the Gentleman Gunfighter - C. F. Allison (ebook reader with android os TXT) 📗

He really wanted to spend time alone and the saloon was not the place to be for that. He decided instead he would pick up some supplies and head out into the wilderness so he could be with nature. It had been a long time since he had done that and it seemed to be what he needed. At least that’s what he was thinking.

Clay arrived in town and went straight to the Mercantile to get the supplies he need for his time out. Then he went to the saloon for a couple of bottles of his favorite whiskey. He bundle all his goods and secured them to his horse. ‘Might as well get a drink for the trail.’ He thought to himself so he went back in for a quick shot or two.

Clay wound up staying a little longer than he had planned. It was four hours later when he finally decided to leave and begin his journey to nature. This was a ‘Spirit Quest’ he was leaving to begin. It was a journey known to the Cheyenne as a hunt for the demons that haunt ones soul and to confront and expel them. It was a ritual taught to Clay by Spirit Hawk, his Indian father and he had never forgotten it. Even though he was very young when the soldiers liberated him he had seen it while he was in the army and that kept his mind fresh on what needed to be done and how to do it.

Clay rode out into the desert after gathering his needful things. He knew what he had to do before he could have his spirit quest but he also knew that he had drank too much and wouldn’t get very far. He didn’t make it five miles outside of town before he decided to go ahead make camp. He’d just get a fresh start in the morning.

The morning came. Clay rolled up his bedroll and made sure his campfire was well put out. He finished picking up all his camping goods and saddled his horse for the day’s journey. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day Clay noticed as he mounted up and began to ride out into the dessert.

Clay had rode most of the day before he found the spirit root that he had been searching for. He needed it to smoke after he finished building the sweat lodge for his spirit quest. Peyote grew wild in the desert but it was hard to find if you didn’t know how to find it. It was a needed ingredient though in order to make a successful spirit quest. You can’t reach the spirits without it. He picked what he thought would be enough for his needs and rode on to find a suitable place to do what he needed done.

Clay had been riding for four days, gathering a small tree branch here and there. He needed then to build his sweat lodge with. He came upon a small grove with forked rivers in the middle of it. He thought to himself, ‘This is the perfect place.’ It was down in a gulch so a rider passing by wouldn’t see his campfire even at night. The key was not to be disturbed while he was in the spirit world. “Perfect.” He said out loud as if talking to someone else standing there.

Clay settled in and began at his task of making the makeshift tent/sweat lodge, then began setting up his campsite. He tethered his horse close to the forked rivers and made sure it had plenty of grass to feed on. He wasn’t sure how long his vision would last once he went into the sweat lodge and smoked the peyote. He decided to rest the night and begin in the morning. That way he would be well rested for his vision quest.

Morning came and Clay had a good breakfast. He gathered the water he needed for pouring onto the hot stones and the timber for putting beneath the stones. He had already put the peyote and pipe inside the sweat lodge the night before. After getting everything he needed together he went inside the lodge to begin his spiritual journey.

Clay hadn’t been inside the lodge very long before he began to realize how strong Peyote was. He had forgotten. It had been so long since his last time smoking it. A haze came over him and his head became light. As if floating on a cloud above his body, in the makeshift room of the lodge.

His frame of mind was becoming quite mellow when things began to happen. First a huge wolf stuck its head inside the entrance, but ran away when an eagle let out a commanding yell. That’s when it became interesting. A large snake. Unlike any snake Clay had ever seen before came into the lodge. It stopped as it centered itself in front of where Clay was sitting cross-legged with his hands on his knees. As it coiled and its head began to raise up enough for the two of them to see eye-to-eye its head became flat as it rose. 'Like a frying pan.' Clay thought to himself. Clay began to wonder if he was going to leave the lodge alive. Just then the snake struck Clay in the throat. Clay could feel the impact but felt no affect from the venom.

He looked and as the snake withdrew it began to change form. Clay realized as he saw the transformation. The sound that chased the wolf away wasn't an eagle, it was a hawk. The figure was becoming more and more familiar and Clays vision was sharpening. It was Spirit Hawk. At the same time it was not. It couldn't have been. After all Spirit Hawk died when he was only six and the soldiers came. How could this be. Was he dead himself now?

Spirit Hawk began to speak as he now sat across from Clay. "Why have you waited so many seasons to come to your brothers Washita?" He said in a stern voice. "I was taken from our people by the long knives and raised as a white my father." Clay answered. "I am afraid I lost the way for a long time. But now my head fills with demons and visions of my deeds." He finished. Clay could hear the hawks flying above and speaking as if in communication with Spirit Hawk. Spirit Hawk asked Clay another question then. "Have you kept the Agular in your mind as these deeds were done"? Clay thought to himself for a few seconds then answered. "The Agular has always been true in my nature. I have never killed a man that didn't need killing. In either wrongs done to women and children, or in defense of myself or the weak." he answered. "In that you are clean of spirit Washita. Your brothers will cleanse your mind as well. You must journey to the sacred lands where your brothers once hunted before going to the spirit world. The lands before the long knives came. There you will find the peace you seek and again become whole with your mind and spirit. You must make this journey without killing any living creature. In return you will be free of your demons and visions". Spirit Hawk began to fade lighter and lighter until he vanished completely. Clay heard the cry of the hawk again and then passed out.

Clay awoke to the sounds of nature outside the lodge. Animals scurrying around and playing and things of that sort. He thought to himself, 'Rabbit sure sounds good for breakfast.' As soon as he walked out of the lodge he saw two of them playing not far away. He grabbed his six iron and was just about to pull the trigger when he remembered the last words Spirit Hawk said to him. "You must make the journey without killing any living creature." 'Oh damn it!' Clay thought to himself. 'This aint gonna be easy.' Clay gathered himself a few berries, mashed them into a gel, and made himself some biscuits instead. After all, coffee and biscuits are a good breakfast too.

Clay was gathering his possibles after filling his stomach to begin his quest to the sacred lands when he heard his brother’s voice call out to him. "Damn it brother. You had me worried sick. I didn’t know what happened to you. You shouldn't just up and disappear on me like that. You told me you was just going to town." John said. "I had things to do little brother. Now I have to go somewhere else to finish it up." Clay told him. "Nothing to do with you." He explained. "Just something that had to be done." John didn't want to pry so he settled for his brother’s explanation and bid him safe travel. "When you gonna be back Clay?" John asked. "Don't rightly know John. Whenever I'm done with what I gotta do I suppose."

Clay decided to make another pot of coffee for him and John to drink while they sat and visited before going their own ways. John going back to the ranch, and Clay going to the place he called home before the soldiers came. Clay didn’t know what to expect when he got there. He thought it would probably just naturally come to him once he arrived what it was he had to do.

John had long left and Clay was once again gathering his goods for his journey to the sacred lands. He began his trip shortly after noon and knew he had a long way to go before he got to the place he was headed. All day he thought about what it was he was going to have to do once he got there, but by the time he was ready to make camp he decided, ‘I’ll just do what ever needs to be done.’

Clay had spent three weeks in the saddle before reaching the site where the Indian village he remembered once stood. It was a hollow feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach. Full of an emptiness and a sickly sort of feeling. The total waste of human life that happened there so many years before still haunted these once great lands. The buffalo had long since been gone from there, but Clay could still see the remains of the bones lying in the prairies.

Although he was only six years old when he left here the memories of what happened that day came racing into his mind. The screams of the women being raped and killed, and yells of the warriors fighting off the murdering soldiers. Then the memory of what he witnessed happening to Little Fawn came back to him.

Anger engulfed Clay like a spreading wildfire. Out