The Way of the Wolves

By Jeff Townsend

Cole Hawkins began his American journey in early nineteenth century New York but eventually made his way to the Missouri and Mississippi rivers. Through his many adventures, he always followed his Indian animal totem, the hawk.

Now, his saga continues, as do his travels and his loves. His children grow to take and make their own place in the land. They journey along the western trails, where Native Americans still play a prominent part of life in the wild.

Journey into the dangerous and greedy time of the California Gold Rush. Ride beside the cattle drives of the Southwest. Finally, witness the horror of a prolonged and hateful Civil War. Sons and daughters rise above hardships aplenty to make their own ways as America tries to heal its wounds and grow to nationhood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Oct 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982292102

Jeff Townsend

Jeff Townsend currently resides in Casino, Australia.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 Jeff Townsend.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com.au

AU TFN: 1 800 844 925 (Toll Free inside Australia)

AU Local: [phone] ([phone] from outside Australia)

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.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-9209-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-9210-2 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date:09/24/2021

CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Part Two

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Part Three

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

‘To all the characters that embellished my life, From books and comics and narratives told, From radio, record, television and movies.

You have enriched my life both in ways obvious and not so;

Consciously and unconsciously.

Now at last my characters get to live with you.’

Jeff

To places near and far that continues to enchant and fill me full of wonder.

DEDICATION

                        ‘For my family….

                        Robyn,

                        Nat, Lisa and Henry;

                        Tahnee, Paul, Gabrielle and Eedie….’

"Once you have but got the Track of those Ravenous

Howling Wolves, then pursue them vigorously; Turn

not back till they are consumed…Beat them small as

the Dust before the Wind."

Reverend Cotton Mather

        American Holocaust: Columbus and the Conquest of the New World

        (New York & Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992, p. 241)

‘Within us all there lies a wolf lying in wait to be called upon’

Author Unknown

‘No one is going to be with you forever. Someday you will

have to walk alone.

At the end we all die alone

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.’

Lord Byron

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside all people. He said, "Son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all. One is evil. It is anger, envy, jealous, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humanity, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and hope.

The grandson thought about it for a minute then asked his grandfather, Which wolf wins?

The old Cherokee replied, The one you feed.

Cherokee story often told

                        ‘Spirit of the Wolf,

                        You who wanders the wild lands,

                        You who stalks in silent shadows, You

                        who runs and leaps

                        Between moss covered trees,

                        Lend me your primal strength,

                        And the wisdom of your glowing eyes.

                        Teach me to relentlessly track my desires.

                        And to stand in defense of those I love.

                        Show me the hidden paths And the

                        moonlit fields.

                        Fierce Spirit,

                        Walk with me in my solitude

                        Howl with me in my joy

                        And guard me

                        As I move through this world.’

PART ONE

THE WAY OF THE WOLVES

Antebellum

(Occurring or existing before the war)

1815-1861

"I bring not peace but the sword.’

Matthew 10:34

Wolf

The tawny, gray wolf looked up at the patch of blue, the window of sky that rounded like a full moon through the thatching that his man foe called at trap and wondered what the free running the terrain held beyond, his brood of wolves that were out there somewhere, some still cubs, hidden safely away. His injury from the fall was better he knew. He could pace up and down within the confines that the earthen pit would allow. There had to be a way out.

He had made a mistake. It was not the first in his years and doubted it would be his last unless he could get out of this man trap. At least he had avoided the sharpened timber pikes that may have impaled him with his awkward fall, clinging to the side wall of trap for purchase as he tumbled. It saved him falling away from the sharpened stakes. The sculptured sides were beyond scaling. He knew that. He had tried. Maybe the weather of hard blowing winds that had kept the human away from collecting his pelt will do him another favor. His ears were erect for any sound of an approach. His harsh fur was closing in on his ribs without the fulfillment of food and water sustenance.

He had smelt the foul stench of man and yet disregarded the warning and had gone ahead into the clearing. He had let down his guard. His need for revenge fueled him, for some compensation. It was his kill. The man hunter being had taken it from him and all the way back to his camp and just dumped it there. Carelessly he had followed forgetting all his years of caution, all his wisdom of years. So much was the enticement for the quarry that lay for the taking.

He sat in wonder of a plan. He was wise in years and in planning. If nothing freakish happened, it was easy. When the keeper of the trap came, he would launch one almighty last effort of an attack, to breach the high walls and take hold of him. It was either that or his peril. So, he sat, conserving his strength. He had not survived all these years with some cunning, some guile. What vengeance he could muster would brutally fierce.

56019.png

CHAPTER ONE

1815

‘Courage isn’t having the strength to go on- it is going on when you don’t have the strength.’

Napoleon Bonaparte

The war of 1812 had finished. The Treaty of Ghent was signed but things moved slowly, and still British and American forces clashed. In the battle of New Orleans on January 8th Andrew Jackson led forces that beat the British but just one month later, the British at Mobile Alabama captured Fort Bowyer and that was it, news had reached all of the truce. Meanwhile days later Napoleon had escaped from the island of Elba of the Italian coast, immediately gathering support and rising to the position of monarch by March 20th. And with a 100 000 strong army Napoleon marched to Paris in 100 days of power. It was as short reign for by June 24th he was abdicating, Napoleon having had his Waterloo and just as quickly as he had risen, he was cut down. By October, accepting surrender on a British ship, he was exiled once again, this time to the island of St. Helena. Napoleon of course refused to acknowledge it as his defeat. History, he was quoted as saying ‘is a series of lies we all agree upon.’ He claimed to be hardly on the battlefield. Hemorrhoids, bladder problems and syphilis made claims on his physical presence. And then there were his generals. Nay led his cavalry into battle too early disobeying orders. Soult continued to lose the orders Napoleon sent him and de Grouchy underestimating the battle head, decided to have a long leisurely breakfast of fresh strawberries when his task was to scout the countryside for Prussians. And lastly there was God. He sent his fury upon his men and sent a monsoon down upon them before the battle.

France had seen the mighty fallen. It had been quite a year. France was devastated. Not only had their military might been torn a sunder, but some of their leading generals were also killed on the battlefield, others like Nay captured to be executed soon. It was all at the hands of an army foe they could not fathom, an army gang pressed and cheated and bludgeoned into the service for the British King’s shilling. The French were volunteers. They answered the call to fight for France, for their country and for the emperor. After a 12th June battle that left 51 000 French casualties and 15 000 missing, along with 24 000 Anglo-allies and Prussians there were huge numbers from both sides no longer needed in their armies. The war had been won and lost. Britain offered land in New England and transportation for ex-soldiers to forgo the military pension, their treasury serious depleted by the conflicts. Many took the offer, but most were old, beyond their years from 20 years of campaigns. Many were injured and many were still suffering the sicknesses that plagued the army over the years. And of those that accepted the New England offer only a few were allowed to take their wives and family to the new country, that decided by ballot.

Robert Porter had two things to do after Waterloo before returning home. One was to visit the wife of Philippe Mamont, Nanette. The French cavalry man had died at the end of his bayonet bravely when his horse crashed into the near impenetrable red square. With his dying breath Phillippe asked to give something to his wife. This he did and stayed on to get the farm back on its feet for the widow and her young son. He left guilt ridden at first when it also led to her bed.

The next visit before returning to his family’s coach building business in Wiltshire was to his friend who also had died beside him on that day. He had a gift of letters and personal affects to his betrothed Mary Hawkins. A friendship was struck between them, and correspondence ensued. A chance meeting in London and it became more than a friendship. Later they were married and soon after a baby boy, Cole Porter was born.

Cole Hawkins

1

The earthen floor gaol that Cole Hawkins nee Porter sat upon was no more than he would expect from the French. He coughed and wheezed through his thin frame to the dank surrounds. Somehow, somewhere thankfully, water always managed to seep in from outside the huge slabs of rock, cracks abound everywhere. Unfortunately, it also brought vermin. Coldness was a daily event. Cole rubbed his heavily bearded chin and looked at the scratch mark of days. Had he added this day’s tally yet? No! he admonished himself, Not time. After slop time. He had presumed he was being feed once a day though nothing was that certain. It was close to that time. The afternoon’s sun threw but a small shaft of light through the twelve-inch square of opening of a window a high. It was so high he could see nothing, even when standing at the most extreme point away. Voices could be heard from the streets below but only occasionally.

The iron plate would open at the bottom of the door and a slide of tin projected forward through it. It was food of sorts, a tin can of a watery slop, perhaps a vegetable peel of two within its gruel. Sometimes a piece of moldy bread sat nearby. The gaoler said little. And then it would be ‘meurtrier’ or ‘assassiner’ would be spat with the deposit of a glob of phlegm from his guttural vocabulary. Once he was quite verbose when he laughed about his kind, at war, fighting amongst them. He guessed it was the war that was in the wind back home before he left. It was building to unavoidable conflict when he had left America. His sons, he wondered. What had become of them. Would they be in it such an encounter? Zeus almost certainly. He was in the army after all. Orpheus. Yes, he’d be in for a penny…and the young mites. He chuckled at that. Gunner no doubt. And Jack…. if there’s a river involved.

He had kept them young in his mind but yes, they would be old enough, he did not doubt. He grabbed the plate and held it to his mouth, less his cell mates of mice and rats would claim it ravenously before him. Out they came from the small cracks and edifices. He hated them and liked their company all at the same time. They nibbled at him while he slept. That annoyed him. The first time, he had killed one with his hand grabbing its tail and slamming it against the wall. As a message to his captures, he had returned its body with his tin bowl when the hand came for collection. The next day he got it back instead of food. So, he crawled around until he found the hole it had entered from and shoved it back in. He could yet not come to eat them though many at time he was tempted of late. He had only just finished his food when he heard the voice, her voice. Monsieur Cole, she would call. No matter how much she whispered and disguised her voice there was a melody within it as it rose from the street. It was her he was sure, there most days often than not. It reminded him of Parissa, his most beloved Parissa.

2.

He had buried Parissa in the winter of ’55. She lay next to her newborn daughter, Sarah. All of them there, it seemed a place for the dead not the living. There was the wagon massacre, so many dead. Parissa, along with the rest of them, the wagon train victims he had laid her to rest upon the banks of the North Platte. It had been a severe winter and pneumonia had come and hit with a whole host of ills. Cholera, measles and smallpox had all been left in the wake of the westward ho waggoneers on the trail to Oregon over the years along with those that had lost their lives at the hands of Indian attacks. There were many crosses to the graveyard that adjoined the small church he had built. It was the only church for miles, out in the North Platte wilderness not far off the trail. Wagon trains left from Independence to wherever they all went, west, though no doubt over the years many more places had sprung up along the way. Parissa and he had had over ten good and happy years since the day he rode into the property called ‘Providence’ with his entourage of family, Zeus, a son from Parissa’s sister, Aris; Orion, older by mere months and his younger sister Breeze from his romance with the Cherokee Indian, Summer Wind; Breeze and Orpheus from his marriage to the German born, Inge. Inge’s first husband, Thomas Cowdery lay in a graveyard plot not far from Parissa, a victim of that wagon train massacre all those years ago. A much younger Cole was lucky to escape the full-scale butchering with his life.

They were also fruitful years for Parissa had born Cole two more sons, Gunner and River Jack, brothers to the girl that had now grown into a young lady, Mary. The last was a daughter, Sophie, after they had lost the baby Sarah claimed by sickness. The farm however had prospered under their hard work. The herd, again the accompanying herd of that same wagon train had increased largely in the wild and the land proved bounteous in the cultivated corn and maize as well as vegetables. The river despite its shallowness and its creek feeder nearby had also provided them with a good catch of fish to supplement what was grown.

Orion had proven an expert and skillful hunter. Often, he went out on long hunting parties with a Pawnee cowhand, Billy Wild Horse and returned with buffalo and deer. But towards the end Billy Wild Horse had left along with his Pawnee camp. They had suffered greatly at the hands of disease also and attacks from rogue bunches of outlaw whites and renegade Indian bands of no tribe allegiance had further depleted their number. The Pawnee’s moving on had left ‘Providence’ without much of its workforce. Bad spirits they cited, crows mainly. Single crows especially were frowned upon by the Pawnee. ‘One crow for sorrow’ it was said. But they knew it was more and more whites by wagon and boats that were bringing more sicknesses and hate for the native Americans to their lands. It was time to go, into more isolated areas. A bad winter came, and the buffalo became not as prolific in numbers in harsh deep snows around them preferring the prairie grasses elsewhere had added to their woes.

Billy Wild Horse wearing the owl feathers of the medicine man, medicine bag on his side vowed to return one day, undoubtedly, much to do with the strong friendships he had built up but certainly more to do with his wooing of Cole Hawkin’s daughter. The Pawnee were one of the few tribes who believed well of the owl. Like the Cherokee they saw them as the Chief of the Night with skills to be admired and learnt. But Billy wouldn’t see ‘Providence’ again, nor would Cole. There was more bad luck and misadventure to come to him, unbeknownst. Cole left, his son Zeus was graduating from West Point, his army posting pending afterwards. Parissa’s sister, Aris and mother to Zeus along with Kate, Neptune and Storm met him and sitting proudly to watch the procession and parade. With him were several guests. His sister, Florissa and his daughter Nanette was there too to watch her half-brother. Michael Sullivan sat with his wife, Florissa and Michael Junior. Apollo and Turk, firm friends now from their fighting days at Big Jim Diamond’s House of Pain. Young men all in their blues sat like a sea before the stands. They tried to catch Zeus’s eye, but he seemed to have eyes only for a pretty young girl nearby. Cole would not blame him. He would have at such the age. He was tinged with sadness that Parissa his wife was not with him and for a moment’s reflection how many of these fine officers would be with us still in five, ten years. Whatever is, providence will be, he thought. His very own ‘Providence’ he left in capable hands, his children, he was sure. He did not know then it would be the last he was to see of his children for many a year and of ‘Providence’ all together.

3.

They sat in the specially allocated stand festooned with blue, red and white ribbon and banner while the class of 55 paraded so. There was much excitement in the air and expectation of family and friends and the cadets themselves hoping for all kind of placement about the states. The Mexican war was over, Texas now a state of some ten years old along with Florida now part of the Union. Many of those witnesses to the event this day had fought in that campaign and many more were teachers of the current graduates. California was classed now as a free state and still was like a giant magnet of attraction with prospectors and gold. Gold too pulled many to Utah and Colorado along with many who saw the opportunity to break the law and get rich quickly. Indians too were becoming the thorn in many plans for westward expansion and most of the eager fresh faces lined up in anticipation craved such action and placement against some foe to forge their name and future.

Cole sat next to his son, Robert. Named after his grandfather, he had grown much like Cole in appearance over the ten years since he had last seen him but that seemed pretty darn hard to avoid when you considered his breeding. Robert was the product of an unknowingly incestuous relationship with his sister. Florissa and Cole were both unaware of the family connection in the attraction. Cole guessed Robert still did not know of this. Florissa sat the other side of Robert with Michael O’Conner, the man she married. Young Michael, their son sat with them. Robert’s twin sister, Nanette watched Cole incessantly, eagle eyed, somewhat in awe but Cole detected something else, wonderment, maybe puzzlement. Perhaps she knew or suspected something. Nanette was so like her mother. Florissa still lit up the room with her presence and Nanette was cast in her mould. Florissa had lost none of her youthfulness, her energy and zest for life. Nanette so named after her French grandmother had it too.

Robert was more subdued, an inner quietness and strength, like Cole.

Their family had prospered. Florissa now owned and ran three clubs, the ‘Oh La La!’, ‘The Liberty’ and the ‘Playhouse’. Michael’s law practice and his trusteeship of the Van Prattle estate in all its guises these days meant many dollars coming their way. Wise investments into transportation and goods that supplied the gold fields had meant much in the way of income and prosperity. Their clothing and demeanor emphasized their social standing. Michael too had won much praise and respect for his defense and contesting of the Van Prattle estate for Latoya, a French Caribbean lass, consort of Murat, left with child upon his death. Her claim was hotly contested by a New York socialite, one of the Bergius’s. Her daughter, Aster was also left in child by Murat. Michael Sullivan fought hard and long for the girl, chasing down all the employees of the defunct transport company to testify as to the times Murat spent with the girl virtually imprisoned in the riverside property. That defense had won him many future clients of those hard done by, downtrodden by authority or by those of wealth.

Zeus’s mother, Aris sat the other side of Cole and her hand rested on his. She looked good despite her forty plus years. Her world-wide wanderings, sailing, trading and a lengthy time in China had left her with a deep tawny golden skin, her hair blonder and a happier demeanor than he ever remembered in her youth. Her new husband, Windsor and daughter, Charliese had been lost in a huge storm off the coast of China, presumed dead. Her other son to Cole Hawkins, Neptune loved the life of the clippers and stayed at sea after their life in China, typhoons, shipwrecks, recovery and then in business. Cole had only just been told that both Neptune and Kate were his children and was still in some shock to the fact. Kate was still in China, doing extremely well in Shanghai. There, known as Shanghai Kate she was running several businesses despite her young age. She knew as much about tea and silks as well as anyone. I’m so sorry about Parissa, Aris added. Before he could speak, she continued, I did her much wrong in my youth Cole and for that I am deeply regretful. To think I never had the chance to meet with her and make amends, though if she wanted nothing to do with me, I would have understood so. My shame and guilt I will take to the grave with me.

Thanks Aris. I’m sure deep down she knew that.

What was she like?

A most beautiful person. Just the greatest person you could ever be with. Had many wonderful years. And more children I hear?

Yes. Two more boys and a daughter, Sophie. Another, Sarah died just before Parissa, the sickness. I must get out there one day. See this famed Providence of yours and see Mary and the boys visit her grave.

You are more than welcome. She gave his hand a squeeze. Cole’s sister noticed such affection and looked at Michael with a ‘here we go again!’ look. And what of news of Charles? Cole was asking of her cousin in France.

Haven’t heard a word, Aris replied. Cole well remembered the death of Marta and Olaf, Aris’s and Parissa’s mother and father. Cole was blamed and arrested accordingly and finally jailed until Charles’s exwife, Yvette rescued him with an alibi. She too put pressure upon her ex-husband Charles to confess to his own role in the deeds.

A hurrah was shouted joyously, and hats were thrown skywards that drew all eyes to center stage.

Well, I guess that’s about it.

My son, the army officer, Aris said proudly. Who would have thought Cole?

Zeus rushed over to a crowd of people causing Aris to look to a section further up. Now I wonder whatever that could be. No sooner had she worked out the gathering that Zeus darted over towards them. Cole admired how much the boy had filled out, the blue uniform sitting squarely on broad shoulders. Cole shook his hand with congratulations, Aris kissed him and hugged him so and then on her release Florissa and O’Sullivan added their best wishes.

Thanks everyone. Wait a minute, there’s someone I want you to meet. Quickly he turned and bolted.

It seems our boy has himself a girl.

No! No! He’s too young, Aris started protesting.

My! My! Cole said. We have short memories Aristotle.

Don’t call me that, she said with a playful punch. You know I hate that.

Father, he said dragging a girl behind him impatiently. Mother. This is Virginia. Virginia Bosworth. He waited expectantly before turning to the girl. Virginia this is my father, Cole. She extended her hand and took his and shook it. Heard so much about you Sir. Most of it untrue, I’m sure. But I’m very pleased to meet you.

And this is my mother, he said turning to Aris. The two women’s eyes met and much passed as it does in that fleeting momentary glance.

Likewise, Mrs. Windsor. It is a great privilege to meet you.

Why thank you Miss Bosworth. Most kind of you.

Virginia, she said. Please call me Virginia. The name was repeated from further afield.

You must excuse me. I must go. Nice to make your acquaintance. Bye Zeus. Until tonight. She picked up her skirts in a flowing motion and left with the suddenness she had arrived.

Tonight, Zeus dear?

A party. A graduation party, Zeus said.

And here I was thinking your dear old mother would get a look in.

It’s for us Mother. The young ones. Look I must go and be with my classmates or they’ll think me frightfully snobbish. Thanks everyone for coming. Zeus too left for a group of his classmates already toasting the moment with champagne.

Too old indeed, Aris scoffed. The others laughed.

To be that age and the world at your feet.

Listen to it, Florissa laughed. There’s a lot left to this old dog yet brother dear. I know you.

Come let us have a drink or so before these young pups drain the bar.

Industrials! Coal! Iron ore! Transport! Ammunitions and guns! That’s where the investments need to go. Take my word for it Cole. We are shaping up to a war whether people want to believe it or not. Michael had told Cole, Parissa had left a sizable estate Cole. Want do you want me to do with it?

Do as you have been doing. Investing so. But in the children’s name, not mine. Mary, Sophie, Gunner and Jack.

Will do so if that is your wish. But what of yourself? What’s in the wind for Cole Hawkins?

Back to Providence. A few people to see.

That Samuel Colt? Friend of yours. What of him?

Called through on the way. Still no advance on anything new. The Walker Model Colt is being revamped but he’s reluctant to change it too much, go into double action revolvers. Too many parts mean more chances for parts to fail he argues. Got a point. Also believes extra effort in cocking could cause a firer to sway of the target. Did see his plans for a new cap and ball or percussion Colt for the Army, the 44? Still thinks it’s a year or two away from manufacture.

Worth investing in?

Yes, I do.

Well, I must go. Florissa darling we must go, things to do. We will see you before you move on? That you will. Cole shook hands with Michael and Florissa kissed his cheek.

Catching up more with Johnny Flash and the Turk?

Sure are. Heading down later. Johnny Flash had several oyster boats and leases now along the river and bay. Looking forward to trying those New Yorker’s.

Well, if he has plenty to spare.

I’ll see what I can do.

So here we are Cole Hawkins. Left high and dry. Any plans? Aris said.

Not a one at the moment.

Well, I’m heading home. Care to accompany me. My carriage is waiting out there. My pleasure.

Good! It will be good to reminisce about old times.

4

It was over a breakfast of ham and eggs that Zeus finally stumbled in. Good party? his father asked. Yeah! he said tiredly but excitedly. I got it! I got it!

What?

Cavalry! The Fourth! Formed just this year in Missouri from the First.

"Is that with Lee?’

Yep! McClellan and J.E.B. Stuart. But Sumner and Johnston will be our commanders. I’m off to Kansas.

Well congratulations are in order I guess. Cole extended his hand.

Thanks!

What now?

Sleep. I got to catch a couple of hours before reporting for further orders.

Well, I’ll be off and leave you in peace.

Where to?

Friends to catch up with.

Wake me up by one will you please?

I’ll be back by then. Sleep tight. The door closed behind Cole as he took the steps down on the sidewalk. The sky had a murkiness about it, but he thought he would chance it. He would swing by Johnny Flash’s place first and then, perhaps see if Rebecca’s home.

There was a swarm of children about the place as the door opened. Happy faces and voices ran about the room behind the face. Cole! Cole Hawkins! Come in!

Flash in?

No! He’s out on the boats. Should be in unloading by now.

Look! I can see you’ve got your hands full. He nodded to the babe in arms in question.

I’ll come back later.

Head down to the wharves. You might catch him.

I’ll do that. He walked that way but saw no sign of him or the boats, so he headed towards Rebecca Kelly’s place. She had become very successful with writing and the Becky Starr comic books.

Cole stopped in his tracks at the sight of a man leaving the house that matched the address he held. He waited to back off a little behind a tree almost stripped threadbare by the season’s wind. He debated about going ahead but he wasn’t a man to contemplate, hesitate. Everything that had happened over the years, the fights, the bear fight, all the scars his body testified to, and he admire the woman now fully in his sight. By God, well and truly a woman now. The woman turned quickly and shut the door. It was Rebecca, the girl he met at what age, 10 or 12 or so. Becky, the girl he was employed to tutor by the Cowdery’s on that trek west, the Trail to Oregon and then all that befell them. He looked up the street and took in the pretentiousness of the area. Many dollars required for living here, he thought. He had married her stepmother, Inge after all that. Knowing Rebecca was home he marched on to her door. Who knew when he’d return this way, if ever again? He had the words rehearsed to say to her when the door opened but instead of Rebecca answering it was a petite red-haired girl with the lilt of Irish about her who asked what he would like. To see your master….er I mean Mistress. Mrs. Kelly please. Rebecca, he added as if she didn’t understand.

And whom may I say it is that’s calling?

Tell her a Mister Hawkins is here. Cole. Cole Hawkins.

One-minute Sir and I will see if she is ready for visitors.

That’s fine. It was a minute or two before the flow of long trusses of hair flew into the room like some whirlwind and she threw her arms around him.

Cole! How good it is to see you? The maid stood to the side; eyebrows raised though not surprised. Come in. My! My! You are a sight for a young girl’s eyes. Cole followed her in, the maid taking his coat and hat. This way. To the sitting room. You’ve done well here Becky, he added.

No thanks to you. Well, my comic books with you featured.

Yes! I’ve seen a few about, for the young ones out west.

Not just for the young. Nor out west if my tours have anything to show. Take a seat. Want tea or coffee or perhaps something stronger.

No! No! But thanks.

That will be all, Rebecca said dismissing her maid. We are just in the planning stage of another offering of Becky Starr. That was my publisher that just left. You must have just missed him. Becky Starr rides again.

Still. We are waiting letters and getting reports from Percy Havelock. You remember him from the wagon train, don’t you?

Good God! I thought he was long gone and buried. Scalped years ago. He survived obviously. So did I Cole. But no, he surfaced living with Indian tribe after Indian tribe. He was down Texas when my late husband was killed. I was sorry to hear about that Beck.

No matter. Water under the bridge. Years ago. One must move on. Anyhow it was he and the Sheriff, remember the Sheriff from Independence Cole? Well, he was in Texas fighting and my goodness there is so much to tell you. A long story short, they found out who killed Joel. Percy’s out in Oregon now, finally made it and he’s reporting back to us on the Rouge River trouble, you know, Indians, gold, the new frontier.

And children?

Two girls, twins and a boy.

And they are? he said looking around.

My goodness no. Not here. Schooling. And a very good one too. But tell me all that has happened? Last I heard you got married the Van Prattle girl. What was her name?

Parissa.

Yes, that’s the one. Aristotle’s sister, wasn’t she? And the adventures she has had. Sorry you must not let me interrupt. Do tell me so. It has been so long since I have seen you. She sat next to him in the setter and clasped his hand in hers.

The minutes soon swallowed up into hours, Cole telling of Yvette, himself with the children on their time west, the Mississippi, the Plate and Yvette’s visit to France when Rebecca interrupted. That reminds me. I don’t know if this means anything to you Cole darling but…… she said then hesitated.

Yes. Go on.

I was at a book promotion thing, a tour, calling it what you will, and I was talking to this salesman, you know, keeping everyone happy habit, flirt a bit. Truthfully, I think he fancied his chances with the widow Rebecca. She paused for effect. He was over in France. Some time ago and now let me recall, get this right. The grip on Cole’s hand tightened. That’s right! He said that there was this, what did he call it? ‘Hell, to pay’ that was it. Apparently, some New Yorker, you know he said to me, the one that had that exquisite little shop of Paris fashions. Well straight away I knew who he was talking about, Yvette Van Prattle, wife of that germ of a man, Charles. Well, more to the story. He said that when he was over there, a wine merchant he is, the story about the street, just gossip I suppose, was that she had died during childbirth.

Cole broke in. That’s the story I heard.

Well darling Cole. There is more. She again paused for dramatic impact and snuggled in closer to him as if to whisper, as if what she was to say was for his ears only. Well, apparently there were children born and the Lord of the Estate, Charlie boy Van Prattle claims the child as his own and for it was his wife, this Yvette……

No! The bastard! Cole said in disclaim.

But wait darling of mine, there’s more. The mid wife and her husband had mysterious accidents after the birth. Both dead. Strange you say? Coincidence perhaps? But this Charles sent out his men searching for a girl, the mid wife’s daughter, twelve years old she was, and what for you ask? The child took the other baby. She waited for it to register with Cole. Yes Cole, twins! Two babies? he said in somewhat of a shock.

Yes! And Charles didn’t know.

What?

The story about the villages was that he actually ordered the death of Yvette so that he could keep the boy, his heir apparent and no questions asked. She waited once more to see the impact upon Cole. It was somewhat akin to shock. Did they find her?

No! They burnt her house to the ground and chased her across the country. Didn’t find her. Cole my love, it seems you have a couple of children, Frenchies in the middle of that country somewhere. I thought…. I thought….

I guess now’s as good a time as any.

What for?

To tell you.

What Rebecca?

Oh, Cole darling. The girls. My girls. Eliza and Colette. They are yours too.

What?

Fraid so. The twins. You’re the father. Remember the time out in, well on the way to Independence after the Gathering, Silver Eye dead and all that. Well on the banks of the Missouri, the two of us, well Becky Starr fell pregnant.

"Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?’

What for Cole? To keep you tied to my apron strings. Perhaps to settle you down. Listen my darling. I do know you and ...

To provide, to care for them, to see them. They must think me a bloody heel.

Not really. They know their father is the man of the storybooks, out there taming the country, the Wild West, living with Indians. Bloody hell!

They know you don’t know. Their father is the hero of the comic. Quite a romantic idea really. And I don’t really want your money or anything. I’ve got more than enough.

Rebecca, I must see them.

Cole! There’s one more thing. He read the anxiousness on her face and feared what may come next. He waited. I told the girls and everyone else really that we were married. It was for the best. She waited for protest, but none came so she continued. I had to Cole, for the girls, for this place, society. New York can be so cruel. So, the girls wouldn’t be looked down upon, castigated or branded so. It’s all right Rebecca. I understand. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Good. And honestly, I wished it so. I romanticized, dreamed of it. But there was you and Inge. It was so, just ideal, and I was just……. Becky, he interrupted.

No! Let me go on. It’s all right, I got over it but the girls, the twins needed something, someone.

So, what happened to me? To marry Joel Kelly?

She laughed a little. Separation. Years of not hearing from you. Believed dead so it was all annulled, just like that. It’s amazing what money and a firm of good lawyers can come up with.

My, I have had a colorful life, haven’t I? Back from the dead, just like that.

They will be home soon enough from school. Give me a moment with them, to break the news.

I’ll give you more than that. Sadly, I must go. I promised to be back by noon. My son’s posting. But tomorrow if that’s all right?

Great! That will give me the night to talk things over with them. It’s a date. You at the apartment above the shop?

I am. It’s mine, well ours. Zeus has been using it. Look Becky it’s been great. I must go however. I understand.

Look, anything I can do. See the girls. Make it up to them.

I’ll keep then home from school tomorrow.

"No! I’m going to see this man, what’s his name? Then I’ll come, after the girls are home from school.

Young Kelly too."

Now he’ll be so pleased. You’re his hero. I have it somewhere, I’m sure. Give me a moment. She found it and gave it to him, farwelling him with a kiss. Tomorrow Becky. Afternoon! We’ll be looking forward to it.

5.

The man Cole most wanted to talk to was tracked down the next day, but not before a sleepless and worrying night passed. Guilt had played heavily on his mind. It had always troubled him that he couldn’t charge over there after Yvette on hearing of her death. But he did have other children to consider, his charges to care for.

Edward Whipplenought? Cole had asked for at the office of Celeste Imports and Exports. The lady asked him to wait a minute, but the appearance of the man was prompt.

Cole Hawkins! He came out with a huge grin and a vigorous handshake. The Cole Hawkins! He turned to the workers around him. Grizzly Hawkins of the comic books everybody. Becky Starr and all that. Come in! It had been years since Rebecca had made his acquaintance and the years had not been kind to him, portlier, thinning hair and the nose on what must have been quite handsome face once was red and bulbous, almost half the size again what it should be and featured lumps and bumps of growth. That with a skin that had been ruddier with age and alcohol. His breath smelt of liquor already and the moment his discourse started Cole wondered if he had made a mistake being there, his ramblings and exaggeration featured. But when Cole got to quiz him of the events concerning Yvette, he was reassured with the man’s clarity and recall.

Speak excellent French Mister Hawkins. Spanish too. My father an envoy of sorts for His Majesty’s, a minor messenger but it had its advantages despite the moving about. Contacts. Business interests.

Yvette, Mister Whipplenought was my wife. The children she bore were mine.

Goodness me! Dearie dearie me! I see your concern. Not what Charles Van Prattle has spun all these years? What?

No, I dare not for lack of an heir.

Yes! Yes! Quite. His lady friend, Countess Charmaine…. Not Char……. Cole stopped himself. It couldn’t be, could it?

Begging your pardon! Whipplenought said. I thought you were about to say something….

Just the mind trying to come to terms with it all.

I dare say. It’s a shock to me.

And the story of a second child?

Poof! Gone. Just disappeared off the face of this earth. Along with the mid wife and her daughter mind you. Sweet little thing she was too by all accounts. Found the mid wife and her husband, Claude dead you know. Both a bit, you know. He touched the side of his nose with a finger indicating things were not what they should be. On the nose if you get my drift.

I do. So, it is more than just rumor?

No doubt, he said but in reflective mood added, But if I were a betting man I would say not. Too many things when one adds them up don’t make sense. Two plus two equals five, that sort of thing. The whole affair stinks really.

And authorities?

Ha! Laughable. It is France we are talking of you know. Like many affairs I suggest to you. Money.

Well, I thank you for your time. You’ve been of great service.

Least I could do. Don’t know when I’ll be over that way again. But I suppose you’ll be heading that way sooner than not.

Sooner than not Mister Whipplenought.

Yes quite! Quite!

There’ll be a new comic book edition out soon. The Great Rogue River Riddle. I’ll send you the first copy, signed of course.

Excellent! Most excellent! He grabbed Cole’s hand and shook it energetically.

And Miss Becky Cole? May I enquire as to her?

Mister Whipplenought! A gentleman does not tell stories from between the bed sheets does one?

No! No! Indeed not, he replied excitedly. You’re a lucky man.

I’ll tell her you said so. Cole left with a smile for he could hear Whipplenought announce to all and sundry loudly, That’s Grizzly Hawkins. There he goes. An honour to meet the man, the legend. Cole met the girls and Joel’s young fellow, Joel Junior, the next afternoon and despite the rather stifled start, things soon developed. A swap of stories and a show of scars soon had everyone talking. Zeus had decided to spend the last night before his transfer with Miss Virginia Bosworth and so Cole felt no inclination to head home. They stayed up late, story after story filling time before, during and after dinner. But no matter how much Cole wanted to know of their life, things soon swung back to the life of Cole Hawkins. Did you know my father? young Kelly had asked.

No but I believe he was a fine man son. Any man who would head into a battle zone like he did to file a story so the people in New York and the rest of the country would know the truth is a brave, brave man. I wouldn’t do it unless armed to the teeth. To do it with a quill and ink, determined to tell the truth, is a mighty courageous soldier. Napoleon, you know said he feared newspapers more than any army. He caught Rebecca’s eye. She was so pleased with that. So, was he? The boy seemed proud. Soon Rebecca hurried them all off to bed. Come on you lot. School tomorrow. Off to bed. No sooner had they said their good nights when Rebecca turned and asked. How did you get on with our wine salesman? Cole told her and then there was a minute of quiet. I’ve got to go there Rebecca. I’ve got to go and find out the truth for myself. See if there were children. They are mine I know it.

I know, she said. Not tonight though, surely?

No not tonight. One more night in the scheme of things. I’ll get this son of mine away in the cavalry first.

Then you will stay. Tonight?

Rebecca, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.

Nonsense! The girls, well you are their father, their hero. They haven’t had a day, a night where they have woken up and their father has been there. Breakfast, seeing them off to school.

Well seeing though you put it that way. And the fact I’ll be going home to an empty apartment. The couch. I’ll take that.

Nonsense! I want you in my bed Cole Hawkins. I have been so lonely. She bent over and kissed him on the lips.

I don’t know if…….

Nonsense! It is time Cole Hawkins. Ask me. I’ve hung on for far too long. I know. You can’t condemn yourself to a life in a convent. Life Cole is too short. Let’s enjoy it while we can. There was still doubt registered on his face. She sat upon his lap and kissed him full and passionately on the lips. I’ve got a lot of loving saved up for you.

How much? he said cracking a smile.

Just follow me up the steps and I’ll show you, hero of mine.

6.

Passage did not take long to acquire, extra money in the right hands spoke the language of haste. It had been a most pleasurable few days with Rebecca. Zeus had left for Kansas and the 7th Cavalry and there had been nothing left to do but spend catch up time with the girls, his daughters and Rebecca. Between times he wrote letters to his children back at Providence on the Platte. He hoped to be back for Christmas but with the days slipping into the cold of winter quickly he could not guarantee such. He looked about the wharves of his departure. He did not like the New York he was seeing, a city becoming divided into too many factions and where crime was taking too big a hold. Already gangs ruled an area known as the Five Points. Cross Street, Anthony Street and Orange Street were an area no one cared to go through these days. Rebecca had told him that the police run tours for middle class tourists through the area, the word being ‘slumming it’, those interested to see if all the lurid tales given by reporters and missionaries were true. One Methodist reformer had written it a ‘synonym for ignorance the most entire, for misery the most abject, for crime of the darkest dye, for degradation so deep that human nature cannot sink below it.’ Rebecca talked of heading elsewhere but to where she had no idea. The schooling elsewhere is dreadful Cole, simply dreadful she had said.

Flash Johnny whom he finally caught up with echoed the sentiments but for different reasons. The Negro he said will be the bane of this community. Anti-slavery movements are everywhere, puritanically so, morally and biblically the right thing to do but when it gets down to street level, employment, respect, the black man is no better than dirt. They believe the words of their Good Book Cole but when it comes down to deeds, most just turn the cheek. It will lead this country to war Cole, mark my words and I ask you for what, we will be no better off. Flash Johnny had said a bill had been passed which effectively staved off the impending war for ten years. Cole didn’t read much but he hoped on the Channel crossing to catch up with the story of ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’, the Harriet Beecher Stowe book that was inflaming the country so. No sooner had his ship passed Ellis Island, the intake center for the country’s immigrants, did he sit upon a bench, open the cover and read.

7.

Claudette was walking down the cobblestone street of the military, fishing and trade port of Le Havre. It was a relatively new name, Le Havre, just the last sixty years. In 1795 all this was converted from the port of Honfluer. Her arms were laden with all her goods for sale. Nothing much had changed really for a long time, well so said Maisie but then in 1847 the rail link arrived from Paris. Maisie Montrose had said ‘it’s been the same little ‘taniere de transversal ames’ for many a year, hundreds before her time. Only just recently, the past two or three years there had been development again, this time the docks, to a more English type so they say. Honfluer, where she lived with ‘her daughter’ and Maisie was still a quaint little fishing village in their part of town, very picturesque compared to the development about.

She was running late to meet the ship that had just docked. Her basket was loaded with hot bakeries and sweet meats and her arms full of breads, pastries and buns wrapped in cloth to maintain their smell and heat. There were a few jars of preserves, but it had been a good winter for sales with sailors and passengers coming and going. Their apple delights were legendry about the wharves and boarding houses. Maisie, the woman who took her and the baby in years ago, used to say it was all in the apples, knowing which ones to keep for the winter cooking. She doesn’t know what made her look at that time. ‘Destin’ the French call it, ‘fate’, the English. When she saw him, she almost dropped her goods and immediately held her chest, breathless with the moment. She dreamed of such a moment but dreaded it would come, what she would do.

It was he, the father of the child that was hers. It had to be. She pulled to the side; her back hard against the rough stonewall. Finally regaining her composure, she turned and followed him. The trail ended at the ‘Voyageur Repos’. What should she do now? She always believed the father of her child had a right to know about her but now she was not so sure, to lose this one, this daughter she loved so much would be heart breaking. How could she? The breads! she thought and immediately turned and ran back the way she came, to the wharf before all her customer ship was lost. Her goods were welcome and were keenly snapped up. Maisie always said that they sold too cheap but still there was a good profit being made and one shouldn’t be too greedy. Better to be rid of the lot than sell it at a loss for pig food. On this day she was glad. Francs and pennies jingling in her pocket as she rushed home to Maisie.

I must tell him. she said after replaying the encounter.

Hush girl. We do not know if it is him.

I know it is Maisie. I feel it in my heart.

Well then. Even if it so, why has he not come earlier. Ten years Claudette. She threw her arms up in despair. Englishman I bet. Maisie was the product of an English and French liaison, a father that appeared for but a week or so in her mother’s life before never been seen again. She knew he was on his way to what she later heard as Trafalgar. But her French side always blamed the ‘English’ for the worst ills of the world.

I must go and wait for his appearance.

Go if you must, Maisie blurted out. She knew there was no changing the girl’s mind after it was set so. She grabbed a shawl against the cold and bleakness of the gray sky. Will you tell him? Maisie said, catching her before she disappeared through the door.

I don’t know Maisie. I don’t know.

8.

Cole wasted no time in sorting out his travel options. He put on his bulky knee length coat, his favored Paterson revolver on a holster obliquely position on his belt at the front covered as he welcomed the coat’s warmth. His son Orpheus had given him a new 1851 Colt Navy black powder revolver, a .44 along with one to Zeus and that was bound in his luggage. Old habits die hard. He still preferred the Paterson, and the .36 got him out of many a fix in its time. Shame the company making them went bust. His hat gave him away immediately and he forbade it although he realized as soon as he spoke, he was earmarked for American.

There was not a lot to choose in transportation, being the time of the year when weather and conditions often than not closed roads. One could always get the coach to Paris and no doubt the train was the best option but despite its hub to the rest of the country Paris was not his favorite place. And after so long at the whim of waves, wind and sailors he could not wait to get back in the saddle again. Besides, it would give him time to pick up the language and the gist of the French. There were horses for sale at the livery stable and while that would be quicker and avoid the Paris diversion, it was countryside traveling and people and language he often struggled with. Still, until he made all his inquiries he could not decide.

Claudette was waiting for him as he stepped out, a stray dog the distraction that allowed her to bend over and scratch its ears and watch and wait. It took her not long to realize that he was American, staying in the shadows of the livery stable as they negotiated prices. She guessed he might have been from his attire and the fact that the ship that birthed was a New Yorker, but you couldn’t really tell with so many nationalities on the road. Deftly she followed him to the Coach Depot. By this time, she was busting with curiosity. She just had to find out and dozens of scenarios played out as to how and why it would happen. Little things kept reminding her of the girl she cared for and loved so much. The walk, the way he tilted his head slightly to the right when he spoke, the way he conducted his business so. She was daydreaming with such when he suddenly appeared in front of her.

Yes! he said in confrontation. Immediately she pulled the shawl up over her head and half covered her face, too late she later realized to avoid recognition and her hand shot out and grabbed his hand. Quickly she turned it over and tried not to look into his eye.

Read your palm Monsieur? Cole pulled his hand away despite the gentle softness of her hand.

I’m sorry Mademoiselle. I’ve not time for it.

Please Monsieur…it won’t take long!

Here! he said placing a coin in her hand. Thanks, but no thanks! I do not believe. He started to walk away. She was going to lose him. I see a mademoiselle! she called.

He smiled. Don’t we all!

Pretty. Very pretty. He walked a few more steps. Yvette!