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

“Give him another half hour,” Sam said as she sat down on the bench outside the bank. “If he doesn’t show I am going back to Bear Claw and talk to Little Fox and his friends about something I may need their help with.” Doc looked at his niece, his eyes narrowing “What are you up to Sam?”, he inquired. I had to keep my mouth shut because she had told me what she was planning and if it worked, by morning, she would have her papers signed, her deed in hand, Hinkly would be in jail and we would all move onto the Flying S as planned. Well, Hinkley never did show his face. Sam had kept her word, but he hadn’t and very soon it was time for him to face the consequences of his not so intelligent decision.
Bear Claw was roughly six miles South of town and when we got there, our horses lathered and heaving, Sam caught up with Little Fox and his soon to be brother in law , Turtle Back. “I need your help,” she told him.
“Sure, Sam,” the boy replied “What can I do for you?”
“I want to put together a raiding party, and scare Hinkly off my ranch,” she said flatly.
“Wait a minute, Sam,” Little Fox cautioned “We have lived here for years and years, I was born here and so were you. I am nearly twenty one and I do not remember anything but my father keeping peace here and insisting on it. There haven’t been any problems between us and the people of Grants Creek ever that I can recall.”
“Not a real raid ,” Sam explained “We don’t do anything that will get anyone hurt or in trouble.”
Little Fox shook his head “I don’t know Sam. My father won’t like it.”
“At least hear me out, then we will go talk to Wolf Standing,” she said. “Roger Hinkley is stalling and has not left the Flying S as we agreed when I bought it. I have the money to pay him off and his cattle were delivered to market and sold as we agreed, but he still refuses to give me the deed to the ranch. I am not a married woman, so he thinks he has a legal right to stay but I want him gone. He is a low down skunk.”
“You aren’t the only one who thinks that of Hinkley,” Little Fox replied “He’s not accepted here.”
“The reason he never shows up here is because he is terrified of Indians,” Sam replied “He gets real nervous around my grandfather and even me.” Suddenly Little Fox realized that he could help Sam get this weasel off her land.
“I think understand what you want to do,” he said with a sly grin. “How many drovers came back from Kansas with Scrub Pot and Jerrod Bently?”
“Ely, Floyd and John Prince.” she replied.
“Any of them look Indian?”, Little Fox asked.
“Well,” she said “Does it really matter? I want this to take place in the middle of the night.”
“Even better!”. Little Fox declared slyly, a wide grin on his handsome face. “With four of your men, you, me, Turtle Back, Lillie and her cousin Ellen, we will make a fine band of warriors.”
“We need at least ten and all of us mounted,” Sam said.
“That will not be any trouble.” Little Fox replied “and Lillie can make your boys look like us. I have never used war paint in my life, but I ‘d like the chance to see how I look in it,” he added.
“This will get Hinkly off my ranch.”
“Guaranteed,” Little Fox replied with a confident smile.

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Roger Hinkly was desperate. His plans for disposing of Sam Dodge had failed and he had not even come close to finding the treasure supposedly on the property that soon would no longer belong to him. Once Sam married, legally he would be forced to honor the agreement he made with her and sign the Flying S over. She had full filled her part of the contract when the cattle were delivered to market in Abiline. He still had the deed to the property and the papers drawn up regarding the sale of the ranch, but he had not signed them yet. Sam had Hinkley’s share of the money and was willing to pay him, her crew was ready to move on to the ranch but Hinkly refused to sign or honor his part of the bargain. He wanted his money, and that Spanish treasure lost somewhere on the property , so legend said. But he also knew he did not have a leg to stand on. He had underestimated Sam Dodge, thinking her to be a stupid girl he could dupe or dispose of. His hired gun, Ned Travis was locked up in a Waco jail and it was only a matter of time before he started talking about their sinister dealings and then he would be sent to prison for conspiring to commit murder. But a man like Roger Hinkly never would think about cutting his losses and moving on, or doing the right thing by honoring the deal he’d made. He was desperately trying to find a way to not have to honor any of it. He pondered such things as he sat in the parlor of the log ranch house and drank his whisky, trying to come up with a new plan. He thought of riding out to Three Forks and getting a lawyer to help him. Yes, that was it, a lawyer, like that Jake Titus he ‘d heard so much about since Doc Stevens had come back to town. Doc’s presence worried Hinkley too, because he’d heard the talk about him being a law man again. Too bad this Jake Titus was so far away, to far away to help him. The more he drank the less important his plan became. When Esparanza, the old Mexican widow who had been the cook for the Flying S for years found him the next morning, he was hunched over in his chair, snoring like a buffalo and in a drunken stupor. She was disgusted by the smell of stale liquor, but she had become used to it since Hinkley had taken over the Flying S. She gave him a glare of sheer disapproval as she picked up the empty bottles and glasses. As much as she disliked him, she silently prayed for him anyway and tried to think as she had been taught, that everyone is loved by God, even a drunken scalawag like Roger Hinkely. There would be no trip to Three Forks and no lawyer either. Hinkely chose the bottle over his plans and there he sat, passed out and totally unaware of what was about to happen once the sun set over the Flying S Ranch.

Now over the summer, I’d kind of forgotten about my hair. There were no barbers along the trail, and the only one I’d seen was that lady one back in Portersville and I had been meaning to go, but I just didn’t. Sam seemed to like my long haired cowboy look, so I’d left it go and now it had grown down to my shoulders. But no matter how hard Sam tried, there was no way she was ever going to make me look like a Blackfoot warrior. The only one of us who even remotely looked convincing was Ely Jax, but those blue eyes of his gave him away, the minute he looked at me. I couldn’t believe that Doc and his wife wanted in on this crazy plan of Sam’s, but there they were sitting by Wolf Standing’s counsel fire as Lillie Greyhorse carefully platted Victoria’s long golden hair into warrior’s braids, feathers and all. No matter what Victoria Stevens wore, even in buckskins and war paint, she looked good. I knew Doc was proud of her, and he had every right to be.
I never took notice of the way Ely had quit watching Sam all the time and was enjoying having Ellen Greyhorse, Lillie’s cousin help him with his war paint. It might have been a little easier on me if I’d taken note of that, and may be later on down the road I wouldn’t have broken his nose over a misunderstanding, but that had not happened yet, and I was here, suffering through Sam’s artistic attempts to make me look convincing. She painted black and red streaks on my face . “Hold still,” she ordered.
“That stuff stinks,” I protested. She just laughed and painted my other cheek with red and black. She stepped back and took a good look at me as I sat there on the ground. “Once you get your shirt off, you will probably look more like a warrior than Jerrod Bently,” she said. I glared at her. Nights were getting chilly now that we had entered into fall. “I have to ride half naked?”, I complained. She raised her hand and shushed me. “You will look so handsome, like this Jerrod,” she said “I might just have to marry you after all.”
“Marry me?” Did she say that? If Sam Dodge would marry me I’d ride into a blizzard in the dead of winter without my shirt if she wanted me to. But I didn’t hear her say “yes” to my proposal.
“What about Ely,” I asked trying to keep the jealousy out of my words. She painted a black streak across my forehead. “What about him?” she questioned as she wiped the greasy paint