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I was exhausted, but sleep had to wait for the life of my woman might depend on it. My woman! Before meeting Anne the idea of meeting my perfect match had been like idle dreams of becoming rich or suddenly famous. These make for nice daydreams but a person doesn't really expect them to come true. It was the same way with Anne; I had dreamed of meeting a girl but the odds had just seemed to be too much against it. Now that I had met her I sometimes felt like pinching myself to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. I was surely going to free her from the ruffians in Brown's Hole or die trying.
What would happen if I should get killed in my attempt. Had Anne come to need me as much as I needed her?
Yes, I decided, she had. Her pain and suffering would be great if I should die. I hoped that she was strong and would get over me soon, but deep inside of me my heart said, "Not too soon, I hope." I hoped she wouldn't pine her whole life away. Someday she would meet someone else that could help her complete her life. This was what I hoped, but I didn't even want to think about what this unknown man might look like.
Enough of this. I was worrying for no reason as of yet. If I kept my wits about me I would get the job done and still be in one piece.
I was still wearing Nason's suit. It had fooled one man so maybe the same trick would work on others. At least long enough to get me into the hole.
I was still a mile from the entrance when a shotgun toting men stepped out from the trees to check out who I was. He talked way too much for his own good.
"Nason, ain't it," the shotgunner said, and I realized that he had probably never even talked to the man. Instead he had seen him from a distance wearing this suit and assumed I was the same person. "The boss is waiting for you up in his cabin. Head on up. You ain't seen that Clay fellow, have you?"
"Uh,uh," was all I grunted and then I was riding up the trail, sent on by a man who was supposed to be on the lookout for me! I was willing to bet this clan didn't have many brain surgeons on the roster.
The next guard was a might more suspicious. I thought I might have to shoot him and announce my arrival, but I was too close to him when he discovered his mistake and I sidestepped the horse until I had him pinned against a rock with the business end of my forty five staring him in the face. I didn't even have to rap him over the head. I simply bound and gagged him, and I assured him that I would stop and untie him on my way out of the hole. This I would do, for I would leave no man to die of thirst or starvation.
I climbed the wall of rock near the entrance and saw that the cabins were fairly close together. One side of the wall offered a bluff that overlooked the whole settlement. Why, it looked like one man could keep the little village under his thumb, especially if he was a good shot. I smiled as I made this observation.
I had to leave my horse back in the woods. I didn't like it, for I would be on foot when the trouble started. He couldn't climb into the area where I was heading, though. There was a lot of horse flesh in the corrals in the hole. Probably I could lay my hands on one of these if it came to that. Or when it came to that.
I crept up to the bluff sight unseen. Part of the time I was on my hands and knees, but it was worth it to be able to appear up on that bluff without warning. For I was still wearing that stupid striped suit I had taken off Nason, and the result down below was just what I had hoped for - total confusion.
Those people that thought they knew Nason would wonder mightily why I was just sitting up on the rock with a gun in my hand. Those that didn't know him were probably a bit scared of him anyway, and this would be the icing on the cake.
Whenever anyone looked like they might be approaching the bluff I raised my gun as if to take a steady aim. There weren't many of these. My first guess was probably the correct one. A lot of these clowns had undoubtedly heard the stories of Nason's killings and were afraid of him. They didn't realize that most of his shooting had been on unaware and sometimes defenseless people. Of course, from what I had seen of this clan they fell into this category even when armed and awake.
Once a big man came out onto his porch and just gazed in my direction. Even from here I could tell that he had no expression on his face. He just looked, as if he could care one way or the other. I understood his position. Basically, whatever should occur, he was man enough to handle it. I knew from the way that he handled himself this must be the king of the roost, Amos Heskins.
The scene down below was pristine, but a lot of vexing problems were being worked out as I sat there.
Willa Smith looked out through the hole in her wall with loathing. She knew George Nason, all right. He had killed her man; shot him right in the back while he was holding her in his arms. How the bullet angled off and didn't hit her she would never know. As it was, she had just laid there and played dead. That was easy because she was too scared to move anyway. Nason had looked at her briefly and then shot poor Otis again in the back of the head.
Otis had not been much, and he probably never would have married her, but he had taken her out of the mountains and that was all that mattered. The people who had land, mountaintop land, were usually a lot wealthier that the family she had come from. The town of Houndsville had been so uninspiring that the streets were already lined with abandoned buildings and encroaching greenbrier. A girl's life was a pretty poor prospect in such a town. Most of the people were related and a lot of her friends had ended up marrying cousins. Ida-May's brother had laid her down in a pigpen, and knocked her up! That one occurrence had resulted in a little boy. The kid was really good looking, but at four years old he still couldn't talk and it was easy to see that there was something wrong with him.
At least Ida-May had claimed she only did it with her brother once, and that time because she was forced. Willa suspected that her brother didn't have to force her at all, because Ida had always been a wild thing with a fascination with anything sexual. The last anybody heard she was working in a whorehouse in Tuscon, and it was said her steady working routine was just barely enough to satisfy her.
Willa wanted more out of life, for she had devoured what few books she could find and had discovered that there was a whole other world out there. She yearned for a man in her life, but one that wasn't related or smell like pig manure. A man who's future ran farther that the off chance that he might run into a good patch of goldenseal. A man that could take her out of this poverty patch and show her the world.
When Otis passed through Willa knew that this was her chance, possibly the only chance she might get. Otis was good looking but not really handsome. He had a small string of horses and was heading west. He had no clear plans after that, but he seemed to have a better prospect than any of the local boys. He was dashing to her young eyes, and by the time he left town she was riding with him.
He spoke vaguely of marriage and a spread out West. Willa could sense that it was all talk, but he did know a lot about horses and he might make out well trading them. She found him exciting and enjoyed their time together. This was her first taste of love. It would be the best she ever had.
He had traded a breed mare, his poorest one he bragged later, for a small wagon pulled by a brace of second rate mules. After living in the same room with the rest of the seven children in her family this seemed as luxurious as a resort hotel. Of course, that was what it was to her.
They traveled slowly through the foothills and on westward across the Mississippi River toward Oklahoma. Otis traded steadily as they traveled, even getting paid for stud service from his best stallion. The profits were carefully placed in his money belt, for he was not a man to burn money. When Willa saw this she was even more convince that she had made the right choice in a man.
Up on the edge of the Nations they got lucky and ran into a horse trading meet that lasted two days. Otis did well, trading off the mules for a couple of harness broke ponies and a hundred dollars besides. There were people around when he stashed the money in his belt, and Willa didn't like the looks of some, especially the man wearing parts of a Yankee uniform like many of the ex-soldiers did. Something about him did not run true. Willa didn't believe he had ever been a soldier. His bearing was not a military one. To her he looked more like one of the cutthroat carpetbaggers that had been the curse of the South since the end of the war. She didn't confide her fears with Otis for she was afraid that he might laugh at her.
She saw the fellow's sharp and greedy eyes watch her man's movements. She felt a pang, but figured with this big crowd (roughly twenty people) around they would not be in danger. Otis had more than enough to drink on this evening and she did not even care that they didn't observe their normal nightly routine. That phony Yankee had left her ill at ease. It was with relief that they rolled away from the trading area in the morning. Willa looked around, but the man that had frightened her had apparently long gone.
That afternoon they went into camp early by the bank of a beautiful little stream. Just before dark they bathed in the cool water of a deep pool. A small fire other side lit the scene slightly, and things were so peaceful that Willa only had a moment's inclination that something was wrong before the bullet crashed into Otis and came near to going right on through into her chest.
She instinctively knew that her best chance was to play dead. She was so afraid that she didn't even twitch when the man shot Otis again in the head; then took the whole money belt. As he started to leave she roused enough to take a peek at him. It was the man in the fake Yankee uniform.
Much later she would learn that his name was
George Nason.
I was exhausted, but sleep had to wait for the life of my woman might depend on it. My woman! Before meeting Anne the idea of meeting my perfect match had been like idle dreams of becoming rich or suddenly famous. These make for nice daydreams but a person doesn't really expect them to come true. It was the same way with Anne; I had dreamed of meeting a girl but the odds had just seemed to be too much against it. Now that I had met her I sometimes felt like pinching myself to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. I was surely going to free her from the ruffians in Brown's Hole or die trying.
What would happen if I should get killed in my attempt. Had Anne come to need me as much as I needed her?
Yes, I decided, she had. Her pain and suffering would be great if I should die. I hoped that she was strong and would get over me soon, but deep inside of me my heart said, "Not too soon, I hope." I hoped she wouldn't pine her whole life away. Someday she would meet someone else that could help her complete her life. This was what I hoped, but I didn't even want to think about what this unknown man might look like.
Enough of this. I was worrying for no reason as of yet. If I kept my wits about me I would get the job done and still be in one piece.
I was still wearing Nason's suit. It had fooled one man so maybe the same trick would work on others. At least long enough to get me into the hole.
I was still a mile from the entrance when a shotgun toting men stepped out from the trees to check out who I was. He talked way too much for his own good.
"Nason, ain't it," the shotgunner said, and I realized that he had probably never even talked to the man. Instead he had seen him from a distance wearing this suit and assumed I was the same person. "The boss is waiting for you up in his cabin. Head on up. You ain't seen that Clay fellow, have you?"
"Uh,uh," was all I grunted and then I was riding up the trail, sent on by a man who was supposed to be on the lookout for me! I was willing to bet this clan didn't have many brain surgeons on the roster.
The next guard was a might more suspicious. I thought I might have to shoot him and announce my arrival, but I was too close to him when he discovered his mistake and I sidestepped the horse until I had him pinned against a rock with the business end of my forty five staring him in the face. I didn't even have to rap him over the head. I simply bound and gagged him, and I assured him that I would stop and untie him on my way out of the hole. This I would do, for I would leave no man to die of thirst or starvation.
I climbed the wall of rock near the entrance and saw that the cabins were fairly close together. One side of the wall offered a bluff that overlooked the whole settlement. Why, it looked like one man could keep the little village under his thumb, especially if he was a good shot. I smiled as I made this observation.
I had to leave my horse back in the woods. I didn't like it, for I would be on foot when the trouble started. He couldn't climb into the area where I was heading, though. There was a lot of horseflesh in the corrals in the hole. Probably I could lay my hands on one of these if it came to that. Or when it came to that.
I crept up to the bluff sight unseen. Part of the time I was on my hands and knees, but it was worth it to be able to appear up on that bluff without warning. For I was still wearing that stupid striped suit I had taken off Nason, and the result down below was just what I had hoped for - total confusion.
Those people that thought they knew Nason would wonder mightily why I was just sitting up on the rock with a gun in my hand. Those that didn't know him were probably a bit scared of him anyway, and this would be the icing on the cake.
Whenever anyone looked like they might be approaching the bluff I raised my gun as if to take a steady aim. There weren't many of these. My first guess was probably the correct one. A lot of these clowns had undoubtedly heard the stories of Nason's killings and were afraid of him. They didn't realize that most of his shooting had been on unaware and sometimes defenseless people. Of course, from what I had seen of this clan they fell into this category even when armed and awake.
Once a big man came out onto his porch and just gazed in my direction. Even from here I could tell that he had no expression on his face. He just looked, as if he could care one way or the other. I understood his position. Basically, whatever should occur, he was man enough to handle it. I knew from the way that he handled himself this must be the king of the roost, Amos Heskins.
The scene down below was pristine, but a lot of vexing problems were being worked out as I sat there.
Willa Smith looked out through the hole in her wall with loathing. She knew George Nason, all right. He had killed her man; shot him right in the back while he was holding her in his arms. How the bullet angled off and didn't hit her she would never know. As it was, she had just laid there and played dead. That was easy because she was too scared to move anyway. Nason had looked at her briefly and then shot poor Otis again in the back of the head.
Otis had not been much, and he probably never would have married her, but he had taken her out of the mountains and that was all that mattered. The people who had land, mountaintop land, were usually a lot wealthier that the family she had come from. The town of Houndsville had been so uninspiring that the streets were already lined with abandoned buildings and encroaching greenbrier. A girl's life was a pretty poor prospect in such a town. Most of the people were related and a lot of her friends had ended up marrying cousins. Ida-May's brother had laid her down in a pigpen, and knocked her up! That one occurrence had resulted in a little boy. The kid was really good looking, but at four years old he still couldn't talk and it was easy to see that there was something wrong with him.
At least Ida-May had claimed she only did it with her brother once, and that time because she was forced. Willa suspected that her brother didn't have to force her at all, because Ida had always been a wild thing with a fascination with anything sexual. The last anybody heard she was working in a whorehouse in Tuscon, and it was said her steady working routine was just barely enough to satisfy her.
Willa wanted more out of life, for she had devoured what few books she could find and had discovered that there was a whole other world out there. She yearned for a man in her life, but one that wasn't related or smell like pig manure. A man who's future ran farther that the off chance that he might run into a good patch of goldenseal. A man that could take her out of this poverty patch and show her the world.
When Otis passed through Willa knew that this was her chance, possibly the only chance she might get. Otis was good-looking but not really handsome. He had a small string of horses and was heading west. He had no clear plans after that, but he seemed to have a better prospect than any of the local boys. He was dashing to her young eyes, and by the time he left town she was riding with him.
He spoke vaguely of marriage and a spread out West. Willa could sense that it was all talk, but he did know a lot about horses and he might make out well trading them. She found him exciting and enjoyed their time together. This was her first taste of love. It would be the best she ever had.
He had traded a breed mare, his poorest one he bragged later, for a small wagon pulled by a brace of second rate mules. After living in the same room with the rest of the seven children in her family this seemed as luxurious as a resort hotel. Of course, that was what it was to her.
They traveled slowly through the foothills and on westward across the Mississippi River toward Oklahoma. Otis traded steadily as they traveled, even getting paid for stud service from his best stallion. The profits were carefully placed in his money belt, for he was not a man to burn money. When Willa saw this she was even more convince that she had made the right choice in a man.
Up on the edge of the Nations they got lucky and ran into a horse trading meet that lasted two days. Otis did well, trading off the mules for a couple of harness broke ponies and a hundred dollars besides. There were people around when he stashed the money in his belt, and Willa didn't like the looks of some, especially the man wearing parts of a Yankee uniform like many of the ex-soldiers did. Something about him did not run true. Willa didn't believe he had ever been a soldier. His bearing was not a military one. To her he looked more like one of the cutthroat carpetbaggers that had been the curse of the South since the end of the war. She didn't confide her fears with Otis for she was afraid that he might laugh at her.
She saw the fellow's sharp and greedy eyes watch her man's movements. She felt a pang, but figured with this big crowd (roughly twenty people) around they would not be in danger. Otis had more than enough to drink on this evening and she did not even care that they didn't observe their normal nightly routine. That phony Yankee had left her ill at ease. It was with relief that they rolled away from the trading area in the morning. Willa looked around, but the man that had frightened her had apparently long gone.
That afternoon they went into camp early by the bank of a beautiful little stream. Just before dark they bathed in the cool water of a deep pool. A small fire other side lit the scene slightly, and things were so peaceful that Willa only had a moment's inclination that something was wrong before the bullet crashed into Otis and came near to going right on through into her chest.
She instinctively knew that her best chance was to play dead. She was so afraid that she didn't even twitch when the man shot Otis again in the head; then took the whole money belt. As he started to leave she roused enough to take a peek at him. It was the man in the fake Yankee uniform.
Much later she would learn that his name was
George Nason.
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