Gone West: Part One

By Robert Harrison

A young Wyatt Harrison grows dissatisfied with the drudgery of working on the family farm in northern Alabama and contending with an unpredictable father during the early 1870's. His decision to leave home and find a life more to his liking is soon immersed in trouble. Following a series of conformations with a co-worker, he is attacked one night with deadly intentions. The resulting fight is brutal, leaving two seriously injured and another fatally wounded. This time Wyatt runs from the law and his employer's henchmen.
Along the way he is joined by a young woman, who is also involved in some deadly actions of her own in which she involves Wyatt. Together they travel the Natchez Trace heading away from their troubles only to find even more problems at nearly every turn. Their involvement with a Federal Marshall takes an unusual turn which both relieves them and causes a new struggle as well.
Wyatt is drawn closer to his faith in God and struggles with how to explain it to Mabel, who has no understanding about what he is going through.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490813714

Robert Harrison

Robert Harrison is also a sketch artist, sculptor, painter and history buff who was born and grew up on the land his grandparents homesteaded near the turn of the twentieth century. He and his wife live in the beautiful Sacramento Mountains of New Mexico, near Ruidoso.

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Copyright © 2013 Robert Harrison.

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Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com  The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

ISBN: 978-1-4908-1370-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-1372-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-1371-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013922051

WestBow Press rev. date: 12/17/2013

Contents

Dedication

Epigraph

Foreword

Preface

Acknowledgment

Introduction

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Addendum

About the author

DEDICATION

To my best friend

in and for life

my wife, Jodi

EPIGRAPH

Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.

Proverbs 16:3 NIV

FOREWORD

We’ve known Robert Harrison for more than 30 years. He is one of those people who are unbelievably good at a completely unfair range of things. He is a sculptor, painter, and illustrator. An all around western man, Robert is a welder, carpenter, conservationist, blacksmith, humorist, and teller of tall tales. Much more important, he is one of the relatively small cadre of men who thoroughly commands my respect. With all that, it seems entirely unfair that he’s also a better writer than I, and I’ve been a professional for 20 years. I guess life is just unfair.

As an editor at LifeWay, I’ve have worked with many of the biggest names in Christian publishing on a lot of book projects. Gone West however, has been pure joy rather than work. It is a story taken somewhat out of Robert Harrison’s family as well as our collective history as Americans. In the turbulent years following the civil war, young Wyatt begins the transition to becoming an adult. Along the way he’s confronted with the challenges that both make a good story and that either build or break a good man.

I think you’ll enjoy Robert’s characters, get wrapped up in their story, and appreciate the insights along the way. Enjoy the trip back into an earlier time in history, told by a western man who, as much as is possible in modern times, has lived the kind of life he describes.

Dale McCleskey, LifeWay Christian Resources

PREFACE

The novel Gone West is based in part on a verbal family history, which has been passed along for well over a hundred years. It begins in the south during the decade following the Civil War. From the family home in northern Alabama, a sixteen year old Wyatt, restless and dissatisfied with the hard life of a farmer, leaves in the dark of night to find what he hopes is a better way and a better life in nearby Tennessee.

Successfully finding employment, he attempts to settle into a new life and soon proves his worth. However, he has made an enemy who takes great offense with his presence. Late one night he is attacked by those who intended to kill him. Wyatt strikes back with a deadly blow; then realizing he has little chance of self-redemption, flees for his life. He returns briefly to the family home, where he learns that additional charges have been brought against him. Convinced that it would be in his best interest, he runs again.

A strong willed young woman who is responsible for part of his problems joins him. She becomes a constant liability, who at times adds to the intensity of his desperation. Driven by her own agenda she uses Wyatt to help her escape from her own tormented life situation. Without realizing it, they have effected each others lives, his more positively than hers. Their flight takes them along the historic Natchez Trace toward Texas; a predetermined destination that they hope will bring freedom from persecution. It doesn’t take long for Wyatt to find trouble enough to last a lifetime but he also finds spiritual direction to make it through those hard times. Driven by a deep-seated desire to do right, he continually finds himself struggling with the forces of evil. In his darkest hour, Wyatt begins to understand God’s love and sees how He is directing his life.

Gone West is an action packed historical novel, written for those who enjoy clean literature with a slight romantic element. The main character is not a super hero, rather a common young man struggling with life. It contains a strong Christian theme showing God’s influence and power over our lives. The story is often comical and in colloquial style. Small parts of it are written in conversational Spanish, and then translated into an easily read text as it blends into the movement of the story line. References are made of historical events, people and places and are based on their written history. Fictional interpretation deviates only slightly from these events with their participation in the verbal history that the story is based on. The plot easily lends itself to the development of a series, of which part two is now well under way. The Christian based historical fiction theme is continued in each of following episodes and some of the same characters are revisited in different locations.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

My heartfelt thanks to those who helped make this project possible; my mother-in-law Helen Lawrence, who always had faith in me and my work. My son Clay who did his best to teach me about computers and kept mine in tune. My daughter Cindi for the early editing and encouragement. To my daughter Kathy who helped with editing and taught me that it is never too late. To Amelia Blanco for the Spanish language editing.

A special thanks to my brothers in Christ, Ted Southerland and Dale McCleskey. Ted, you have been a constant source of inspiration to me. Dale, your encouragement kept me going when I became discouraged and gave me the determination to write. Thanks to both of you for being critically honest.

Thanks to Sidney Harrison for keeping me genealogically correct and for all of the hard work in research.

To the love of my life, my wife Jodi for loving me, propping me up, and allowing me the time and space to do what I love, near the one I love, you are the best! This is for you.

Also my thanks to the National Park Service Web sites and volunteers for information and logistics,

and to the websites for TNgen and Alabama map education.

INTRODUCTION

During the years following the Civil War’s end, while the south was rebuilding and it’s people struggled to get by, a teenage Alabama boy had his fill of farm life and his father’s unpredictable iron fist rule over his life. His decision to leave and begin his own life sets off a series of wrong turns and life changing events. Driven by determination, desperation and dedication to his beliefs he faces his own destruction and battles his way through seemingly impossible situations which tend to both strengthen and weaken him.

His path leads him from his home in Alabama along the Natchez Trace in search of a new life in Texas, What he doesn’t know is it is not an easy path and he is forced to dig deeper into his own body and soul than he could have ever envisioned. As he searches he not only learns life lessons, he learns about his Creator and strengthens his relationship with Him.

Along the way he teams up with a troubled runaway girl, who not only adds to his problems, but is also a valuable asset as well. Together they weave a tangled web that must be unraveled for either of them to find lasting peace.

PROLOGUE

Northern Alabama in the fall of 1873 was hot, with humidity fueled by the nearby Tennessee River. Farmers all over the area worked hard, bringing in the crops, especially the cotton. Affluent farmers had this back breaking work done by slaves not many years before, but many could not afford such luxury. They performed all of the labor themselves along with family members of all ages and whatever hired help they could afford. The work was always hard as was life itself.

The southern economy struggled for many years following the Civil War, some gave up not having the resources to rebuild or repair. Many moved on, mostly to the west where they hoped for fresh starts. Those who remained did so with a determination and a dedication to hard work that is rare today. Those who left their homes found new difficulties at their new locations. The difference was they no longer had the family unit to back them up and were alone with their new problems.

This is the story of one of those who left, not exactly by his own choice, but that too was a common occurrence of the time.

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CHAPTER ONE

On the last day of the cotton harvest the shimmering Alabama sun beat down on young Wyatt with a vengeance. The fall humidity and exhausting labor combined to drain the lanky youth’s strength. Now as shadows began to lengthen, he faced a new ordeal, the time had come to face the problem that had been burning in his mind for weeks. He looked back across the field, relieved that at least the work was finally done.

The sixteen year old picked more than his fair share of the cotton that day and his hands bled from the cuts caused by the cotton bolls. Wyatt’s back and shoulders ached painfully from bending and dragging the cotton sack between rows since first light. He’d been first in the field that morning and worked more than an hour before anyone else arrived. He regretted not taking time to eat breakfast but refused to stop to return to the house to eat. By the time his father and the hired pickers had joined and started down their first rows of the 40-acre field, Wyatt was coming back on his fourth row. When the other pickers started to work that at least provided some relief; it seemed possible to finish the last field today.

Wyatt had deliberately started picking at the far end of field to be alone with his thoughts. He hoped to figure a way to convince his father to allow him to leave the farm. However those plans just never seemed to formulate in his mind. There were times during the day when he stopped to straighten his sore back that he had wanted to just drop his sack and run into the woods and disappear.

With the backbreaking work now done and the last picking sack dumped into the cotton wagon, Wyatt felt deeply troubled. All day he’d worried about talking to his Father, yet felt no closer to an answer for his dilemma. He walked slowly from the cotton wagon, but not to the house where everyone else headed. He passed the barn and the stock pens, crossed the road and entered the dense woods on his way down to the creek. There he sat down stiffly on the creek bank, his sore muscles and aching joints complaining.

Lord, he said in a hushed tone, what am I going to do? He’d been settled for just a moment, when Wyatt heard his name called in the distance. He didn’t respond simply because it would require too much exertion. He recognized the voice and knew he should answer or get up and go back to the house, but could make himself do neither. Instead he removed his shoes and felt the soft damp grass soothe his bare feet. He eased them into the cool water and breathed a deep sigh. Again he heard his name called, this time from much closer.

Wyatt heaved his slender frame to his feet but instantly felt both feet slipping in the mud. The resounding thud of his backside impacting the bank barely preceded the splash as his body bounced into the shallow water. For a moment he sat stunned, the only spot on his body not hurt by the day’s work now bruised and planted four inches deep in black Alabama mud. With the voice calling his name even closer now, he sat unmoving, wanting to moan from the pain and indignity but not daring to breathe. The creek water dripping from his chin matched the rhythm of his heart and felt like twin hammers simultaneously beating the life and dignity out of his body.

Jim, his friend and neighbor approached Wyatt, laughing as he grew near. What in the cat hair are you doing, trying to scare away all the fish? They laughed together as he offered a calloused hand to his friend and pulled him from the creek.

They walked slowly back toward the house, Wyatt barefooted, carefully picking his way along. The muddy water trailed along behind him as it dripped from his clothing.

Your Mother’s not going to let you in the house like that, you know, Jim said.

Yeah, I know, I’m not hungry anyway. Too much going on in my mind.

I thought you had been kind of moody all day, what’s bothering you?

Jim, I…never mind, its not important.

Come on, out with it, you know you can always talk to me.

It’s just… Wyatt stammered. He tried to look into Jim’s eyes but was unable to, so he turned away and started walking toward the barn.

What are you trying to say? He grabbed Wyatt’s arm, holding him back and turning him around.

Leaving, Jim, I’ve got to leave. I can’t stay here anymore. I’ve got to go, but I don’t know how to break away.

Jim grabbed his friend by both shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. Got to go? He was completely puzzled by the statement.

Wyatt’s voice trembled now that he faced the moment he had dreaded for so long. Barely able to speak, he shook his head to break eye contact and explain. You just don’t understand what it is like here.

Jim loosened his grip, stunned by the statement. Wyatt, I don’t understand. Where would you go-and why?

The younger man could not answer; he just stood there looking off into the distance. Neither of them completely understood the reaction of the other. After a long silence, Jim finally spoke. Wyatt, if you really want to leave, I think you should do it. The work is mostly done for a while, and your Pa can handle the things left to do. As far as it being something you have to do, I don’t get it. I just thought that you would always be here, at least until your sisters are married and taken care of for sure.

That was my plan, once, but now…

I know you’ve talked about going off somewhere for a long time, Jim argued, maybe you should go. Shucks, I’d go myself if it was left up to me.

Wyatt had expected some argument but not like this; he expected him to be angry with him for wanting to leave but he was sort of supporting the idea.

The boys had always been good friends, always neighbors, and always honest with each other. Jim three years older, had helped with the farm work back in 1861 when Wyatt’s father left to fight in the war between the States.

Those years were very hard on Wyatt’s mother, Catherine, trying to provide for three children between five and two years old. She received one letter from her husband from a place called Corinth following the battle at Shiloh, but she didn’t know the location of either place. She could only imagine the worst until 1865, when he was brought home by soldiers one winter day, wounded and too sick to walk.

It was a long time before he recovered from the sickness and the wounds, but he never recovered from the horrible experiences the war had imposed on him. These were things he could never talk about but thought about often . There were times when he would just shut everyone out of his life and other times when he was fiercely angry for no apparent reason. During those times the family simply withdrew from his presence as much as possible.

Catherine’s brother-in-law helped with the plowing and planting in exchange for help at his own place. They had made things work out that way for six years until Wyatt’s father recovered enough to work again. Now the farm was in good shape again and Wyatt’s Dad was back to what he had once been, at least physically.

Wyatt had always been very shy, he didn’t talk a lot, especially to strangers. He always worked hard, even has a small boy, but it never seemed to be enough to satisfy his father. It just seemed to Wyatt that no matter how hard he tried, it was never good enough or fast enough to gain his father’s approval, much less his praise. At times his father was too stern and had come close to being violent numerous times. Yet Wyatt loved and respected the man and continually tried; until now…now he was through with it all.

If you’re telling me you want to leave here, then go! Jim repeated. I sure don’t know what your folks are going to say about it though.

Wyatt stammered, It’s just that this is not what I want to do. I don’t want to be a farmer.

Alright then, when do you want to go and where are you going?

Tennessee, and real soon.

Better get your things packed and ready then.

That’s done.

Got any money?

No, at least not much.

Just when has anyone around here had much money? Jim grinned and slapped him on the back. Have you told anyone yet?

No, I don’t think I can, you know how angry Pa will be, and Mother will have a real fit, Wyatt said, biting his lip.

That’s apt to happen anyway.

I don’t think I want to be here to see it, I’m just gonna leave and not tell them. Maybe I’ll talk to the girls tonight though, they might not understand otherwise.

Wyatt spent a very restless night, tossing and turning in his bed. Three days had passed since his discussion with Jim about his leaving. His sisters had been greatly distressed when he secretly told them, and insisted that he not leave so quickly. For three days he spent time with Martha and little Mary, listening to them give him advice and begging him not to leave. Finally they both resigned themselves to his leaving when he assured them he would be back someday.

Long before daylight Wyatt awoke to the sound of rain on the roof. He gathered his belongings in the dark, pulled on his heavy canvas coat and quietly slipped out of the house trying not to wake anyone. He knew the girls would insist on delaying his departure until the weather cleared if he waited any longer.

The path down to the road was almost too dark to see. He stopped at the road and looked back, knowing he shouldn’t, even as he did. A light was visible from the kitchen window where someone must have heard him leave and got up to either see him off or stop him. He stood watching the glow of the light and the movement of a shadowy figure through the window. The rain couldn’t reach his face beneath the hat brim, yet his cheeks were wet as if he’d not been wearing it.

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CHAPTER TWO

The drizzling rain turned into cold misery to Wyatt as he walked the muddy road, but it failed to dampen his spirits. He left his family’s Lauderdale County home, near Center Star, Alabama, and walked in the rain most of the first day. The road he traveled followed the Tennessee River and was almost as wet as the river itself.

He spent the first night under a bridge, but didn’t sleep much. The rising water in the creek made him too uneasy to relax. The following morning he caught a ride on a cotton wagon and rode all the way to Florence, Alabama. From there he walked, finding shelter at night where he could, in barns and abandoned buildings. He stopped for an afternoon and night at a country store at Gravely Springs, where he chopped firewood in exchange for a meal and a nights lodging.

The rain continued intermittently for another five days, then settled into a long slow soaking rain. Near mid-afternoon, weary from the endless effort created by the pulling of the mud at every step, and soaked to the skin, Wyatt began searching for a place to rest for the night. He spotted a barn from the road and stood for long minutes, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t want to bother anyone nor ask for help. He feared being rejected because of his appearance.

Slogging through mud all day and being splashed by passing teams and wagons had taken its toll on his clothes. His trousers were covered with mud up to the knees. His canvas coat hung heavily on his shoulders, too wet to hold any more water and far past the ability to shed it. His hat had become shapeless, the brim hanging so far down; it was difficult for him to see. Wyatt stood in the road, studying the barn and plotting whether to wait until after dark and sneak into it or keep walking. He suddenly felt very conspicuous and turned to start down the road again.

Lookin’ for a place to get out of this messy weather for awhile? A husky voice from behind him asked.

Startled by the suddenness of the voice erupting out of the rain; Wyatt struggled to maintain his balance on the muddy road. His pulse pounded in his head and his eyes bulged at the site of a man standing behind the rail fence not more than twenty feet from him.

No sir, he lied, trying to gain some composure, just looking. He felt flushed and wished that he had not stopped to even look at the barn.

Well, you best be finding some shelter before you drown, don’t look like this rain’s going to let up any time soon.

Wyatt was unable to speak, and suddenly he began to shake both from fright and the damp chill from being soaked to the skin.

Come on youngun’, let’s get us both out of this wet and into a drier place.

Thanks, Wyatt stammered, still very unsure of a situation moving much too fast for his liking.

They slogged up the trail side by side, toward the barn, Wyatt straining his tired muscles to keep up with the farmer. When they reached the barn, the stranger unlatched the door and stood back to let Wyatt enter. The barn was larger than any he had ever been in. It contained all of the things you would expect; stalls, bins full of grains, a complete blacksmith shop, and a hayloft. The barns earthy aroma filled his nostrils as he breathed deeply of the dry air.

It was the shop that caught his attention, his eye immediately drawn to the array of tools neatly hanging on the wall behind the coal-fired forge and a large anvil mounted on the end of an oak log set deep into the dirt floor.

Do you know how to fire up the forge? The big man asked when he saw him admiring the shop.

Yes sir, I do, Wyatt blurted.

Well, fire it up boy, and dry yourself out. You got a change of clothes in that bag?

Yes sir

There’s water in the trough outback, clean yourself up as much as you can. When you’ve had some time at it, I’ll send one of the kids down to fetch you for supper. Won’t be nothing fancy but it’ll fill you. The man offered a calloused hand as he spoke. The name’s Wilson; what’s yours?"

It’s Wyatt, sir.

Glad to make your acquaintance, and with that he turned and went out, closing the barn door behind him.

Wyatt stood there trying to get his mind to catch up with all that had just happened. He was dripping wet and shivering from the chill. He dried his hands on a burlap bag and found a box of matches and a can of coal oil on a shelf and added a shovel full of coal to the forge. He spilled a little of the oil over the coal and dropped a lighted match on it. The flames licked upward creating instant warmth on his cheeks. He pumped the bellows a few times, then, satisfied that it was going to burn alright, lifted the canvas bag strap off of his shoulder and over his head. Setting the bag and his hat on the workbench, he removed his wet canvas coat and began unpacking his damp belongings. He found a length of cord and tied it between one of the stall gateposts and a nail in the wall to form a drying line near