The Trail West Ch. 03

This chapter can be read as a standalone story but it will make more sense and give you the background of the characters and the story line if you read the first two chapters.

Constructive comments/emails are welcome and appreciated.

There are no graphic sex scenes in this story. Thanks for taking the time to read my work and I hope you enjoy it.

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18 year old Josh Kelly was pushing the horse and mule remuda along the trail just to the side of where the wagons were traveling. It was the wagon train's fourth day headed west and Josh thought about the last three days as he drove the horses and mules just off the edge of the wagon train's path.

Johnny Burrows, the old mountain man, had been right, the wagon train didn't make more than 10 miles that first day; in fact they made just over 7 miles stopping at Shady Grove, Oklahoma the first night. It took longer than even Johnny thought to get the 27 wagons, the horse/mule remuda, and the people who had no idea of what they were doing across the Arkansas River.

The second day on the trail they had made almost 13 miles according to Clint Hobart, the wagon master. By the morning of the third day Josh could see that the families were beginning to get organized; they were able to pitch camp easier every night and more importantly were able to strike the camp and get on the trail much quicker in the morning.

The third morning Johnny Burrows left to return to Fort Smith; Josh had spent two days and nights learning about staying alive in the west from the mountain man. He was sorry to see Johnny go but was looking forward to continuing his journey. The trail was in good shape, the weather was co-operating and the third day the wagons were able to cover almost 20 miles.

So it went for several days, the train continued to make good time as the families got organized and began to understand what was necessary. One morning Hobart asked Josh to scout ahead about a day's travel along the trail; he was to look for a good spot to camp for the night. Josh spent a lot of time as a wrangler, but Hobart also used him as a guard, scout, and to help the families get their animals hitched to the wagons and on the move.

Josh was about 2 hours ahead of the wagons when he spotted a man walking, actually limping, along the trail. He noticed that the man was carrying a saddle over one shoulder and had a rifle in the other hand. As Josh got closer the man dropped his gear and turned to face the rider approaching him. The rifle wasn't pointed toward Josh but the butt rested on the man's hip and could be brought to bear very quickly. Josh's rifle was in his right hand, lying across his saddle and was also ready to bring into play in an instant.

Stopping about 80 feet away, Josh said, "Nice day for a walk don't you think?"

The man couldn't help but grin and replied, "I thought so myself, but I could've been wrong. It's beginning to get a mite warm." He lowered the rifle to his side and motioned Josh to come closer. "C'mon over, never did like to shout."

Josh rode closer and dismounted. Extending his hand he said, "Names Josh Kelly. I'm scouting for a wagon train going to Santa Fe."

"John McCall," the man responded. "People call me Texas Red or just Red because I'm from the Red River country in Texas. I'm trying to get back home to Amarillo."

"I like to walk myself but it's quite a piece to Amarillo, especially carrying a saddle. Did you think about using a horse instead?" Josh said with a straight face.

McCall chuckled and said, "Well I had a horse but he stepped in a hole and broke his leg; had to shoot him. I could 'a shot myself too but decided to try walking for a bit."

"Sorry to hear about your horse, Red," Josh handed his canteen to the man and watched him drink taking little sips of water. "You can sit here and wait for the wagons; they should be here in a couple of hours. Or if you want, cache you saddle and gear and I'll take you back to them."

"I've been walking for a spell, about five miles since day break. If you don't mind I think I've had enough for today, could you take me back to the wagons?"

Josh helped Red hide his gear and mounted his horse. They would pick up the gear when the wagons came past the hiding place. He held his hand out and helped Red get up on the horse behind him. It's a good thing I'm riding Sunny, Josh thought. Some of the others I've been riding would have never put up with carrying double.

He held the horse to a slow trot, slowing to a walk for a while to rest Sunny and then going back to the trot. Josh didn't want to overwork his horse just to get back to the wagons quicker. During the walking periods it was only natural that the two men would talk.

"I noticed you limping," Josh said. "Did you step in a hole too or did you hurt your leg when your horse went down?"

"Naw, the leg is a souvenir of the war. I was with the 29th Texas cavalry at Manassas in '61and took a bullet in the leg. I had already lost two brothers and the captain thought my family had given enough and sent me home. The wound healed and the leg is still here, although it is a mite stiff." Red explained his limp. "I was lucky," he added.

"How about you Josh? Did you fight in the war?"

Josh told Red about the Bushwhackers, his father wanting to keep him out of the war, and how he ended up scouting for the wagon train. He told the story without apology or embarrassment and added that he had only left his family because of orders from his father and mother.

"I wish I'd had sense enough to stay out of it too. But my brothers went and I couldn't stay at home with them in the war. I don't know why we got involved, just dumb pride I guess. No damned Yankee is going to tell us what to do type of bullshit." Red laughed sadly. "Hell we don't own any slaves and the Union government is too far away to bother us."

Josh smiled in sympathy for the man but understood his need to support his brothers even if he didn't believe in their cause; they were family. The talking stopped as Josh pushed Sunny back up to a trot. About an hour later the two men saw the lead wagon and slowed to a fast walk.

Hobart had seen Josh returning and then saw he was carrying double. Curious, he rode out to meet his scout and the unknown man with him. "Pick up a stray, did ya Josh?" Hobart said with a big smile.

He didn't want to insult the man with Josh but he damned sure wanted to know where the stranger came from. Hobart had heard stories about outlaws getting a man inside a wagon train; the insider would dispatch some of the guards and then the gang would rob and sometimes kill the families. Hobart wasn't about to let that happen to his wagon train.

The three men dismounted and Josh said, "I guess you call him a stray, Mr. Hobart. Found him walking down the trail after his horse broke a leg." Turning to Red he said, "This is Clint Hobart, the wagon master."

Red took a step closer, extended his hand, and said, "John McCall, most folks call me Red."

Hobart listened as Red told the story of how he happened to be on the trail. As he listened he formed a good impression about the young man. There was no self pity or anger in the young man because of what he had gone through and Hobart no longer felt quite as suspicious of the youngster.

"Well Red, we're about five days out from Oklahoma City; we can give you a ride that far at least," Hobart offered to him.

"Thank you Mr. Hobart, appreciate it," Red accepted the offer. "I'll work for my ride if you let me."

Hobart told him, "I need someone to spell my wagon driver and to help set up camp. How'd that suit you?" Red nodded and Hobart continued, "Get yourself over to that lead wagon and get something to eat and some rest; we'll talk some more."

The lead wagon was still about a half mile away and Hobart indicated that he wanted to talk to Josh alone. Josh said, "Here Red, take my horse. I think maybe you've walked enough today. I'll wait until the wagons come by and pick up my horse then." Red nodded his thanks, mounted Sunny, and walked the horse toward the oncoming wagon.

"I guess that answers my question," Hobart remarked. "I was going to ask you if you trusted him, but I figure you wouldn't have given him your horse if you didn't."

"Remember I told you about Mr. Reece teaching me about horses; his wife Mali is full Cheyenne. She taught her husband better ways to handle horses but she was the one with the special touch. She said that I had that special way with horses too: that I could tell if a horse was going to be worth anything just by touching and looking at it. Mali said I'd been touched my Maheo'o, the Great Spirit and I had the same talent with men. Yeah, I trust Red, Mr. Hobart. I think he's just what he said, an ex soldier trying to get back home."

"Good enough for me son," Hobart said. "Jump up behind and I'll take you to the wagon."

"Thanks, but I'll walk a little; it will help limber me up some. I've been in the saddle all morning and I got a little stiff," Josh replied.

As the wagon train passed the spot where Josh had met Red, they both went to recover Red's saddle and gear. The wagons traveled for another hour and stopped by a small stream. For the first time Hobart instructed the wagon drivers to pull the wagons into a circle; this was a tried and true defensive position to ward off attack by hostile Indians or guerilla bands.

Red went right to work helping set up camp and gathering wood for the cooking fires. His limp didn't seem to slow him down and he did more than his share of the work. After supper he approached Hobart.

"Mr. Hobart, if you need me I can take a turn at night guard; either here in camp or as an out rider," Red offered.

In spite of Josh's appraisal of the young man, Hobart wasn't going to take any chances; he would have Red stand a turn at guard inside the circled wagons and keep an eye on him. Red was here because of Josh's trust but Hobart would decide when and if he could be fully trusted. There was too much to lose if Hobart made a bad decision.

"Okay Red. You can take the first 3 hour watch here at my wagon tonight. That'll give you a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before we start in the morning," Hobart said.

After supper Josh walked out to the horse corral to continue his work with Diablo. The big horse was waiting close to the rails of the temporary corral for the man with the good tasting treats. He was becoming more trusting and gentle every day; Josh hoped to begin riding him soon.

Already Diablo would let the man come into the corral and run his hands down the horse's neck and across his back as Josh hand fed him and talked to him softly. "Tomorrow I'll put a hackamore on you and lead you around the corral for a spell," Josh told the horse.

Later that evening Hobart showed Red his guard station and told him he would have him relieved in 3 hours. However Hobart didn't go to sleep, he laid on his bedroll under his wagon and watched the young man on guard. In the next few days he rotated Red through all the different guard shifts and made it a point to have the boy watched every time he was on duty.

Hobart was a careful sometimes suspicious man; several times in his life this suspicious nature had stopped something bad from happening to him or his wagon trains. In this case his worries were unfounded; Red was exactly what he appeared to be, a young man trying to get home after a horrible ordeal.

It took the wagon train 15 days to make the trip from Fort Smith to Oklahoma City. They had averaged about 13 miles a day which was pretty good time for a group of people that knew nothing about traveling over a rutted trail in wild country.

The country between these two points wasn't settled land by any means but it wasn't nearly as wild as what they would be facing after leaving Oklahoma City. Hobart ordered everyone to replenish their depleted supplies and load up as much as possible. He told everyone that there were few people and fewer settlements all the way to Amarillo so they best carry all they needed; there were no stores out on the prairie.

The families bought staples like salt, sugar, flour and beans. They had a chance to replace gear that was beyond repair and get some things they had forgotten when they started on their trek. Extra harness, rope, and some cured hides were brought back to the wagons. The hides could be used to repair a lot of leather gear.

Josh went to the gun smith's checking on the price of handguns; he hoped he might find a bargain or a cheaper price than in Fort Smith. But if anything the prices were even higher out here on the frontier. I guess I'll just have to wait till Santa Fe, he thought.

He left the gun smith's and headed toward the general store. Red and Josh met about half way in between the two merchants. They discussed the things they had bought or were going to buy.

"Where you headed Red? I was thinking about gettin a beer before I headed back to the wagons; thought you might join me," Josh said.

"I'm going to the gun smith's to do some business and then I'll join you," Red answered.

"Hope you're not going to buy much from him; his prices are more than high. That man's really proud of what he sells, I'll tell you," Josh complained.

"What were you lookin for?"

"I been thinking about gettin a hand gun but the price is just too high. I've still a long way to go after I get to Santa Fe; I need to be careful about using my money," Josh replied.

"What are you looking for and how much did the gun smith want for a decent hand gun?" Red questioned. Josh told him the gun he was looking at Colt .44 Army Revolver and the price.

"That damned old horse thief," Red exclaimed. Josh questioned him and Red answered, "I wanted to sell one of my extra hand guns and that old crook offered me about a quarter of what he wants to sell it for."

Josh and Red grumbled a few minutes and then started laughing. "I guess if you've got the only game in town, you make the rules," Josh said.

"Look, I was going to sell one of my brother's guns to help get me home. I got their guns with their personals when they were killed. Why don't I sell it to you instead of that old scoundrel and cut out the middle man?" Red suggested. He could see Josh was hesitating so he continued.

"It's a Remington New Model Army .44. I've got 2 extra cylinders and all the reloading gear. You can load all the cylinders and change them out when you empty one; you don't worry about reloading for 18 rounds or so. That's what makes it better than the Colt."

"I don't think I can afford it just yet," Josh said. "I'll have to wait until I get paid at trails end and get one there."

"The prices in Santa Fe will probably be even higher than here Josh. Tell you what I'll let you have the Remington for half of what he asked for a gun and we'll both be happy," Red offered.

"Even at that price I need my pay at the end of the trail to afford it," Josh answered.

"I owe you a debt Josh and I trust you; Hobart only let me join the wagons because you vouched for me. Don't think I didn't notice him having me watched while I was on guard duty. I don't blame him but without you I wouldn't even have that chance. So let's help each other here."

Josh thought for a few seconds; he really wanted the gun and it was a good price but he didn't like buying on credit. "I don't know Red; I don't like to run up a debt."

"I know you'll pay me and what difference does it make when I get the money? There's no place to spend it out on the trail, don't you know." Red was smiling; he could sense that he had Josh thinking.

"Okay, you've got a deal. You should'a been a snake oil salesman Red. C'mon I'll buy the beer," Josh said leading Red to the saloon.

The two young men walking down the middle of the dirt street attracted the attention of other people on the street and wooden sidewalks. First even though it was a frontier town it was unusual to see two men passing a pistol back and forth as they walked through the middle of town. The people soon realized that this wasn't a fight about to start but a discussion about the gun.

The second thing that attracted attention was the differences in the men walking together. Josh was a tall young man for the times at 6' 1" with almost black hair and startling blue eyes. He walked lightly as if barely touching the ground, like a mountain lion. He was slender but his big frame promised to fill out as he grew older.

Red was about average height at 5' 8" with an almost squat body. At almost 200 pounds he was stocky compared to the slender Josh. According to him, people called him Red because of where he hailed from but his nickname might have had something to do with his reddish blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles. Even with his limp he stomped along as if trying to pound the earth down as he walked.

Josh was like a big panther, lithe and graceful: Red was like a bear, plodding and forceful. In his own way each of the youngsters was a force to be reckoned with.

It was like the two men were drawn together by fate, or whatever. Both had lost something important to them because of the war; Red lost his two brothers in battle and Josh had been forced to leave his family and home. Although Josh was four years younger than Red, he was a natural leader and acted like one. Josh wasn't melancholy but he handled himself in a sedate and quite manner. Red was outgoing, boisterous, and loud. They made a good pair.

The friends stepped through the swinging doors of the saloon for a beer to seal the transaction for the pistol; at least that was the excuse they used. When Josh ordered a beer, Red changed his mind about a whiskey and ordered a beer too. Red thought it was a little strange that Josh passed on drinking whiskey; a lot of young men on their own would have had a drink whenever they could just to prove that they were men.

"If you don't mind my askin, why don't you drink whiskey Josh?" Red questioned his new friend.

Josh chuckled and said, "I learned my lesson a while ago, back home. The man living in the next hollar over the hill behind us ran a still. Pa caught me taste testing some of the "shine" and made sit with him and drink about a quart of the stuff. For a while I thought I was a big he stud, drinking with my pa. It wasn't very long before I threw up until there was nothin left in my stomach and I had the dry heaves; I got so sick I would've had to die to get better. That was my first and last experience with the hard stuff."

Red laughed so hard at the story that he blew beer out of his nose. "Dang, your pa knows how to teach a lesson don't he?"

As they toasted their deal and took their first drink, two men came into the saloon. Josh had learned to be much more aware of his surroundings after spending time with Johnny Burrows and he watched the two men make their way to the bar. Something about them put him on his guard; these men looked like trouble to him.

The two men were scruffy looking, unshaven, and dirty. Whatever else they had been doing bathing wasn't one of their scheduled activities. They both wore the butternut brown pants with a yellow strip of a Confederate Cavalryman; their shirts were fringed buckskin. One of the men looked around the room and saw the two young men at the end of the bar and nudged his companion pointing to Josh and Red.

The same man walked down the bar to where Josh and Red stood. "Where'd y'all get that gun?" He asked pointing to the pistol lying on the bar between the younger men. "It looks a mite big for you boys."

Red tensed and put his hand on the butt of the pistol at his hip, but before he could say anything Josh answered, "It's my gun mister, I just bought it." He pulled the pistol over to him and stuck it in his belt.

Josh could sense trouble brewing and was trying to avoid a bar room brawl. He wasn't afraid and knew he could hold his own but didn't see the sense in fighting for no reason. Josh casually brought his Henry up and laid it on the bar; leaving his hand on the weapon. It wasn't a threat or a challenge; it was just a move to let the men know that Josh could protect himself.