Hardscrabble Pt. 01

This story takes place during the era of the cowboy, ca 1870s-1890s. Texas was largely unsettled and wild. The central families in this story have settled in a farming and ranching area a half-day ride (15-18 miles) south of San Antonio.

All four of my grandparents were born a few years either side of 1890, and some of their friends well before that, so they spoke of those days with familiarity. Herding, branding, and driving cattle, raising crops, the wonder of the windmill and indoor plumbing were subjects they loved to discuss, and I loved to listen. They remained mystified by rural electrification, radio, and television, even until their deaths in the 1960s.

Their opinions and prejudices were shared without guilt; they had lived through a lot of heartbreak and change, and their beliefs were forged in fire. As a child of the 50s, I considered them 'old fashioned', but I respected their right to believe as they did.

They and their friends were storytellers; each story reminded someone of something similar, or opposite, and when they got together, they often talked until well after dark, which was their normal bedtime.

I tried to stay true to the language of the times in this story, or at least that of my grandparents and their friends, and added some of the historical events of the times. One-armed Elijah Hays and his gang are figments of my imagination, but the events associated with them are events that occurred around south Texas during that era.

The Sutton-Taylor Feud and the Mason County / Hoodoo War are factual, as are most of the characters and places mentioned. If you want perfect accuracy you'll have to go elsewhere, because I did fudge a date or two by a year or two, but close counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and government work, right?

NO ONE under the age of 18 is engaged in sexual activities or in viewing sexual activities; in fact, there is no sexual activity in this chapter. Your comments are welcome, but civility is appreciated.

Hardscrabble -- Chapter 1

His dirty, sweat-stained straw hat pulled as low on his head as possible, Silas belly crawled the last twenty-five yard across the crown of the rocky, brush-covered hill. He ignored the thorns on the ground sticking in his hands, and those grabbing at his denim brush jacket and jeans as he crawled through the brush. The rifle in his left hand complicated the crawl, but he might need it suddenly.

He felt confident that the shouting and shooting he heard last night came from somewhere close to this hill and he suspected it was just the other side. He stopped and untied the string holding his pistol in place, tucked his head like a turtle, and crawled across the crown. Sure enough, there was a house down below, and something that looked like a body was lying on the ground in front of the house.

He lay still for ten more minutes, making sure there was no movement in the area. It was early, but the sun was already creeping into the clear Texas sky, and he knew he needed to get down there and see if there was anything to be done. The mules and wagon were waiting back at the camp, and today was the day he was supposed to make it to Dogtown to buy supplies.

Whatever happened last night was really none of his business, but on the southern frontier in Texas, anyone not a bandit, outlaw, or renegade was a neighbor, so, regardless of the danger, he felt he had to take a closer look before he moved on.

His model 1873 Winchester rifle was chambered for the same 44-40 cartridge his Colt Peacemaker fired. There were 11 cartridges in the rifle and six in the revolver, plus eighteen in the ammunition belt, so he could engage in a sustained battle if necessary; however, he didn't believe any hostiles were still there.

Regardless, he took his time, darting quickly from bush to bush, but waiting after each move to see if anyone down there moved... or if he drew fire.

By the time he reached the cleared area around the house, he was confident the homestead was deserted. Nonetheless, being wrong meant being dead, so he shucked his pistol, carried his rifle in his left hand, and ran to the barn. The large double doors facing the house were open, but he had noticed an unopened side door. Entering that way would give him an element of surprise if he were wrong.

Pausing only long enough to throw the door open, he crouched, stepped quickly inside, and then stepped sideways along the wall. His pistol was extended and ready to be fired, but nothing stirred. Straightening, he searched the barn and hayloft before deciding on the best way to enter the house.

There was less open ground to the back, so that was the route he chose.

Silas sprinted across the clearing and slipped in the back door. He carefully searched the house, moving from room to room with his pistol drawn. He found a closet in the larger bedroom with clothing for both a woman and a man, and a second bedroom with clothing for a girl.

Like the barn, the house was well made, and it was immaculate. The kitchen was well stocked and the rooms were nicely furnished. One wall of the main room had a built-in bookcase that was filled with rows of books, many of which he had read, and even more he had not. He touched the book backings covetously; he loved books and the knowledge they held.

Silas knew he was in the home of a family: a well-educated and cultured family, based on what he had seen. Yet there was only one body outside, and he was sure it was a man.

Keeping clear of the glass to keep from presenting a target, he surreptitiously moved from window to window, and then stood beside the open door. Having seen nothing of concern, he walked onto the front porch, looked around carefully, and stepped down to the body.

Just as it appeared, it was a man. Even in death, he appeared young, fit, and handsome. An old double-barrel shotgun lay by his side. Silas put himself in the man's shoes and surveyed what he had faced. Based on the way the ground was broken up, the three horses were standing about 8-10 feet apart. That was not a friendly way to approach a house, especially at night. All three had fired into his body, yet the shotgun beside him was unfired.

Hindsight is always right, but Silas wondered why the man went outside carrying a shotgun to face three mounted, armed men who were spread out too much for a scattergun to be helpful. That made no sense, especially with a wife and child inside.

He couldn't make himself leave the body lying there, so he fetched the shovel from the barn and looked for a site to dig a grave. He picked a spot in the shade of a big Pecan tree on the edge of the clearing, propped his rifle up against a nearby bush, took off his shirt, and started digging in the sandy soil.

When the grave was four feet deep, he retrieved a sheet of canvas from the barn, gently wrapped the body in it, and pulled it to the gravesite. Just before he got there, he caught a glimpse of something white in the nearest brush that hadn't been there before.

Pretending he hadn't seen anything, he aligned the body and grave, turned sideways, and wiped his brow with his left hand.

That movement covered his draw, and he turned to the place he had seen the apparition. "Come out, or I'll start shooting." The apparition hunkered down further under the bush, and Silas identified it as a small person; perhaps the missing girl!

Pistol still drawn, he walked quickly toward whoever it was and announced, "I believe you know I'm not one of them, but I need to see you right now or I'll no choice but to open fire. I'm giving you three second: one....two...."

The apparition stood and stepped around the Huisache bush. "Don't shoot. I'm unarmed!"

It was the girl whose clothing he had seen inside the house. She looked to be about 11-12 years old, with a thin body, shoulder-length, wavy red hair with golden highlights, and eyes that seemed both blue and green; she was wearing a nightgown and sandals.

"What's your name, little girl?" Silas asked.

"Lilly Thomson," she answered snidely, "What's yours, little boy?"

He frowned at her impertinence, but told her his name was Silas Carr and explained that he was from a settlement further west. "I was headed to town to get supplies and camped in the valley along Turkey Creek last night. After I turned in, I heard shouting and gunshots. It was dark and I don't know the country, so I waited until early this morning to determine the situation, and that's when I found this man's body, but no one else. When I searched the house I learned that there was also a woman and young girl living here, but since there was no sign of either, I decided to bury your daddy before I began searching for you and you mother.

As you can see, I'm not one of them, or I wouldn't be burying the dead."

She seemingly accepted his story, and approached without any sign of fear. As she came closer, he saw that she was a pretty little thing, if dirty and skinny; she was taller than he thought, and her face was resolute.

"We need to bury Daddy and then go get my momma. I'm going to change into riding clothes, and then I'll be back with our Bible so we can lay him to rest with God's words."

Silas was shocked by her sudden assertiveness; what was that little thing doing giving him directions! She acted as if he were a hired hand, not a volunteer risking his life to help her!

Still, the plan she outlined was the same plan he had developed, so he held his tongue. "Get dressed; we'll hold the service and then we'll decide what to do," he said, to reassert control. She made a face and went inside.

He used the time to find two short ropes, loop them around canvas at the lower hips and upper chest of the man, tighten the loops, and lay the ends of the ropes where he stood.

She returned in jeans, a tan shirt, a brush jacket, and riding boots, carrying a large Bible. "Please lower my father's body into the grave, Silas," she ordered solemnly.

She did like giving orders, but he took off his hat in respect, picked up the ropes one in each hand, and lowered her canvas-wrapped father into the shallow grave. He was at least 5'8" and 150 pounds; Silas was 5'10", 160 pounds, and it severely tested his strength to slowly and carefully lower the body. Yet, that's what the occasion demanded, so that's what he did, while Lilly read passages from the Bible.

After the 23rd Psalm, she read Ecclesiastes 12:7. 7... and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God, followed by Ecclesiastes 3:1-4.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace

Lilly emphasized "and a time to hate; a time of war", and the look on her face said she meant those words!

She continued in prayer. "Father, Dearest, we will mourn and remember you always. You were a great man, a great husband, and the best father any daughter ever had! We will remember and love you forever!

Father, the Lord has sent someone, as he promised in Romans 13:4 -- 'For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.'

Silas will help me find my mother, your loving wife, and return her to our home. He will smite mightily those who harmed you and took Mother, in accordance with the scriptures!

Please join me in the Lord's Prayer, Silas."

A bit stunned by Lilly's words and the service she had conducted; Silas prayed and then filled in the grave. He laid an old door he found in the barn on top of the dirt, and laid two logs on top of that. "We'll build a cairn when we can, but we need to get on the trail of those men who have your mother."

Lilly whistled; a blue-roan mare trotted from the brush near the creek and came to her. She shied away from the stranger, but Lilly said, "Come, Blue," and the mare obediently followed the girl to the barn. Silas retrieved his gelding from the hill, watered him, and checked to see his rifle and pistol hadn't picked up dirt from the crawling he had done.

Lilly rode Blue out of the barn; she was carrying an 1866 Winchester rifle in a saddle scabbard and a double barrel shotgun across her lap. "Let's go; I think I know where they took her! Dad and I went to Dogtown a few weeks ago and came upon a hidden campsite off the road a ways that looked like it was used regularly. I believe they are there!"

She started her horse down the trail at a canter, without even looking to see if he was following. Silas shook his head at her reckless audacity, and raced Tiberius to catch up. He had no idea whether her conclusion was right or wrong, but it was her mother, so she must be confident to race off without even trying to follow the tracks.

They rode briskly for half an hour before she held up her hand and slowed her horse to a walk. Five minutes later, she got off the horse and tied it to a mesquite tree; he did the same.

"The campsite is just ahead. We should be right on top of them when we crest this hill."

Silas responded quietly, "We don't want to be together to give them easy targets; you go straight ahead and I'll work around to the right so we have them from two sides. Wait for my signal before you fire!"

She gave him a questioning look, but started ahead. Silas circled the backside of the hill and found a bigger mesquite tree that offered cover and a good field of fire. For the first time, he looked for the campsite.

There were three men; two were lounging against a fallen tree trunk, drinking coffee and laughing. They were facing Silas. The third was wrestling with a woman who was struggling and crying.

"Maybe she don't want you as bad as you thought! She's putting up quite a fight for someone who asked you to come get her!"

Silas saw the man slap the woman across the face with an open hand. He covered his cheek with his hand, and yelled, "The bitch clawed me!"

His compadres laughed louder; one said, "So even killing her husband for her wasn't enough of a dowry? Hell, you told us she practically begged you in the store last week! I don't know why she won't give it up if she wants you so bad! That's three times you've slugged her and she's still fightin'!"

"Get over here and hold her hands!"

The woman kneed him in the balls, pulled loose, and started running into the brush; he screamed and yelled, "I'm going to kill you, bitch!" He drew his pistol and snapped off a shot in her direction that missed. He steadied and sighted the pistol as she dodged through the brush, but before he could aim and fire, two shots rang out; he pitched backward and spun sideways. The pistol discharged harmlessly into the air, and blood spread across his chest. Silas could hear the death rattle from 50 yards away.

He immediately turned his attention to the other two men. They jumped up, drew their pistols, and each fired toward the area a shot had come from. Silas shot the one firing at him in the upper chest, just below his neck; he spun and fell. The other gunman had fired toward Lilly, and then turned and snapped off a shot toward Silas. He then ran toward the brush. Silas' shot caught him in the ribs just before he made it out of the clearing. He lurched forward, tried to crawl, and then lay still.

Silas remained in position to see if they moved, but the big .44 caliber bullets did their job; all three men went down and stayed down. He remained in place to be sure, and then started down the hill.

Lilly was running down the hillside, rifle in hand, shouting, "Momma, Momma, are you all right?"

Her recklessness made Silas run toward them too, but he ran while watching the two men he shot, hoping they were dead and not playing possum. Pistol in hand, he nudged each hard with his boot; they were dead, so he checked the one who had slapped the woman. He was also dead, from two bullets.

Lilly and her mother were holding each other, crying. The woman's blouse was torn, and her face was red and swollen. Even in those conditions, Silas could tell that she was beautiful.

***

The women shared Blue on the ride back to their home; Silas kept well in front, rifle at the ready, eyes searching the hills and valleys for trouble, but finding none.

Mrs. Thomson cleaned up and changed into a dress for the trip to town. Her face was swollen, but if she were embarrassed about her appearance or the things that had happened, she hid it well. Once they were seated on the wagon, she properly thanked Silas.

"Mrs. Thomson, I appreciate you saying that, but Lilly had as much to do with your rescue as I did. She's a very brave lit... brave girl."

"Silas, she is my daughter; she loves me and I fully expected her to track us down and try to save me. You didn't have to get involved, but you did, and the two of you saved me from death, or a fate worse than death! Therefore, I believe you are old enough and bold enough, to call me by my given name: Gwen."

Lilly didn't look like she approved, but he immediately thanked Gwen and gave Lilly a smile she did not return. He knew she was mourning, but was it necessary to look so sour whenever he looked at her?

They stopped by the campsite where the bodies lay, and drove into Dogtown with the three dead men stacked in the wagon. A crowd started following as they came across the wooden bridge across the Frio River, and grew as they made it down the single street of town to the general store. Silas helped Lilly and Gwen down and escorted them to the door. The storekeeper had heard the commotion and stepped outside.

"Where can I find the sheriff?" Silas asked. The storekeeper pointed to a square building on the next block.

"Who are they?" he asked, pointing to the dead men, "and what happened?"

Gwen spoke up, "These are the men who came to our home late last night! They murdered my husband and kidnapped me. The one with the blue shirt tried to rape me, but I fought back and got away in the brush. He was shooting at me when my daughter and Silas found us. These men fired at Silas and my daughter, and Silas shot all three of them."

The small crowd around the wagon listened quietly, and you could hear the murmur of outrage. Murdering men and kidnapping wives! They deserved to die!

One of the men moved the body obscuring the one below, and exclaimed, "That's Josiah Hays! One- Armed Elijah Hay's youngest son!"

The murmur grew louder, and the storekeeper asked, "You Silas?"

"Yes, Sir, I am" he replied.

"Son, you, the woman and girl should mount up and head north right now! Elijah Hays is a hard man, and he and his gang are going to come after you for killing his son!"

Silas stood up straight and vowed, "I'm not running from anyone! The first thing I'm going to do is make a report to the Sheriff and hand over the bodies. Then I'm going to come back here and load up the supplies on this list. After that, I'm taking the supplies to our settlement. If Elijah Hays or anyone else wants to find me, that's where I'll be!"

The crowd grew quiet, not certain if the boy was that brave or merely foolish.