Jacob's Journal

By James Russell Allen

Written by my Mother on the first page of this new personal Journal I read, To my handsome son Jacob Eurastus Payne —Happy Birthday. In giving you this gift, this Journal, I hope you fill the blank pages with the events of your life. Experience you will need will be inside.
As I place the lifeless body of my own Father in the wagon, I think about my Mother. How can I tell her? Two men took the money from his wagon...the money that would have paid off the rest of the debt against the ranch. Everything we worked for is lost, everything.
West is the direction I’ll have to go. Find a new life and a new living. Here, new St. Louis, Booth will find me, steal the wagon patents from me and kill me. Nick will go with me. Booth will wait...until I’m ready that is.
And then I met Virginia McNaughten. Things got better then. How much better, you’ll find out soon...

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Russell Allen
• Release date: Jan 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301299669

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

Jacob’s Journal

J. Russell Allen

Published by James R. Allen

Copyright 2013 James R. Allen

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Discover more about J. Russell Allen and the sequel to Jacob’s Journal, offered as Jacob’s Journals Discovered at

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Chapter One

MURDER, ROBBERY, AND GOLD

TO MY HANDSOME SON JACOB EURASTUS PAYNE - HAPPY BIRTHDAY. In giving you this gift, I hope that it will become a tool for you to remember the blessings that are and will become part of your life in the years to come. You come from a line of Payne and Osborne ancestors that laid the foundation for the freedoms you enjoy, one of which is a family. Your Father, Ezekiel, has sacrificed and worked hard to make sure you learned all you could from school, work and life. He is a good, upright man and is honored by those who know him. Your intelligent and beautiful Sister, Camila, looks up to you, and your example will be a light in her life. Always remember that family is one of the paramount gifts and blessings you will have in this life. My hope as your Mother, Sarah Osborn Payne, is that you use your talent of writing to record the blessings, conflicts and afflictions that come to your life. This will help you mold your experiences to be a beacon to the generations to come.

Journal - March 24, 1864 - For my 19th birthday today, Mother gave me this journal with blank pages to write on. She gave me a very nice quill ink pen and a portable inkwell to use which she said was enough ink to fill the Journal. I loved writing in school and now with this journal I want to write about the important things that happen to me. She told me to write about my afflictions and my blessings. I Love My Mother.

J.E.Payne

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

The deer had survived years by his senses. The grass was sweet here on the hilltop. Looking down, he saw the old grass coverage with patches of new green showing. Behind him was more dense forest, the kind he was comfortable in. At the bottom, was a well used wagon trail that he would avoid except when there was a need to reach the water in the creek hidden by the trees. Rubbing the velvet that covered his antlers against the pine tree the buck chewed, looking around. He heard a small sound behind and along the top and raised his head and looked along the tree line but saw nothing. No scent confirmed any danger as yet and the buck did not see the hunter.

He continued grazing at the new grass growing just outside the tree line. This hill had saved him once in the past as he was able to dash down it to the flat, bare area and from there, down to the trees surrounding the stream. He raised his antlered head again, sniffing the crisp spring air and caught the movement over on his right and prepared himself to break down the hill, but as he turned to look down there was something else there confusing and out of place. There were two horses there and two men were wrestling with another man. In a flash he turned to his left, ran into the tree line and stopped to see what danger might be present. In three powerful leaps the buck disappeared into the trees.

Just before, Wheeler Oxford, the hunter, saw the buck and followed it’s gaze down to the road below. Squatting down as he backed behind some cover he saw two men struggling with a man, apparently the teamster, next to a wagon. There was yelling now, and dust being blown up the road. They got the teamster to the side of the wagon and one man tied the struggling victim to a part of the wagon seat. They then released the two team horses which took off up the road. Wheeler could not make out the words being yelled, but the two men began to shove the wagon over the drop downhill from them with the panicked man yelling and trying to loose himself from the rope. The wagon passed the equilibrium point and began to pick up speed downhill when the front wheels turned causing the wagon to roll completely over in a great cloud of dust and noise.

‘No way that man could have lived through that.’ thought Wheeler. When the wagon settled, the two men ran down the hill carrying an axe and Wheeler could see them using it to break open part of the wagon and removing something from it. Then they quickly examined the damaged wagon as if looking for something more. They ignored the body of the unfortunate teamster, then rapidly they ran up to their mounts and galloped on down the road raising another dust cloud behind them.

‘What on earth was that all about?’ he thought. The buck was long gone and no longer cared but Wheeler thought; I’m now an unwitting and unwilling witness. I saw a robbery committed. I need to help that man.’ His horse was tethered to a tree a quarter mile back so he went down the slope on foot. The man was still tied by one arm, hanging from the bench support of the wagon. He was not moving. There was blood oozing from cuts and abrasions on his arm and face. His head was at an unnatural angle. Closer inspection confirmed that this teamster had drawn his last card and it was the Joker.

Wheeler leaned his rifle against a large rock nearby and cut the rope from the man’s wrist, which was broken, then laid his battered, lifeless body beside the nearby trees. He covered him with a blanket which he retrieved from the wagon. Out of breath he went back up near the road and retrieved the teamster’s hat. Then he laid it under the blanket respectfully covering the man’s face. He thought to himself ‘I’ll come back for him later and take him back to town.’ He did not recognize the dead man but he saw the emblem and the name, Payne and Son, Wagon Smiths and Teamsters, on the wagon and knew the teamster was working a route for old Zeke and Jake, his son. They built wagons that were coveted for their design and the Paynes’ were well known for their integrity round about.

Wheeler sent word to his friend Zeke Payne by way of a mail carrier that knew the Payne family and passed by their place on his route. Wheeler explained about the murder of Payne’s teamster and the damage to his wagon so the messenger could relate the details to Zeke and his son and right hand, Jake. Later that afternoon Wheeler rode out with the Sheriff from St. Louis to retrieve the body and document the scene of the murder.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

My father named me Grant because he made his fortune obtaining, improving and then selling Government land grants. I think he thought it would bring me luck. Booth was the last name that he bragged about. Some distant ancestor brought it over from England and claimed land in Virginia somewhere.

Collinsville was my town, and my wagon yard and ranch covered five acres on the north side of town. Except for the farmer’s house across the street, no other houses could be seen from my house and yard. The property was completely fenced with wood railings.

I sat in my office in the normal disarray of paper on top of the dusty table. Sally is afraid of me so she never cleans in here unless I get after her. I inherited my large, chubby hands from my father. There were other things he passed on to me like my big boned body and liking for good country liquor. Wanting to look busy, I was moving the piles around with those hands and wondering about what else I had inherited while I waited for my two hired bone breakers, I reflected; ‘I’m a big man and my empire is growing. No one is going to stop me.’ I opened the bottom drawer and took another swig of bourbon.

In production there in my yard under the open sided stalls, were four new wagons in various stages of production. They were ordered by two of my customer’s for their wagon yards in St. Louis. There were more and more crazies wanting to go west and I love it. ‘I know how to build faster and cheaper and make the wagons look good.’ In the back of the yard were stacks of various sized lumber and next to the end stall was the covered area where the wheel smith did his work bending the hot iron straps to protect the wooden wheels.

I had cut back on some of the design parts to cut costs. Since most buyers had no idea what they really needed in the way of a wagon for that trip, I offered a few upgrades in the initial build and made more money when a customer did add on. My instinct was that competition was hurting me. The better wagons were getting word of mouth advertising in St. Louis which was pushing customers over to other outfitters, in particular the shops that sold the Payne wagons. I hate the fact that Payne filed for patents on some of his designs, effectively giving Payne and his son a sales advantage I can not duplicate. They’re not going to beat me as long as I have the upper hand.

Judd sauntered into the office, the door being wide open and he put the bag of coins on the desk. His long hair mirrored the dirty shirt and pants he wore and a disgusting smell came in with him. It was just like you said, Mr. Booth. he slurred his words, having stopped at the saloon earlier. We rolled the wagon with him on it after letting the horses loose just like you said. The coins are all there in the bag.

I hated dealing with Judd and his sidekick, Lefty. At least I took a bath once a week. Now were there any witnesses? I asked with my gruff smokers voice and a frown he could not mistake.

No one saw it

How did you get here afterward, what trail did you take?

Obviously there was no doubt in Judd’s mind that he better say the right thing so he responded; We rode up and over the hill and found the game trail like you said.

Are you sure you didn’t just ride back on the road?

Honest Mr. Booth, we did it just like you said.

Honesty means nothing between you and me buddy. Make a mistake about this and you will see the future from the root side of the flowers on your grave.

I opened the bag and counted out the Golden Eagle twenty dollar coins as well as a few smaller ones. In total it added up to the price being charged to the outfitters for the smaller wagons Payne was making. I counted out five of the twenties and gave them to Judd as the agreed upon price for this job. Now don’t spend this gold in town, in fact get out of here and don’t come back until October. I may have another job for you by then. Don’t stop at the tavern on your way out, both of you. You understand Judd? The tone of my voice and the expression on my face were usually enough for Judd.

We’ll be back then in October. He hurried from the office, and mounting his horse next to Lefty who was still mounted, and they made a cloud of dust riding away from town on the dry road.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

No one really knew what Sarah, my splendid angel of a wife, put in her apple pies, least of all, me. She looks good enough in her apron that I gave her a smile, kissed the back of her neck as her beautiful auburn hair was up in a bun and I sat down at the table. She still had the shape of the girl I married. Her cobalt blue eyes could see right through me and knew when to advise and encourage when I most needed it. Our garden produces many varieties of spices and herbs and the shelves in the kitchen has jars full of them and always set in orderly rows. We can tell clear out in the yard when she is making something good to eat. The smells of the spices and the cooking of the apples is as good as a dinner bell when it’s time to eat. Some of Sarah’s favorite spices would not grow here so she would order them from the grocer in town. Some came as far as India. The apples were in season again.

Camila, my skinny energetic fourteen year old, loved Nick and made him sit by her. The long table that sat adjacent to the kitchen could seat all five of us with room for a few friends. I made it for Sarah after Camila was born. Two wooden benches lined the sides of the table and if need be, we could put two chairs at the ends.

Your Mother has that magic touch with those apples you picked today. I reminded her. My eyes must have sparkled with pride as I looked at her. With her light golden hair in braids, she looked how I supposed Sarah must have looked at that age.

I know Father. She’s going to teach me how she does it. She said as she gave that smile I know so well.

Nick has been living and working here now almost three years since he was about sixteen. He is a large, tall, black youth and had learned to laugh and smile since being accepted by our family. Camila, our only daughter, with her two pigtails hanging, loved to pester Nick while he was working, asking questions and today she got him to pick those sweet apples with her from the tops of the apple trees.

Next to the orchard was my wagon workshop. It had grown considerably as orders came in from St. Louis. To enable us to work through the frequent rain, we built a large barn type enclosure where we could complete as many as ten wagons at a time. Nick had learned a great deal as he worked side by side with Jake, my very smart son. Our farm now supported us very well. We have a good milk cow that Camila milks now and a beef cow with a yearling to supply meat to our table. In the season, we grew corn, tomatoes, squash and other vegetables.

Sarah, Booth confronted me in town Monday, right after the newspaper ran that article about our patents being filed. I was coming out of the Mercantile store with my hands full. He’s a big man with a belligerent style, but he’s slow and can’t stay on his feet in a fight. He was mad that I hadn’t shared the plans with him and he was profane and threatening, saying he would make trouble for our family if we started making wagons with these features. I just walked over to the wagon and made no reply. I took another bite of the pie, starting at the wide part of the crust, saving the best for last. I didn’t want to worry you before, but you should know that he may make more trouble for us. I have reason to believe he is responsible for this so called accident and Nick and I are going to the accident site. We’ll bring back whatever we can salvage from the wagon. I hope we can find those horses while we’re out there.

The sky was darkening early and I wanted to get on the road before the rain to see about getting that wagon back in shape to bring back to the shop. Wheeler’s message indicated the he thought the roll down the hill had broken one axle and part of the singletree so we were carrying supplies and parts to fix it enough to roll. With two horses going we could come back with one horse pulling each wagon.

What if he makes trouble for us while you’re gone? We’ll be alone here. asked Sarah.

Jacob, our son is a responsible, slow to anger young man. He is careful and thoughtful and he has learned the business well. While he is broad shouldered and tall, he is still slow to stand up for his rights when someone challenges him. I think he’ll learn to be sure that he’s right and then go ahead.

Jake, your Mother is right. It’s best that you will be with them here, but keep yourself armed and alert. I don’t think Booth will try anything this soon after what’s happened. I’ll take Nick with me to help with the work.

Dad, I think we should have a plan if something should happen to you. I don’t trust Booth and we know his reputation in town is full of stories of things he has done. Unfortunately, we can’t trust the law to be our friend here. The guy has the Sheriff in his pocket. Jake replied.

Don’t think I haven’t been thinking about this son. Booth is very dangerous and I think that at least three other men have been killed or put out of business by his men. I had to look down at my plate to hide the uncertainty brought by my concern and even fear. Jake, stay close while I’m gone. Keep your gun belted and ready. I will think this over as Nick and I fetch the wagon and we’ll be back by tonight. If the job takes longer than we think, please ask your friend Ben to come over for the night, and tell him to bring a gun for protection. Just stay alert. I trust your good judgement.

Okay Dad. we’ve sold enough wagons and the new income from our deliveries is adding up. Like you said, we will need to go over to the bank at St. Louis and pay off the note which is due next week. That will free us up from Booth’s influence with that banker over there.

Sarah with a little tremor in her voice asked; Zeke, should I take Camila and go stay with my sister in Boston for a visit? At least until this calms down? Would you mind? I’ve not visited her for almost two years now. What do you think?

Why don’t you and Jake check out the stage line to the railroad and make your plans while I’m gone today. Maybe it’s best to take this opportunity for your safety. I just don’t trust Grant at all now. Go ahead and decide what things you would need to stay there for a couple of weeks with Camila, and when I get back let’s make the arrangements to get the two of you there while the weather’s good.

But Father, who will milk the cow? said Camila.

Nick can do that. He used to do it until you took over, remember? And Jake, why don’t you finish that overland wagon. It still needs the part for the security box to be fitted and installed then we can deliver it over to St. Louis next week when we go to the bank. We’ll need to buy two horses here just in case I can’t find the missing ones.

Jake was expecting an order of shells to be ready and he asked; Is it okay to go ahead and pick-up our ammo at the gun shop tomorrow? I just have a feeling we need to keep more on hand here.

Yeah, go ahead and do that and while you are there you ought to buy that skinning knife you saw last time we were at the store. That little one of yours isn’t fit to skin a rabbit, much less a cow or a deer.

Thanks Dad.

I went out to the barn and said; Nick, hitch up the horses and pack up the bedrolls and bags for our trip just in case it takes longer than we expect. I looked over the newest wagon on the line, almost ready for delivery. This is a honey of a rig. It is made better than any we have ever seen from other outfitters. A family can have confidence in the safety of the oversized wheels. It also has those hidden boxes below the wrangler’s seat that are not easily found and can hold some coins and valuables with less risk. What a great setup we have created. I said this to Nick as I rubbed my hand across the cushioned leather seat.

I looked around at our home and ranch. The orchard, the gardens, the chickens and pigs, the cows, the wagon factory and of course the house with it’s addition of bedrooms for the children. It was a dream come true. Sarah deserved it and we are very happy here. What’s next?

We drove out of the yard as the wind picked up and the clouds to the west grew darker. ‘I hope that doesn’t portend more than bad weather.’ I thought.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

It was 1862, two years ago that my Dad went to St. Louis to the Riverside Bank and by putting up the family land, home and business assets for security borrowed the money to acquire the tooling needed to expand our business and to begin including improvements on the wagons we built. He had the paperwork for the patents for seven different improvements that were filed with the US Patent Office. Dad had carefully omitted this when talking to the bank and filed the paperwork with both he and I being the inventors and owners of the patents. He wanted the patents to stay outside of the hard assets the bank accepted as security. He told me that the bank made the loan by issuing bank notes to him and that he was then able to trade the notes for the tools and supplies needed. The debt carried interest payable quarterly in gold or silver coin. The principal was payable on the second anniversary of the loan in gold or silver coin also.

Most of the wagons sold during this period were paid for partly in coin and partly in bank paper, not always paper from the Riverside Bank. We always attempted to use the paper notes to acquire supplies and other family items as soon as possible as the stability of banks in the area was always questionable. Dad had told me the story many times of the banking crash back in ’38. His suggestion was to stay as far away from the banks as possible. For the business, it had not been possible until now.

‘The note will be due on Friday and has to be paid. The last two sales came in with gold coins as the payment, and we finally had enough to pay the bank off. It has been a load of worry for Dad as the whole property and business was pledged, with only a 30 day grace period available beyond the due date. I don’t ever want to be in debt like that again.’ I thought as I finished my peach pie.

Three days later, on Thursday Dad asked me; Can you and Nick pull the new wagon around to the front and hitch it to Gib. Let’s get started to the bank, but not before breakfast. I want to trail my horse behind, but you can come along after the chores are finished. You’ll catch up later and we can collect on the sale of the wagon and the extra parts there in St. Louis.

We removed the stone from the side of the hearth and counted out the $3,720 needed to pay off the bank including the interest. I carefully placed it in the concealed compartment under the driver’s seat and closed it up. If you did not know it’s location, you would not think for a minute there was anything there. It just looked like any other wagon. We loaded the extra wagon parts in the back and the canvass and supports that could be used to cover the wagon for an overland trip. It was a beautiful thing how it had been planned to all fit securely.

‘As Dad pulled away why did I have the feeling my life was about to change drastically? It was a dark, foreboding feeling.’ Nick and I began the chores as I tried to push the premonition out of my mind.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

With my rifle in the leather scabbard secured beside me and my 1860 US Colt revolver in it’s holster, I set off for the bank. I was excited for two reasons. First and foremost was the fact that I was at last going to pay off the bank. Second, I was on what was the most advanced wagon we had ever built. It had all the options for comfort, reliability and security that we had invented. At least that part of our business was something to be proud of.

Nick and Jake had a few more chores to finish in the barn with the livestock so it was probably about an hour later that Jake would set out to catch up with me on the way to St. Louis. If he rode at a good pace, he would cover the ground rapidly. What a great son we’d been given. The light rain last night had left the tracks easy to see and I was alone on the trail that morning. I was