Tumbleweed Ch. 02

Three days later, Jake was up at first light. He put the sawbuck saddle on his pack horse and filled the panniers with his Colt samples, shells, and trail gear. The he saddled Via, which took a little more time. The spirited stallion had to be calmed before he would accept the saddle. Once saddled, he seemed anxious to hit the trail.

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Santa Theresa, New Mexico looked like a sleepy little town as Jake rode into it. According to the sign at the outskirts of town, there were just under 200 people living there. He knew that although the town wasn't much there were several prosperous ranches in the area and cattlemen and cowboys were always good customers for firearms. Jake had made the nearly 13 mile ride from El Paso in time for a mid day meal.

He had lunch at a Mexican cantina and let the barkeep know about the demonstration he planned for the next day, which was Saturday. Saturday was come to town for supplies day for most of the ranchers and a shopping day for the town folk.

Jake found a few boys playing around the stables and paid them to hand out flyers he'd had printed in El Paso; it was a practice he would repeat in most of the towns he visited. The flyers told people where and when he would show what the Colt Peacemaker could do.

Santa Theresa didn't have a hotel as such, just a boarding house, and Jake didn't like the looks of it. He was used to the clean well kept house that Amada Stewart ran and this place didn't stand up to the comparison so he slept in the stable with Via and his pack horse.

Another reason he slept with his horses was that he wasn't impressed with the security at the stable; he'd hate like hell to lose Via. Probably fewer bed bugs here than at the boarding house, he thought as he spread his bedroll in an empty stall.

The next morning on the edge of the town, Jake set up a few targets and a table he'd gotten from the cantina. About 10 AM, people began to gather for the show he'd promised. He waited until the 50 or so people settled in and then began the demonstration.

"Gentlemen," he greeted and then noticed a few women in the crown. "Excuse me, and ladies," he added. Picking up one of the Colts from the table he said, "This is a Colt Single Action Army in .45 caliber; also called the Peacemaker."

Jake showed that the pistol used metal cartridges and how quickly and easily it could be loaded and reloaded. He explained the different barrel lengths and finishes.

"Now I'll show you what this weapon can do." As he finished speaking he turned, drew the pistol, and fired. Jake hit each of the six targets he fired at. Then he invited the watchers to examine the guns more closely and shoot them. After almost an hour the show was over.

"I'll be in town until mid day Monday to take your orders," he told them. Jake sold ten pistols that afternoon. Since the general store was small, and Jake didn't like the looks of the owner anyway, the pistols would be shipped to El Paso. Jake would deliver the weapons to their new owners on his next trip through Santa Theresa.

Canutillo, Texas was another small town but almost twice the size of Santa Theresa. Jake had left Santa Theresa at mid day on Monday and rode into Canutillo in a little over two hours. He used the same tactics as he the first time; letting the saloon owner and the owner of the general mercantile know about his show and again hired some boys to hand out flyers. People, mostly men, gathered at Jake's location shortly before dusk on Tuesday evening. He sold twelve Colts before he left town on Wednesday morning. This time Jake was able to set up the delivery of the Colts with the owner of the general mercantile. The owner would be paid a commission for handling the deal.

Jake had close to thirty miles to Las Cruces and he pushed Via and his pack animal until mid day. The distance was a hard day's ride and he didn't want to spend the night on the trail. He found a shady spot by a water hole about half way and stopped to let the horses rest for almost two hours. Jake watered and fed his animals and rested himself.

Las Cruces was larger than the other two towns combined; having over 2000 residents. He was able to find a nice hotel that had its own stable and got a room. Jake planned to stay a week in Las Cruces and do at least three demonstrations. He sold thirty guns on this trip to the bustling town with promises for more business.

The only problem in Las Cruces came when one of the ranchers decided he wanted to take one of Jake's guns instead of waiting for a delivery. "Reckon I'll take this one," the ranch, one Japer Bowden by name, said as he hefted a nickel finished Colt with a 7 ½ inch barrel. They were standing in front of one of the numerous saloons in Las Cruces.

"Can't let you have one of my samples Mr. Bowden," Jake replied. "Need them to show people and make sales. I'll have your weapon to you in about three weeks."

"You don't understand sonny. I said I'll take this one." Jake could tell by Bowden's look and attitude that he wasn't used to people saying no to him.

Bowden was larger than life. In earlier times he would have be a mountain man; he still had that same wild unkempt look about him. Jasper had a big bushy moustache and long hair, hanging down to his shoulders. The man was about 50 years old, although it was hard to tell his age because of his weathered face from years spent working on the range. Bowden was a man of means as seen by the way he dressed. And unusual for Texas this close to the Civil War, he was a Negro.

"I'm sorry Mr. Bowden, but you're the one who doesn't understand; you can't have that gun. You'll have to wait."

"Sonny, I'm not someone you can order around. I'm a free man and I usually get what I want." Bowden held the Colt in question in his left hand and his right slowly dipped toward his holstered gun.

"Well, Abe Lincoln may have freed all men Mr. Bowden, but Sam Colt made em equal," Jake replied. "Do you really want to tangle with me?" His own hand hovered over the butt of his own Colt. "Don't do it; I'd hate to have to shoot you."

"Jasper, are you plum loco?" The bartender from the saloon asked; he'd come to the door when he heard the big man's loud voice. "You saw this boy shoot; Hell, he's faster than a thought. You'd be dead fore you more than touched your gun."

Bowden looked at the bartender, then back at Jake and lifted his right hand away from his pistol. Shaking his head, he said, "Pardon me Mr. Hightower. Don't know what I was thinkin. Sometimes I get too cantankerous for my own good." Handing back the Colt he paused and added, "I'll wait for your delivery." He then walked to his horse, mounted, and rode back toward his ranch.

Jake relaxed, nodded at the bartender and finished packing away his sample Colts.

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Another day and I'll be home, Jake thought. He laughed at himself. Who thought I'd find so much in El Paso? There's a good job, selling something I believe in, and then there's something more important. He was thinking of Emily and Jeremiah: even Miss Amanda crossed his mind.

Over a four month time span, Jake had made several of his sales trips and not only over the same route each time. Several times he rode east and spent a few days at Fort Bliss demonstrating his Colt and selling to the soldiers and the townspeople.

After each trip, no matter where he traveled, he couldn't wait to get back to El Paso. He now thought of Miss Amanda's boarding house as his home. Emily and Jake had started to spend time together after supper. First they would sit on the porch. On the Sundays he was in El Paso, they went to church together and sometimes on picnics afterwards. Emily and Jake grew closer with each of his trips 'home'.

Amanda Stewart also thought of her place as Jake's home. She liked the young man's manners, his willingness to do man type work around the house; but most of all she liked the way Jake was with Emily and Jeremiah. That girl has had problems enough in her life, Amanda thought. And he and the boy get along real good. Hell, if I was 30 years younger I'd set my sites on Jake.

Jeremiah and Jake were getting closer too. Jeremiah had liked the new comer because from the first, Jake never treated him like a child. Jake was impressed with Jeremiah's adult type attention to business and yet the boy was still a boy. The boy shows a maturity that not many youngsters could, Jake thought. Then he chuckled, remembering boy's excitement and then dedication in taking care of Viajero.

Jake leaned forward and patted the big horse on the neck. "I think you've made a friend Via," he said. "You get brushed every day even when I don't ride you and he always brings you an apple or carrot."

Via pulled on the reins. The slow lope they were traveling at didn't suit him; he wanted to run across the desert. "Take it easy big guy, we got a ways to go yet," Jake soothed his horse. "I'll let you run when we get closer to home."

To Be Continued.