Jacob's Journals Discovered

By James Russell Allen

It’s 2008 in Wisconsin and RaeNell Pullman is about to lose her house. The Hospital calls. David Pullman lost his job, crashed his Harley and wonders what she saw in him. Can an old family myth carry truth enough to help? A story set in the old west over a century ago?
Jacob Payne, in 1869 examines the rock wall near the fireplace. He slides the rock into it’s niche concealing what he has hidden there. Abigail waits outside on her horse. Here she sits, now his wife. He had ridden across the country, killed her brother and found her, making true his statement of years ago that he would marry her. Will this mountain house stand long enough to fulfill their hopes?
Jeff Payne, a continent away can’t close a sale in the dead Durango market. Disaster looms unless he finds the missing clue. A clue storied to be inside a journal. A personal journal so old it may not even exist. The internet leads him to RaeNell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Russell Allen
• Release date: Feb 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301573851

James Russell Allen

When I was introduced in a writing workshop and asked what I had been writing I responded; “As a CPA, I have been mostly writing financial reports and statements.” The professor’s response was; “Okay then, you are an experienced fiction writer.” Well, I don’t know about that, but I am satisfied to be writing when, where and what I want now. As a freshman in high school, I was placed into a class teaching speed reading. It was a challenge and results were shown almost daily. The readings, while we learned new techniques, were usually from the Reader’s Digest and we were timed and then tested for comprehension. I remember my speeds got up into the thousands of words per minute on some types of articles with over 90% comprehension. This probably began my love of reading. As an adult there was always a stack of books, usually three or more at hand. One year I decided to discover how many books I actually read for that year and it was seventy-two. When a person reads enough, he begins to make judgements about the authors and their writing approaches. It often instills the desire in many of us to try writing on our own. In 2007 I was waiting in a Doctor’s office, (Isn’t that what you are there for, the wait? Don’t they call it the “waiting room?”) when I noticed an article about the Amazon Kindle in Time magazine. I read it twice before I was invited in. By that evening I had ordered the Kindle for $399! I’ve never looked back. Our family room sported some custom made bookshelves filled with books, most of which I had read. I had read many of the Louis L’Amour books in paperback and collected them but one day my wife decided they were taking up too much space on the shelves so she contributed them to a library. Oh well, they are light reading and always entertaining if you are as familiar with the Southwest as I am. Now I can carry my current library in one or another of my electronic devices. The book world has changed, especially for those who are voracious readers. Many of us think we would like to write a book. When we learned about the difficulty and percentage of actually getting published it was, and still is daunting. Now you can write and publish a book yourself and the book can be done quickly and done to the highest standards if you are willing to pay the price in time and the learning required. You can also have paper copies of your book made for purchase on demand on several ebook sites and Amazon. So, being a retired CPA and seeing all of this develop over the past few years, that was the incentive to go forward with a book. With the cost of any e-reader now very affordable, more and more people have one. By the way, now with your device you have something better to do in the “waiting room.”

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

HOMECOMING

JOURNAL - OCTOBER 25, 1868 - MY First Journal, the one given to me by my Mother on my nineteenth birthday was full. The cover is worn, having crossed the plains, the forests and the deserts of this land. One pivotal event is documented in that journal. My Father died in my arms, shot by order of an evil man. He stole our prosperity, forced my family to flee and made me poor with that act. I have become wealthy as this same act compelled me to recognize my abilities and the fact that luck plays a part. My friend, Nick and I found gold and silver in the waste lands of Eastern Nevada. This added to the small fortune we shared with Virginia McNaughten. At her request, we had retrieved the gold bars she and her husband secreted away while serving the miners of the early gold discoveries in California. By agreement, we split it with her. Now there is too much wealth, so Nick and I hid up enough of the gold to help generations of our families. Our hope is they will find it when it is needed and use it as we intended when it was hidden. The key or map to find that gold is in the map I left at the back of that journal. Finding the Rattler Point Bank will require the map hidden in the rock foundational wall of our home.

Once again, my Mother purchased a blank journal for me, the second one, the one I am now writing in. This is my first entry. It is important that I mention the first journal, as it is now safely hidden in the cavity I created in the rock wall of the home I built near Groverston, Nevada. It contains the map and information regarding the bank that Nick Payne and I used to secure the gold that someday we may need. If not, it will be there for generations of our families at some future day. We named it the Rattler Point Bank, which you will understand if you find my first journal. If you find our bank and it’s gold reserves, it is our hope that it will not be used to make you or anyone wealthy, but to help our family members to rescue those of our descendants from serious problems that can be alleviated by the use of money.If you are reading this journal, I, Jacob Eurastus Payne, have passed on. Probably Nicholas Payne has also. We have seen the venality of men and warn you to learn to serve, educate and inspire future family members. There will always be those who fall into afflictions and sorrows not of their own making. Seek them out and provide the help they lack so that they can find purpose and hope that may have been lost otherwise. I cannot see into the future of our families, but we desire to pass on some of the blessings we were able to share.

J. E. Payne

<<<>>>

I, Jacob Payne and my wife Abigail arrived in Groverston once again. Sarah, my mother and Camila, my sister, came with us, happy to be a family again. Little Pricilla called Becky by us was growing up and would soon celebrate her first birthday. This trip from San Francisco was by stagecoach chartered with a stop in Placerville to see our friend Serina and her new husband.

They were the epitome of a happy couple but our visit was short. Along the way at one of the rest stops, we were saddened with the news of a robbery and shooting at the Mill. There were no details available except that the manager had been killed.

The stage made good time so several days later, we reached Emma’s Diner and I ran in, stomping off the dust on my boots at the door. Emma, what’s going on here? Where’s Randy and Sheriff Frank? I heard the news about Cotton along the trail. Can you tell me what happened?

Settle down Jake. Randy is over at the store and he can fill you in. The Sheriff has gone over to Ely to follow up a lead. She paused looking out the front window. Who are these people getting out of the stagecoach, and are they all hungry?

I responded with a wink and a smile. Of course they’re hungry. We came here first didn’t we? I’ll run over to Randy’s store while you introduce yourself and set up some lunch for us. And, don’t forget the pie.

Two horses were hitched at the front of Randy’s store as I threw open the door and saw him behind the counter helping a man I did not know. Randy, soon’s you’re done, I need to talk to you.

Randy cut short the discussion at the counter and while the visitors left, Randy began to explain. Apparently last Tuesday, during broad daylight, two riders rode in through the open gate of the Mill with guns drawn. Cotton was there in the office and came out with his shotgun when he heard them. He didn’t even have a chance to fire the shotgun, as both of the riders opened up on him. He must have died instantly. Two employees heard the shots and came over and the bandits shot at both of them, killing one and wounding the other. He will recover, but then the dogs must have tried to attack and a witness said Tag had one man’s leg in his jaws and the man shot him, killing your dog and the other two.

Oh no! Cotton and Tag are both dead? Did the murdering cowards get away with anything?

You’ll have to ask Frank when he gets back from Ely. He followed a lead this morning. If I understand right though, one man pistol whipped the man in charge of the finished ingots and that man opened the storage locker. I think there is some confusion figuring out what was in the locker.

Later that afternoon, Sheriff Frank Smith rode out to our house and gave me the news. I had retrieved Buck from the large paddock behind the Blacksmith shop. Buck seemed glad to see me after almost two years and was in great shape. After we had eaten lunch at Emma’s, the stagecoach took the rest out to the house, a distance of a couple of miles.

I saddled up and rode ahead to make sure the house was ready for us, but mostly, I wanted to get armed. I loaded the Colt and put the Winchester in it’s scabbard. The Sheriff and I then rode the mile or so to the Mill. Since Troy, the man we had sold the mill to had kept Cotton on as Manager, they had not appointed a second in command.

Jake, I hate to say it, but right after you left for St. Louis, that man we arrested, Toby Reynolds, you remember him?

How could I forget

We had secured him in the new jail, but it was somewhat unfinished, so while the workman was testing the new cell locks, Toby escaped. One of the two who killed Cotton, sounds a lot like Toby. One of the witnesses at the Mill got a good look at both of them. One was a portly round faced man and not a great horseman, but the description of the other man fits Toby.

Did they get away with anything?

There’s little doubt they got four newly poured ingots according to the man they beat up, but he said he wasn’t sure because Cotton always kept the record of what was there. Let’s just say they got plenty.

"Are there any good leads about where they headed?

Unfortunately no. I thought there might be more information about anyone who might have tried to pass some ingots in Ely, but I didn’t turn up anything. By the way, I buried Tag down by the creek.

Thanks, I suppose he died in the line of duty, so I will remember him that way. When you talk to Troy again, can you let him know I’d be happy to help around the Mill if he wants me to.

Later, I began wondering; Who was that second man?

<<<>>>

When I awoke in the alley near the docks in St. Louis, my head throbbed, and I had trouble even standing up. I remember seeing a man walking away with my bag. It had all the money that was left. Then as my dizziness went away I was left with a massive headache, and another memory came dreamlike to mind. I saw the face of Jake Payne staring at me, then I knew. He had beaten me. It was worse than if he had used his gun and shot me. He looked at me with contempt and then just walked away. Did he really believe this was all over? Did he expect me to forget?

My brother Sam had forsaken me. I don’t know where my shoes are. I can’t buy a drink. Then some force deeper than the will to keep living, whispered to me as if it were a real voice. Get up and clean up. It’s not over yet.

It was market day on the street next to the dock so I wandered over and pocketed two apples, a small loaf of bread, and a then I saw a Bowie knife on a table in it’s scabbard. As I stuffed it in my coat, the man saw me and yelled, so I ran down the street to the corner and got to the trees near the water. No one pursued. Four days later, I had filched some clothes off a clothesline and found some shoes behind the cobbler’s shop, set there for the dye to dry. I stole a new bag to carry my few possessions in and watched for the southbound steamboat. It was after dark when it was ready to leave and I climbed over the rail near the paddle wheel without being seen.

At Memphis, getting off I tipped my newly acquired hat to the steward. The man had plenty of money and with certainty would not miss his hat, and his wallet was in my pants pocket. I hadn’t had a smoke or a drink now for over eight days. Since the trial, I also had lost some weight and felt better than I had for years. I had to keep going. There was certainly a warrant out for my arrest. Testimony during the trial had revealed that Payne was living out west so that’s where I must go.

I found the wagon shop at the western edge of Memphis and watched from across the street. The owner had purchased several wagons from me over the last few years so watching for a few hours I saw a man with two kids and a wife go into the store. I followed them when they left and saw they were camped along the road west through Texas. I went over and asked what their plans were, and discovered that a group of eight wagons, including their family, was ready to leave in a week. By asking questions I found that the man of one of the families was ill and they might use some help and by evening I had signed on with the family of Cyril McGowan from Germany. They spoke little English but said they were learning. He was sixty-one years old and his stout and strong young German wife was thirty-eight. The two kids were five and three.

I ran the wagon with the help of Sonia, the wife. She is strong as an ox, but well proportioned. Three weeks before we arrived at San Francisco, Cyril passed away on the trail from the consumption and I was left in charge of this family. By then Sonia was speaking better and of course was now totally dependent on me. What a bargain. After I buried Cyril, I moved right in.

It was seven months later in Sacramento while working odd jobs that I met Toby. He was working in the tavern I had started visiting when I had extra money. After the months on the trail and being without tobacco for that time, I didn’t start using it and really couldn’t afford it now, but the booze was something else again. Toby, what are you doing here? Do you have a family? I asked.

No, I’m working because I need the money. How about you?

Well, I’m a wanted man back east so I decided to come west with my little family.

What a coincidence. The law wants me too, but much closer, in Nevada.

What did you do to deserve their attention?

Actually, I escaped from a little jail in a place called Groverston on the east side of Nevada. I was awaiting trial for armed robbery.

"Toby, this sounds like we have some of the same talents. We need a new plan. One that will make us rich enough with one caper that we can retire to respectable life. Any ideas?

When I heard the name of Jake Payne in the mix, I thought both of my problems were about to be solved.

<<<>>>

There were two men coming through the trees after me. I ran but my legs seemed heavy, like clay. They were gaining on me. I stopped, turning around and came face to face with two men, dressed in black clothing, both with their guns drawn. I reached for my gun but nothing was there. As the faces got close, unnaturally close they became fuzzy. I somehow knew that I knew them. I sat up suddenly in a sweat and realized I could not remember the faces. I don’t know who they were but I knew in the dream I recognized them. In bed, Abby smoothed down my hair and pulled me down to the bed.

What was that Jake. You scared me.

Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I slowly told her about the dream. I don’t remember enough of the details, but two men were chasing me and I couldn’t escape them. In the dream I knew who they were, but now I can’t remember. What do you think it was about. It seem too real.

Jake, just relax. It was just a dream. You are up tight about loosing your friends. Was Tag in the dream?

No, there were just those two men. Do you think it was a warning of some kind?

Maybe, but I don’t understand what any dream means. I’ll get you a drink of water and then let’s go back to sleep. It’s the middle of the night.

In the morning, the dream had faded, but the intensity had not. I fixed some johnnycakes and bacon for the family and asked Sarah how she had slept.

Jake it is wonderful to feel like a family again. Camila is already happier than she has been since we left Collinsville to stay with Dora in Boston.

When everyone was up and talking, I slipped out and saddled Buck, and headed in to Groverston and Frank’s office.

Frank, can you go over the facts about the robbery again? I have an uncomfortable feeling about this whole thing, that maybe I’m involved somehow.

I’m sure these two have made some mistakes and if we can figure out what they were, we’ll catch up with them. One problem they have is how to use the ingots. When they are poured up at the Mill, they are embossed with the name of the Mill, the weight and the purity. Without melting them and re-pouring the gold, they are going to have a problem passing them on.

That’s true. The Mill is well known throughout Nevada and to re-pour them would let the men involved see the marking. Of course the thieves could just pass them off cheap to someone who would take the risk.

One other thing that doesn’t add up is the fact that they didn’t hide their faces. No neckerchiefs, and they left two witnesses. They knew enough to expect significant values in the Mill, but when they planned it, why didn’t they worry about witnesses. One of the two, the heavy one, kept a gun pointed at the two men who were able to describe them. The two witnesses were close and had time to look them over. You might want to ask them some questions.

Yeah, I’d like to do that. Are they still up at the Mill?

They live there in the bunk house. Listen Jake, with the possibility that Toby Reynolds is one of the two, how about I deputize you so you have authority to talk to anyone about this case?

I’d like to do that. Toby Reynolds has slipped through the hands of justice twice now. Did you ever find out about how he obtained the horses and guns that time I encountered him?

No. I have talked to three other men, Sheriffs in other towns, and no reports have been made to me about that robbery and possible murder.

Frank filled out a paper and gave me a Deputy Sheriff badge, something I’d never aspired to be, and set out to the Mill.

<<<>>>

I already told Sheriff Smith all about it. What else can I say? said Josh, the man that had been closest to the big man on horseback. The one that was holding a gun on them.

I asked a number of questions, trying to learn where they were all positioned in the yard and how far away the second thief, the one who retrieved the ingots, was from the witnesses. It was during this conversation that Josh said; The thief carrying the ingots to load in their saddlebags, yelled over to the other man something like; Hey Booth, open the bag on your horse. These bars are heavy. When the big guy turned on his horse to untie the saddlebag, I noticed how big his hands were. Out of proportion to the rest of him even though he was a big man.

As he said that I remembered my dream. Could it be? Please think about what you just told me and see if you can tell it again slowly. Try to remember every bit of information about that episode and any other words the two of them might have uttered. We moved out of the sun and sat on the bench outside of the bunk house.

As he talked, I made mental notes that might also be important. He described the horses, but did not remember enough about them to help much. He did say that the clothing each wore was dark, and only the slim man had spurs on. Both had hats, and the big man’s hat was very wide brimmed and black, but looked old and had a light brown leather strap hanging under his chin. It was the name he repeated again that rattled me. Are you sure that it was Booth and not something else?

No doubt about it. He called it out loud and I can still picture it.

What direction did they take out of here?

Like I told Sheriff Frank, they rode up the hill behind the Mill. From the top you couldn’t tell from here, but by the time they were riding up the hill, I was over trying to help Cotton. Poor man, he took three bullets, best I could tell.

I thanked Josh and talked some with the other man but he added nothing, so I mounted and followed the path up the hill. There had been no rain here for nearly a month so some of the tracks, while wind blown, were distinguishable. At the top, it appeared that they followed the ridge north, probably towards Ely, but soon the tracks became hard to see because of the rocks and shale. I set my path towards Ely.

<<<>>>

After the robbery, as we came down the mountain, according to our plan, Toby headed west towards Sacramento with his two gold bars, one each at the bottom of his two saddlebags. Before our caper, we had camped east of Ely, Nevada and I had left enough supplies on the hillside well north of the Mill. I loaded jerky and