Portersville - J.W. Osborn (black authors fiction TXT) 📗

she said softly.
Doc and Victoria were sharing the joy of just becoming new parents when suddenly there came a loud commotion down stairs in the front hall of the ranch house. “Senior Doc!” someone shouted in great urgency“,Senior Doc! You have to come quickly!!”
It was Fernando Vasquez, Doc’s top hand on the ranch. He was Mexican and the man knew horses better than anyone Doc Stevens knew in the territory. Doc hesitated as he rose to his feet. Then looked back at his wife. The midwife took Sarah from her lay her in the cradle Doc had built months ago. “Go,” Victoria said “It might be Fancy.”
“Senior Doc!” Vasquez shouted “You must come NOW!!”
“I’ll be back,” Doc promised as he left the room to find out what all the commotion was. Vasquez was half way up the stairs as they met. “My wife had baby girl!,” Doc proclaimed with great pride.
“That is good,” the man replied worriedly “But you are about to see another birth. If it hasn’t happened all ready.”
The men hurried from the house and down the lane to the large brown stained horse barn. There in a large straw filled birthing stall, Fancy Lady was nosing her new born foal to stand up. The foal was black and white with a wispy little mane and a stubby white tail. As Doc and Fernando watched, in amazed silence, the baby rose on four spindly legs and took an unsteady step toward its mother. “She was up and down only a few minutes ago,” Fernando said “The last time she rolled. I thought I better find you.”
“Glad you did,” Doc replied as he watch the baby find the mare’s udders and start to nurse. “Looks like Joe threw us a fine little stud colt,” he added proudly.
“And good markings too,” Valquez replied.
“This one is for my daughter,” Doc said “When the time comes, I will break him myself, just for her.”
“That is good, Senior Doc,” Valquez agreed, “Your daughter will have a very special friend to share her birthday with.”
“Get your book out ,” Doc instructed “and write down, April 11, 1876, Saint Joe’s Spirit is on the ground. Sire is Black Diamond’s Smokey Joe and dame is Victoria’s Fancy Lady.”
“You keep records of all the foals. ,” Vasquez commented as he pulled a small leather covered note book and pencil out of the pocket of his dirty overalls. “Why?”
“Kind of like a register, “ Doc replied “I know what Joe’s first git was like and how they grew, where they went when they were sold.”
“Is like you are making a new breed of horse,” the man said.
“I am,” Doc replied, with a side ways grin. “Fox trotters.”
“Make sure you note that this foal is a stud colt,” Doc reminded Vasquez. “This one doesn’t get gelded.”
“Yes, Senior Doc,” the man replied as he began writing in the note book where the birth of each foal born on the ranch was recorded.

Doc and Victoria welcomed their first child that day, a little girl they named Sarah Ellen and just about the same time Doc was helping his wife bring their daughter into the world, Fancy dropped her black and white foal. Somewhere in the future, this little girl would grow up along side this very special colt and they would be together for many years to come. Sarah Ellen Stevens and the paint she would name “Spirit” would come to know many an adventure in the future they began together, 23 April 1876.


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The Bently Dodge Ranch, Grants Creek, Texas

1876

THE ROAD HOME


Dakota Joe, or Joseph Marley Dodge, which was his given name, was a big man, with dark hair. which he wore long and straight, Indian style. When he turned up at the ranch some months back, he was quite ill, but once recovered, we hired him on as a wrangler. Joe turned out to be one hard worker too. He got along well with the crew, did wonders with even the worst of our horses, yet the man had no memory of who he was. Something had happened to Joe Dodge and amnesia kept him from remembering his past.
Zachariah (Scrub Pot) Dodge was his father and Dakota Joe looked very much like him in some ways, but it was easy to see that Joe’s mother had been a white woman. He had the strangest colored eyes I had ever seen. They were a blue grey and they changed color with certain clothes he wore and his skin had a golden tone to it, almost like a dark suntan. He was a very strong and ruggedly handsome fellow. I could see where Brian had gotten his good looks and Sam her dark beauty. The joy that this man’s presence brought to Scrub Pot’s life was a blessing. He had his only son back, and for that we were all very grateful. I had my own thoughts about Dakota Joe and Sam. My wife had no idea who he really was, and she would have to learn the truth sooner or later. However, I’d watch them working with the horses, especially Sam’s stallion, Trouble, and it was so clear to me that this man was indeed her father. They seemed so much alike, yet to Sam, he was Dakota Joe, a half breed drifter who turned out to be an asset to The Bentley-Dodge Ranch in more ways than we had ever dreamed he would.
The man was amazing with horses. He could take the wildest of mustangs, and with confident yet gentle ways, he calmed them and gained their trust. I don’t think I ever heard him raise his voice when he worked with them and broke them to saddle. He had a will stronger than iron, the patience of a saint and he always won. My brother in law, Brian Dodge had pretty much accepted that Joe was his father come home after so many years. Over the months Joe had been with us Brian had been trying to help him regain his some of his memory. Now I had been sworn to secrecy about Joe on the day he came to the ranch. Scrub Pot would tell Sam when he thought she was ready to hear the truth.

Brian Dodge had been only three years old when Bear Claw was sacked by outlaws and his father believed killed in the fighting. He had some recall of that terrible night and memories of his father and his mother as well. It was easy for him to make the connection to Joe as time went on, but Sam had been only a few months old when this happened and therefore had no memory of her father at all. She harbored bitterness over being left by both her parents. Her father at Bear Claw and her mother two years later from scarlet fever . Sam never really knew either of them. But unlike so many people in this life we lead, God chose to give Sam and her father a second chance, but it was not be an easy journey for either of them.

Winters in North Texas were nothing like what I remembered of the cold months in New York. We had some snow, it got cold, but that was all right with me. Those were the nights Sam and I would build a roaring fire in the fire place and sit there for hours watching the flames and making plans for the future. Yes, I would have to say that for a city boy like I once was, I had come a long way. I had a beautiful wife, a fine ranch, good friends and plenty of adventures to write about. Scrub Pot and Esparanza seemed to be a happy too. The old man looked less sour than he did when I’d first met him and Esparanza was content to stay on and cook for us at the ranch. Now I love my Sam with all my heart, but the truth is, the Dodge side of the family is kind of lacking when it comes to cooking skills, so I was relieved when Esparanza decided to stay. She and Scrub Pot took a room upstairs, but retired often to his cabin at Bear Claw when ranch life got on their nerves.
Sam did not want her grandfather far from her sight. She had three mares in foal, including one that belonged to Scrub Pot that was bred to Trouble nearly a year ago. Sam informed me that it took eleven months for a foal to be born. This mare was a golden palomino, with a white mane and tail. Her name was Cactus Nell and she was ready to drop that baby at any time.

Dakota Joe took over the barn and the horses and Sam was glad for the help. She liked this half breed , she called “Dakota” but she was yet to learn who he really was. We were married now and no one could take the her ranch