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

hear me,” I said feeling like I was going to fall apart right there, “But I want you to know, that I am here with you and am gonna be for the rest of my life if I have to, Sam. You’ve got to find your way back, honey. Not just for me, but for all of us, especially Doc and Scrub Pot.” It was very faint, but I felt pressure on my hand as I held hers. She had heard me. While I sat beside Sam and prayed, Scrub Pot and two of the man buried Tom Dalton near where I’d shot him and marked his grave with a simple cross made of sticks lashed together. He wouldn’t be growing any older.
It was almost dark when Scrub Pot returned to camp with Jeb Vickers. Vickers was in no mood for consolation when they rode in. He began shouting threats as he dismounted and swaggered toward the chuck wagon. “Hold on Jerrod,” a voice said from the front of the wagon. “Let him say his piece, and then talk to him.” I looked up and there was Ely Jax, his gun in his hand. “He tries to draw on you, I will kill him where he stands.” I had not even heard Ely climb up into the front of the wagon. I got up from the flour sacks I had been sitting on. “Get out here, Bently!”, Vickers shouted “You killed Tom and you are going to pay for it!”
“I’m coming out, Vickers,” I shouted back at him, then stepped out of the back of the wagon. “I am not armed.” Vicker’s right hand hovered over the handle of his gun.
I heard Scrub Pot’s 12 gage come to life behind Vickers. “The man is unarmed , son,” he said quietly “You will hear him out.” Something in the old man’s voice was calming yet terrifying at the same time.
I faced the enraged man. He stared at me his pale blue eyes on fire with revenge. His mouth twisted with grief and rage. “You killed my cousin,” he spit hatefully.
“Yes, I killed him. ” I said, trying to keep calm “I had no choice, he drew on me.”
“You’d be dead if that was true, Bently,” Vickers hissed “Tom was a crack shot with a pistol.”
“Maybe he was,” I said “Like I said, I had no choice, but to defend Sam and myself.”
“Did he hurt the boss lady?” Vickers asked, suddenly seeming to be worried that he might have.
“Jerrod shot that snake before he could do what he was planning,” Ely stated coldly as he appeared at the back of the wagon, his gun drawn. “She’s hurt real bad, Vickers because of what Dalton did and if she dies, I am coming after you.” There was something cold and deadly about Ely Jax, a side to him that I had never seen, but it certainly had a effect on Vickers. He turned and ran for his horse and jumped into the saddle. He whirled that big bay around , raising dust around him. He glared murderously at me. I stood my ground. “This ain’t over Bently.,” he shouted and then rode off like a man gone mad. I turned to Ely Jax and stared at him for a few seconds. “This is my fight, Ely,” I said firmly.
He holstered his gun and stepped out of the wagon. “Sam is the one lying in there hurt, Jerrod,” he said “ and until she gets back on her feet, this is my fight too.” I did not know what to say as I watched him walk away. Scrub Pot joined me, there by the wagon. His shot gun at his side. “You did well, ” he said “Vickers is a very dangerous man and he will come after you. Be ready, Jerrod Bently. One day, you will have to kill him.”
“I know,” I said as I turned to the back of the wagon again. “Right now I don’t want to think about that. “
The old man nodded , then he stowed his shot gun next to his bed roll on the ground and then climbed into the wagon to tend to his grand daughter. Her arm was broken in two places, between her shoulder and elbow. I knew about how broken bones were set, but I did not want to see it done. Scrub Pot was calm as he looked up at me with those coal black eyes of his, and said “You will have to hold her.” His words at first did not register as I stared at him. He closed his eyes and began speaking in his native language, quietly to himself. He was praying, I could tell by the peaceful and serene look that came over his weathered face. When he was done, he looked up at me. “I have to set her arm, Jerrod,”he said. “I will do it the way the Black Foot do.” Tears filled my eyes as I gathered her into my arms. “Will she feel it?”, I asked worriedly.
“No,” the old man replied as he prepared to set her broken arm. I wanted to believe him. He looked up at me as he grasped her left arm at the elbow. “Hold her tight Jerrod,” he instructed and don’t let her move.” I drew her close and held her tight and closed my eyes to pray. When I opened them he was tying two narrow flat boards splints around her damaged limb and I realized he had set the bones, and Sam had not stirred in my arms. It was the best we could do, and I hoped it had worked.


My nerves were on edge, but I kept focused on job I had to do. Later that evening, I sat down by the camp fire and wrote a detailed letter to Doc Stevens, telling him what had happened and that he was needed right away, then prepared to send a rider back to Portersville. I knew he would come, and I also knew he would not like doing his job either. I figured that Floyd Jax would be the best choice to get my message to Doc. Floyd was a down right skinny fellow, and would be light in the saddle. He might make it in about three days if he stayed on the old well worn trails. I prayed more than I ever remembered praying before that when Doc arrived it would not be to bury his niece.
Desert Rose was the fastest horse in the remuda. No one had ridden her except Sam. But the sorrel mare was the choice Scrub Pot made to get Floyd back to Portersville fast. That morning she was skittish and side stepping when Floyd saddled her. Trouble had to be restrained when he saw her being taken away and all but dragged Scrub Pot and me after her. Floyd mounted up and gave the mare her head. They were gone in seconds, leaving only dust hanging in the air. Scrub Pot put his hand gently on the white diamond between the stud’s eyes and in a few moments the big horse calmed down.
“How did you do that?”, I asked “He was going to shake us off and go after Floyd and the mare.” The old man grinned “I gave him something else to think about.”he said as he led Trouble away.
The tense wait for Doc Stevens began. Jeb Vickers made his threats had then disappeared . Such a man was not above shooting another in the back. I stayed with Sam and tried not to think about it. Those first few days were touch and go, but by the middle of the third, she opened her eyes and looked up at me.


PORTERSVILLE, OKLAHOMA TERRITORY


Doc Stevens was raking up leaves in front of the cottage that he now shared with his bride. He only had Ned Travis to deal with today, so he planned to go down to his office later. He was hoping to see Nate Travis to discuss the extradition of his brother back to Texas, but the ranger was no where to be found. Come to think of it, neither was the widow Bradford. Things had been quiet in town these past weeks. The usual drunks and rowdies were locked up on Friday and reclaimed by angry family members by Saturday afternoon, and young Hap Johansen III had come by asking if he needed any help at the jail. It seemed that there was a delay in Hap’s getting into the cavalry and this had Jake Titus a little worried where his daughter Suzy was concerned. Thinking of these things, Doc chuckled to himself as he looked up at the porch railing of the cottage and noted it could use a new coat of paint. Victoria was at the bake shop and expecting to see him in about an hour. He went inside, to wash up before he went to meet his wife. Pie was on the menu today and that was his favorite.
Hap III lounged lazily at the desk in the Sherif’s office, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet resting on desk top. He’d brought the mail from the post office after the rider and come through but left unopened on the desk. Hap was not concerned about wanted posters or anything else, he just wanted his shift to be over so he could sneak out to meet Suzy Titus, and get away from the not so subtle aroma of the room. It had been quite sometime since Doc shot that skunk, but sometimes it smelled like the critter was still there under the boardwalk. Especially when it rained.
It had