The Making of a Rancher

By Jack Kirkeby

“Richard Bentley, just over nine years old, studied the face of his father. There was a peaceful look about this face, eyes closed, never to open again, or to smile at the son he loved so much.” That moment changed the life of Richard Bentley and would soon set him on a course from his unhappy home in Scotland to the western United States, looking for his uncle who owned a ranch in Wyoming. In this prequel to Death on Portal Mesa, the author paints vivid images of the life facing a stubborn teenager who goes looking for a better life and who eventually finds it in sweeping and demanding landscapes of rural Wyoming. But before he reaches Wyoming, the teenager will face many challenges on the road from Scotland to Liverpool hoping for an ocean crossing west. “...It was a long lonely road he was on. Hamlets and farms alike were scattered and far apart. It was late that first day when he came upon a small farming town. Dusk had fallen, and there was a chilly breeze out. Tiny lights beckoned to the weary traveler. He quickened his pace, and soon came to the edge of town. Looking down the street he saw the only sign of life coming from a building on his left, its low profile standing out from its neighbors. As he drew near he heard laughter And a clutter of voices. He stepped inside....”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Kirkeby
• Release date: Jul 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310533082

Jack Kirkeby

From the start Jack Kirkeby’s interests have been of the West. He grew up in an era of strong Western stories and movies. Later in life, then, his writings would be of the West. Jack’s motto, “Look behind you, there’s no one there,” is his way of reminding folks to accept personal responsibility for their successes and failures as adults. His principal characters embody this theme in their actions on the easily turned pages of his books. He has written two full length novels, and is well into his third.Before he was twelve years old, Jack Kirkeby had lived in a plethora of homes and places as the product of fractured family conditions. Very early on this gave the author a desire to succeed and foster something more. Ultimately a sense of personal responsibility and gritty determination oozed from the tall, six foot, four inch young man.In 1933 he entered Hollywood High School, where he joined the ROTC. In 1935, mother and son Jack moved to Lake Geneva Wisconsin where he finished high school, graduating in June of 1936. Then it was on to live with his brother in Chicago where he worked through the depression years while he continued his education attending after-hours college classes.On June 9th of 1941 Jack enlisted in the United States Army Air Force, and served in the Pacific theater for two years as an enlisted man, later returning to America where he entered officer training.In December, 1943, the author worked as a service manager for an appliance and radio firm while he continued his education. He eventually entered the aerospace industry. His job with Northrop Corporation, later Northrop Grumman, included Quality Control, Contract Administration and Configuration Management. His duties included customer and government quality control issues, contract interpretation and technical writing.Jack has attended and earned credits at several colleges, including Oklahoma A&M, Saddleback Junior College, Long Beach State and Fullerton Junior College. He currently lives in Mission Viejo, California, where he remains active in his community and works tirelessly on his next novel. In addition to his novels, Jack also writes poetry expressing his views and giving us glimpses of his values. Here’s an example--Today is nowFull and richUnlike any otherNot to be wastedFor tomorrow it is gone****Tomorrow is promiseAnother chanceDifferent from todayWhat will it bring?Trust and respect itFor what it can be

Book preview

STORY IMAGES

The author has meaningful connections to certain events and locations in this book. For example, on November 20, 1918, just nine days after the signing of the Armistice of Compiègne which ended World War I, Mary Hubble and her three children boarded the Metagama in Liverpool, England, beginning a journey to America. One of these three children, Hilda, became my wife and bore me two sons, David and Robert. Richard, the determined young protagonist in this story also boards the Metagama on November 20, 1918 and travels the same route across the Atlantic.

The Metagama

Port of Arrival Inspection Card from Metagama crossing – November 20, 1918, from author’s family archives.

Table of Contents

STORY IMAGES

The Metagama

Port of Arrival Inspection Card from Metagama crossing – November 20, 1918, from author’s family archives

Preface

PART I – THE JOURNEY

1. Scotland, The Year 1909

2. South to Liverpool

3. Liverpool, The City

4. Across The Sea

5. Saint John, The City

6. Boston

7. Chicago

8. West to Wyoming

MAP OF THE ARROW B RANCH

PART II - THE RANCH

9. Uncle Leonard

10. Ranch Finances

11. Neighbors

12. Rustling

13. Winter On The Range

14. The Line Shack

15. The Sheriff

16. Transportation

17. White Dove

18. Bigotry

19. The Wedding

20. Missing Cattle

21. Leaning Mesa

22. The Sheriff and the Sacred Lands

23. Water

24. George

25. Ranch Versus Farm

26. A Wounded Lion

27. Shots In The Mountains

28. The Healing

29. The Investigation

30. To Hunt A Trophy

31. Bob Gibson

32. College

33. A Ranch Not For Sale

Read Death on Portal Mesa, the story continues…

About The Author

Preface

Leonard MacLaren, Wyoming ranch owner, picked up his mail at the Walnut postal room and found a letter from his sister Mary in Scotland. He quickly opened it as he hadn’t heard from her for over a year. The letter read,

Dear Len,

I’m writing to let you know that Willard is not well. I wish you were here to handle things, Willard seems a thousand miles away and, you know how helpless I can be in times such as these. As you know, Richard is eight now and has made his father his model and hero. I’m not sure I can understand and guide him well if anything happens to Will. So I worry. I am also concerned over money. Willard has taken care of me that way ever since our wedding. I feel so alone now, and we two are the only ones left in our family.

I send my love, your sister Mary.

Leonard climbed aboard the ranch wagon and started for the Arrow---B. His thoughts dwelling on things back in Scotland and the letter he had just received. He had been gone from Scotland for many years, and a trip back sounded kind of good. Leonard was three years older than his sister, and in the growing years together was fully aware of his sister’s shortcomings.

It was early in the year, and little to do on the ranch until calving time in April. The trip back to Scotland via motor car, rail and steamship would take at least twenty days, and if he stayed for a month he could return well before calving time. By the time he had reached the ranch he had decided this was feasible and he would go. The four permanent ranch hands would take care of things on the ranch until he returned.

* * *

Leonard stepped down from the lorry that brought him from Liverpool to his sister’s home. He found his brother-in-law, Willard, alone in his bedroom. Willard looked up from the book he was reading, smiled and said, Len, you’re sure a sight for sore eyes, I didn’t expect to ever see you again. This is wonderful.

Well I got a letter from Mary, and she told me you weren’t well. It’s good to be here, tell me what’s going on, Will.

Len, I have accepted what’s going to happen. It seems I have a limited time left. I worry about Mary and Richard, of course. I hope you can stay a while. It’s comforting for me to know that you are here.

I came expecting to stay a month. This will be good for both of us. Where is that nephew of mine?

Willard smiled and said, The big problem here is that Richard is too smart for his classmates at school and most of the kids don’t like him much for it. You know how kids are. Richard’s mind right now is like a sponge. He should be in a higher class at school, and the system keeps him where he is. I hope you’ll spend some time with him while you’re here. He needs to know his uncle.

Does he like the out-of-doors, like fishing and hiking?

Yes to all of those outdoor things, but of late I haven’t been able to do those things with him. He can miss school once in a while, so get him outside. He’ll be home in a few minutes.

Leonard spotted Richard as he came up the path leading to the front door. He opened the door and faced a puzzled Richard who asked, Who are you?

Hello Richard, I’m your uncle from Wyoming. C ‘m on in.

Richard looked up furtively at six foot plus of solid humanity, said hello and sided past into the house. Entering into his father’s room, he asked, Is he really my uncle?

He sure is, Richard, he’s your Mom’s brother. He’s come a long way to meet you. Give him a chance he’ll tell you about his ranch in America.

PART I – THE JOURNEY

1. Scotland, The Year 1909

Richard Bentley, just over nine years old, studied the face of his father. There was a peaceful look about this face, eyes closed, never to open again, or to smile at the son he loved so much. The boy had shed tears till his eyes were red. Now he had come into the church to join with others for a last look and a final goodbye. In time his mother took his hand and led him away. As they walked the two miles to their home he relived the life and times with that father. Tears once again formed on his face. He glanced up at his mother. He read uncertainty. He was sad, unsure of the future, and a little bit afraid.

Richard’s father had built the home they lived in. There was a small inheritance held in a bank in Edinburgh and a small sum given to her by her brother when he visited from the U. S. all of which went quickly. In time, Mary appealed to the local parish kirk for help.

Word got around, as word does in any small community, that the Bentley house was indigent, and dependent on charity. The kids picked it up from the grown-ups, and they were kids at the expense of Richard. Richard had already become unpopular with his classmates as he excelled in school and was considered a traitor to the cause, a brain and the teacher’s pet. Returning home from school, which was over a mile, was a daily challenge for Richard, often included cat calls, taunts and sometimes fisticuffs.

* * *

Richard’s mother, Mary Bentley, was a bonnie lass, often discussed over a pint at the local pub, and it had to happen that one chilly evening bets were made and placed in the hands of the proprietor as to who would succeed with making out with the widow Bentley. Don MacNeal, who was the pub bully, fisted the straws which were to decide who would have the first crack at the widow. He cheated, of course.

So he knocked on the door of the widow Bentley. Richard answered the knock and looked up at six feet of slovenly flesh, spouting a huge belly and a ruddy look on his face. The body asked, Is your mum in sonny boy?

Yeah, what’s it to you, rummy?

I don’ like you soundin’ off ta me, boy. I’ve come to pay my respects to yer mum. Go tell ’er I’m ’ere.

Richard hesitated then closed the door in the man’s face. He found his mother in the kitchen. There’s a big man at the door asking for you.

Mary wiped her hands on her apron, looked in the hall mirror and adjusted her stringy hair. She opened the door. Yes?

Mrs. Bentley, I’ve come to offer my respects, and help where I kin.

Mary who had run out of money and friends, had multiple problems that she had not a clue what to do about said, Tis very kind o’ yuh, and what is thee called?

I ere Donald MacNeal o’ the Firth a Forib. I come ta help e.

Mary, too embarrassed to invite this ‘gentleman’ into her untidy house said, Tis a sad time to call, can e come amorrow?

Aye me lass. ’ould eve be night to call?

Aye MacNeal o’ the Firth a Forib, come for a bit a food.

* * *

The marriage of a man of the pubs, himself a widower, to a widow unable to cope with the problems of everyday life in a rural community in Scotland was, one of convenience for both. He needed a house and a woman to serve him, and she needed a man to pay the bills and be a friend. Neither gave of themselves to the other.

Richard suffered as his stepfather brought his own son and daughter into the small house. These two were several years older than Richard, and soon took over space and substance in the house.

There was conflict among the young people, crowded as they were in the small house. There were only three sleeping rooms, which placed Richard and his stepbrother together during sleep times. Richard was treated with large doses of abuse from both his two devious siblings, who took times to torment him when the adults were not present. He found his mother deaf to any complaints from him, so he remained silent. It wasn’t long before he no longer could stand it, and he moved up into the loft leaving his stepbrother in sole possession of his own bedroom.

As time passed things went from bad to worse. There were signs that his mom was not the happiest in the world either. His stepfather was unreasonably rough and demanding, often drank too much, and was just downright mean to his family. His stepbrother and stepsister took every opportunity to needle Richard, and their father seemed to encourage them. Richard felt totally alone. He didn’t cry or feel sorry for himself. He just knew he no longer belonged.

Don MacNeal worked part time for a local sheep farm. The pay wasn’t a lot and he spent much of that at the local pub. Whereas Richard’s mother had little to say in other family matters, she took umbrage over the shortage of money to run the house. There never seemed enough, and that issue created a constant crescendo of raised voices. Richard hated it. To add to this, his stepfather carried the smell of sheep, and stale ale from the pub wherever he was, and no amount of bathing helped. In time Donald MacNeal began to physically abuse his wife, and that was more than Richard could stand.

One spring evening at the beginning of the shearing time, Don MacNeal stumbled home well after the evening meal was over and the dishes were washed and put away demanding dinner, and as usual smelling awful. For the first time Mary showed a bit of spunk and said, Git yer own, Donald MacNeal, the kitchen’s closed.

Don jerked his head, sticking his chin out, cursed and slapped Mary across her face, then said, Do it woman, ere ye git more.

Richard cried out and started to beat his stepfather with both fists landing blows anywhere he could. Mary tried to intervene and got shoved to the floor. Don held Richard at bay with his long right arm, and Richard kept swinging only now to find nothing to hit but air.

Mary shouted, Now Donald, I’ll git yer meal, please don’t ’it Richard.

Don laughed, then released Richard, and said, You’ll be sorry sonny boy, yuh better stay away from me from now on.

Richard wasn’t making any friends at school either, as he was all studies and was considered the teacher’s pet. This wasn’t exactly true; he just wanted to learn. His teacher seemed to avoid spending any time with him, as she had her hands full coping with the others in the room that couldn’t keep up their work.

Richard had those big feet, and the kids called him everything from big foot to battleships. One day, as Richard walked home from school, dreading another time to be spent in that dysfunctional home of his, he failed to notice two class bullies waiting in the bushes. They stepped out as he walked by, and confronted him blocking his way. He tried to go around them but they wouldn’t let him pass. They grabbed his school books, tossing them back and forth teasing him. Finally while one of the bullies was holding Richard, the other began to tear pages out of his books.

On the same day, Sean, Richard’s 14-year-old stepbrother, met him at the door, and said, Stay outa ’ere ye snivelin’ runt. I’ll teach ’e to run to yer mama wi’ tales. He gave Richard a shove off the front door stoop. Richard picked himself up off the gravel pathway and started after his tormenter. Sean ducked into the house slamming the front door in Richard’s face.

He heard his mother and stepfather in another argument through the door. That’s when he made up his mind. He would leave forever. That night, after everyone had retired, he loaded up with as much food as he could carry, left a note for his mother, and started off. There was a full moon out, and he walked west. Before sunrise he found an old abandoned barn, lay down and went to sleep.

Morning was scary. Alone, away from home, and uncertain, he considered returning home. He didn’t cry, and he didn’t feel sorry for himself, but there was that empty feeling that he couldn’t shake off. After eating, and considering what it would mean to return to his parents, he decided it was better to continue on his way…away from that which was so hateful.

Walking away from the rising sun, he saw nothing but hills, barren from sign of human activity, but somewhat friendly looking as this was early spring with tiny green things showing alongside his path. He ate sparingly to make his food last, and drank from streams along the way. By evening he reached a small farm, nestled against the hills. With a kind of weak feeling, he approached the farmhouse, and knocked on the door. The farmer’s dog, a huge red Irish setter, bounced against the door, barking at sixty a minute. After much shushing from the person inside, the door opened a crack, and a voice said, Yes?

Richard said, Could you use a helping hand? He shifted from one side to the other, then, I’m good at doing chores and such.

The door opened a little wider and, a stern face looked out. It said, How old are you son?

I just turned fourteen, sir.

The face smiled a bit, and said, You must be awfully hungry to forget how old you are by that much. He opened the door wide, and said, Come on in… ‘fourteen year old’.

Richard gingerly stepped in, eyeing the big dog fearfully, and said, I hope you have something I can help with.

The farmer said, His name is Charlie. He’ll look you over carefully, but in the end, make friends with you.

Martha, the farmer’s wife who was silent until now said, Son, go wash up at the pump out the back door, dinner is ready. She put another plate on the table. When Richard went out, she said, Andrew, how old do you think he is?

He laughed and said, Martha I doubt that he’s even eleven, but this kid has guts to be this far out on his own. I kinda like that. Also, Charlie seems to like him.

Andy, you sure take a lot on that dog…I guess I do too. I wonder what his story is?

The back door opened and Richard came in. Ma’am, is there anything I can do to help?

Just sit down, son. What is your name?

Richard, Ma’am.

There was little conversation during the evening meal: a wayward youth, careful not to offend, taking in the aura of love and kindness that seemed to prevail here; a lonely Englishwoman in her mid-forties, denied children to love and nourish, and her devoted husband, Andrew, loving and protective of that cherished one, his beloved wife. Richard finished his dinner, repeated his promise to do chores in the morning, and thanked his way out into the barn for the night.

In the early hours of the next morning, during breakfast, Andrew asked, Richard, where is your home?

Putting down his spoon, Richard said, The house I grew up in is no longer there, my parents are gone, and I’m traveling in hopes of reaching America where my Uncle Leonard is.

"Oh… don’t you have any other relatives here in Scotland?’

Richard hesitated for a moment, and then said, My father came from England, he died a long time ago, and my stepfather never told me anything about himself. Andy persisted, And what happened to your mum?

Richard hesitated; he knew he would have to tell his story. It was hard. He wished he hadn’t stopped here. The thought of being sent back to live in that house tempted him to lie. He looked over at Andy and then at Martha. He saw honesty and concern in their eyes. In a soft voice he answered, My mum lives with my stepfather and his two children.

There was a time of silence around the table. Finally Richard excused himself and left for the outhouse, which he had seen earlier. Martha looked wistfully at her husband, Andy, I think he has been sent to us. Can he stay for a few days, and see if he is what he appears to be?

Martha, of course, but I’m worried that you might become too fond of the lad, and have to give him up.

Andy, we are getting older, and you know I can’t have our own… I’m willing to take that chance if you are.

Martha, we would be taking a runaway into our home, that’s against the law. He studied Martha, who was silent, then, Alright, but I must find the truth here."

Richard rejoined Martha and Andy, still at the breakfast table, and Andy asked, Richard, would you like to stay a few days and help me with the chores?

Yes sir, but only if I can be of help.

Well that’s just fine, I can sure use the help. We’ll start soon after breakfast then. He looked over at Martha, Can you fix up someplace for Richard to sleep. The barn’s going to be cold, and besides I don’t like anyone to have to sleep there."

Martha said, We don’t have any space down here but the loft is probably warmer than anywhere else anyway. I’ll climb up and see what I can do to make it comfortable. She took another long look at Richard, What is your last name, Richard?

Bentley, Ma’am. That was my real father’s name. He came from England for the foot races and met my mom here in Scotland.

Andy said, "You can call me Andy. Do you prefer Richard or Dick?

I’ve never been called Dick. Do you think I should? It is a lot shorter.

Andy asked, Martha, which do you like?

I like Richard, it’s stronger, and more manly…And I like to be called Martha.

Andy and Richard left the house together. Man and boy, each with his own thoughts, each measuring the other. The man, concerned for his wife, and what if she were to become too attached to this strange lad and then would have to give him up; the boy, of his new found freedom from his former life of turmoil and insecurity; was he taking a risk to stay, and possibly repeat what he had just left?

They walked together. Richard with open eyes, taking it all in. He’d never been on a farm before. Andy watching a young mind absorbing everything he saw, concluded that this was right… it would be good if this boy stayed. But Andy knew he must find out more, and consider the legality of him keeping Richard.

They came to the hog sty with its muddy area and with access to the barn in the wintertime. They talked about the crops, and they looked at the flock of sheep. Finally Andy said, You know Richard, living and working on a farm is hard. We have early hours, and often work ’til dusk. Richard, if you were to stay with Martha and me, we would be pleased. We will help you with your reading and such. You can continue on your way to America at any time you wish. You will be your own man here, but keep in mind, there will be regular chores. You needn’t decide for a few days, which will give you a chance to think things over, and look us over…Martha and me.

Richard stayed. Martha was the one to help him make up his mind. She was the first person in his life to be truly good to him. She made him a place in the loft he could call his own. She did little things that made him feel as if he was somebody, and she showed him that she cared.

On his third day on the farm Richard began to learn about farm things. He milked the farm cow, and watched Martha churn for the butter. He went with Charlie when the big red dog ruled over the sheep as they grazed the hillside. He fed the pigs, and he tended the chickens.

At the dinner table on the second Saturday Martha asked, Richard, did your family go to church?

Only when my real father was alive, and I was only six or seven then.

There was a time of silence and then, Andy and I go when we can. Would you like to join us some time?

Yes ma’am, but until I can own some fitting clothes, I’ll have to miss it.

Andy said, That sounds like a good goal to me.

Martha said, That’s where I come in. Leave it to me.

Sunday came, and Martha and Andy left for church. Richard stayed on the farm. He had found the family library. The minister gave the sermon, then stood in the doorway after the service, and recognized each of the attendees as they exited. When the MacLeods stopped he smiled and asked, What’s happening out there on the farm, Andy?

Well, I wonder if you had a few moments this morning, we have something to ask you.

Martha and Andy sat in front of Reverend Niven, who asked, How can I help my good friends Martha and Andy?

Andy asked, Reverend, have you ever heard of the name Bentley, and where I might find the family?

Yes, of course, but Carl Bentley died a year ago. Why do you ask?

His son, Richard, is currently staying with Martha and me. He seems to have run away from home.

Oh, that is dreadful. Mary Bentley remarried you know. Does Richard tell you why?

Not yet, he is a fine lad, and we would like to have him stay with us. Martha and me haven’t any children as you know, Reverend, and this would be a blessing to us.

The family stopped coming to church after Carl died. I knew Richard as a fine boy too. Something pretty serious must have happened in the family for Richard to leave like this... the strength in that family was Richard’s father. I can see young Richard missing him. We’re getting into an area that is outside of our scope, Andy, you will have to consider the legality of what you do. Why don’t you try talking to the MacNeals directly. I don’t think Richard will tell you anything. Maybe the facts will come out and we can do something.

Thank you, Reverend.

Andy stepped up the short stoop and knocked on the door of the MacNeal home. He waited and when the door opened he faced the large door filling body of Don MacNeal, who asked, Wha d yu want?

Taken aback by the rudeness for the moment, Andy asked, Are you Don MacNeal?

"Tha’s me, who are ye?

My name is Andrew MacLeod; I’d like to talk about your stepson, Richard.

So where is that smart ass? Are you hiding that runaway?

May I come in? I don’t think a matter of this gravity should be discussed on a door step.

Don stepped aside allowing Andy to enter. He indicated a chair, and stood over Andy, What about Richard?

Andy said, Richard is staying with my wife and me. We’ll send him home if you wish, otherwise he can stay with us. He seems bent on going to America.

That kid is nothin’ but trouble. You say you wan a keep im. How much is it worth ta yu?

Mr. MacNeal, I would think you would be concerned with his wellbeing not how much money it is you want, but if it is money, let’s talk about it then. Suggest an amount that you might consider for divesting yourself of one of your family.

Well, in the interest of Richard then I think five quid would be right.

I’ll give you two, and I’ll want a signed paper that Richard is no longer your responsibility.

* * *

Richard was almost fifteen when he started thinking about his uncle in America again. It had been a fine growing up time. In the evenings, Martha, a former teacher, had home schooled him. He spent many hours with Andy, and he learned and he grew. He was now over six feet tall, and strong from work on the farm. Martha and Andy had become his family and what he had to do was difficult for him.

One evening after dinner Richard said, It’s time I started for America to join my Uncle Leonard. You two have given me a life where I had none. How can I ever make it up to you?

Andy glanced at his wife. Martha put her napkin to her eyes, as tears were beginning to form. Andy moved over and put his arms around her. There were a few moments of silence, then, Richard, would you leave us alone for a time.

Richard went outside. In the five years he had lived here, he had learned compassion, and affection for these two people. Now he had hurt them, and he didn’t like himself very much. He did not want them out of his life, but his dream of going to America was too strong. Perhaps there would come a time when he could be with them once again. He must leave in the morning, as staying any longer would make it that much harder to go.

Martha and Andy were up early the next morning to see him off. He carried a small bag with extra socks and underwear. Tucked in the middle was a book he was reading, and he carried food and water in a separate bag. He headed south down the road toward Liverpool. That’s where the ships left that sailed to America.

2. South to Liverpool

The night before leaving the MacLeod farm, Andrew and Richard, with the help of some out of date maps found in the farm library, sat and planned his trip to Liverpool. Richard would have to travel some 200 miles south to reach the seaport for his departure to America.

Richard was now over six feet tall. He was lean but not gangly, strong and healthy, from good farm food, and lots of exercise. His voice had changed its caliber from high to low. In the past five years he had read everything he could get his hands on, which was a lot, as the MacLeod’s library was quite extensive. During these five years, Andrew had given him a small allowance, which Richard had saved for this day. There wasn’t much, but it gave Richard a comforting feeling to have some money to start on his 8,000 mile trip.

The morning of Richard’s departure Andy hitched up the buckboard, and took Richard ten miles down the road. There was little conversation between the two as they moved along; each with his own thoughts, each feeling this was the end of something that had been very meaningful to both. Richard finally said, I feel bad, leaving mum like I’m doing. I’ve learned to love her as if she were my real mother. I know I made her cry.

Andy said, Martha and I talked this out last night, and she will miss you, but she will survive. Letters from you, telling of yourself, and where you are will help. He paused for a few moments, then said, Richard, I too will miss you a great deal. I think we have learned a bit about each other, and I have learned to love you like the son I never had. Write as often as you can, and tell us of your travels. This will mean so much to the two of us.

Richard said, You and Martha have lifted me up from a time when everything in my life was wrong. From the loss of my father through difficult years living an unsettled and negative home life, to a new world of hope. I needed you to learn about things, I shall always remember that.

Andrew MacLeod sat and watched Richard as he walked on down the road. Tears formed in his eyes. He knew instinctively that this boy, now a man, would find his way, and reach his goal. He visualized some of the future for Richard. In a way, he envied this young person, so confident and determined to reach his goal.

Richard didn’t look back. At fifteen, he had the confidence of someone a good deal older. He touched where his money was, and remembered. A part of his life was back there, but he was sure he would see his adopted parents again…sometime in the future.

It was a long lonely road he was on. Hamlets and farms alike were scattered and far apart. It was late that first day when he came upon a small farming town. Dusk had fallen, and there was a chilly breeze out. Tiny lights beckoned to the weary traveler. He quickened his pace, and soon came to the edge of town. Looking down the street he saw the only sign of life coming from a building on his left, its low profile standing out from its neighbors. As he drew near he heard laughter and a clutter of voices. He stepped inside.

Richard had never been in a pub before. He had read about such places, and he had asked Andy what went on in a pub. The room he looked into was filled with noise, and smoke. Now he would see for himself. Stepping up to the bar, he faced an imposing, massive, round faced person with rosy cheeks, the bar keep.

The round face asked, What do you want in here, sonny?

Richard considered an answer like ‘food, old man’ then reconsidered, Dinner, please.

Go through the door on the left, this is a drinking place for grown-ups.

Richard moved toward the door. As Richard passed by, the patron on the end seat said, Come back in a couple a years, kid.

Richard was hungry. He went through the indicated door. The room was empty save for a single youngish looking woman, clearing up the tables, and straightening chairs and such. He stood and watched her for a few moments then said, Hello Miss!

The woman said, Dinner’s over.

Richard stood awkwardly, hat in hand. The leftover odors from dinner filled the room. Richard hadn’t eaten much for a day or two. The woman cleaning up continued doing her thing for a few moments, then looked up at Richard, studying his face, What’s your name?

Richard, ma’am.

Well Richard, my name is Bobbie. When was the last time you ate?

It’s been two days, a real meal.

Oh, sit down, I’ll dig up something.

Bobbie disappeared into the kitchen and returned shortly with a bowl piled high with warmed over mutton stew. Richard ate. Bobbie took note while she busied herself around the room. Richard emptied the bowl, and Bobbie filled it again.

Richard, you’re new around here, aren’t you?

Yes ma’am, I just walked in tonight.

Call me Bobbie, Richard, ma’am doesn’t suit me. Do you have a place to sleep tonight?

No ma…I mean Bobbie. I’m on my way to Liverpool, and I sleep wherever I find a barn or something.

Why don’t you spend the night upstairs. There are three empty rooms up there.

"Bobbie, I would do that