Whip

By Evelyn Grant

Named at birth by his mother in memory of her father, he’s given a name that his father can’t bring himself to say. When Whip’s uncle suggests an alternative, the only evidence of the ‘sissified’ name is in the bible Elizabeth Harding records her son’s birth in. Dead of consumption before her son’s third birthday, the bible is buried with her, and so is the only evidence of Whip’s ‘real’ name.
Raised by his father on their successful Texas horse ranch, Whip learns everything he needs to know to train and raise the finest working horses in Texas. But when one tragedy after another befalls the small Harding ranch, Whip’s father loses his drive and ambition and slowly the ranch begins to fall apart. Whip is left alone at the young age of fifteen after a riding accident takes his father’s life. There aren’t many ranch hands willing to have a teenaged owner be their boss. Whip needs to make a decision. Should he attempt to try to bring the ranch back to its once profitable state on his own, or is it time to move on?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Grant
• Release date: Nov 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310802782

Evelyn Grant

Evelyn Grant lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband. She enjoys writing, photography, woodworking and other crafts. Evelyn has dozens of stories in her head and they are all begging to be told. Her first book, Captive Hearts, was published in 2011 as a Kindle ebook and on Smashwords. The sequel, Eagle's Wish was published in February, 2012. There are now six books in the Captive Hearts Series. She welcomes your reviews and comments.

Book preview

WHIP

By

Evelyn Grant

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

Chaz put his two year old son on the horse and told him to hold on tight. Then he swung himself up behind the boy and repositioned the little guy so he was snugged up between his father’s legs. He looped a rope around his waist and around his son, tying them together so the boy wouldn’t slip and fall off the horse as they galloped to town.

Hang on, now, he told his son again, though he wasn’t quite sure the boy understood.

Chaz’s wife, Elizabeth, was inside the house. She was dying from consumption. Chaz wanted to go to town and get the doctor. He knew there wasn’t anything the doc could do for Lizzie, but some laudanum would ease her pain and allow her to pass peacefully.

He would normally take the buckboard to town, but he wanted to get there as fast as possible. That meant his young son, Whip, had to ride with him. Lizzie was unable to look after the boy and he was too young to leave alone with a mother who couldn’t get out of bed without assistance.

Chaz rode at a ground eating pace that would get him to town in just over an hour. He was glad when Whip slumped back against him and fell asleep. It was amazing how easy it was to keep the boy with him most times. He had fashioned a small pen near the corral so he could keep an eye on Whip. It allowed Whip to watch his father work with the horses and was just big enough so he could walk around inside it. Chaz put a small bed roll in the pen so Whip could take a nap. One corner of the pen had a blanket stretched across it to provide a little area of shade. It was working out just fine for now, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before his son would no longer be willing to be confined to the small space. He wasn’t sure what he’d do then.

Most of the time Chaz worked in the corral and it was easy to keep an eye on his son. He had two ranch hands, Jess and Dusty, working for him and they kept an eye on the boy as well. He often thought it was a good thing that he raised horses on his small ranch instead of running cattle. It’d be tough taking care of little Whip while trying to herd cattle. It’d be a lot more dangerous for the boy.

Whip seemed to like being outdoors in his little pen. He watched his father and the two hands as they worked. He squealed in delight when one of them was thrown off a horse. It seemed he thought they flew off a horse just to entertain him.

Jess would get up, brush the dirt off his pants with his hat and say, I swear, that little tyke gets a little too much pleasure outta seeing us get throwed.

Yeah, Chaz would always answer with a chuckle. "But it seems to me he likes it especially well when it’s you getting thrown off the horse."

*****

Mornin’, Charles, Doc Watkins said as he came out of his small office. Doc Watkins never called anyone by their nickname. He reached up to take the little boy from Chaz. Whip gave the doctor a toothy smile but then looked over his shoulder to make sure his daddy wasn’t going anywhere without him.

The doctor put his finger in Whip’s mouth and rubbed against the gum line. Feels like you’ve got almost all your teeth, son. Won’t be long before your daddy can give you a big old steak to eat for dinner.

Hey, Doc. Chaz shook the doctor’s hand and reached to take his son.

How’s Elizabeth doing?

Not good, I’m afraid. She’s been coughing up more blood and I just don’t know what I can do for her.

Consumption is an evil disease, Charles. There’s not much we can do. I’ll give you some laudanum to ease her pain, but use it sparingly. Try and see to it that she gets some fresh air every day.

I’ve been taking her outside in the early evening. Her coughing gets worse if she’s outside during the day when we’re working with the horses and the dust is flying everywhere.

That’s probably best, just wait until the dust settles. There might be a little less dust behind the cabin.

How much more time do you figure she has, Doc?

It’s hard to say. Elizabeth is a strong woman and she wants to live; she could hang on for a year or more. But if she’s coughing up more blood, I’d venture to say she doesn’t have that much time left.

Dr. Watkins was a young man with just over five years of practicing medicine under his belt. He’d been in this small dusty town of Antelope Springs for three years now and he’d seen more misery and suffering than he had through all his schooling and a few years of practicing back in Virginia.

Antelope Springs was a small town with a population of less than three hundred people. Doc was rarely paid with cash money but he never went hungry. Mothers would bring him dinner for two or three nights after he attended to their children. Ranchers would bring him a couple of thick steaks after he’d stitched up their lacerations or set their broken bones. Sometimes someone would bring him a laying hen and he had built a small chicken coop behind his office. His modest living quarters were upstairs and while he had a wood burning stove, the doctor did very little cooking other than making a few eggs for breakfast or frying up a steak for dinner.

The saloon girls paid him in cash. There were two saloons in town and each one had half a dozen or so girls making themselves available for the pleasures of the flesh. They were his main source of revenue. The men they conducted business with were not always of the gentle sort. They often blamed the poor girl they were with when they were unable to reach their satisfaction. Doc knew it was the excessive liquor they drank before going upstairs with one of the girls. But for some reason, men liked to think they can hold their liquor without it having any effect on how their manhood functioned.

Most of the injuries the girls suffered were nothing more than a black eye or split lip. Now and then a girl was beaten severely and ended up with broken ribs or a broken arm. Doc would try and tell them to take a few weeks off, but if they didn’t bring in any money, the saloon keeper would turn them out. He had been shocked to learn the saloons kept most of the income the girls brought in. It was justified by the fact that the girls were supplied with room and board at no additional charge. An injured girl might take one night off, but after that she tried to do business only with the men she knew were known safe customers who wouldn’t mind if she couldn’t move around quite as agilely for a few days.

Other than the saloon girls, Doc’s only source of cash were the shopkeepers. The Mercantile gave him credit, and that was as good as cash for when Doc needed canned goods or other supplies. The barber and laundry always paid in cash money.

Doc looked over at Chaz and asked, Do you want me to come out and examine her? I’d be more than happy to.

Yeah, maybe. You know she puts a lot of store in what you tell her. And I think she’s always happy to talk to someone else from back east. But no hurry, Doc. Whenever you can spare the time will be fine.

I’ll ride out tomorrow. And if this little man gets a bit cranky with his molars coming in, you could put a dab of the laudanum on your finger and rub it on his gums. But do it only at night so you can both get a good night’s sleep. And make sure it’s not more than a dab.

I’ll remember that, but so far he’s been pretty good as long as he’s got a piece of soft leather to chew on.

That’s the best way, laudanum is a powerful drug that should be used only when necessary. You need to get your rest too; taking care of Elizabeth, looking after your son, and running the ranch has got to be taking a toll on you.

I’m alright, I’ve got two good ranch hands that are willing to help me with Whip. I just worry that he’s going to get the consumption from Elizabeth. He wants to see his mama and his mama wants to see her boy.

I know it’s tough, Charles. You’ve got to keep their contact limited. We don’t know a lot about germs yet, but I’ve read several papers on how they spread. And make sure the boy gets plenty of exercise after spending time with his mama. I don’t know if there’s any truth to it, but the theory is the deep breathing that exercise brings on can help to clear the lungs.

You don’t have to worry about this boy getting enough exercise, that’s for sure. Once I let him out of his little pen he runs around till he’s all tuckered out. It sure brings a smile to Elizabeth’s face when she’s watching him.

Doc clapped Chaz on the shoulder and said, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a safe ride home now.

They shook hands and Chaz mounted his horse before reaching out to take Whip and tie him in place again. With a slight wave, he turned his horse and rode out of town.

*****

Chaz sat Whip in his make-shift high chair and put a bowl of thick porridge in front of him. Handing him a spoon, Chaz went to help Elizabeth with her breakfast. Her porridge was thinned with extra milk to make it easier for her to swallow and digest.

Whip watched them from his chair and banged his spoon on the table.

Mama! See me eat!

I see you, Percival. You’re getting to be such a big boy!

Chaz winced at the use of Whip’s true given name. Percival--who would give a child such a name?

He thought of the short argument he and Elizabeth had about naming their son.

Percival is my father’s name. It’s been in our family for generations.

It ain’t no name for my boy, Chaz had protested. His friends will tease him and make his life miserable in school.

Why would they do that? You’re named after your grandfather so why can’t I name my son after my father?

Because Percival will be shortened to Percy and then that will be shortened to Purse and then he’ll be teased about being named after a ladies handbag.

Really Charles, you’re making entirely too much out of this. Please let me name him after my father and you can name our next son. Elizabeth always used his full given name when she was trying to make a point.

She had sounded on the verge of tears and if there was one thing Chaz couldn’t abide it was seeing his wife cry. He didn’t know what to do when she cried and it made him feel so damn bad to see her unhappy. Damn it, he didn’t want to give in on this, but knew it was just a matter of time before he did just to keep her from crying.

He wasn’t in the same league as his Elizabeth. She came from a family with some money back east. They weren’t exactly upper crust, but her grandfather had been a successful businessman and done well with investments. Her father had owned several business establishments in Boston and made a fair sum of money with the three taverns he owned.

Still, she could have easily married someone more financially secure than Chaz. All Chaz had to his name when he met Elizabeth was half of a three hundred twenty acre ranch. His brother, Henry, owned the other half and together they were making a go of their budding horse ranch.

He met Elizabeth when he went back east to settle his mother’s affairs. His mother had married for the second time and had died of a broken heart or plain old loneliness when her second husband left her for a younger woman after only three years of marriage. According to the sheriff who had sent the letter to Chaz and Henry giving them the news of their mother’s death, she had no will to keep going once her worthless husband had left.

Chaz had gone back to Boston to take care of settling her affairs. It was intended to be as quick a trip as possible but a distance of over fifteen hundred miles, most of it with no railway service, would take close to two months to cover. Travel time back and forth would be close to four months and maybe more depending on the weather. He hoped his time spent in Boston could be kept down to of no more than a month. The entire trip would mean Chaz would be gone from the ranch for as long as five or six months. Hopefully no more than that.

With only two ranch hands helping them, it was not possible for both of the brothers to go to Boston. It was a major undertaking and it was decided Chaz, being the older of the brothers, should be the one to make the trip. He packed light, taking only two changes of clothes tucked into his bedroll, and left early one morning on his best horse. His rifle was in a scabbard on the horse and he had two pistols in his gun belt.

Chapter Two

Chaz rode at a steady clip planning to cover thirty to forty miles a day. For the first third of his journey to Boston, the main worry was Indians. Chaz would be an easy target as a man traveling alone. He kept a watchful eye on his surroundings, and didn’t use his firearms for hunting. Mostly he ate the pemmican he’d bought in Antelope Springs before he left and a few times he trapped a rabbit for dinner.

Whenever he came to a town, he’d rent a room for a night and get a bath and a shave. He’d eat at a saloon or sometimes a diner. Most important, he’d get a full, worry-free night of sleep. His horse would spend the night at the livery eating a good helping of oats.

During the first part of his trek Chaz would reach a town about every four or five days. Once he reached southern Missouri he could find a bed nearly every night. The country was more populated the further east he went and there were more well-traveled roads to follow. Not all towns had a hotel, but most had a boarding house. Some towns had neither and then Chaz would spend the night in the loft of the livery.

In Kentucky he came across an isolated farm with a large barn. The people fed him and gave him a place to sleep in their warm barn. In return, he spent the following day chopping wood and doing other chores for them. After spending a second night on the farm, Chaz felt refreshed and was sure his horse appreciated the rest from the daily hard ride.

He continued on through the southern tip of Ohio, across the very northern part of Virginia and into Pennsylvania where he was able to board a train to take him the rest of the way to Boston. His horse rode in the livestock car.

There was no good way to communicate with Henry, though Chaz did send a letter to let him know he was safe once he reached Boston. The possibility of Chaz getting home before the letter reached Henry was very real but he felt sending it was the right thing to do.

The first thing he did was go to his mother’s old solicitor to pick up a key to the house. Mr. Layson was all but retired. He still handled the affairs of a few of his elderly clients. Chaz thought the man was a bit old to be handling the legal affairs of anyone, but his mind seemed sharp.

Come in, come in, my boy, Layson’s voice was strong and friendly. I’m sorry for your loss. Your mother was a wonderful woman and didn’t deserve what happened.

Thank you, sir, Chaz replied. Would it be possible to stop in tomorrow and speak to you about my mother’s estate? I’ve been traveling for the better part of two months and would like to get some rest and see to my horse.

Of course, my boy. Let me give you the key to her house. Why don’t you come for breakfast in the morning? My housekeeper can cook something for us.

Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you.

*****

Chaz took his horse to the livery and then walked the four blocks to his mother’s small house. It was a neat, orderly home, and he was surprised there wasn’t more dust from being empty for the last several months. After taking his bedroll and saddlebags to the second bedroom, he walked through the house trying to see what might be of any value.

The furniture was sturdy, but nothing elaborate or worth much. The kitchen was small and had a work table in the center of it. There were no chairs as all meals were served in the dining room rather than the kitchen. A small scullery room off to the side had a stone sink for washing dishes. Chaz wondered how his mother managed to fetch her water from the well and carry it into the house.

It was mid-afternoon and as much as he wanted to lie down and sleep, he had other things that needed to be done. Going back to the bedroom he took his dirty clothes out and put them in a burlap sack he’d found in the pantry. He went out the back door, and walked to the dry goods store to buy a change of clothes. From there, he went to the inn where he could get a bath and a shave.

After dressing in his new clothes, Chaz took his sack of dirty garments to the laundry and was promised they’d be ready the following morning. Feeling clean and refreshed after his bath, he strolled along Boston’s main street for a good hour before turning back to head for the tavern he’d noticed next door to the hotel.

It was a loud, crowded place and Chaz sat at the far end on one side of the long table in the center of the room. Food was brought in on large platters and passed around. He was surprised at the varied selection of food.

Stuffed pigeons, beefsteaks, and fish were offered. Vegetables included roasted potatoes, corn and beans. Hard boiled eggs, pickled beets, and fresh baked bread were in the middle of the table and everyone stretched their arms across to reach for slices of bread or the bowls of eggs and beets.

Listening to the conversations going on around him, but not participating, Chaz ate his fill—more food than he’d ever eaten in one sitting—and was too stuffed to eat the apple and blueberry pie that was brought out for desert. He gave the tavern owner an extra penny to wrap up a slice of each pie to take with him. He would eat them later or possibly not until the following day.

Back at his mother’s house, he put the two slices of pie in the cupboard after wrapping them with a piece of cheesecloth. Going out the back door, he picked up the wooden bucket he’d noticed earlier and went to the well to fill it thinking it would give him water to wash up with in the morning and some to make a cup of tea before he met with Mr. Layson. Exhausted, he checked to make sure the doors and windows were locked, and then went to the spare bedroom to turn in for the night.

*****

Daylight streaming through the eyelet curtains of the window the following morning