From the Back of a Horse

By Randell Whaley

Young Second Lieutenant Jim Bennett musters out of the Confederate Army at Appomattox. He goes to his old home in South Carolina to find it in ashes. He wants a job where he can make a living from the back of a horse, so he goes to Texas and becomes a cowboy. He has a few fights with deserters and other bandits during the trip. There has been no branding in Texas during the war, so there's lots of catching up to do. Jim gets a job as a cowboy with no problem. They have several fights with Indians, and Jim gains a reputation of being really handy to have around in a fight. They make a drive of cattle to Abilene with all the trials and tribulations associated with that.

Jim's sweetheart, Vicky Allen, resents Jim's leaving Virginia; but her father decides to move to Texas, too, to escape the predations of the carpetbaggers that were so common at the end of the war. Jim visits her often, but his duties as a cowboy keep him away from her most of the time. Mr. Allen operates a grocery or dry goods store.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662444678

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From the Back of a Horse

Randell Whaley

Copyright © 2021 Randell Whaley

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-4466-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-4467-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Home from the War

Chapter 2

Stunning Beauty

Chapter 3

Storekeeper

Chapter 4

Mama and Joanne

Chapter 5

Go West, Young Man—Go West

Chapter 6

Riding Pard'

Chapter 7

Texas

Chapter 8

Cow Country

Chapter 9

From the Back of a Horse

Chapter 10

Night Wrangler

Chapter 11

Moving Camp

Chapter 12

Comanches

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Fightin' Indians

Chapter 17

Hanging

Chapter 18

Range War

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

A Cowboy's Rig

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Dance

Chapter 23

Blizzard

Chapter 24

Hay Farmer

Chapter 25

One Cowboy Missing

Chapter 26

Drifting Horses

Chapter 27

Steer Gores Jim's Horse

Chapter 28

Spring Branding, 1866

Chapter 29

Go West, Young Lady—Go West

Chapter 30

Summer of '66

Chapter 31

Jim Sees Vickie Again

Chapter 32

Jim Takes Vickie Riding

Chapter 33

Trail Drive

Chapter 34

Crossing Rivers

Chapter 35

Suitors

Chapter 36

Stampedes and Indians

Chapter 37

Paying Toll

Chapter 38

Water, Water

Chapter 39

Buffalo

Chapter 40

Kansas

Chapter 41

Rolling J Crew Returns to Texas

Chapter 42

Home Again

About the Author

Chapter 1

Home from the War

Jim rode his chestnut gelding up to the burned-out ruins of what used to be a fine Southern mansion. He felt a strong ache in his heart, and it continued to ache as he sat there in his saddle and saw what had become of the Southern mansion he grew up in. It was ashes except for the foundation, made of stone, which didn't burn. The barns, servant quarters, and all the other outbuildings had been reduced to ashes too. The corrals hadn't burned, but he was sure that was just because it's hard to start a corral panel on fire.

It was May of 1965, and Second Lieutenant James Bennett, CSA Calvary, had just returned home from the war. Well, not home any longer, but this was the home he left when he went off to war.

Jim had blue eyes and dark-brown hair. He was five feet, eleven inches tall and weighed about 160 pounds or so. He was rather gaunt due to the short rations he had endured for the past two years, especially during the last six months or so. He was dressed in civilian clothes. Not a riding habit, but durable cotton pants and shirt and a gray felt hat. He wore black riding boots with spurs.

Jim's attention was drawn to movement in the corner of his eye. He saw three riders approaching him from his right. They were coming from along the road that led to Florence, South Carolina. And he could tell that all three riders were Black. He reached forward and to the left of his saddle and pulled his carbine from his saddle boot. He held it across his saddle, pointed away from the riders. He was sure they hadn't seen him pull it out, and he was holding it where it couldn't be seen from the direction they were coming.

As the riders got closer, he recognized the uniforms of the State Police. He reined Brownie around so that he was almost facing them, but his carbine was still hidden from them by Brownie's neck.

The three Black riders pulled up. The one in the middle was obviously their leader. Jim could tell by looking at them that they would have been slaves until very recently. They had that look about them. The one in the middle had apparently been a field-hand driver because he had an in charge presence about him.

What is your name? he commanded as the three riders pulled up about twenty or so feet away.

Who wants to know? was Jim's reply. He knew that the State Police was made up mainly of freed slaves, and he knew that while some of them were honest and actually trying to enforce the laws, some of them were simply bandits and used their uniform and authority to lull people into a vulnerable frame of mind.

Sergeant Moses Jackson, South Carolina State Police, he replied. You are under arrest. That horse you are riding is a stolen horse. Please get off your horse and raise your hands.

Jim saw him reach for a pistol at his hip. Jim simply reined Brownie around so that he was facing them, spurred him forward, and swung his carbine to the right like a saber, hitting the sergeant a blow on his upper bicep and temporarily paralyzing his arm. He ran Brownie into the shoulder of the sergeant's horse, bumping him against the rider on the other side of him, and simultaneously swung his carbine around to the left and hit that rider a solid lick on his back as he raced Brownie on past them.

He leaned forward and spurred Brownie into a sprint, reining him back and forth to spoil their aim in case any of them should recover enough to get a shot at him. Then when he topped a rise, he turned left and raced on down toward the creek. There was a trail there that he followed. He could not have counted the number of times that he had ridden down that trail as a boy. Jim had started riding at the age of four, and by the time he was ten, his father trusted him to saddle break and gentle down green colts.

He raced down to a creek; and when he neared the creek, he stood up in his stirrups, and Brownie jumped the creek, turned left, and then followed the trail along the creek heading west. This had been an obstacle trail used in training horses to jump during Jim's boyhood. Brownie had been down this trail many times with Jim riding him while teaching him to jump. Jim had broke Brownie to ride when he was a colt eight years previously and gave him his training as a fox-hunting horse. Jim's father, the late Captain Jonathan Bennett Sr., had bred and trained fox-hunting horses and jumping horses in addition to raising cotton.

There were no gunshots, so apparently he had debilitated them enough so that they didn't get a shot off at him before he was out of sight. He didn't really want to kill or wound anyway. Jim wanted only to defend himself.

When Jim neared the western end of the obstacle path he got ready to jump the rail fence that made the western boundary of their plantation. Brownie cleared the fence easily, and he kept going till he reached the creek again. It wound around and made a fork up ahead. So when Jim reached the creek this time, he pulled Brownie down to a walk and rode him into the water, turned left, rode to the fork—which he knew would be about fifty yards or so to the southeast—then turned right, and headed Brownie back west up the other fork of the creek that went upstream.

He kept Brownie in the creek to avoid making any tracks until he came to a sandbar paralleling the left side of the creek. Then he rode up the right bank, left the creek, and spurred Brownie into a gallop along the sandbar, knowing he'd leave no tracks that his pursuers were likely to be able to follow. He knew that former slaves weren't likely to be trackers, even the sergeant, who had obviously been a slave driver supervising slaves at work in the old South.

When Jim reached the end of the sandbar, he reined Brownie to the left back into the water and rode upstream another couple of hundred yards until he started approaching a bridge. Then when he reached a place on the right where he could ride Brownie up the bank onto a grassy meadow, he did so. He rode on down to the bridge; crossed it at a walk with Brownie's hooves making a loud clump, clump, clump; and then continued traveling along the road.

He walked Brownie for a few minutes until he could get his wind back then put him into a gallop again to get some distance. Then he pulled Brownie back down to a walk to let him get his wind again. He saw a Black family walking along the road toward him, carrying their belongings in bundles. A man, woman, and two kids. He ignored them and passed them on by. They drew back at first when they saw him approaching but relaxed when they saw that he rode on by. Then Jim noticed that he hadn't sheathed his carbine yet. So they might have thought he was going to rob them.

There were plenty of robbers on the roads these days. Deserters from both sides prowled the roads looking for any likely victims and guerillas that had the status of bandits at the war's end. And he knew they'd kill him without hesitation just to steal his horse and saddle.

But he wasn't worried about pursuit from the State Police. They wouldn't go that far out of their way. They would accuse him of stealing his horse. He could show them the JB brand on Brownie's neck, but he knew they wouldn't accept that. He would have been hauled off to jail, kept overnight—probably without food or water—and then released the next morning to find his horse, saddle, and guns gone. He had saddlebags that he had kept behind his saddle throughout the war where he had his food supplies and various and sundry equipment. He also had a bedroll and a slicker tied just behind his saddle. All of them would have been gone, and he would have been put afoot.

Jim not only had his .56 Spencer carbine, but he also carried a Colt 1860 Army revolver in a holster at his hip—butt forward and flap fastened, in accordance with cavalry regulations. He also had a spare cylinder and a spare Colt revolver in one of his saddlebags. He knew that they'd have kept them too.

Jim had no intention of being robbed by the State Police. He kept riding, walking along like any traveler. He'd occasionally meet another rider, sometimes in full Confederate uniform apparently home from the war. If their home had been destroyed and they had no money to buy civilian clothes, they'd still be wearing their uniforms. He saw men walking: sometimes in uniform, sometimes in rough farmer's clothes, some of them black, and a few of them white. That's how you went to town to get supplies if you didn't have a horse: to walk, of course.

But he also saw farmers with horses out, plowing their fields and getting ready to plant their crops. So maybe some of the men that had returned home from the war had restored some degree of stability back into their lives now and were getting the land ready to put in their crops.

Chapter 2

Stunning Beauty

When the truce was signed at Appomattox and the paroles were issued to all the men, Jim had turned his horse toward Culpeper, Virginia, instead of to South Carolina. A certain beautiful young lady lived in Culpeper. Jim planned to see her first before riding down to his South Carolina home. Her name was Vickie Marie Allen.

It was late in the afternoon when Jim rode up to the yard of the Allen residence in Culpeper. From the sun, Jim could tell it was probably about five o'clock or so. He rode around the back to the stable and put Brownie in a stall. He pumped some water into the water trough and then climbed up into the barn loft and forked down some hay for him. He had visited the Allens many times during the past two years and knew where everything was. He remained unnoticed until he walked around to the front and knocked on the door.

Vickie's mother answered the door. At first, she didn't recognize him. But when he spoke and asked her if Vickie was home, she recognized his voice.

I don't remember you in a beard! she explained. And no, Vickie isn't home. She's working at the store, but she should be home in a few minutes. Come in. Then she gave Jim a hug.

She offered him a cup of coffee, which Jim gladly accepted. He sat down and sipped coffee and listened to Louise Allen fill him in on the news. Not that there was much news. The coffee tasted terrific. Coffee had been in short supply in the Confederate Army, especially during the last year of the war. So Jim especially appreciated the hot drink.

Then they heard a rig drive up, and Jim knew it would be Vickie and Mr. Allen coming home from work in Mr. Allen's buggy. It was a few minutes before he heard them walking up the steps. He knew Mr. Allen would unharness his horse first before coming in. He stood up and waited when they walked in the door. When Vickie came in, he saw an expectant look on her face. She apparently had seen Brownie in the stall when Mr. Allen put his horse up. But she still stopped for a minute, as if to make sure it was really him, then ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. She clung to him like as if for dear life. She held him for at least a full minute before she finally released him and stepped back to look at him. Then she reached up for a kiss and then hugged him again. Finally, Mr. Allen managed to get in his handshake and welcome-home greeting to Jim.

Vickie Allen was only thirteen and a half years old when Jim Bennett first met her at a barbeque dinner held for the Confederate Army in Culpeper, Virginia, two years previously. Jim had just turned sixteen and had lied about his age to join the Confederate Army. Vickie had volunteered to help cook and serve the dinner for the Confederate troops that day. General J. E. B. Stuart had decided to put on a parade and a mock combat performance for the people of Culpeper. The women of Culpeper decided to cook a barbeque dinner for the men that day just before their performance. Jim had been in the army for only a week. Vickie was working in the serving line and handed Jim his plate of food. She had blond hair, blue eyes, and dimples that showed in her cheeks every time she smiled. He fell head over heels in love with the beautiful little Southern belle the instant he first laid eyes on her.

When Jim was severely wounded by a bayonet and almost died at Gettysburg, Vickie prevailed on her father to take her up to the army hospital in Maryland and see him. When he recovered enough from his wound that he could travel, the doctor granted Jim thirty days of convalescent leave, and Vickie prevailed on her father again to take him to their home in Culpeper, where he spent his leave. So their puppy love was allowed to bloom and wax strong while Jim regained his strength enough that he could return to duty.

Jim had been sensitive about his youthful appearance when he first joined the army, especially the peach fuzz on his face when it accumulated. He kept a clean shave, but keeping a clean shave was easy at his age. He didn't have to shave but about once every six months or so at first. After experiencing the horrors of war, the youthful appearance was no longer there though he wasn't aware of this himself.

He hadn't shaved all winter the previous winter partly because it helped keep his face warm, but partly because he accepted the beard as a symbol of maturity. Beards were stylish for soldiers at the time.

He hadn't seen Vickie in over a year (since December 1863, and it was now April 1865). Vickie was a beautiful girl when she was thirteen. Now fifteen, she had blossomed into a stunning beauty.

Vickie's father, Abe Allen, never had a son, though his daughter had always been his pride and joy. He had sort of adopted Jim as the son he had never had and assumed he would become his son-in-law at the war's end.

Jim wasn't near as talkative as Vickie had remembered him to be. He seemed somewhat withdrawn during dinner. But he ate with an appetite. Then it dawned on Vickie that this was probably the first square meal he'd had in months.

After dinner, Mr. Allen offered to loan him some clothes so he could change out of his uniform. And Mrs. Allen just automatically started heating water in preparation for letting him get a bath. Jim's uniform looked so shabby. In fact, it was mostly rags. It was the same uniform he had worn at Appomattox. And he only had one uniform to begin with.

Vickie had made no remark about Jim's beard. He took that to mean that she probably didn't favor it. So when he cleaned up, he lathered up his face and shaved. The hot bath really felt good, and it felt good to get into clean clothes.

When he returned to the living room and Vickie saw him with his clean shave and in civilized clothes, she squealed and jumped up and ran and hugged him again. He was so handsome. While his beard didn't look bad especially, it did cover up his handsome features. You look great! she explained as she was done hugging him.

Want to play music? she asked, knowing he'd say yes. So she got her father's mandolin for Jim to play, and she sat down at the piano. They started playing hoedown music, which the whole family enjoyed so much. Jim perked up and seemed to come more alive. But after playing music a couple of hours, it became obvious that he was very tired. Vickie would look at him and noticed he had difficulty keeping his eyes open. The Allens had a spare bedroom and always assumed he'd stay the night when he came to visit. But since he was home from the war, they expected and hoped that he'd spend more than one night.

Jim slept for twelve hours that night. He had had almost no sleep for over a week. The retreat to Appomattox was almost continuous marching and fighting with no time for sleep and almost no time to eat. So he was exhausted.

He finally awoke at about 10:00 a.m. the following morning. He got up, shaved, and got dressed. He walked into the kitchen to see Mrs. Allen preparing lunch. She offered him a cup of coffee and explained that Mr. Allen and Vickie should be home for lunch at about noon.

Over lunch, Mr. Allen asked Jim what his plans were. He said he planned to ride down to South Carolina and see if there was anything left of the plantation there. He explained that he knew that the Yankees had burned it, but there might be something worth salvaging. Also Jim just wanted to see it again.

Mr. Allen offered to let Jim go to work in his store. Jim let Mr. Allen know he appreciated it, but what he wanted to do was to move to Texas and start a horse ranch.

He explained that he'd have to just get a cowboy job first to learn the business, but he'd heard there was free land out there just for the taking where you could start your own ranch. In fact, you could homestead some land and, after proving it up, get title to it. Mr. Allen explained that he understood but that if he had reason to change his mind, to let him know. He could offer him a partnership in the store if he wanted it. Jim said he'd consider it.

Jim stayed with the Allens for two weeks. Jim was so exhausted and undernourished that for the first couple of days, he mostly slept. After resting up a couple of days, he did start going in and helping out with the store. He had nothing else to do. He found that he could help restock merchandise in the store, which Mr. Allen normally did himself, and contribute something to their work at the store. He decided to leave on the sixth of May for South Carolina.

Jim's eighteenth birthday was on May 5. Vickie surprised him with a birthday present, gift wrapped and all. When he opened it, he found out it was a brand-new shiny mandolin. He was sure that his old mandolin had been destroyed when his plantation was burned during Sherman's March to the Sea.

So that night, Jim played his new mandolin, and Vickie played her piano as usual. So they had one last night to play music.

When Jim got ready to leave, he asked Vickie to keep his mandolin for him because he was afraid it would get busted if he carried it with him. This gave Vickie a sense of security. Like leaving his property in the care of a wife. It made it clear that there was no question in his mind about their becoming reunited again at some point in time in the future.

Chapter 3

Storekeeper

When Jim left South Carolina and the ruins of the plantation he grew up on, he headed his horse north toward Culpeper, Virginia, again. He was broke and just out of food again. Vickie had packed enough food for him to take along to make his trip to South Carolina. But what he needed was traveling money. He remembered Mr. Allen's offer to work in his store. He thought maybe he'd just work a few weeks and earn some money for his trip west.

Mr. Allen had been fairly successful in his business