Heart of Gold

By Clifford Kennedy and Lauren Wilson

This story is about a young man from Alabama, a sharecroppers son. Farming was all he had ever done, and it was all he knew. After his parents death, he decides to go for a ride and sort out his life. He has heard about some places in the west called Texas and Colorado, and he thinks maybe those are where he should start.
Somehow and someway, he falls into other peoples problems. The story follows him as he helps people on their own journey. He meets people and goes places he could not have never imagined.
Rusty Jones is a likeable character but will not be pushed. No one dares to harm a friend.
You are going to meet some downright bad people, and you are going to meet people you will like a lot. In my way of thinking, its all about the story, but Jackie says its all about the characters. The characters are special. I enjoyed writing every word. I hope you enjoy it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546253075

Clifford Kennedy

Cliff was born on December 5, 1941, two days before Pearl Harbor was bombed. He was born in a small town of Columbia, Louisiana on the Ouachita River. His family moved to Woodsboro, Texas in 1949. Cliffs dad worked for Standard Oil and Gas Co. and they moved all over Texas. While in Brownsville, Texas Cliff met the love of his life, Jacqueline Vickrey. They were married in 1960. Cliff hired on with E. I. Du Pont in June of 1961 and worked for them 38 years. He worked mostly on the dock loading ships and barges. Cliff and Jackie have lived in Nederland, Texas 55 years, they are active in Wesley United Methodist Church. Cliff says, You can always get a good cup of coffee at the church. Cliff has always liked to tell stories and his favorite saying is Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. He was fortunate to meet one of his favorite authors, Elmer Kelton and his wife Anna, in Fredericksburg, Texas. He talked about the trip so much, everyone around him was reading Kelton. Elmer Kelton was a seven-time Spur award winner and a member of the Western Writers Hall of Fame.

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© 2018 Clifford Kennedy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This story is pure fiction, all names, places and events are fiction, if you find a name like yours, it’s not you, I hope you enjoy the story. After all it’s all about the story.

Published by AuthorHouse  08/31/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5305-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5306-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5307-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018952994

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Foreword

Chapter 1     New Beginnings

Chapter 2     Pilgrims

Chapter 3     Raton Pass

Chapter 4     Headed For Fort Worth

Chapter 5     Road To Fort Worth

Chapter 6     Secret Message

Chapter 7     Shreveport

Chapter 8     Raton Pass New Mexico

Chapter 9     Ranch Life

Chapter 10   Many Years Later

Other Books And Stories By Cliff Kennedy

Synopsis

About Cliff

Without the help of these two sweet ladies,

this work would not have been possible

Jacqueline Kennedy

Debra Kay Jones

Cover by

Lauren Wilson

For my great-grandsons

Haydin Thomas Kennedy

And

Jaxson Reed Kennedy

This story is dedicated

to the memory of

Rusty Jones

A good friend of my family

My great grandsons called him

Uncle Rusty

Featuring

Rusty Jones

Bill Larkin

E. V. Tibbetts

This story is pure fiction, all names, places and events

are fiction, if you find a name like yours, it’s not you,

I hope you enjoy the story.

After all it’s all about the story.

FOREWORD

I was listening to the radio the other day when Jimmy Buffett was talking at a concert he was doing. I think it was in Alabama. He said something to the effect that if you were listening to this with the expectations of growing up, you were listing for the wrong reasons. That’s not exact, but you get the idea he was trying to get across. Well, if you are going to read this story to further your education or discover the meaning of life, it’s just not going to happen. Thanks, Jimmy

You are going to laugh a lot and cry a little. You’re going to love some of the people in this story, and you are going to dislike a few. If you know anything about the great state of Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi and New Mexico, you will probably say to yourself I remember that or I know where that is.

I invite you to find a quiet place, get comfortable with something to sip on and enjoy the story. It’s all about the story.

The title has changed several times, but I think Jackie nailed it when she came up with Heart of Gold.

Cliff Kennedy

1

NEW BEGINNINGS

Rusty Jones sat in the wagon seat looking at the place of his birth. It had been his father and mother’s first home. He looked at the places he had played when he was just a small boy. It almost brought tears to his eyes. Rusty was tired. He was tired of the heartache. He was tired of farming. Rusty was a tired farm boy.

Only a few days had passed since he had buried his father next to his mother. His mother had passed away just before Christmas, and his father had died of a broken heart the last day of February. To tell the truth, his heart was broken as well.

Rusty was tired, tired of working all year and not having enough money left after all the bills were paid to even celebrate. He remembered walking out of the bank and watching his dad count his money and shaking his head. He remembered his dad saying, Boy, there’s not enough here to buy your mother a new bonnet.

Rusty had loaded all the plows and tools that belonged to his father and what good things there were in the house. He had found an old trunk and filled it with the family Bible, a few pictures, and his mother’s best quilt. He rolled his father’s lamb skin apron and tucked it inside. He loaded it on the wagon along with her rocking chair.

Rusty headed out toward his Uncle Haydin’s farm. His Uncle had several hundred acres and a nice farm house. He owned his land and, with his four sons, had done well. They had several mules and lots of horses and cows.

Rusty was going to head out west with no destination in mind. He was just going for a ride, find a place to sit down and rest and think.

At his Uncle’s farm, he was met by several barking dogs and a friendly hand shake.

Where are you headed Rusty?

Well, Uncle. I think I’ll go for a little ride. Don’t know as I’ll ever come back.

I can understand how you feel, but what are you going to do with the farm?

I told Mr. Brown at the bank I was going to turn all that over to you. He said to tell you to get with him soon, so he would know the spring planting had started. He’s only interested in his part of the money.

My oldest boy might want it, but we’ll buy it, not share crop it.

I brought all this and the wagon and mule. I’m going to keep the extra horse for a pack animal. If you can use it, it’s all yours.

Thanks, Rusty. Aunt Della will like the rocking chair.

Dad and I put a new roof on the house last fall and broke out ten new acres before winter set in. The Bank don’t know about that.

Uncle, I’m going to get my sack out of the wagon and head out. I can’t stand to see another tear from Aunt Della.

Do you need some money? How are you fixed?

I have eight dollars.

Here, take this ten-dollar gold piece. It will help.

Thanks, Uncle. If I get short, I’ll stop and work somewhere.

Send us a letter from time to time, and there’s always a place here for you. If you settle somewhere, let us know. We’ll keep you in our prayers.

Thanks Uncle.

Rusty rode away to the barking of his Uncle’s yard dogs.

Riding across Alabama, seeing all the farms and farmers, just reminded him of all the work. Farming was great until the weather came along and wiped out all your work. Share cropping was the worst part. The only sharing was at the end when the farmer walked away with little to show for his labors.

Rusty stopped riding somewhere near the Alabama and Mississippi line. He found a stand of pine trees and a good patch of grass. There was a little stream maybe three feet wide, just enough to wash in and water the horses.

Rusty slept all night and up into the day, before he took out his father’s watch and saw it was one thirty. He chuckled to himself. He had never slept that late.

He washed his face in the stream and fixed himself a bite to eat. He dressed and walked out to his horses. Time to ride. Come get yourselves some water before we go.

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Along the way, he passed farms and saw farmers hard after planting. Good luck, he thought.

He remembered the year his dad had planted all those watermelons. He and his dad had loaded the wagon with melons, and he had gone into town to sell them. Everywhere he looked was a kid with a wagon loaded with melons to sell. He left them behind the Methodist church next to the preacher’s house.

Rusty rode on, stopping to talk when someone would talk. He rode a little way with two young boys who were headed to a small town. He bought a few supplies and rode on toward the Mississippi River.

Three days later, he made camp in a grove of trees, cooked a bite to eat and went to sleep. The next morning, the blast of a riverboat horn sat him straight up in his bedroll. It was so loud, he thought it was going to run him over.

That not being enough, sitting on a log across the fire from him, was a man.

Sweet Jesus, where did you come from, and how long you been there?

Oh, I’ve been here about an hour. Saw your fire last night, he said while putting some wood on the fire.

You got a name?

Some call me Riverboat Bill. Real name is Bill Morris. I was a riverboat captain for a while. I got tired of that. Where you headed?

I don’t know, maybe Colorado.

You’re going to need a good pistol and a good rifle. The meanest of the mean go up there, and the women are the ugliest in the world. I think I’ll stay right here.

Good looking women here?

No, none at all. You got any coffee?

No, none at all.

Rusty pulled his boots on, got his hat, stood up, and stretched, just in time to see Riverboat Bill go through the trees.

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Rusty started up river looking for a place to cross. About mid-morning, he found five wagons struggling to get across. He fell in with them, and by almost dark, they were across. He had never been so muddy, and his horse and pack animal were no better off.

He was at the river’s edge trying to wash man and beast, when a tall slim fellow came up.

We’ve been so busy I didn’t get a chance to meet you. My name is J.L. Kelly.

Rusty stuck out his hand. I’m Rusty Jones from Alabama. Good to meet you, Mr. Kelly.

We can’t thank you enough for the help, but we can sure feed you if you’ll join us.

I don’t know when I last had a good supper, and I’ll sure take you up on that invite.

When you get through there, come on up and meet the rest of us. Kelly walked off toward the wagons.

Rusty walked his horses to a scrub of a tree and tied them off. Mr. Kelly and the others greeted him, and Mrs. Kelly filled a plate for him.

Thank you, ma’am. That looks good.

Rusty was almost through when someone brought out an old fiddle and started to play. Before long, there was a harp and guitar. Some lady started to sing, and before long, the whole bunch were dancing.

Mr. Kelly came up to Rusty as everyone was drifting off to their spot and bed. Rusty, just find you a place and roll out your bedroll. We’ll have breakfast about daylight, and your welcome to eat with us.

Thanks, Mr. Kelly. Where are you headed?

South Texas. Some call it The Valley. We are supposed to go to Fort Worth then go two days west and there is a road south. Where are you headed?

Well, I don’t know. I got tired of farming. Mother and Dad died. I just went for a ride to clear my head, and here I am.

I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t have a crop to tend. That’s all I have ever done.

That’s the way Dad was. I guess it’s more their deaths than anything. It was just the three of us for twenty years, and now I’m all alone. Can’t get over this grief.

You’re welcome to ride along with us, if you’d like.

Wonder how Fort Worth is? Rusty asked.

A man told me to watch everything you own, and those you love. Sounds like a lawless bunch.

Sure does. All I got for a weapon is this old shotgun. I’ll just stay out of everyone’s way. They both laughed.

The trail through Louisiana was uneventful. They camped at the Red River and was told where they could cross without quicksand being a bother. It took a day to get there and get across. Then, they went to Shreveport and bought some supplies.

Rusty gave Mrs. Kelly $3 to help with the supplies. He figured he had eaten that or more. The road on to Fort Worth was hardly a road at all but passable. A bad storm came up and caught them unprepared about half way there. They stood almost frozen watching a twister pass to the North of them.

A milk cow got loose, and Rusty took off after it. After a short chase, Rusty got hold of her rope and led her back.

Mr. Brown, the cow’s owner, met him and took the lead rope. Thanks, Rusty that saved me a long walk.

Your quite welcome. Looks like she broke her rope.

I’ll plat it back together, and it’ll be fine. Thanks again.

Fort Worth was not much to look at, mostly just a fort and the beginnings of a town, saloons, small store and livery. Most everyone was just standing around asking the same questions, but no one had answers.

Rusty and the five wagons found a place near the fort to park and set up camp. Rusty decided to look the town and fort over. There was not enough to buy in the store to be called a store, and the livery was quiet. He wandered down toward the saloon and to where most of the men were.

Rusty walked in the saloon, the first saloon he had ever been in. There was no bar just timbers across two barrels, a few tables and no piano. He walked back out to the porch and stood there thinking, this town will never amount to much.

Rusty could see Mr. Kelly coming from the direction of the fort. Rusty, I’ve been looking for you. The Captain of the fort is going to speak to travelers. Thought you might like to hear what he has to say.

That would beat standing around this town listening to the same questions. Let’s go.

You a beer drinker? Kelly asked.

No, that’s the first time I’ve ever been in a saloon. Never tasted beer or whiskey. How about you?

When I was young I drank a little, but not anymore. After I married, I really didn’t have the money.

They made their way to where two soldiers had brought out a large box for the Captain to speak from. Shortly, the Captain showed up.

Let me have your attention. I have some information for the people that are going north or west. We have information that the Indians are upset about something, and we would advise against going west. Now, for those going north, do not cross the Red River. I am told that a treaty has been signed to give that land to the Indians as a reservation. Are there any questions? You, there. Your question?

Captain, you didn’t say anything about going south.

All the patrols that went south have not returned. I have no report.

You have a suggestion? Another fellow asked.

I have two. One, stay here at the fort until things calm down. Two, go back home. Go ahead and many of you will not live and may die a horrible death.

One man spoke up. Sir, I came all the way from Ohio.

Ohio is a nice place. Akron is my home. He stepped down from the big box and went back in the Fort.

Kelly, Rusty and the others in their wagon train started back to the wagons. Any of you want to go back? Mr. Kelly asked.

No, came from them all. But I sure would like to get some ground broke before winter. I think we all would.

Let’s plan to leave out at first light, Kelly said.

At first light, the wagons rolled out. Far off in the west, they could see lightning. The road west was the worst they had ever been on, and the farther they went it became a two-track trail.

Rusty road along in the rear. Mr. Kelly was always in the lead. About mid-day Rusty rode up to Mr. Kelly.

You know anything about Indians? Rusty asked.

I’ve seen very few in my life time. Why?

Look yonder, over by those scrub trees.

How long has he been there? Kelly asked.

I first saw him during that little sprinkle of rain we had, then he disappeared. Any special preparation we should make? Rusty asked.

No, not for one Indian. Have you seen any others?

Not until now. There are two more on the other side.

Mr. Kelly raised up in his saddle. To tell the truth, they don’t look threatening. Ride ahead to the top of that rise there and look around.

Rusty rode out ahead of the wagons. When he got to the top of the rise, to his surprise, there were five Indians blocking the road. To his left, he could see the start of a whole tribe crossing in front. There were women and kids and old people moving along.

Rusty rode back to where Mr. Kelly was and told him.

Can we go to the top of the rise and stop? That way all can see.

I think that will be alright. They should come into view in another hundred yards or so. I’ll ride back and tell the others. Rusty rode off.

Ride up beside the wagon in front of you, and don’t show any guns or fear. Just watch as they pass, Rusty told each wagon driver.

They watched as the Tribe moved by. From behind the wagons, came an Indian walking his horse slowly. A young girl, who had been picking wild flowers, walked out to him and handed him a bouquet. The Indian accepted the flowers and rode off at a gallop. Her mother ran out to retrieve her and get her back out of harm’s way.

Little did that mother know, if those Indian kids and white kids could have been left alone, in a short time they would have been playing together like all kids do. It would take fifty years for that to come to pass.

On the afternoon of the second day, Mr. Kelly called the wagons to a halt. All the men gathered, and Mr. Kelly spoke to them. Gentlemen, I think that is the big rock and the trail we have been looking for. From here, we turn south to the Rio Grande and on into The Valley.

They all went back to their wagons to tell their women.

Rusty rode up to Kelly. I guess this is where I will leave you. I’m going on north and west.

"Rusty, you have been a great help to me and this wagon train. Mrs. Kelly has a sack of grub for you and good wishes I’m sure. If things up there don’t work out, come South and find us. Kelly and Rusty rode back to the Kelly wagon. There were goodbyes all around, and Rusty rode away.

Rusty rode for a while, then looked back just in time to see the last wagon turn south.

Rusty could not get over how quiet it was. The lower part of the Great Staked Planes was in full bloom, and only the scissortail birds were moving. They would jump up, fly and sail for twenty yards, land and run as fast as they could. Their tail feathers spread to guide them as they sailed.

A mother coyote and cubs scampered away looking for lunch. Rusty rode along talking to his horses from time to time. In the distance, he could see a line of trees and brush. Water, he thought. He moved in that direction.

There, in the middle of nowhere, was a stream six or seven feet wide and crystal clear. At first, it looked like he was the first to be there. Then, he saw the unshod horse prints.

Rusty found a place under a small tree and unsaddled his horse, took the pack off the pack horse and made a camp. Night came, and he rolled out his bedroll. Looking into the night sky, he was sure he could see every star in the sky.

The sun shining in his face woke him. There sitting on a pinto pony was a young Indian Brave. Rusty raised his hand and said, welcome.

The brave acknowledged his sign and dismounted his horse. You man who talks to horses?

Rusty was stunned. No one had heard him talk to his horses. No one he had seen anyway.

Rusty said, Come, we can eat and make coffee.

Rusty set about to build a small fire and make coffee. The Indian led his horse to the water and let him drink. Rusty had side meat on and coffee making. One thing he wanted was a Dutch oven, so he could make biscuits.

Rusty took out two cups and filled them with coffee. He handed one to the Indian and asked, You take sugar?

The Indian said in a question, Sugar?

Rusty opened the small sack of sugar and sprinkled a little in his own cup and took a sip. The Indian stuck out his cup and said, Sand?

Rusty put some in the Indian’s coffee and motioned for him to drink. He drank and ran his tongue over his lips and said something Rusty couldn’t understand.

After they had eaten, as Rusty was cleaning up, the Indian mounted his horse and said something again that Rusty couldn’t understand. Rusty waved, and the Indian rode off.

It was the first encounter, one on one with an Indian, Rusty had ever had and different than he had expected.

Rusty began to see the Rocky Mountains in the far distance.

He rode up on something that caused him to stop and look around. It looked like a big rock had fallen from the sky and hit the ground. We would later find out that it was what is left of a volcano, dormant for many hundreds of years.

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Rusty saw the windmill in the distance and what looked like a building. The closer he got, he could make out a corral and barn and a large stock tank.

He rode up to the windmill and dismounted. That’s when he saw the sign ‘This water is not free’. Wow, he had never had to pay for water. He let his horses drink, and he took some and washed his face, moved his horses to the shade of the windmill and started to the store.

The door was open, and he walked in. Hello, he said to whoever might be inside.

Hello to you. Where are you from.

Alabama. Rusty was looking around for whom he was talking to.

You’re a long way from home. What brings you out here?

Got tired of farming and went for a ride, here I am.

Right smart of a ride. You going to look for gold?

Never thought of looking for gold. Wouldn’t know the first thing about it or where to start. Something sure smells good. What you got cooking?

Got some beans and cornbread and elk stew.

Could I buy a plate from you? Rusty asked.

Larkin walked out from the corner where he had been. That’s my stock in trade, that and water. Just step up to the scale, or I will take cash.

Yes, sir. I need to pay for watering my two horses and myself. What will this come to? Rusty asked.

Dollar for the water and a dollar for the grub and a beer to wash it down, Larkin said, laying his short barrel shotgun on the counter.

You always carry that shotgun with you?

Even to the outhouse.

This must be a rough country.

Yes, sir, it is, and I noticed you are not carrying a pistol or a rifle.

I got an old shotgun out there, but I don’t own a pistol or rifle.

You best get one of each. The worst people in the world have come out here, most running from the law in the east. They will rob you or kill you for the torn shirt on your back.

I might have come to the wrong place. Rusty took a seat and sat down.

Larkin went into the back and returned with a large plate and a mug of beer. He sat the plate down, went to the counter, picked up his shotgun and returned. Mind if I join you? he asked.

Please do. I haven’t talked to a soul in days, except one Indian. Man, this tastes good.

You talked to an Indian? Larkin asked.

Yes, we had coffee, and he left. Called me, ‘Man who talks to horses.’ How do you suppose he knew that?

Simple, while you were talking to your horses, he was near you. You may not have seen him, but he was there.

You think he was about to jump me?

Who knows. I’ve been out here over ten years, and I have not figured them out. What name you go by?

Rusty Jones from Alabama. He stuck out his hand.

I’m Bill Larkin, born in New Orleans, sailed the seven seas, most of them anyway, lived in Colorado a while and came here, bought this store, and here I plan to stay.

How is Colorado? Rusty asked.

Rough, good place to die. Ugly women, greedy men. Everybody walks around with their shooter in their hand.

That was the best supper I’ve had since I left home.

How come you to leave? Larkin asked.

Mother and Dad both died within a few months. I got tired of working all year and not having anything to show for it. I gathered up Dad’s tools and plow, took them to my Uncle’s and rode off with eighteen dollars to my name. I’d heard of Colorado and the west. Thought I’d take a look.

Alright, here comes your first lesson. Get that Henry 44-40 over there, chamber a round, cock it and sit here at this table. There are three roughs coming in a few minutes. They been here before. Listen to me now. If you have to shoot, shoot straight and true. They’re killers.

Larkin took the dishes and his shotgun and went behind the bar. Rusty retrieved the Henry and did as Larkin had asked.

One of the three stood in the door looking in. Then, the other two and the first went to the bar.

Barkeep, you got anything worth drinking?

Got some beer and a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon. What’s your pleasure?

Beer will do. We will need some supplies before we go.

Step right up and put a pinch of gold dust on the scale or cash. I’ll be happy to fill your order.

Just the basic stuff, coffee and beans. What will that run?

You going to water your horses? Larkin asked.

Yes, that too.

All that will be six dollars.

That’s overpriced. Don’t you think? The heavy one asked.

Damn straight. You’re over charging. Came from the short one.

You can beat the price about a thousand miles south of here, Larkin said.

The fat one was fidgeting and had his hand on his shooter, when he spotted Rusty sitting in the corner. Who’s that barkeep?

Just a friend, Larkin said.

Where is he headed? He asked walking toward Rusty.

He didn’t say.

Not much of a friend, I’d say. You’re quiet, I don’t like quiet people, He said to Rusty.

I’m a deaf mute, Rusty said.

Oh, he said turning back. He took a few steps and quickly turned back. You’re funning me. You’re not deaf or mute.

Willie, get back over here and leave that man alone.

I don’t like people funning me.

Then, leave people alone. Come over here and drink your beer, the tall one said, eyeing Rusty.

I might just shoot this smart guy. Then, we will see how mute he is.

They all laughed.

Here are the things you ordered. Larkin handed a sack to the middle one.

Let’s ride. I’d like to get through the pass before dark.

All three finished their beer and made for the door. Larkin raised his shotgun and made eye contact with Rusty.

The first one returning through the door was the short one, gun out and ready. He turned the pistol toward Rusty. Rusty shot him in the chest. He went to the floor, pistol in hand. The second was aiming for Larkin, and that was his last thought. Larkin put a double ought buck in his chest. Rusty had just enough time to lever another load in the Henry, when the third one came through the door with a pistol in each hand. He turned toward Rusty just in time to see the fire from the Henry and felt the blast of Larkin’s second barrel.

The smoke from the gun powder was almost choking. You alright, Mr. Larkin? Rusty asked.

Those fools never got off a shot. Crazy! All three are just plain crazy. Help me drag them outside before they fill the place with blood.

That was foolish of them. They didn’t have to do that. How did you know they were coming back?

The tall one winked at the short one.

They took them back to the burying spot way out back, went through their pockets and buried them. That makes an even dozen, Larkin said.

I never killed anyone before. It makes me sick to my stomach. You ever killed anyone before?

Yes, and it’s the same to me. I never get over it. It’s like I told you, the people that come out here are bad. Grab those gun belts and that pair of boots. Pick out the one you like, and I’ll sell the rest. One of their pistols was a Colt. I’ll put them on the counter inside. You take the one you like and that Henry rifle on that red horse.

When all was said and done, Rusty had a good pistol and Henry rifle with a sack full of shells.

Bring those saddle bags in here, and let’s see what else they have stolen.

Larkin spread out all their things on the counter. He split all the money with Rusty. It was the first time in his life he had seen sixty dollars in one pile and Larkin was going to give him thirty.

That sack of beans and coffee has been paid for. It’s yours as well.

Rusty helped Larkin bring in water to wash out the floor and rearrange the tables and chairs.

I think I’ll go out and water those horses, unsaddle them and roll out my bedroll. See you in the morning. Just keep up with what I owe you, and I will settle up before I leave. Rusty shook Larkin’s hand, and he left.

Rusty had been there about a week learning to shoot his new pistol and listening to Larkin’s stories.

You’re getting ready to leave? Larkin asked.

I think so. Need to settle up with you and be on my way.

Rusty, I have enjoyed having you around. You’re a good kid. Let’s get a cup of coffee and a piece of paper. I want to show you something.

Larkin started to draw. This is where we are, and here is the pass. This road goes north to the east side of the high mountains. If you take this road through the pass and ride half a day north, you will find a large rock that the road has to go around. It’s like the rock was placed in the roadway by someone on purpose. There is a path to the left, on the other side of the rock. If you take that path, you can go all the way over the mountains and on to the west side of Colorado.

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Two days ride up that path, you will find two lodge pole pine trees tied together. Turn right there. There’s no trail. You will be going straight toward the face of a mountain. If you look around, you will find the entrance to a valley. Go through that entrance. Less than a half mile to your left, you will find a camp site. I built a smokehouse and a table between four trees. All built out of lodge pole pine. Behind that, is the entrance to a cave. Two large compartments with good water.

"I tried to cover the entrance with dead fall timber and brush. Inside you will find lanterns and