Sweetwater: The Return Home

By Ron W. Hornback

In the spring of 1862, Cole Bryson left his west Texas home to fight against the Confederacy. Now it has been four months since General Lee surrendered in Appomattox, Virginia, officially ending the Civil War. As Cole begins his journey back to his ranch in Sweetwater, he is unclear if he still has a home and, if he does, whether his neighbors think he is a traitor. As he attempts to put his worries aside, Cole unwittingly heads straight toward danger.

With only his horse and gun as his companions, Cole travels to Dry Creek, Arkansas, where he has an unfortunate encounter with a hotheaded southern sympathizer who forces Cole to defend himself. As the sympathizer lies dead in the street, Cole leaves town without any idea his troubles are just beginning. After a black man named Sam saves Cole’s life on the trail, they continue their journey together as friends. But once they arrive in Sweetwater, Cole realizes he must now rid the town of a crooked land-grabber responsible for lawlessness and murders—all while keeping peace with the nearby Comanche who are also victims of the corruption.

Sweetwater is the exciting tale of a Civil War soldier’s dangerous escapades as he journeys from the battlefield back to his west Texas hometown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532069239

Ron W. Hornback

Ron W. Hornback always imagined as a young boy that he was a cowboy fighting to tame the west and enjoyed going to the theater and watching Saturday afternoon westerns with his father. Now retired, he resides in Charleston, Missouri, where he keeps busy transferring the stories in his imagination to paper. Sweetwater is his first book.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cole Bryson sat in the saddle and let his horse, Sarge, move at his own pace. Cole was enjoying the fresh aroma of the summer fragrances and the full moon overhead only added to the peaceful surroundings. He was in no hurry and the change in scenery and the quiet were much different from what he had experienced over the past three years.

He had left his west Texas home in the spring of 1862 at the age of 21 to fight for a cause that he truly believed was right. He had gone north and joined the Union Army much to the dismay of his family and friends in the town of Sweetwater. He felt that no man should own another human being and the thought of such a thing inspired him to fight against the Confederacy.

It had been four months since the war ended at a small courthouse in Appomattox, Virginia, when General Grant of the Union Army and General Lee of the Confederate Army met to discuss the terms of surrender for the south. Cole had earned the rank of captain in the Union Army and was in command and responsible for the men in his company. He had watched as some of his soldiers fell in battle, some by rifle fire while others were victims of shrapnel from cannons fired by the Confederate soldiers. And some of his men had died from bayonets being thrust into their bodies. When he could find the time he would visit men in his command while they were being treated in field hospitals and watched as doctors fought to save lives of badly wounded men. Doctors worked in mostly unsanitary conditions but toiled tirelessly, regardless of their surroundings. He had seen enough bloodshed and smelled enough gunpowder and smoke to last a lifetime and he was definitely glad that it was over. And now it was time to get his life back together.

Many thoughts filled his head as he listened to the saddle leather squeak and Sarge’s hooves slap the dirt as he walked. There were thoughts of the home that he left behind a little over three years ago, thoughts of the family ranch where he grew up helping his father with the cattle and thoughts of Becky Wilkins, the daughter of Ralph Wilkins, the owner of the ranch adjacent to theirs. He remembered the times that he had taken the wagon in to Sweetwater to pick up supplies and of the first time his father had taken him inside the Horseshoe Saloon for their first beer together. And the thought of his mother and how a letter had found him near Shiloh three months after she had passed away from a sudden illness. Cole was anxious to get back home but as he rode atop Sarge, he wasn’t even sure that he still had a home and, if he did, whether his neighbors would accept him and not view him as a traitor who had fought with the enemy. But it was going to be a long spell before he reached the ranch so he would put those worries aside until he reached Sweetwater.

He’d been in western Tennessee, near the town of Jackson, when the war ended and he hadn’t covered much ground since then. He felt that he had to take care of a few things with his men before he ever started for home. Cole had managed to put back a few dollars during those three years so he bought a few changes of clothes, boots and a new hat before he left Tennessee. The only things he had kept was his mount, Sarge, and the Colt Model 1860, the sidearm worn by most Union officers. Sarge was his third mount and he had only picked him up three months before the war ended. His previous two mounts had been shot out from under him but he had, somehow, managed to escape the war unscathed. However, he still had memories and those memories had been burned into his mind and would never leave him.

It was in a little town in western Arkansas called Dry Creek that Cole had his first encounter with southern sympathizers. He had ridden in to town early one afternoon and his first thought after taking care of Sarge was to get a bath, shave and get in to some clothes that were not covered with trail dust. After cleaning up he went to the only café in town, just a small five table restaurant with a menu that was just as small. He sat down, ate his dinner and leaned back to enjoy one last cup of good, hot coffee before leaving. It was then that a couple of cowboys came in, the older one wearing a cowboy hat and dirty boots, the younger one sporting a big, shiny belt buckle and wearing a gray cap with the CSA insignia on front, letters Cole knew only too well, meaning Confederate States of America. It didn’t take long for the two to start talking about the war that had ended months earlier. What the younger one had to say wasn’t favorable to anyone that had worn a blue uniform.

Cole could see where this was going so he laid his money on the table for his meal, grabbed his hat and headed for the door. The younger of the two, the one with the gray cap, turned to see Cole as he was reaching for the door. Hey, he shouted to Cole. What kind of pistol is that you’re totin’ on your hip? I thought only Yankees wore those pistols. Are you a Yankee, Mister? Cole turned to face the trouble maker and calmly said, You seem to have a good eye for sidearms and apparently you don’t take a fancy to the one that I’m carrying. But, that’s alright. Everyone has a right to choose the weapon that he likes. Myself? I like this one.

Cole turned and walked out the door and headed down the street to pick up Sarge and get out of town. It didn’t take long before he heard the café door open and slam shut behind him. He didn’t turn around because he didn’t want any trouble, even when the young man began cursing him and yelling loud enough to cause people to stop and watch. Cole just kept right on walking and this only angered the young man more. Suddenly, a shot rang out from behind him and he felt a sting on his left arm as the bullet just nicked him, barely a scratch. The instinct for survival made him turn and draw his Colt, firing a shot as he turned. Cole watched as the young man froze for a moment, his pistol falling from his gun hand, The young man had a surprised look on his face as he looked down at his chest covered in blood. He took one last breath and fell to the ground and never moved.

A small crowd had gathered around and from the crowd emerged the local sheriff, his weapon drawn and pointed at Cole. Cole slowly holstered his Colt and raised his hands to let the sheriff know that he meant no one else any harm. The sheriff asked what had happened and although none of the crowd wanted to side with the stranger they had to agree that the youngster had drawn his weapon and tried to shoot Cole in the back and he only acted in self defense. Even the dead man’s friend agreed that it was self defense. The sheriff accepted their version of the incident but warned Cole that he should go to the livery, get his horse, mount up and put as much distance as possible between him and Dry Creek as soon and as fast as he could. He said that the dead man’s name was Will Trotter, the son of Art Trotter, the wealthiest rancher in that part of Arkansas. The sheriff asked for his name, and Cole told him. The sheriff said, you keep your eyes open because somewhere, sometime when you least expect it, Art Trotter will have someone gunning for you. Cole thanked him, went to the livery, mounted up and rode out of Dry Creek. Two weeks later Cole still hadn’t seen anyone trailing him or noticed anything unusual that might pose a threat to him. But, he thought to himself, he wouldn’t let his guard down. Not for a moment.

Chapter 2

The sound of Sarge clearing his nostrils startled Cole and brought him out of the daze that had overtaken him as he rode along thinking of the past. It was almost midnight when off in the distance he could see what appeared to be a few remaining lights still burning in a small town. He knew that he was no longer in Arkansas but, not being familiar with the territory, wasn’t exactly sure where he was or where this town was located. Thirty minutes later he approached the outskirts of the small community consisting of only a few houses and a small store. A crude sign outside the store read The Battle of Honey Springs wuz fought here on July 17, 1863. Cole had heard of the clash between Union and Confederate forces at Honey Springs but didn’t know much about it since it was so much farther west than where major battles took place. But he knew that the Union forces had defeated the Confederates here and had taken hold of Indian Territory, an important victory for them.

There was a sign hanging on one of the houses saying Rooms for Rent. It was late but he decided to see if there was a room available for the night. He wanted a good hot bath, clean clothes and a good meal before moving on west. The house was rather small so there couldn’t be too many rooms to rent and it was possible that a bath was not available either. But it was worth a try. He tapped on the door rather gently and waited. In a few seconds a light came on inside and the door opened slowly just enough that the person inside could peek out. It was an attractive lady that looked at him and asked, what do you want? Cole replied, Ma’am, I know it’s late but do you have a room available just for the night and I could sure use a hot bath if it’s possible. Yes, she said, for $2.00, I can pour up some bath water, furnish you a room for the night and a hot breakfast in the morning. Cole smiled at the woman and said, Thank you, Ma’am, that sounds good but I have to bed down my horse first. Is there a livery in town? The woman replied, no livery, but there is a barn out back with a couple of stalls, a barrel of oats, a water trough and a curry brush if you need it. Cole thanked her, went back out to Sarge and led him to the barn in back.

After bedding down his horse, Cole walked back to the house and slowly opened the door and went inside. The woman introduced herself as Angie. She was a very attractive woman, probably in her mid to late thirties with dark hair, dark skin and brown eyes. He knew that she was either part Hispanic or part Indian but he was glad that she took him in for the night. She had already fixed a plate of beans and a piece of sourdough bread and had it sitting on the table. Cole sat down and watched as she heated up the water for his bath. He apologized for being so late and waking her up but she paid him no mind and went on about getting his bath water and towels together. Cole dug into the plate of hot beans as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. It was good to get a warm meal after being on the trail and having nothing but jerky and stale bread for so long. He finished his meal and she showed him where to bathe and said that she would get his room ready while he cleaned up.

Feeling like a new man after his bath he followed her to a part of the small house where he was to bed down. Surprisingly, the room was very neat, the bed linens looked as if they had just been washed and there was a pitcher of water and a basin on the dresser. Thank you, he said as she walked out. Cole quickly shed his boots, his pants and shirt and crawled between the sheets. He was sure it was only a couple of hours until daylight but that was the last thought he had before he fell asleep.

Daylight shining through the window woke Cole up the next morning. The smell of bacon filled his nostrils as he rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know what time it was and he didn’t care. The bed had been comfortable and he had enjoyed a good night’s sleep. He laid there for a couple of minutes then swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there until he could get his bearings. He didn’t realize just how exhausted he had been when he finally went to sleep last night. Reaching for his clean pants, shirt and dusty boots, he began to dress. He reached for his gun belt and hat but put neither on just yet. Opening the door he was greeted with the smell of breakfast and was eager to sit down with a cup of hot coffee and a hot meal and just relax. Angie was standing by the stove when he walked in and the table was already set with only two plates. He wasn’t sure if the second plate was for another boarder or if it was meant for her. She turned and motioned for him to sit down and she brought the coffee pot over and poured him a cup. The aroma of the coffee mingled with the fresh smell of the woman pouring brought the thought of home to his mind. If things went as planned he would be home before the cold north winds came.

Cole ate his breakfast and got his fill of the fresh coffee. He gave Angie $4.00 for the trouble that he had caused her so late at night. She was hesitant to take the extra $2.00 but Cole insisted. He strapped on his gun belt, grabbed his hat and coat and went out back to saddle Sarge and get ready to ride. He walked Sarge around to the front of the house where Angie was waiting. He was attracted to this gentle woman, but, knowing that he had to head out and knowing that she was probably ten to fifteen years older than him he said his good byes, giving her a thankful hug. Mounting up, he turned Sarge toward the west and rode out.

Chapter 3

Three weeks later, Cole found himself approaching the town of Durant in the Oklahoma Territory. It was early October and the north wind mixed with the cooler temperatures was already making it’s presence