A Chuckwagon Ride to Safety

She'd thought the soddy was so far off the main trails she could at least hide there for a while until she saw the two men ride up to the house. She knew who they were because she recognized them, and she knew why they were there. That's why she'd used the shotgun to kill them both.

If she accepted this man's offer, and it was either that or she'd starve to death or more men would come for her, he'd want to know more about her. She'd have to think up a story that he'd believe.

Charity looked at the men lying behind the horse. She'd have to have a good reason for that too.

She looked up at the man.

"You'd take me to Texas with you, and you wouldn't ask me for anything...not even...well, just so you know, I'm not that kind of woman. Never have been and never will be. I'll keep a revolver with me just in case you try anything like that."

Jake grinned.

"Ma'am, my mother taught me that women are special people and that if I ever hurt a woman in any way, she'd whip me raw with my father's razor strop. I figure if I ever did, she'd hear about it even out here and she'd come do what she said."

Jake smiled then.

"If you're all that worried about me, you can sleep in the wagon with my revolvers, my rifle and my shotgun. I'll sleep by the fire. You probably want to get some things from the soddy before we leave. We should be getting started while we still have some daylight left."

Jake picked up the reins and clucked to the horses, then turned them to cross the creek. As soon as he was across, the woman turned her horse and rode at a walk to the house with Jake following her.

When they got to the soddy, the woman went inside. She was gone for only about five minutes, and when she came back out, in one hand she had the shotgun and in the other, a small traveling case. Jake looked at her and said, "That's all you're taking?"

She nodded.

"There's nothing else here that won't remind me of this place. The only other things I have are these three horses and these two revolvers. If we take them with us, I can sell them to get enough money to live on for a while."

Jake looked at the horses ridden by the two men who now lay dead by the creek. They weren't much as horses go and it didn't look like they'd had a good feed for a while. That didn't worry him too much. Horses can live their lives on grass even though they skinny up some. What did bother him was both had different brands under their manes.

All ranchers branded their horses for one purpose, and that was to be able to identify the horse as theirs if it was lost or stolen. All the horses born on a ranch would be branded with the same brand. If a horse was sold, the buyer would be given a bill of sale signed by the owner of the brand. That bill of sale was to prove the horse wasn't stolen. Jake looked in the saddle bags on both horses and didn't find anything except a box of cartridges for the revolvers the men had carried.

Since these two horses had different brands and Jake couldn't find a bill of sale in the saddlebags, it was likely both were stolen. He wasn't about to travel with two stolen horses behind his wagon.

He then walked to the horse in the pole fence and checked it for a brand. It didn't have a brand, so that meant it had come from one of states east of the Mississippi where branding horses wasn't common. He could let the woman take that horse if she wanted.

Jake walked back to the woman and shook his head.

"The mare in the corral isn't branded, so we can take her if you want. We'll also take the saddles and bridles from these two. You can sell them and your revolvers if you've a mind to. I won't take these two horses though. They both have different brands, and my guess is these men stole them somewhere. Texas takes a mighty dim view of horse thieves and a man with a horse he can't explain usually ends up at the short end of a rope over a tree limb."

The woman just nodded, so Jake took the saddles off the two horses, used the nippers in the box from the chuckwagon to pull the shoes off both, then took off their bridles. When he slapped them on the rump, both trotted off toward the creek.

Once Jake had put the saddles and bridles in the chuck wagon and tied the mare beside his own saddle horse, Jake climbed up on the wagon seat, reached down to help the woman up, and then clucked to the team. He figured they had maybe four hours before they'd have to stop for the night, and he knew where that place was going to be. He'd stopped in that place the other three years he'd driven cattle to Abilene. It had a creek for water for them and the horses, and a large field of grass where the horses could graze all night.

The sun was going down fast when Jake stopped the chuck wagon and told the woman this was where they'd spend the night.

"Ma'am, I'll make a fire and tend to the horses if you'll tend to supper. There's a ham in the chuck box and some potatoes in a bin inside. There's a big skillet in the chuck box too."

It didn't take long to get a fire going because Jake didn't have to look for firewood. Because the Chisholm Trail had been traveled for several years, there was no firewood on either side within half a day's ride for most of the length of the trail. The chuck wagon had a special bin between the bed and the reach that held enough firewood for the stops when there was no firewood. With the flint and steel in his tinderbox, Jake soon had a small fire going and burning down to coals.

After he unharnessed the team, Jake hobbled them and his riding horse and fashioned another hobble for the woman's mare out of some rope from the chuck box. He watched as the horses bickered a little to show the mare who was boss, then quickly started grazing. Satisfied they'd all be there in the morning, Jake walked back to the fire.

The woman was there frying ham and sliced potatoes. She looked up at Jake and asked if he wanted anything else.

"I saw a can of peaches in the wagon. I didn't have time to make a cobbler, but we could just eat them out of the can."

All the time she'd been riding beside him on the chuck wagon seat, the woman hadn't said a word. It looked to Jake like she'd been thinking about something, so he didn't try to start a conversation. While they ate, he did.

"Ma'am...you know, I'm getting mighty tired of calling you Ma'am like you're somebody I don't know. Well, I've known you for a while now. What's your name?"

This was what she'd worried about all the time she was sitting on that chuck wagon seat. He wanted to know more about her. She hoped he'd believe the story she'd made up.

"I'm Charity, Charity Meadows."

Jake smiled.

"Pretty name, Charity. Where you from? That soddy wasn't there last year, so I know you weren't born there."

Jake was surprised that after being silent for so long, Charity seemed to want to tell him her whole life.

"I'm from Arkansas...A little town called Barta. That's where I grew up and lived until I got married to Justin. He wanted to farm, and he said there was free land in Oklahoma Territory so we moved there last fall and he built us a sod house. We spent the winter in that house and when it got to be spring, he started plowing the land behind the house.

"Justin didn't get much plowing done though. He'd just got started when he stepped on a copperhead and it bit him in the leg twice before he could move away. His leg swelled up something awful and he was really sick. I didn't know what to do for him other than to bring him water and feed him.

"Justin lasted a week before he died. I buried him beside the soddy and tried to decide what I was going to do. What I decided was I'd take the horses and wagon and plow to a town that we passed through when we came out here. That's what I did, and when I got there, I sold it all and bought my mare and a saddle and bridle and enough food to get me by until I could plant a garden.

"Well, that garden didn't work out either. I turned over the dirt with a shovel and got it planted, but the deer ate everything off all the way down to the dirt. I started eating less so my food would last, but I was about out when you came along."

There were several things about Charity's story that didn't make sense to Jake, but he let it pass. He figured he'd find out the truth sooner or later.

"Sounds to me like you had a pretty rough time of it. Why were those two men there?"

Charity took a deep breath.

"It was yesterday they showed up. They said they were just passing through on their way from Abilene to Texas and noticed the sod house and wondered who was living there. I said it was me and my husband and he was just out back skinning out a deer. They said they'd be on their way then and rode off.

"What I think they did was ride off and hide so they could watch to see if my husband came back or not. When he didn't they figured I was alone and they could do with me whatever they wanted. I was ready for them though because I didn't trust them. I loaded up Justin's shotgun and sat in a chair facing the door all night and all morning. I saw them ride up through the window, and when they opened the door, I shot the first one and then the second one. You know the rest about them."

Jake nodded.

"That's why you thought I might be one of them. I said I was doing the same thing they said they were doing."

Charity nodded.

"Yes. The only reason I didn't shoot you as soon as I saw you is I couldn't cock the hammer on the revolver. I was too scared and I was shaking too hard."

Jake chuckled.

"Well, I'd never want any woman to be scared of me, but I'm kinda glad you were. I don't like being shot much."

Charity was relieved because he hadn't questioned anything she'd said. She turned their conversation back to him."

"You've been shot before?"

Jake nodded.

"Yes, twice, in the war, once in the leg and once where I sit down. Neither was bad, but they hurt a lot. It was like getting hit with a hammer that was red hot. Don't think I ever want to get shot again."

Charity then asked what Jake had learned was the inevitable question in any conversation about the war.

"Which side were you on?"

Jake looked at Charity and frowned.

"You being from Arkansas, you probably won't like the answer. I was a Union Army Captain."

Charity paused before answering. She thought since Jake was from Texas, he'd probably have been a Confederate and that would fit with her story about being from Arkansas. If she said she was glad the Union had won, he'd wonder if she was really from Arkansas. If she said she thought the Confederates should have won, me might decided to just leave her in the middle of nowhere. If she said she didn't care, he'd wonder why she asked the question in the first place.

Charity hoped what she said would give him an answer that wouldn't make him question her reason for asking.

"There weren't many people in and around Barta because it was up in the mountains and we all kept to ourselves. We didn't hear much about the war at all so I don't know much about why it happened or how it ended. I was just curious about which side you were on."

"Well, it ended and the Union won."

Charity smiled then.

"Those men said they were from Texas and they had a funny way of talking. You don't talk like they did, so you must have grown up someplace else. Why didn't you go home after the war like most men did?"

Jake shrugged.

"I grew up on a farm in Indiana. When the war ended, the Union sent me to Texas. Once I was there, I decided it was pretty nice. It was warm most of the time and there weren't a lot of people around. I'd had enough of living around a bunch of people too. When I got out of the army, I stayed in Texas to be a cowhand. I already knew a little about cows and horses, so I figured I'd just live my life with them instead of with a bunch of other people."

Jake stood up then.

"I'm going to go check on the horses. After that, we need to be getting to sleep. I want to be up at daylight and started, so you take the wagon and I'll sleep by the fire. I figure tomorrow, we should cross the Red River. When we do that, we'll be in Texas."

The sky was still that shade of gray between night and day when Charity woke up because she heard someone in the chuck box in the back of the wagon. When the noise stopped, she looked out of the front of the chuckwagon.

She saw Jake leaning over the coals of a fire with a frying pan. Sitting on some coals beside him was a coffee pot. She climbed down from the wagon and walked over to Jake.

"It's not even daylight yet."

Jake chuckled.

"Well, I said we needed to start at daylight. That means we need to have our breakfast and coffee and be ready to leave when the sun does come up. Bacon's done and I'll have some corn cakes in just a jiffy. There's a cup beside the coffeepot. Pour yourself a cup. Sugar's in the chuck box. I think there might be a can of condensed milk in the chuck box if you use cream. Me, I drink mine just like it comes out of the pot."

Charity poured herself a cup of coffee and then took a sip. Besides being hot enough it burned her tongue, it was really strong. She put down the cup and said, "I'm surprised this coffee didn't crawl out of the pot and run off. It's strong enough."

Jake chuckled again.

"Well, nothing'll wake you up good of a morning better than a cup of good strong coffee. Let it cool a little. It'll get better."

Once they ate, Jake caught and harnessed the team, and then caught and tied the two saddle horses to the back of the chuck wagon. When he climbed up into the wagon seat, Charity was already there and Jake smiled.

"Looks like you're woke up pretty good. Ready to see what Texas looks like?"

They crossed the Red River at a spot Jake had used before. At that time of year, the water was low and he had no trouble getting the wagon across. Once they were on the other side, he turned to Charity.

"Well, Ma'am, I mean Charity, welcome to Texas. We're about five days from home now. You're as safe as can be."

Charity smiled, but inside she was still worried. She was sure the two men she'd killed would be missed and that others would come looking for them. The two had managed to find her in the soddy, and the others might know where the soddy was. If they came there and found the men's horses or what was left of them, they'd start looking for where she might have gone. Not enough time had passed since they left for the grass to hide the trail left by the chuck wagon and the four horses.

They'd follow that trail and as soon as they saw the chuck wagon, they'd come for her. They'd kill Jake just because he was there. She wasn't sure what they'd do with her, but she knew it would be bad and it wouldn't be quick. Thomas Derrick's father would see to that. Thomas Derrick was Horace Derrick's only son and the heir to his fortune. With Thomas dead, Horace wouldn't have an heir.

Charity began to relax a little after their first day in Texas. They'd seen no other people at all. Maybe the two hadn't told anybody were they were going and when they didn't bring her back to Kansas City, that would be the end of it.

It was just before noon on the second day that Charity knew she was still in trouble.

Jake was telling her about life on a ranch.

"Yes, it's a hard life sometimes, but it's a good life. Cattle and horses don't care who you are. The other cowhands don't either. All they want is to do a full day work for a full day's...what the hell is this up ahead?"

Charity's blood ran cold when she looked ahead of the wagon. There were four men on horses about a hundred yards away, and they weren't moving. It had to be them.

Jake didn't stop the team, but he whispered to Charity.

"Under the seat is my Winchester and my Remington revolvers and your two Colts. They're already loaded. We're far enough away they can't see what you're doing, so get my Winchester and lean it against the front of the wagon where I can reach it, then get my Remingtons and your Colts and put them on the seat between us. I don't know what these men want, but they don't look very friendly to me."

Charity was shaking, but she did what Jake asked. When she sat back down, Jake whispered again.

"You pointed a revolver at me once. I hope you can hit what you're aiming at because I'm not sure I'm fast enough to take them all. If you can and they start anything, you take the man on the left and work your way right. I'll take the one on the right and work my way to the left. Until then, you just sit there like nothing's happening."

They'd closed half the distance when the man on the left drew his revolver and fired it in the air. Jake stopped the team and wrapped the lines around the brake lever, then whispered to Charity to be ready. She let her right hand fall to her side and grasped the handle of one of the Colt revolvers. It was hard to pull back the hammer because she was shaking, but she managed.

The man who fired his revolver yelled, "Mister, all we want is the woman. Give her to us and you can be on your way."

Jake didn't stop watching the four men, but he whispered to Charity.

"When this is over, you're going to tell me what's it's all about, and I mean the truth this time."

Then he yelled back.

"I think you have the wrong woman. This woman is my wife."

The man laughed.

"Like hell she is. She looks just like the wanted poster in my saddlebag. Wanted for murder in Abilene, she is. Takin' her back would take a week or more and then there'd be all the legal bullshit to go through. Mister Derrick figured we could save the city the cost of a trial and a hangin' if we just took care of things by ourselves. You either give her up or we'll take her. Whichever way it goes, we're gonna get her and do what Mister Derrick wants done."

Jake whispered to Charity again.

"We're too far away for that a revolver to do much good unless you get lucky, but you shooting will keep their heads down. Don't do anything until they start. When they do, you keep shooting one revolver until you run out of cartridges and then you pick up another and keep shooting until you empty it. Don't stop until they stop or you've emptied all four."

Jake looked up at the man then.

"Well, I reckon I'm not of a mind to give her up."

The man yelled, "Suit yourself", and then spurred his horse toward the chuck wagon. The other three did the same. A second later, they began firing their revolvers at Jake and Charity. Jake heard a bullet whine past at the same time he picked up the Winchester. The man who had done all the talking fell from his saddle about two seconds later with Jake's bullet in his chest.

Charity had lifted the Colt and aimed it in the direction of the oncoming me and then pulled the trigger. She didn't wait to see if she'd hit any of them. She just kept thumbing back the hammer and pulling the trigger until the hammer fell on a spent cartridge. She dropped that Colt, picked up the second, and started firing again. In only a few seconds, she was firing one of Jake's Remingtons.

Jake had shot the talker first because he figured that man was the leader. After that man fell out of his saddle, Jake took the second man and then the third. He was sighting in on the last man when a bullet hit him in the right shoulder. As he doubled up in pain, he heard Charity fire two more shots. Then, everything was quiet.

When he looked up, he saw Charity shaking. Her voice was just a whisper.

"I think I shot the last one."

Jake looked out in front of the wagon, and all four men were lying on the ground. He turned back to Charity.

"I think you did. Good thing too. He got me before you got him."

Charity looked at Jake, dropped the Remington, and then shrieked, "Oh God no. Don't you dare die on me way out here."

Jake tried to smile.

"I'm not gonna die, but it hurts like hell. I can still move everything so I think the bullet just went through the meat on my shoulder. If you clean it up and put a bandage on it, I'll live."