. God damn that war.” Then she said, “I’m sorry, boys, but that war has hurt so many people. It cost me a husband and a brother. And it has made a place for people like them that did this to you.” She cried real quiet like for a little bit, and we just sort of watched the fire, Andy and me.

  After a little while she got up, and said that she’d better check on Joe and went inside. A few minutes later, she came out with a bucket and said that he had started a fever, and would I go get some cold water from the well. I took a lantern and went to the well, and Andy went back inside with Elizabeth. I took the bucket into where they were and found Andy kneeling by the bed holding his pa’s hand. Elizabeth took the water and started soaking cloth pads, which she placed on Uncle Joe’s face, neck, and shoulders.

  I went on back outside to the porch, feeling like I was pretty useless in there. After a little bit I took the lantern down to the barn to make sure all the animals were taken care of and tossed them a little extra hay from the still half loaded wagon. With Elizabeth’s horse, the two outlaw horses, and our own mules and horses we had a full barn lot. Someone had milked the cow and she was contented. The hogs had been fed, so there wasn’t anything left for me to do but fuss over the horses a little. I guess those folks filling up the yard today knew that me and Andy would have our minds kinda muddled and just took over.

  When I got back to the porch Elizabeth was sitting in the rocker drinking coffee. She said that Andy wanted to be alone with his pa for a while, and she thought that he should. She said, “Ben, I hope I didn’t shock you earlier, but I get carried away thinking about that war.”

  I said, “No’m, I was just a little surprised is all.” Then being the dumb kid that I was I asked, “Why did your husband and brother go to fight? I didn’t think Missouri folks had to cause we was neutrals and all.”

  “Oh, they didn’t have to go, but they both felt very strong about the Union. Charles, my husband, felt that too many people had worked and died to create it and preserve it to let it fall apart. My little brother, Danny, felt the same way. Oh, how he loved and admired Charles and wanted to be just like him.”

  “They joined up,” she went on, “right after the fight at Wilson’s Creek near Springfield. They felt that the south had brought the war right into our back yard. Danny was killed at Pea Ridge, Arkansas not twenty miles from here – he was just eighteen. A sniper near Memphis killed Charles – he was only twenty-four. I was a widow at twenty-one.”

  “You probably don’t remember Charles Conner, but he was like your pa. He was a big easy going Irishman with a quick smile and broad shoulders. You probably don’t remember much about your pa either do you?”

  “No’m.” I mumbled.

  “More’s the pity.” she said, “You’d have liked him, most everyone did. He and Charles were great friends.”

  She started wiping her eyes again, so I found it necessary to take a lantern and go check on the stock again – just to make sure the gate was fastened, it was.

  I guess all that had happened today just naturally started her thinking about her own grief, and all that had gone on in her own life in the past six or seven years. I felt real sorry for her, but I didn’t know what to do or how to comfort her. It dawned on me that today was the first time I was ever at their place that I didn’t come away with something sweet and sticky from her oven. She always made sure that Andy and me had our mouths and our pockets stuffed with baked goods. I thought that she should have her own sons to bake for. A pity.

  She fixed up a chair and slept near the bed so as to be there if he should wake up or get fitful. Andy and I bedded down on the porch, like we often did in warm weather. Sometime in the night, I heard her come and wake Andy, but I couldn’t stay awake and went right back to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  Uncle Joe had woke up about two o’clock, but only for a few minutes if that long, it was just long enough for him to recognize Andy and smile at him. Then he passed.

  When I woke up the sun was just coming up, and I was all damp with dew. Andy was sitting on the porch next to me drinking coffee. He looked awful. After I got my bearings and shook the sleep out of my head, I asked about Uncle Joe. He told me how it had gone, but his voice was low and without any ups or downs – like he was recitin a lesson at school.

  Then he said, “Ben, we’re both just a couple of orphans now. We got to stick together cause we’re all that we got.” I started to blubber, and he pulled me closer. For a moment, we were both little boys in trouble, but we weren’t little anymore and we knew it. I straightened up, wiped my face on my sleeve, and promised him that I would stick with him no matter what.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “has gone up to our room in the loft to get some sleep.” and that we should be real quiet cause she was up pretty late. We rekindled the fire in the yard and set a coffee pot on a stone to get it boilin. Then we went about doing our chores just like it was a regular day, but it wasn’t a regular day at all. After the chores were done we found enough leftover food to make breakfast, and we ate it.

  Mr. Thompson and Cletus came over about nine o’clock, and I went up the hill to help Cletus dig. When we came back down the undertaker had already brought the coffins, and they sure looked fine. They were set up side by side on chairs in the main room. The preacher was there and was prayin over them. I respect and love God a lot, but I sure don’t have much use for preachers. They seem bent on making God out to be hard and unfriendly, but He ain’t that way at all. Aunt Alice always called Him the Good Lord and the Savior. Now, that don’t sound so hard and unfriendly to me. Besides, preachers are always beggin
money.

  The grave services were scheduled for four o’clock that afternoon, but folks started showing up at noon with more food. Everyone looked so fine with their Sunday clothes on. Elizabeth had my Sunday suite all pressed and ready when I came down from the hill. I could never figure how a person could look so good and feel so awful as when they are all buttoned and strangled. I suffered through it for the sake of Aunt Alice and Uncle Joe; they were mighty good to me.

  The preacher did a fine job on the funeral. He didn’t mention hell’s fire and brimstone once, and he didn’t pass around the collection plate. I kinda guessed that saying those things while talking about those two wouldn’t have made any sense at all, but look out come Sunday morning. There was some real lovely singin, and I figured that Aunt Alice and Uncle Joe was already sittin up in Heaven side by side tappin their feet. It was a real nice funeral.

  After the services a lot of people kept askin me what we were gonna do, and all I could tell them was I didn’t know yet, but Andy would figure something out. There were a number of folks said we could come live with them, but they were all from side hill, rock pile places. Those were what we called rawhide farms because everything was held together with rawhide. We didn’t want any part of that cause they was just lookin for free labor and a chance to work some of Uncle Joe’s land. We just said “Thank you kindly, but we ain’t made any plans yet.”

  When everyone had gone but Mr. Thompson and Elizabeth, we got the best offer so far. Mr. Thompson said he was willing to buy both places at a fair rate, and we could come and live with them. It dawned on me that my home place was still there. I knew it but never thought about it. It was just called the Blue farm, and Uncle Joe was holding it for me. He didn’t farm it, but he ran stock on it and cut hay there. Mr. Thompson said he would pay us wages accordingly, but Elizabeth put her foot down and said, “Absolutely not. These boys got to go to school. You can pay them for chores but not full time work.” Her pa didn’t argue.