One Who Knows Horses

By Max Windham

In the year 1830, Zachery Morris leaves the hot humidity of Mississippi with his big stallion Ollie. Having known the horse since its birth, Ollie is Zacherys best friend. Over the course of his travels, men often offer to pay to breed Ollie, fawning over his bloodline, but Zachery always refuses. Ollie is something unique. Truly, its almost as if he can detect evil in men.

While traveling through St. Louis, Zachery picks up four travel companions: Mathew, Pete, and the twins. They travel deep into the majesty of the Rocky Mountains, trusting safety in numbers. Mathew soon takes charge as their leader. Pete, the old trapper, just waits around to take orders. The twins dont even have names, but they do their share.

Journeying through such beautiful wilderness has its dangers, as Zachery soon discovers. In some areas, he is the only white man whos ever been there, which comes as a shock to the natives. As he seeks his fortune, lessons are learned and blood spilled in the dangerous plains of the Wild Westbut Zachery and Ollie ride on, following their shared destiny of greatness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781546283461

Max Windham

Max Windham was raised in the small town of Sumrall, Mississippi, and has worked as a builder. He is the author of One Who Knows Horses.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The year was 1830, and I, Zachery Morris, had left the hot humidity of Mississippi with my big stallion, Ollie, named after a dead cousin I’d grown up with. Ollie was my closest friend. We had been together since the day Ollie was born.

We now were looking at the Rocky Mountains with the four companions I had met in St. Louis. Mathew Sparks was the leader, and the others included an old trapper named Pete Hayden and a set of twins. Mathew had painted a pretty picture of the mountains and the riches to be made. Mathew was about forty years old and talked as if he knew all about trapping. Pete Hayden seemed to be around just to make Mathew’s life easy. He seemed to need Mathew to handle the thinking part, because he did nothing until Mathew gave him orders. Pete made Mathew’s bed for him, and when they made camp, he cooked. He brought the food to Mathew and then washed his plate. The rest of the time, he stayed quiet and would find a spot out of people’s way. He could squat down and sit there until Mathew called, and then he would pop up and hurry to Mathew. The twins were identical, and none of us knew their real names. We would just call, Twin! and one or the other would answer. I never knew why they would not give their names, and I assumed they were running from the law. In the beginning, they acted friendly enough. They were excited to have a job and a chance to make big money.

So far, the picture of the mountains that Mathew had painted was correct. To stand before them and look at their beauty was worth the trip. I was looking from the south to the north as far as I could see. Mathew had said that he could not do these mountains justice—that you had to stand before them. I could only imagine how far they extended in each direction.

I thought of the distance I had traveled after leaving home. I knew that it was just a minor distance compared to the length of this mountain range. They were snow-capped, with jagged ridges. Timber grew up to the snow line. We had seen them the day before. They looked like clouds rising with the snow on top. Now we were here, and it was time to start climbing higher. To find the beaver streams, we would have to travel over passes that no white man had traveled. We would go into valleys where the beaver had made ponds for generations. There would be Indians whom we would have to always be on the alert for—or lose our hair—and wild animals, such as the grizzly bear. The dangers were here, but if we were successful, we would have more money than an eighteen-year-old boy could imagine. Soon I would be a part of this new world. I would have preferred making this trip with my cousin and childhood friend, but that was no longer possible.

I had noticed after leaving St. Louis a change in my four companions. They had asked more than once to buy Ollie. At times without my permission, they had tried to saddle him. Ollie had not been around anyone but me and did not allow anyone to handle him. It was as if he could detect the evil in men. The farther west we traveled, the heavier my workload became. It was beginning to look like I was the low man on the totem pole.

On one occasion, Twin said that, if he had that horse, he would break him and teach him some manners. One way or another, Ollie was always being worked into the conversation.

Ollie was not a horse that you broke. His mother had died soon after his birth, and I had raised him from day one. As we had traveled, men had seen this stallion as a bloodline they would love to own. They had wanted to use him to breed their mares, but Ollie and I had other plans.

We made camp our first night after entering the mountains. We had gained altitude that first day and stopped early to let the horses adjust to the thinner air. I staked Ollie and my two pack horses away from the others. The men’s attitude had changed toward me after they’d come to understand that Ollie would never be for sale. As we’d crossed the plains, I’d started making plans to get away. Traveling alone would be much more dangerous. But if things continued like they were, staying with my partners could be just as dangerous. I had hoped to get away before entering the mountains. We were here now, and I had to get away while I could use Ollie’s speed and endurance on the open plains.

Twin must have had a bad day and felt it was his duty to show his ignorance. You’d better put that horse farther away. If he kicks at me again, I will blow his brains all over these mountains.

Now I had my excuse. I would move him farther out from the rest. Maybe I would be able to leave without my absence being detected till morning. I could sneak out at night and get enough of a head start. I felt that I could at least get away without being noticed.

I had held my temper in check during the trip. I did not know whether any of my companions would be of help to me if one or more of the others jumped me. But more and more, I felt alone. Mathew, being our leader, had not said anything on the issue of my horse. He had stayed away from it like it was not any of his business. Instead of working together to form a team, each of the four men I was with seemed to have an idea of his own.

I moved Ollie and my two pack horses far enough away and spoke loudly enough that everyone could hear. If you get kicked now, it will be your fault. You have no reason to be close to him.

When I made my move, I would not be able to make a sound. It did not take much to wake any of us. After we had had our meal, the others were getting ready for bed. While I was rubbing my horses down, I overheard Twin.

It won’t be long before I own that horse.

Mathew said, Don’t go jumping the gun. I had designs on that horse all along. Why do you think I let him tag along?

I knew then that I needed to leave as soon as possible. We were not so far into the mountains that I couldn’t be back on the plains within an hour. There would be no way they could catch up with Ollie once he stretched those long legs. He would be able to run all night and part of the next day. I might have to leave my packhorses to outrun them. I could always get more pack horses if they could not keep up, but so far, they had trailed Ollie with no problems. Right now, I was worried about stopping a bullet with my back.

I had brought a couple of bottles of whiskey for medicine. My mother and father had always mixed whiskey and honey and had given it to me for any ailment I had. I got one of the bottles and walked back to the fire, pulled the cork, and took a big swallow. Twin was the first to jump up and reach for the bottle. Somehow he thought that my property was the same as his property.

You have been holding out on the rest of us. I ought to blow your brains out. Why didn’t you tell us that you had this all along?

It was that kind of attitude that had gotten more aggressive each day. I handed the rest of the bottle to Mathew.

Boys, I have been saving this for a special occasion. It was for the first night in the mountains. We are here now, so let’s drink to a successful season.

The other twin asked, What else have you hidden from us?

If you try to find out, you may realize that you have made a mistake you won’t be able to correct. I can usually control my temper, and I had to now if this was to work. I would have to walk away before it got out of hand. I had already set the wheels in motion and could not chance anything upsetting my plans.

Twin started to reply, but Mathew spoke up. Relax. Take a swallow of this before it’s gone. We probably won’t get any more before rendezvous.

With that, each tried to drink as big a portion as possible in case the bottle did not make it back around.

I started to reach for it. Twin grabbed it, saying, You will be standing first watch, and you need to keep your eyes on those horses. We will save you a share. You won’t need any until you go to bed. I will spell you in about two hours.

I kinda looked as if I had my doubts of ever seeing that bottle again. But in truth, I would be happy to let them consume the whole thing.

I went to their horses and spoke to them while rubbing them down. I made a big show of being the one taking proper care of the horses. I would allow the men to enjoy the bottle while I was getting the horses used to me stirring around. I needed those horses to make no sound after the rest had gone to sleep. They were talking loudly and already spending money they had not made. They had brought up the subject of the Indian women that they were going to buy. The whiskey was doing its job. The louder they talked, the drunker they were.

When the bottle was empty, they begin to settle down and go to sleep. I figured with that much whiskey in them they would not wake before sunrise. They started the snoring that had kept me awake many nights. I eased over to Ollie and the packhorses and began to load them. When I had them loaded and felt that the men were sleeping soundly, I moved the pack horses one at a time farther away to keep the noise down and came back for Ollie.

I got on Ollie and told him, We only have one chance, so let’s make it count.

We were out of camp about one hundred yards when I felt the bullet tear through my side. Someone must have woken to go to the bushes and saw me leaving. I grabbed the horn of the saddle and kicked Ollie and hung on. I knew that, if I could stay in the saddle, Ollie would get me out of this situation. But what situation would I wind up in? There were wild Indians out there, and I did not know where I was going. But this way I had a chance. I was alone now and riding a stallion that men were willing to kill me to get. I needed to stay in control, but the pain and loss of blood were beginning to take a toll. I wondered who had put the bullet in me. I would love to return it one day. But now I had to put some distance between us. They were probably in their saddles following me now.

We had traveled through the night, and Ollie had held a steady pace. Twice during the night, I had been aware that Ollie had stopped. I did not know if he was sensing which direction to go, or maybe he was only resting. Each time he had stopped, I had wanted to get off and stop the pain in my side. Sometime before daylight, I had fallen from his back. I remembered Ollie nuzzling me to get up. When I tried, darkness flooded my brain.

When I opened my eyes again, the sun was so bright I thought my head would explode. I knew that, somehow, I had to get up and keep moving. I did not know how long I had lay there, and my old partners could be getting close. If they caught up with me, my life would not be worth the empty bottle in camp. I had escaped from them with Ollie, and they would not be willing to let me get away. They had already said they had to have Ollie and proved that they were willing to kill me for him.

Horses like Ollie were one in a million. My father had bred his best brood mare to a fine stallion in New Orleans. We had no idea that the colt would turn out so good. I wished my father had lived to see Ollie.

Men like the four I had traveled with, where there was no law, took what they wanted even if they had to kill. Although I had shown no weakness, these were the kind of men to shoot you in the back and never think about it again. They knew the value of a horse like Ollie. When the Indians were after you, without speed and staying power such as Ollie had, your scalp might be used to decorate a warrior’s spear.

After I was able to move again, I whistled, and Ollie come to me. I managed to stand by holding the stirrup. I had taught Ollie that, when I tapped him on the leg, he was to stretch out, allowing me to mount much easier. Ollie got down—it seemed like he understood that I was hurt—and stretched until his stomach almost touched the ground. The pain in my side was so bad that I had to grit my teeth to get mounted. I had to keep moving. With me on his back, Ollie got up and headed north at a smooth pace. The pain was intense, and I knew it would not be long before I would pass out again. If I could stay in the saddle, Ollie would do the rest. I could only hope the pack horses would follow.

During the time I was able to stay awake, Ollie changed course and headed into the mountains. When the first low branch almost dragged me from his back, I lay down on Ollie’s neck to keep them from pulling me from my saddle. Ollie kept zigzagging farther into the mountains until he came to a small pool. He stopped, and as my feet touched the ground, I knew immediately my legs would not hold me. Again, the darkness flooded my brain.

CHAPTER TWO

I don’t know how long I lay there. But as I was coming to, I was aware that Ollie was standing very close and not letting something or someone get close to me. When I was able to focus, I saw an Indian warrior and two young women. One looked to be in her twenties and the other about fifteen. The warrior seemed to be very old and was not acting hostile. He was not painted in war paint as I had heard they did, and I was not immediately frightened. It was more like they wanted Ollie to move away so they could check my wound.

I knew that I needed help, so I had to trust these people. My side was hurting, I had lost a lot of blood, and I was cold. I spoke to Ollie, calming him down. He backed away, but he kept both eyes on the old man. They wanted to come to me but did not know what this big stallion might do. The old Indian looked at Ollie; he had the same look I had seen so many times before. I knew his first thoughts were that he should steal this horse.

Will it be okay to approach you now? asked one of the women, using good English.

As long as you mean me no harm. If you do, there is no telling what he might do.

Now I had no way of knowing that he would do anything. But the Indians knew that this horse had stood for me. They were not likely to test such a stallion as this.

The young girl spoke to the warrior, and he headed down the trail back tracking me. To the girl with her, she spoke and pointed in the woods. The girl left in that direction. This young woman was giving orders, and the other two were obeying. With her taking charge, I felt much better. She seemed too kind to have bad intentions.

My name is Zack. Where did you learn to speak English?

I was hoping maybe there were some white men close by that I might team up with. I had left what I knew was a bad situation, and although these people seemed to mean me no harm, I felt I needed to be around my own kind.

My name is Spring Flower, the old warrior’s name is Two Mountains, and the other girl’s name is Night Dove.

She explained to me that, when she was a young girl, some white men had spent a winter in their camp. And they had a black man that traveled with them. When they left, Two Mountains had agreed to go with them as a guide to the big water where the sun set.

She asked, Have you ever seen a black man before?

Where I came from, there were a few.

Two Mountains had learned the language, and she had learned from him. She explained to him that the white men had told them to be friendly when other white men came—that more white men would follow and they would need to know the white man’s language. The white man would bring many things to trade for that would help them make life easier.

She had pulled the shirt off my body and was washing the wound. She was so gentle I hardly felt any pain. While we waited for Night Dove to return with the herbs, she made a bed from dry leaves and covered it with one of my blankets.

Get the bottle of whiskey from my pack and pour it on my wounds. It will help me to heal and keep infection out.

I did not know what she knew of medicine or tending of gunshot wounds.

"The whiskey is not what you need.