Dad's Stories

By Donald Ellerbee

California is about facing life as an adventure with God. With danger comes decisions that must be made. Have faith and God will be there for you.

Elsas Story shows the marvelous adventures we can have when we trust in Jesus our Lord.

Dragoon the Dragon teaches life lessons we all can use as we grow in our faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Feb 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490867601

Donald Ellerbee

The author is a world traveller who has seen many adventures. As an older Christian, he has proven his faith in God. His hope is to bring you hope and encouragement to stay true to Jesus in your trials and struggles in life.

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California

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Chapter 1

THE ATTACK

The leaves had just started falling, and there was a chill in the air. Raymon stepped onto the porch as they rode into the clearing. Five men went to the barn, five went to the back of the cabin, and ten men rode straight to him.

The leader was a short Mexican with a fancy black sombrero. To his right rode a Chinaman wearing a ponytail. And to his left was an Indian with blue lines on each cheek.

Before Raymon could react to the danger, a shot rang out hitting him in the arm. It spun him to the ground. When Don-Al ran out of the cabin two men grabbed him and threw him across a horse.

The Mexican leader, with a gold-toothed scowl, leaned over Raymon and proclaimed, I took your horses, I took your supplies, I took your son and now I’m taking your life. Ha!

With a cannon’s roar came the crushing weight on Raymon’s chest and all went black.

When he fought his way back to the living the smoke awoke his senses to the pain. He rolled onto his side to see his cabin had been burned to a crisp.

You’re a dead man, he vowed to the long-gone bandit. Just as you left me to be."

He passed out again.

When he awoke he looked into the eyes of his friend Carlos who lived ten miles to the south. When I saw the smoke, Carlos told him, I knew there was trouble. What happened?

As Carlos doctored his wounds Raymon told him about the bandits.

Thank your God, Carlos said, Your cross was enough to turn the bullet away from your heart. Then he gave Raymon the bullet.

A chill ran through him as he looked at the bullet. Vengeance is mine! he thought. A Bible verse from his youth came to him. But with all the strength he could muster a whisper came out. I will repay!

Carlos found Wolf, Don-Al’s wolf, behind the burned-out cabin. He was next to a dead bandit with a hole in his neck. Wolf got him but paid for it in return. He was barely alive when Carlos put him in the wagon with his master.

In Carlos’s wagon Raymon’s mind went in a different direction as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Back to Texas he went, the son of missionaries. He recalled the teepees they had lived in and the many Indian friends he had made. From Texas to Arizona and then on to Utah they went. He had buried them there. Soldiers killed them while he was on his first hunting party.

In 1845 he found himself in Sacramento, California. There he fell in love with Mariah, a Mexican-Indian girl. She was barely eighteen and he had turned twenty a couple of months before. They married that November. The following August Don-Al was born. They had named him after the grandfathers. Her grandfather was a don in Southern California before it was handed over to the Americans. His grandfather was named Albert but went by the name Al.

Twelve years later Mariah gave him a beautiful daughter, Marie, named after his mother. She was the sunshine of his life. Her eyes and hair were as black as midnight, like her mother’s.

Three years later, the black death took them in the springtime. Mother and daughter he laid in a grave. His daughter lay forever in the arms of her mother. Only Don-Al survived to remind him of his precious Mariah and Marie. To speak their names caused a pain to swell up in his heart as fresh as the day he put them in the ground.

Don-Al was spunky and full of fun. His mother taught him reading, writing and arithmetic. Raymon taught him to hunt and care for animals. He found Wolf and raised him from a pup.

After a week Raymon could sit up in bed. By two weeks his strength had improved enough to move about the cabin.

The first snow had fallen by month’s end. It was early, even for the mountain. By that time Raymon was doing daily chores like cooking, cleaning and keeping the fire going. By November he was out setting and checking traps. When they came across anyone he would ask about the Mexican with the fancy sombrero. The answer was always no.

By spring they had enough pelts and hides to sell at the trading post. After buying a horse and supplies he said good-bye to Carlos. Then he started his journey to find his son. He started at his burned-out cabin. Once again he faced the loss of everything. As his eyes moved over the scene something shiny caught his attention. A picture in a glass frame stuck up out of the rubble. And below it was his Bible that his father had given him the day before he had died. What a miracle! The Bible wasn’t burned at all, only dirty from everything around it.

In awe and reverence he knelt down and prayed. Oh God, the God of my father avenge the wrong done to me here. And restore to me my son. Protect him as you did this Bible. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.

He went to the nearest settlement ten miles to the west. He talked to the storekeeper and got the location of the people living in the area. He figured that if he could plot where the Mexican had raided, he could figure out where he had gone. He made a map and kept a log of his findings. He found two burned-out cabins in his search. Two families gone. The evidence showed that he had come from the valley to the west of the mountain.

The Sacramento Valley was a lush land for planting crops. It stretched between two mountain ranges running north and south. Raymon stopped at the Nickelson farm. The sight of a mountain man with a big timber wolf caused quite a stir. Mr. Nickelson came out of the barn as Raymon reached the house.

Can I help you? Jack Nickelson called to Raymon.

My name is Raymon, he said. I’m looking for some information and possibly some water for my horse and wolf.

I am Jack Nickelson, the owner of this farm. What kind of information are you after?

I’m looking for a Mexican that rides with a Chinaman and Indian. He wears a fancy black sombrero. They ride with roughly twenty other men. He took my son last fall.

I’m sorry about your boy, but I haven’t seen anything like that around here.

By that time Jack had Raymon sized up to be a decent person. By any chance are you looking for some work? This is farm country and it is planting season. We could use an extra hand. It pays three dollars a week, room and board. I’m expecting some migrant workers this week. One of them may have seen your Mexican. Anyway, let me offer you to spend the night. Supper is a couple of hours away. Please join us.

Thank you for your hospitality, Raymon said. I will accept your offer.

After putting his horse in the barn, Jack asked Raymon, does that thing bite? as he pointed to Wolf.

Wolf, Raymon called. When he was by his side, he pointed to Jack and said, Friend, Wolf, friend. Wolf nudged Jack with his nose, and then Jack relaxed.

Jack called his family out and introduced them to Raymon and Wolf. This is my wife Roberta, my daughter, Jean and my son, David. And this is Raymon and Wolf.

What do you call him? David asked as he pointed to Wolf.

Wolf, Raymon said as he smiled at the boy. It felt good being around children again.

For the next two months Raymon worked the fields. The work was monotonous. It gave him a lot of time to think. Depression and loneliness hit him hard. He wanted to leave but he had given his word to stay until the crops were all planted.

He got to know his fellow workers. They were mostly families of Orientals who had finished their contracts with the railroad and Mexicans trying to make a better life in a new land.

Around supper one evening near the end of planting, Diego said he remembered such a man as Raymon was looking for in Stockton. The man was riding in as Diego was riding out. He remembered the sombrero because his uncle in Mexico had one just like it. And with all those men with him he knew he was headed in the right direction. They looked like trouble and he didn’t need trouble.

After the crops were in Raymon and a well-rested Wolf headed for Stockton. What he hoped to find he wasn’t sure but it was good to be on the move again.

At Stockton, he went looking for the sheriff’s office. The sheriff said he had seen the men in question three or four months earlier but was not sure which way they went. They didn’t cause any trouble in his town so he wasn’t suspicious.

One odd thing, the sheriff said. The Indian had a young boy in tow. Like he was showing him the ropes. Kept a short leash on him.

Raymon described Don-Al to him.

That’s the one, he said. What’s he to you?

My son, Raymon said. Then he told the sheriff the story.

Check the livery stable, the sheriff said. Tell Tom I sent you. If anyone knows anything, he does. Sorry about your boy, I hope you find him.

Thanks, Raymon said as he turned to leave. No one saw the tears swelling up in his eyes.

Tom? Raymon called as he got to the livery doorway.

I’m in here, a voice said from the darkness inside. Raymon found Tom heating up a horseshoe. He introduced himself and said the sheriff had sent him. Raymon told him who he was looking for and asked which way they had gone.

Sure, I remember that gang. Acted real hostile. I don’t think they would have paid me if Sheriff Bill hadn’t been standing right here when they left. Rough-looking bunch. I overheard one of them mention San Jose. Would that help you any? What do you have to do with them?

They took my son, Raymon said.

You are going to need a lot of help, Tom offered.

God will provide.

What? Tom asked.

The Bible, Raymon said. God said, ‘I will provide.’

That’s a good one to have on your side, Tom replied. A good one.

Good luck, young feller.

Thank you, Raymon said as he headed west. Along the way he checked the villages about anyone who had seen the bandit; or any neighbors that used to live nearby, but disappeared.

San Jose was a stop-off place for travelers going north and south. When he got to the livery stable to board his horse the keeper was having trouble with a particular horse. Raymon watched the struggle for a little and then asked, Need a hand?

Help yourself, Cecil said, gladly handing over the reins.

Wolf, Raymon called, as he loosely held the reigns to the nervous horse. Wolf growled in a low, steady growl. The horse froze in place.

Raymon said, Good.

The growling stopped.

Now that I have your undivided attention, he said to the horse. He stroked her nose and ears reassuring her that no harm would come to her. He looked her over and noticed a slight bulge in her stomach. A familiar sight from his childhood.

You have a pregnant mare on your hands, mister. Treat her like a lady, and she will be fine.

I guess I didn’t take the time to notice but now I see it. So much work here I could use some help. My name is Cecil and I’m offering you a job, if you are looking, he said as he offered his hand.

Raymon is my name and I’d be glad to help you for a while. I need to settle in first.

Cecil suggested The Trent Boarding House. The best food in town and they are friendly to strangers, he said. Tell them I sent you over. They’ll treat you extra special.

Thanks, Raymon said as he left.

He stopped in and registered for a room at the Trent. He noticed a beautiful woman walk by the desk but thought no more of it.

The next stop was the sheriff’s office. He hadn’t heard of the Mexican or remembered such a gang.

After a couple of weeks Raymon settled into a routine. When travelers would come in he asked about the Mexican. One night, a Texas ranger rode into town. He looked like he had been traveling for some time.

What brings you to San Jose? Raymon asked in casual conversation.

I’m looking for a Mexican called El-Cur. I have a wanted poster.

Can I see your poster, ranger? Raymon asked with uncertain hope.

After looking at the poster, he asked the ranger to hold up for a minute. He went to his things that he kept by his horse. He got the picture he had drawn and showed it to the ranger. It was a dead-on match.

Where did you get that drawing? the ranger asked.

I drew it, Raymon responded. He introduced himself and told the ranger his story.

The ranger said his name was Tom Skills from Laredo, Texas.

Meet me tomorrow for breakfast at The Trent Boarding house. I have some other things that will interest you, Raymon said.

After Tom left Raymon was keyed up. He closed the livery and walked around town. After a while he heard music and singing. Not the saloon music, but a tune he remembered his mother singing. It drew him like a magnet.

He stepped into the church and sat in back. Wolf lay down in the entry by the wall. Who should he sit down next to but the woman he had seen at the boarding house? She shared her songbook with him.

The preacher, Reverend Ford, began his sermon by having the children sing.

Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they’re precious in his sight. Jesus loves the children of the world.

He thanked the children. Then he asked everyone to turn in their Bibles to the book of John, chapter 3, verse 16. Then he read, For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

And then he prayed. Lord Jesus, have your way tonight. Grant your servant your Word and the grace to speak the truth of the gospel according to your will, amen.

I have noticed of late, he began, there are those who call themselves brothers and sisters in the Lord, who show favoritism. The Lord himself commanded us not to do this. When you look down upon someone because they are of a different nationality or color, you can’t show them the love of the Lord. And when you hate another man, you have murdered him in your heart. That hate will turn to bitterness. And the only one who is destroyed is you.

In the Lord’s Prayer, it says, ‘Forgive my trespass as I forgive those who trespass against me.’ Hold not unforgiveness in your heart. It will bring you to ruin, as surely as liquor brings a man to the ground. Look outside the house of the Lord. The examples are everywhere.

With many other words, he condemned unforgiveness, hatred and prejudice. The Lord spoke to Raymon’s heart. Gently, he persuaded Raymon to surrender all to his care. When the altar call came he was more than ready to give himself to Jesus.

At the altar he cried out to God for himself, his son and his wife and daughter. Then he asked God to help him forgive his enemy.

At the end of the service he got to know the woman who shared her songbook. Melissa Marie Rodriguez was a single woman who owned The Trent Boarding House. She also ran the local orphanage/school which the church sponsored.

On the way out Raymon introduced Melissa to Wolf. They walked home together.

The next morning Raymon and Ranger Skills ate breakfast with the lovely Miss Melissa. Melissa offered her hand to Raymon and bowed her head to pray. "Thank you, Lord,