Legend of Badger Claw

By Harry Simpson

In the late 1830’s it was told that a Great White Spirit came to the Arapaho people and slew their enemy. Whether true, exaggeration or a myth to scare children, it spread from tribe to tribe, like a plague. Among the Plains Indians of the Kansas Territory, the Legend of Badger Claw was born.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AUK Authors
• Release date: Sep 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781785385803

Book preview

Howard

Prologue

Living amongst the animals on the Great Plains is the badger, considered so vicious that even the great grizzly bear avoided confrontation. The badger has a very thick skin and uses its long strong claws for tearing up ant hills but also for ripping apart any that dared to fight it.

In the late 1830’s, it was told that a Great White Spirit came to the Arapaho and slew their enemy. Whether truth, exaggeration or a myth to scare children it spread from tribe to tribe, like the plague. Among the plains Indians of the Kansas Territory, the Legend of Badger Claw was born.

In the northwest corner of Missouri, six teenage cousins decided to go westward into the untamed Kansas Territory. They were fed up with the feud between their families and the Estes Clan, which had been going on so long none remembered when it started or why. They were tired of killing or being killed simply because of this feud. One of these cousins was Jake Elder.

Jake’s mom and aunts had taught him to read and he read everything he could find and also listened to the stories told by older generations. As with most young boys, he particularly was attracted to the ones about battles and to the various weapons used. From the combination of his imagination and his unusual strength, he took a household tool, the broad ax, and made it into a weapon. He liked the feel of the slightly bowed thirty inch handle and increased the cutting blade to eighteen inches and increased the weight by four pounds.

He did not know that he had taken the first step in creating the Legend of Badger Claw.

Chapter 1

Jake Elder was scared, very scared. He was lying atop of a soft, moist covering of decaying leaves under tall lacy leafed ferns, on his stomach trying to press his body through the rotting debris and into the musky smelling black earth. The shadowy woods were eerily quiet, like the preverbal - quiet as a mouse. Even all the birds and insects seemed to be hiding from the scary intruders invading their deep forest. No breeze could penetrate the tightly bunched trees and brush so there wasn’t even a rustling of leaves overhead.

A medium sized snake was Jake’s only perceived movement as it stealthily slithered across his legs. Jake was too damn scared to even glance to see if it was poisonous. He surmised the snake was too intent on finding its own hiding pace to pay any attention to some foul-smelling human. Jake was sweating immensely and feared that the droplets dripping off his brow would be magnified to sound like a cascading waterfall.

CRACK!

Something or somebody had stepped on a brittle stick, but the exaggerated silence of the forest expanded the volume to be more like the sound of a giant hundred foot tree falling to earth. He swore under his breath when he sensed a slight vibration to his left. Shifting his eye slightly, he saw torn and filthy grey canvas pants five feet from his hiding place. No additional sound to verify that he had sensed movement, but defiantly the rank odor of an unwashed body was dominating all other smells.

Both the sight of the pants and the disgusting stink verified this was no Injun moving silently through the forest. Whoever it was, he was knowledgeable for stealthily moving through forests. He was making no sudden movements only taking slow, careful steps with toes testing the ground before committing to a placement of the foot verified that this was an experienced woodsman. Jake was positive this was not one of his five cousins. Although each was also an experienced woodsman, they had better hygiene. The hovering odor of an unwashed body made Jake confident it was one of the Estes clan. Jake and his four cousins had entered the woods when they spotted twenty of that filthy clan on their back trail.

This feud between the families had been going on for over fifty years and no one recollected why. Jake’s great-grandpa Audie Cole pulled up roots from West Virginia to resettle in Case County, Missouri well before Jake was born and damned if Salman Estes and his relatives had not migrated to Platt County, Missouri, the next-door county.

Jake thought back to the events that caused him and his cousins to be hiding in the woods all yellow like.

Jake’s Cousin Benjamin Younger had just buried the third of his older brothers and told his close cousins he had had enough. He convinced seventeen year-old Jake and four other cousins, all under the age of eighteen, to travel outside Missouri for a new life. They were all fed up with the continuous cycle of burying kin and killing members of the Estes clan. Benjamin and Jake were heading west accompanied by cousins William (Little Billy) James (17), Ben’s younger brother Buford (15), and the Cole twins, Willard and Earl, both 16.

The six riders were only four miles from the town of Kansas situated on the Missouri River- the jumping off point for entering the unsettled Kansas Territory, a portion of the Louisiana Purchase. Willard Cole was on drag watching their back trail.

He yelled, Hey guys hold up a minute. When they stopped he told them that a group of several riders seemed to be shadowing them.

Benjamin told Little Billy to take the horses up to a copse of trees ahead and hide. The other five slid into the woods and found places of their own for cover.

Benjamin said, I’m going to move back a little ways to see if I recognize them. If it is the Estes group, I plan to take a shot and then duck back to you guys. He gave them all a hard stare and added, Then you all cut loose like at a turkey shoot and see how many we make dead. He took his shapeless hat off and rubbed his head. We can’t have them following us. Maybe they will scamper back to Platt County.

Earl Cole shuffled his feet and asked, What if they don’t run? What if they stay and fight?

His twin patted Earl’s arm with his hand and looked over to Benjamin for an answer along with everyone else.

Jake cleared his throat and said, I reckon we are in for a fight, then.

Benjamin looked at his well-armed cousins as he rubbed the stubble on his cheek, We are probably outnumbered and we all know they are plenty good shots. Keep shooting until I say ‘get’ then we take off into these woods and find cover. He stared at each one and said, Don’t want any of you to get kilt, so run and hide and keep mouse like quiet.

As the followers came into sight, Jake counted twenty three riders in the dust covered group. They were too far away for him to recognize but he trusted his cousin and when Benjamin’s shot blew the lead rider off his horse, he knew they were the Estes’ clan. He had already taken aim so he just pulled the trigger of his flintlock rifle and reached for his second as the skunk he had shot at dropped off his horse, all loose of limb. Two others fell along with one horse as the other three cousins fired. The remaining riders jumped off their mounts and started firing at where Benjamin had been as well as at Jake and the others.

Like a swarm of locus, lead balls started shedding the leaves off the trees around the five cousins as Benjamin ran through the trees and rejoined them. None dared to risk exposure to return fire, so they kept large trees in front of them. Jake dropped to his belly and snuck a glance. Damn guys. They am spitting up and sending a flanker group into the woods. Scatter, uh I mean get.

A long run through the trees carried them to this spot where Benjamin told them to split up and hide. So they did and that is why Jake was acting like a mangy dog hiding from a cougar.

As the rank smelling man walked slowly by Jake, he suddenly stumbled causing a loud ruckus. Damn, I done did step on one of them ...

His shout came to an abrupt stop, interrupted by the sound of a pistol and a black cloud of burnt powder. The sound of several men running through the brush followed as others of the Estes clan stormed over to where the original sound had erupted.

Jake spotted Willard dashing away to his right leaving a twitching body behind. He also saw a troop of his enemy congesting towards Willard. Willard dropped to one knee and fired two pistols towards the men. He rolled to the left just in time to escape a flock of lead balls whizzing into trees around where he had fired from. Then he was back up with two new pistols.

Jake saw that the men chasing Willard were refocusing their aim, so Jake rose to a knee with two of his pistols in hand and cut down two of the unsuspecting men. He dove for cover behind a large stump as Willard fired into the surprised men followed by shots from Earl as he rose up just behind where Jake had been hiding.

Jake couldn’t keep track of what all was taking place as it had become a full out war. He alternated from dodging to new spots and firing all his guns until they were empty. He then took his broad ax in his right hand and his Bowie knife in his left and charged into the tight group of men in front of him. The first powerful swing of the self-designed twelve pound broad ax cut off a man’s arm at the shoulder as Jake parried a rifle barrel with his wide-bladed knife.

His fear was replaced by anger followed by his battle rage where time slowed down and his actions became instinctive. As the battle sounds diminished, his awareness returned. He realized his buckskins were covered with blood and gore. The sound of men running away was accompanied with groans of wounded men breathing their last. Earl was standing beside Jake with an eight pound sledgehammer in one hand, and a pistol reversed in the other, both stained with blood and hair.

Earl and Jake verified no danger was lurking amongst the many bodies around them in what had become a field of slaughter. Willard was stumbling towards them covered in blood, including his own, his eyes were vacant as if he was sleepwalking. Both the Younger brothers were lying dead, all shot through with holes. Twelve of the Estes clan lay dead and twenty year-old Bryon Kitchen was bleeding out from several knife wounds. Jake knelt beside him and gave him some water from his canteen. They gripped arms as Bryan thanked Jake for the water and whispered, Why we ‘uns killing each other? Does you all know? Before Jake could answer that he didn’t know either, Bryan’s eyes had glazed over.

Earl limped to stand beside Jake half-carrying his wounded twin. Looking down he uttered, Damn good question, huh? I always liked Bryon. During sixth grade, I learned I wasn’t supposed to. He never caused me no grief.

Chapter 2

Little Billy James was huffing and puffing when he burst through the forest to join his cousins. Saw some of them Estes boys scampering away like a rabid grizzly was snapping at their heels splattering frothy white spittle every which way. His eyes dropped to the bloody bodies taking their final nap amongst the fern and dogwood. His eyes snapped open like a window shade as he tried to cover his mouth with his left hand to keep his breakfast in, but eggs, sausage and biscuits swimming in coffee splattered the ground cover below him and splashed over his newly shinned store bought boots. He stood up with a look of embarrassment and whipped his shirt sleeve across his mouth. Looks like that mad bear done did catch them. To tear all these people asunder, his bear cousins must of joined him.

He hesitated and looked hard at his three cousins, then twisted his face into a horrible expression as he exclaimed, Where’s Ben and Buford? As the Coles lowered their heads, he looked to Jake and when he looked into Jake’s eyes, he burst out sobbing like a dipper wet baby. Noooo!

Earl interrupted, Not a damn thing we can do for these Estes bastards. Not ours to fret over. Their family will be back for them and we need to done be gone. I need to take Willard to ma for fixing and the Youngers’ bodies need to go back to Aunt Sadie and Uncle Hector.

Fellows, can we just get away from this mess? I just can’t look at these dead folks anymore. After saying this, Little Bully leaned down to heft the body of his cousin Buford onto his back and started back through the woods.

Jake reached down and gently lifted his cousin, and best friend, Benjamin Younger over his shoulder. He paused to take a last look and whispered, Just plain stupid. A waste of lives. I ain’t going back to that feuding life, no ways at all.

They bandaged Willard’s wounds and tied the two Younger boys across their horses. The three uninjured cousins stood in a group and discussed options. Earl spoke up, I have to take my brother to ma or maybe Dr. Swayne. He clasped Jake’s shoulder and continued, No darn reason for you two to go back with us. I’ll take the Youngers to their pa and ma. Damn, this is sure going to put Auntie Sadie in her grave. She now only has one son left. Earl punched Jake in the chest and grabbed Cousin Little Billy into a hug. Jake, take Little Billy and go on out west. Maybe Willard and I can catch up after he heals some.

Little Billy James had tears running down his cheeks as he shook Earl’s hand and reached up to pat Willard on the thigh. This is God awful. I don’t wants to part with you guys. Our dream is done been kilt.

Billy, you and Jake start our dream for all of us. Earl looked like he was going to same something else.

Jake interrupted to say, We need to go back in there and gather up all their guns lying about. No since letting the Estes Clan getting’ um back. He gathered up the Estes’ horses and pulled off some bed rolls to carry the weapons. Come help me Little Billy. Earl needs to stay here with Willard.

Back at the ghastly site, they gathered guns, knives and ammunition pouches. Jake was pleasantly surprised to find one of them new-fangled Colt Paterson five shot pistols. Damn, look at this! How you figure Samuel Kitchen could afford an expensive gun like this? I bet he stole it or kilt someone to get it. He unbuckled the gun belt from Samuel’s waist along with the ammunition pouch and buckled it around his own waist. They wrapped all the rest of the armory into the bed rolls.

Back with Earl, they divided the loot. Jake took only the Colt Paterson. Little Billy picked out an extra Kentucky long rifle, one Bowie knife, one smaller Arkansas toothpick and two flintlock pistols. The rest they placed on the horses for Earl and Willard to take back with them.

Way too soon, it was time for the two groups to part. Remember now, you and your brother follow when he can ride, ya hear? Watch out for them guys coming back. Jake had tears forming in his eyes as he said these words.

Hugs, back slaps and forced smiles, then the cousins rode in different directions, Jake and Little Billy west, Earl and Willard east. Each followed by a cloud of dust, but a larger cloud of despair hovered over the cousins, evident on all four faces while they were taking turns glancing back wishing they were still all riding west together.

Chapter 3

Two very young pioneers with four horses headed towards the town of Kansas, each seventeen years old, were deep in private thoughts.

Little Billy was reviewing what had led him to leave home. His parents had died of the fever when he was twelve. So his older brother Robert had continued with their hemp farm along with the responsibility of looking after Little Billy. He also retained his position as the minister of the local Southern Baptist Church. Several aunts and uncles offered to take Little Billy, but Robert assured everyone he was the right one to raise Little Billy. It sure wasn’t any doing of Robert that farm work was so damn hard work - dawn to sunset. And it sure wasn’t Robert that had put them into this god awful feud having to always keep a gun handy and an eye towards the tree line to keep from being shot.

Little Billy was five foot eight so he wasn’t called Little Billy because he was a runt. No, he was given that name to distinguish him from his mother’s brother, Uncle Billy Younger, his name sake. He was wearing his normal navy-blue home spun broad cloth shirt over grey wool trousers. His pride was his knee-high store bought black riding boots with dog ear pull up straps. His upper lip was adorned with a sparse strip of peach fuzz a shade lighter than his hair that was freshly cut by his Aunt Hazel, Jake’s