Date Creek

By Robert Stock

After setting out from the only home he knew, Jody Wells fought to make his way west, where trouble and danger were daily occurrences. Only to end up serving four years in the penitentiary for a robbery he didnt commit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Aug 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466950429

Robert Stock

I first started writing short stories about ten years ago, and as I wrote, I found imagination and desire to do more. My love of history and the Western era combined brought me to write my first book. Living in the Southwest gave me many chances to explore the desert, old mines, and towns, and it gave me a feel on what I was writing about.

Book preview

Chapter 1

SKU-000598398_TEXT.pdf

APRIL 3RD, 1871. Jody Wells lay on his bunk at the Yuma Territorial Prison, where he’d spent the last four years for a robbery he didn’t commit. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, and already the sweat trickled from his forehead. Thank God it was Sunday, their only day of rest from the rock pile. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of the night he’d come upon and helloed the camp fire that changed his life.

Four years ago, he’d left Kansas for Arizona to find his cousin, Billy Wells. He carried his letter for two years until one night his father, in a drunken stupor, had died when he burnt their farm to the ground. Having nothing left, Jody caught up their only mare, saddled her, and headed west. He hadn’t even thought to sell the farm; all that was left was burnt ruin, dust, tumble weeds, and dried prairie grass.

Three days later, huddled against the light rain under a couple of cottonwoods, his fire spit and crackled as he cooked the last of his two dollars worth of bacon. His coffee had run out that morning, forty miles back down the trail. Hunkered down, he used his knife tip to spear himself a sliver of sizzling fat with a piece of meat still left on it. As he brought it up to his lips to blow on it, he stopped. There, not twenty feet away, sat a coyote, not moving a twitch; he even looked like he licked his lips once as another one paced back and forth behind the first.

Jody reached down and felt around until his fingers dug up a stone big enough to throw. How he wished he had a gun, but then even if he did, he’d never had much truck with guns, except an old Springfield forty-four he’d traded for and used to hunt now and then. Bullets were hard to come by, so he didn’t hunt much. He got more game and was better with an old bow and arrow he’d traded some passing Kiowa for when he was only seventeen. Six years later, he still carried the bow and was darn good with it. His fingers finally found a good size rock, but when he looked up, the coyotes were gone as if by magic.

Jody picked up his last piece of bacon up and chewed slowly. He got up, stretched, and looked around at the miles and mile of bare nothing for as far as he could see. His belly was already telling his he’d have to do something soon, as the bacon just wasn’t enough. So he picked off a couple sucker branches from a low limb and started stripping them down with his old hunting knife. He walked a little ways south of where he was camped under the cottonwoods, scanning the ground for a small game trial. It didn’t take long to find where game had worked their way down into a small gully where water trickled. He fixed himself a loose snare and set it across the trail, taking care not to disturb the ground. He then made his way back to his fire and bedded down for the night.

Jody woke while the stars still lit the sky, and his stomach still rumbled beneath his blanket. The ground was still wet form the night before, but somewhat dry where he’d slept. He gathered his twigs and branches and started his fire, wishing he had some coffee this morning. He sat there with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders, trying to fan his fire into life with his hat. Gradually it took enough he could sit there and warm his hands. It didn’t take long for the grayness of morning to start creeping up enough for him to see by, so he walked down to where he’d set his snare, only to find it gone. He could see the ground was disturbed where the trap had been. He was awful sure the tracks looked like badger, and that was nothing he wanted to mess with.

After filling his canteen and his belly with the brackish water, he saddled his mare, filled his canteen once more, and headed out. After two hours of steady riding, he turned his horse southwest. Already, the day was so dry, the short, stubby plains grass crackled beneath the horse’s feet as he plodded along. He was so hungry when he stopped to rest the mare that he thought of eating a handful of oats he was carrying in a sack tied across the back of his saddle, but when he looked, that was just about all that was left.

After looking, he tied the sack back, but as he looked over the horse’s rump, he thought he saw something off in the distance, smoke maybe. He rode back up to a rise he’d just passed so that maybe he could get a better look, but when he got there and shaded his eyes, he saw nothing, even though he was sure he had. He figured it to be sixteen to eighteen miles, but he was sure he’d seen smoke.

After watering the mare, he started out again, cutting south for a while, then back west around some breaks to avoid cutting in and out of the ravines. He’d avoided them, as they were full of shale, and twice he’d nearly had to jump from the saddle as his mare lost her footing and almost toppled over. It was hot and dry in the late afternoon when he finally topped a rise and came riding into a stand of cottonwoods that ran all along a ridge. He stopped and let the mare crop the grass as he looked around for a way down off the ridge. Working the mare back and forth between the trees, he made his way downward, where he was pretty sure he’d come into a valley or range of some sort, as he could smell cattle and fresh cut hay.

Chapter 2

SKU-000598398_TEXT.pdf

IT WAS JUST coming dusk when he rode up to the farmstead. He pulled up first, not wanting to ride in uninvited, even though there were no lights in the windows or smoke coming from the chimney. He still called out, but getting no answer, he rode closer to the house, which was partially built into the hillside, as was the corral and hay shed. Dismounting, he let the reins drop to where the mare could drink her fill from the trough. Looking around, he found a pitchfork and went and got a fork full of hay from the shed, which he brought the mare. Just as he was pitching it on the ground, a voice sounded from the shadows. Well now, I’d hold it right there if I was you, fella. Unless you want some lead in your gut.

Now just hold on, pard, Jody said, raising his hands.

Well now, you just make it a habit, boy, of goin’ ’round helpin’ yourself to other people’s property?

Jody turned and saw the old man sitting on a buckskin with half a deer tied across the rear of his saddle and a rifle balanced across his knee. What’s your name, boy?

What’s yours? Jody asked, smiling.

Ha, ha, the old man laughed. I’m Ulee Biggs, no who are you?

Joseph Wells, sir, he answered, But most just call me Jody.

The old man looked at him and scratched his chin. Well now, I ain’t in the army no more, so I ain’t no sir, but come on to the house. So what are you doin’ here, if ya’ don’t mind me askin? the old man asked as he led him to the house.

Well, this morning I stopped to rest my horse and thought I’d seen smoke over this way.

I mean what are you doin’ out here in the middle of nowhere? Ulee asked.

So Jody began to tell him how his ma died seven years ago and how his pa had run the farm, until he had burnt the place to the ground and died in doing so. He told him how he was headed for Arizona to find his cousin Billy, and how he’d run out of food for him and the horse yesterday. Then he told him how, seeing the smoke, he was hoping he could mooch a meal, as even with his bow he’d not found any game.

Well, don’t just stand there, said Ulee, Pick up some of that wood and come on in and we’ll get something fixed up.

Stepping through the door, Jody looked around and saw a well-taken-care-of place. It wasn’t much, but it was clean. Putting the wood down by the fireplace, Jody noticed a single picture in a silver frame above the homemade mantle. Starting the fire while Ulee cut off a hunk of venison, Jody said, I take it this is Mrs. Biggs.

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he saw the change in the old man and wished he’d held his lip. Ulee’s shoulders sank and, as if talking to himself, he said, She’s right out there, beneath that old elm where I keep her flowers growin’.

You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Jody said.

Naw, that’s ok. Happened going on fourteen years ago, he said. As he turned, Jody could see a sparkle in his eye that he was sure was a tear. Met her when I was just a kid. Well, twenty, to be precise, and wasn’t so much as we met, it was she saved my life. Found a horse carrying me and I was about dead with a Comanche arrow in my back. She was eighteen, God, I’ll never forget how she dragged me home and her and her ma dug that arrow out of me and she nursed me back to life.

Well, her pa and two brothers come home from runnin’ their still and slung me over the back of my horse and took me into town. That was Woodrow, Missouri, if you could call it a town. Anyway, an old feller named Puck ran the livery stable, took me in, and when I was healed up, I worked for him three or four months.

Her name was Gertie, and I had it bad for her. I started goin’ to church just to see her, ’til one Sunday, her pa and brothers were awaitin’ on me outside the church and whupped me ’til I couldn’t stand. Told me I don’t ever come ’round her no more.

Heh, heh, he laughed, Well, four days later, here come Gertie and her ma in a wagon. Her ma told me to fetch the preacher. I did. He said his words over us and we was married. Her ma cried and Gertie a ring that had belonged to a great aunt and a purse with eleven dollars in it, then kissed me and told me it’d be best if we moved on before her husband found out.

Old Puck paid me what I had comin’, and we bought a wagon, mules, and some supplies, and headed out west. We ended up here in Colorado, settled this place we did, and me and her built this place. I guess we figured on raisin’ us a family here, but for a good ten years nuthin’ happened. Then one day, I come in from plowin’ and found her settin’ on the stoop there just cryin’ her eyes out.

‘Well,’ I says, ‘Gertie, did you burn the beans again? Ain’t nothin’ to cry about.’ ‘No,’ she says, ‘Ulee, we’re gonna’ have us a baby.’ Could have smacked me in the head with a rock! I was so glad, I kissed her and hugged her and we danced around some. We was so happy. I went out to the shed and got my jug and me and this old Indian feller, Walkin’ Jay, that sometimes helped me out around the place, got plumb drunk.

Gertie was so beautiful, and become even more so as she carried our child. I’d built a cradle, and she was busy makin’ things, getting’ ready for the baby.

Then one day, he started to say, and Jody could hear the rattle in his throat, but he went on, I’d just put the mules away and I could hear her screaming. I run for the house and busted the door in, and there she was in bed. I didn’t know what to do when I saw the bed covered with blood.

Now tears were in the old man’s eyes. Ahem, he snorted. She begged me, ‘Please, Ulee, don’t leave me.’ ‘I won’t,’ I said. Then she said she was sorry. I was cryin’ so much myself, I was blubbering. She was quiet for a minute, then she whispered she’d always loved me, and then she was gone.

"I buried her right out there. That’s why I could never leave here. Been snake bit, Indians come through, tried to life my scalp, and been shot a couple of times over the years, but this is it for me. Someday, someone will come along and find me dead and bury me right out there beside her.

Think I’ll go out and get some more wood, Jody said, with a glisten in his eye.

Chapter 3

SKU-000598398_TEXT.pdf

HE HAD BROUGHT back an armload of wood, and saw Ulee already had a couple of steaks going in a frying pan set on the fire. The smell of venison and a couple of potatoes Ulee had sliced up sizzling on the fire set Jody’s belly to prowling. He sat there sipping a cup of coffee, his first in the last few days, when it came to him. He asked Ulee, When you rode up on me, you was packin’ half a deer. How’d you come by to shoot half a deer, if you don’t mind me askin’?

Smiling, Ulee said, Well, you remember me telling you about my friend, Walking Jay? A horse rolled on him about a year ago, and he ain’t been the same since. Can’t hardly get up and about, so whenever I go a’huntin’, I always drop him by somethin’. I reckon he’d do the same for me if it ’twas the other way around.

The two men ate the rest of their meal in silence, then cleaned up what mess they’d made in cutting up the deer hindquarter. Well, I suppose you can bunk in here if yer a mind to, since there’s already a warm fire, Ulee said.

Thank you much, Jody said, as he spread his blanket on the floor. He woke just at the crack of dawn, as he always had. This morning’s chill was enough he could see his breath, so he got up and started a fire. He stepped outside where, even though it was breaking morning, he looked to the west and could still make out the stars in the sky. He stood for a moment, listening to the morning chickadees start their song, and the sound of cattle lowing as the grazed. He could also hear the horse’s stomp as they shook off the morning chill.

Jody walked over by the shed and found an axe leaning against a stump by a pile of deadfall logs that had been dragged up. Taking the axe in hand, he picked out a log and went to work on it. It didn’t take long before he had a good size pile of wood cut, and as he laid the axe down to gather up an armful of wood, he could smell coffee in the air.

Bringing the wood to the house, he stopped on the stoop and stomped his feet, knocking the morning dew from his boots that had collected while he had worked chopping enough wood to last at least quite a few days. Entering the cabin, the heat from the fire and the smell of fresh ground coffee was almost overpowering, and his stomach told him so as he set his armload of wood next to the hearth.

There’s a wash pan right outside, Ulee said, Why don’t you draw yourself a bucket of water and wash up and I’ll put some bacon on?

Jody stepped back outside, found a wooden bucket, and went to the well, where he drew himself a bucket of cool water. Then, splashing the water into a pan he found on a bench near the corner of the cabin, he peeled off his sweaty shirt. For only being twenty-three years old, and standing just an inch short of six feet, he was well muscled from years of hard farm work, and a little on the skinny side at a hundred and seventy pounds in his bare socks.

He wasn’t a bad-looking young man, or so a couple of young ladies back home had let it be known. His curly straw colored hair and blue eyes had got a couple of their pa’s mad at him a time or two, but those girls lived in town and acted as if they were the cream in the pudding and had no idea real living was all about, just all frills and bells and flashy eyes. So it hadn’t hurt any when he’d ridden out without so much as a goodbye.

Drying off on an old worn flour sack that hung on a peg drove through a knothole in the wall, he stepped back into the cabin, where Ulee was just pulling some flat bread from a pan. Lord, that sure smells good, Jody said.

Well, sit down, the old man said. And while you’re at it, grab us a couple of plates and that brown jar. It’s full of wild honey.

Bread and coffee never tasted so good as it did right then. So what’s your plan, young feller? Ulee asked.

Well, Jody said, as he finished his coffee and put down his cup, I’m headed down for Arizona. Got me a cousin there I aim to hook up with. He says there’s cattle and gold to be had if a feller was to work for it.

Well, which way you goin’? the old man asked.

Doesn’t much matter, I figure, Jody said, Long as there’s a trail and maybe some game along the way.

Now there you’re wrong, Ulee said, drinking the last dregs of his coffee. "There’s two trails alright. One runs north through the Wasachy mountains, then south into Nevada, and the other runs around south a ways, then across the Colorado river. The thing is, either way you go, you’re headed for bad lands. Mountains so high, you freeze most of the time, then gullies and canyons so deep you get lost, most with no water. And if you get turned around down in there, yer goose is cooked. Then, either way you go, there’s Indians. And I don’t mean Indians like Walkin’ Jay. There’s Ute up