The Diary of Jerrod Bently - J.W. Osborn (mobi ebook reader TXT) 📗

of a hefty price and he has to return to Grants Creek to collect the rest. That will be after he kills that old Indian and that arrogant half breed girl.” Hinkley wondered why the man kept laughing as he dug deeper into the hole at the side of the rocks.

Now, Ned Travis was an out law. He’d been in a lot of trouble since he was a kid. But he had bungled just about every job he’d taken. The only reason he was so feared was that a few years back, he accidently killed a fellow outlaw who had been terrorizing the area. So it was all by accident that he became a hired killer. But, he liked to make a buck too , anyway he could and seeing how desperate Roger Hinkley was to rid himself of Sam Dodge and Scrub Pot , he decided to make his highly over rated skills available for a price he pulled out of the air the day he met with Hinkley. Ned had been very surprised when he got just what he asked for. He also would be even more surprised to find that his long lost twin, Nathan was on his trail and only a few days behind him. In the not too distant future, their paths would cross and the outcome would not be good by any means. Ned began his trek shortly after the Hinkley’s herd drive left Grants Creek. He had been tailing them, keeping out of sight for a few days and even once he had Scrub Pot in his sights, but that was the day his gun misfired and blew up in his hand. Now he was in need of a doctor to treat the powder burns and a gun smith to replace his ruined six gun. Bad luck seemed to be all the luck Ned Travis had so far and it did not put him in very good humor at all. The burns hurt, the gun was useless and he had not killed anybody. Cursing he rode his horse across a rocky creek and when they reached the other side, he discovered that the old gelding had lost two shoes. Now he needed a farrier along with a doctor and a gun smith. This put him even farther behind on his “job” and he was not happy by any means..

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It rained that morning and for the first time I used my slicker. We worked in the mud , sometimes having to get off our horses and clean the clods out of their feet before we could move on. But along about mid morning, the rain stopped and the sun came out and the air became muggy, making for a miserable situation. I had cleaned Mud’s feet at least ten times and as I was finishing the eleventh , Doc rode up to us. His black was muddy up to his knees and Doc’s slicker was rolled up at attached to the back of his saddle. He carried his rifle with him. “Mornin’ Bently, “ he said as he tipped back his hat and looked at me and then at Mud. “We won’t be making good time today,” he added, “Not with all this mud to deal with.”
“May be we will get out of it in a few miles,” I replied as I swung into my saddle. Doc grinned his approval. “Not bad, Bently,” he stated as he fumbled in his pocket for that unlit cigar I knew he still had with him. “Seems you learned well from Sam Dodge.”
“It has been sink or swim,” I replied “What is going on?”
“Boss wants deer meat,” Doc said “And you and I are going to do some more hunting .”
“ I told you, I don’t know anything about hunting,” I said “Don’t think I will be much help.” I signaled Mud forward and Doc joined me. “You said that this job was an adventure,” he said “And that you wanted to learn all you could about being a cow boy.”
“That’s right,” I replied.
“So part of this is keeping the crew fed,” Doc said. I turned to him, glowering as I recalled our last conversation about such things.
“You had the stones to try that rattle snake,” he added.
“I had no idea what it was,” I replied.
“Most of the boys were of the same notion,” Doc said “They still don’t know. That is what you get for hiring an Indian for a cook.”
“I like the old man,” I said. “What is he to Dodge anyway?”
“Don’t know,” Doc replied. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was lying. He knew a lot more about the old Indian and Sam Dodge that he was letting on. Quickly he changed the subject to hunting deer and shooting his carbine. I listened as we rode on and hoped that I would be able to accomplish what he was talking about. I had never hunted game in my life, let alone fired a rifle like Doc’s. It obviously had been with him since the war and he knew how to use it well. It was a bolt action , one shot rifle, so if I was going to shoot a deer I had to have good aim. That was something I was not sure that I could do. “Anyway, Bently,” Doc went on “I think you will like venison better than rattle snake. “ We were a few miles ahead of the herd and watching the ground at our horses’ feet for tracks in the mud. The farther we went on ahead the drier the trail became. That was a good sign. Maybe we could make up the time we had lost during the rains earlier in the day. Satisfied with the freshness of the tracks we had been seeing, Doc pulled his horse to a halt. “Here is a good place to start,” he said as he slid out of his saddle and pulled the rifle from its scabbard “Let’s go.” I dismounted and left Mud grazing along side of Doc’s black and followed Doc into the woods. We were trailing a deer and from what he said, it probably was a big one, due to the depth of the tracks and size. Under the cover of the trees, we paused while Doc prepared to load the carbine. “That from the war?”, I asked.
“Yup,” he replied “Got me out of many a scrape during those years.”
“What side were you on?”, I asked as he loaded the ammunition into the chamber.
“South,” he replied “Under General Jeb Stuart. Calvary. What about you?”
“I was too young,” I replied “My Ma forbid me to go when the boys from our neighborhood boarded that train for Washington.”
“Just as well, boy,” Doc replied, a distant look in his eyes “At least you are here to hunt today. There were too many boys your age on both sides who never came home.”
“I know,” I replied “My older brother was one of them.”
“Sorry, Bently,” he replied quietly “Let’s go shoot us a deer.”

Meanwhile, the herd kept moving. Once out of the mud and on dry trail again the dust rose into a huge cloud from under the feet of the cattle and horses. Sam Dodge rode point that day, pausing to check her map for where she thought there would be enough water for the cattle. Angus had proved to be less than reliable and Sam knew that it would be up to her to bring the herd into that distant railhead near Abilene Kansas. There was no choice if she wanted to own The Flying S Ranch when she was done. That was her determination as she rode on ahead of the rest. She had a dream, the same one that had been her father’s before her, that she would raise the best horses in the state of Texas. That powerful stud she rode would be the one to start that blood line, her bloodline and brand. Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood up, the way it always did when she knew someone was behind her. It was not the first time this had happened since she started out. She sensed that she was being watched and had been for the last couple of days. She figured it was one of the Pawnee band. Suddenly Trouble began to snort and prance around, not heeding of her commands with bit or reins. He reared up. Sam cracked him between the ears with the flat of her hand and cursed at him. He only acted up like that when there was a mare in season close by. Darn, those mustangs were everywhere and this was not a good time for one of them to be this close. Trouble, pranced and snorted, sniffing the air and sticking out his dark lips. Yes, it had to be a mare in season or he would not be acting like such a fool. She made him obey her and then turned around in her saddle to look behind her. Out of the woods, stepped the most beautiful sorrel mare she had ever laid eyes on. She was broad and handsome, with no other white mark on her than a tiny white dot on her forehead. She petted Trouble’s shoulder to steady him, as he had noticed her too. On the mare’s back there was mounted a young Blackfoot brave, dressed in all his colorful finery and feathers. For a moment Sam stared at him, thinking she should know him. “Samantha,” he said in English “I have come a long way to find you.” She looked at him. He was handsome young man, that was a given, with his long dark hair and brown skin. “Little Fox?” she questioned as she shaded her eyes.
“So you remember,” he said as he rode up to her. “Fine stallion,” he added, “But for you I would expect nothing less.”
“It’s Trouble,” Sam answered “You remember. He was born at Bear