Where the Remuda Gather

By Jim H. Ainsworth

Following a Dream Across Texas

Ridge Rivers grew up on a small, hardscrabble farm in Northeast Texas and the Panhandle. His lifelong dream was to be a cowboy and own a ranch. Barely finished with school, he and a friend left with two horses and a mule packed with essentials for a month-long, five-hundred-mil

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Apr 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887385945

Jim H. Ainsworth

Jim H. Ainsworth is the award-winning author of fifteen books. After writing four books in the financial services field, Jim retraced his ancestors' trip across Texas by covered wagon and horseback. The trip inspired a memoir, which led to ten novels, a story collection, a book about faith, and many newspaper, magazine, and blog articles and stories. He grew up on hardscrabble farms in Northeast Texas and the Panhandle. Hehas been an accountant, financial planner, stockbroker, team roper, and owner of a western wear and tack store. He writes based on his experiences. Always a wannabe cowboy, he still lives in the country with wife, Jan, and horse, Shooter.He enjoys hearing from readers. Contact him at www.jimainsworth.com or [e-mail].

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Chapter 1

1904

Ridge Rivers, eight, sat in the corner of Pop’s general store in downtown Klondike, Texas. The tiny town of less than a hundred people in Northeast Texas had been named New Prospect, Kate, and Pleasant Grove before settling on Klondike. Ridge sat on an upturned wooden crate filled with empty Dr Pepper bottles. Milam, Ridge’s father, sat on a case filled with empty Coca-Cola bottles a few feet away. Ridge was the only child in the store. He would normally have been outside playing behind the store or down the street watching for trains that seldom came at the new depot. Sometimes, Wake Winfield and Ridge’s other friends who lived near the store fished for crawdads close by. But it was too cold and rainy to go outside. Of course, if it had not been cold and rainy, the men, mostly farmers and cattlemen, might have been tending to livestock or crops instead of discussing prices and weather in Pop’s store. The group was called The Remuda. Chuck Hollon, the owner of the store, had named it years ago, noting that a remuda was a herd of horses that were saddle-broke from which ranch hands chose their mounts for the day. The group laughed when Chuck said they were definitely broke to ride.

Ridge knew every man in the store. Most of them, including Ridge’s father, wore overalls. Ridge did not understand why some of them left a gallus unhooked until Milam told him that it could cool things off on a hot day and loosen the pressure on a man’s stomach that might have gotten a little too large. Most wore light blue, gray, or khaki shirts with their overalls. Milam always sat quietly in his blue overalls with both galluses buckled and wearing brogan shoes. Though he raised a few cattle, fewer hogs, and a few acres of cotton or corn on alternating years, folks called him Doc because he was almost as good as a licensed vet (and a lot cheaper) treating livestock ailments like colic, distemper, lameness, and Johnson grass fever. He also delivered calves and colts and castrated boars and bulls.

Neff Rainbolt usually wore pants made of the same denim material as overalls. What Ridge liked best was that Neff also wore a leather vest, batwing or shotgun chaps, and cowboy boots. Ridge tried to sit close to Neff, a farrier who trimmed and shod Jubilee, Ridge’s horse. Ridge usually had a lot of questions about horses when he handed Neff his tools, and Neff always had answers. He knew more about horses than just their hooves and just as much about people. Milam called him the cowboy philosopher because he always had a knack for reducing complicated issues to simple solutions.

Fitzhugh Platt was a tall, handsome man, though his face seldom showed expression. Ridge often found himself staring at him because he had never heard him utter more than a few words. Even when he raised his six-foot frame to leave, he never said goodbye. Ridge wondered why he came to the group if he would not talk. He always arrived and departed by mule. Fitzhugh was in his late forties and lived with his parents and grown sister close to where Ridge and his parents lived, a few miles west of Klondike. Fizhugh’s sister Doreen was an old maid, and Fitzhugh was a bachelor. The Platts raised cotton, produce, rabbits, and pigs. Doreen and her mother also sewed for the public.

Flave Pickering was a gregarious man who teased Ridge occasionally. He was often seen in khaki slacks and a fancy shirt. He sometimes smelled of whiskey and sometimes opened a half pint and took a swig. Milam did not approve of Flave drinking in front of his son, though he would take a swig himself when Ridge was not there or not watching. Flave was the only member of the group who was not self-employed in agriculture. He worked for a construction company when there was work to be done.

Loy Callahan was the last to arrive. Well over six feet and two hundred pounds, he was the largest man in the group. Ridge tried to hide his smile when he saw Loy’s daughter Raney arrive with him. Raney was a year younger than Ridge. When she spotted him, she gave him her usual tentative, mischievous grin. Ridge smiled but mostly kept his eyes on his boots. Loy’s moods alternated between somber and roaring, deep laughter. He rarely smelled of whiskey. Loy raised cotton, corn, and vegetables which his wife Fay, Raney, and two of her sisters helped him to sell in front of their house and in front of Pop’s store. They lived less than a mile east of the store.

The space often occupied by Nog was empty. He was only an occasional visitor. Nog was a licensed physician who practiced all over Delta County, primarily out of his home in Prattville, near Cooper. He was a third-generation doctor who probably visited the group because most of the members and their families were or had been patients in his clinic. The others figured he visited similar gatherings all over the county. He was called Nog because his name was Nathan Osler Grant. Ridge liked to call him Dr. Grant, but the physician encouraged him to call him Nog like everyone else. He seldom answered when referred to as Dr. Grant.

Pop Flanagan managed the old store for owner Charles Payne Hollon, usually referred to as C. P. or Chuck. Although C. P. Hollon—General Merchandise had been painted on the store front just above the porch years ago, most people still called it Pop’s. Pop smiled as he winked at Ridge and Raney from behind the counter and signaled them to join him. They both smiled, knowing that signal usually meant a piece of candy or a stick of chewing gum. They followed Pop to the back of the small store, where two sticks of Juicy Fruit gum appeared in Pop’s open palm. Ridge and Raney smiled, quietly mouthed thank-you, and took the gum. Neither was sure why they were expected to keep Pop’s gifts a secret.

As they started back toward the increasingly animated talk among the men, Loy was at the door and motioning for Raney to leave with him. Ridge wanted to say goodbye, but Pop held his arm, and Ridge turned back to face him. Pop was only slightly over four and a half feet tall, and Ridge was always surprised to stand almost eye-to-eye with him. Pop opened his other pudgy hand and revealed a Hershey’s milk chocolate bar, the first one Ridge had ever seen.

What’s that? Ridge didn’t know what is was for sure but could read milk and chocolate, and that was enough to entice him.

Pop chuckled. Try it. You’re gonna love it. Put it behind your back so these old geezers don’t steal it from you but be sure to eat it before it melts. I’ll get Raney one next time around.

Sure will. Thanks a lot.

When Ridge returned, he found Milam Rivers outside, untying his mules from the hitching rail to head home in the rain and cold. Chuck Hollon walked up and stood under the small porch. He shook the rain from his silver-belly felt hat that Ridge admired. Y’all headin’ home?

Milam stuck out his hand for a shake from his old friend. Yep. Got a cow to milk and a horse, chickens, and cows and hogs to feed. And it ain’t getting’ any warmer or drier.

Chuck nodded. Sure ‘nough cold, all right. Come by to see me for a visit when you have time. We need to talk about old times.

Milam nodded. Old times, huh? You mean those really tough times of long ago? Milam and Chuck were children during the Civil War.

Chuck put both hands on the hitching rail and looked up at the sky, then down at his boots. Guess it would be better if we just forgot those days, but I don’t think I ever will. It helps sometimes to talk to somebody who experienced them like I did.

Milam nodded solemnly. Yes, it does. Let me know when and where.

On their way home, Ridge chewed his gum and showed the candy bar to his father. Milam smiled. You gonna share that with your mama and me?

Yes, sir.

When the mules were unharnessed and fed, the cow milked, hogs and chickens fed, hay put out for the cattle, and eggs gathered, Ridge walked over to pet Jubilee, the family horse. Jubilee, a mare, was just past four and was a sorrel with one white sock. She stood a little over fifteen hands. He put his arms around Jubilee’s neck and whispered in her ear. We’ll saddle up and ride as soon as this weather goes away. Miss you, old girl.

Milam noticed the tears in his son’s eyes. Ridge had first ridden Jubilee when the mare was just two and Ridge was six. He had helped his father train her by sitting on her bareback and following his father’s instructions. Milam rubbed his rough hands together. Come on in, Son. It’s freezing out here, and I expect your mama’s got supper ready.

Father and son walked into their drafty, leaky old farm house. Ridge had been born to Milam and Pearl when Milam was forty-one and Pearl was thirty-six. Their first son had been stillborn years before, and they considered Ridge a late-in-life gift from God.

Milam called out. Pearl! Come see what Ridge brought home.

When she turned away from the wood cookstove, Ridge eagerly revealed the worse-for-wear candy bar. Pearl smiled. Looks like Pop Flanagan has been up to his old tricks. Don’t suppose he would let you pay him. Did you at least thank him?

Sure did.

You two go on out to the cistern and get the cow and pig off your hands. Supper’s about ready. Ridge, you bring in some kindling and wood. Milam, suppose you and Ridge could start a fire in the old stove? I got busy and let it go out. Could have done it earlier, but didn’t want to waste wood to keep just myself warm. After the fire was started, they sat down to their usual fare of red beans, cornbread, and fried potatoes.

Chapter 2

1906

A wild stud had located a low spot in their fence and jumped into the Rivers’ pasture. He bred Jubilee before Milam discovered the stud, caught it, and tied it up. He led the stud to Klondike and put it in the lot by Pop’s store. Two days later, someone took the stud during the night. Milam marked the calendar in the kitchen with the date. Eleven months later, ten-year-old Ridge saw a colt running beside his mother down by the creek south of their house. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.

Milam allowed Ridge to select the colt’s name, and after two days of thinking, Ridge named him Shooter. Ridge loved watching the mare and her colt together. Just after Shooter was weaned, mare and colt went missing at feeding time. Ridge found Jubilee first. She was on the north end of the pasture where some old bois d’arcs stood watch. Jubilee was on the ground, dragging herself between the trees and rubbing against them. Most of the hair on one side of her face, her loins, barrel, flank, girth, and thigh, was gone. Only bloody hide could be seen. Shooter ran back and forth, rearing and kicking, helplessly watching his mother and listening to her cries of pain. Ridge got down on his knees, straightened Jubilee’s forelock, and stroked her forehead. Her eyes seem to plea to him for help.

Ridge ran to find his father and brought him to her. Can you help her, Papa? Please help her.

Milam got down on one knee beside the ailing mare, petted her, and spoke gently. His hands came away bloody as his head drooped. Ridge stood behind him, trying without success to hold back his tears. When he saw tears forming in his father’s eyes, Ridge moaned. What’s wrong with her, Papa? Can’t we help her?

Milam shook his head. Afraid not, Son. Looks like a really bad case of colic. Some of her insides have gone into spasm, and she’s gone into shock. I have only seen colic this bad once before, and we had to put the horse down to end the pain.

Ridge knew what that meant as he turned and walked away a few steps so his father could not hear him cry. He walked back and leaned down to touch Jubilee’s jaw. Are you sure?

Sure as I can be, Son. Don’t have to be a vet to see the pain she’s in. The pain will kill her, but she could suffer for a long time. We have to put a stop to it. Do you agree?

Ridge nodded and headed toward the house to get Milam’s rifle. Minutes later, he watched as Milam put a bullet in Jubilee’s head just below the place where Ridge had petted her. Ridge looked at Shooter as the young colt watched his mother die. He seemed to know as he silently hung his head and groaned. Ridge walked over to comfort the colt. He put his arms around Shooter’s neck and whispered. Sorry, you had to see that, old boy. But we had to do it. Your mama was in a lot of pain.

He walked back to Milam, still standing over Jubilee’s body. Milam spoke with a broken voice. We can’t leave her out here for the buzzards. As dry as it is right now, it would be almost impossible to dig a grave.

Tears ran down Ridge’s face. So, what can we do?

Milam shook his head. Only one thing we can do. You recall that low spot by the creek where water stands when it rains a lot?

Ridge nodded.

Go down there and start dragging up all the limbs and kindling you can find. You may have to come back up here and get some of these bois d’arc limbs.

So, we’re gonna burn her?

Milam looked at his son. Don’t see any other way, do you?

Ridge half walked and half ran to the creek, where he started picking up limbs and piling them in the place Milam selected. Milam had gone back to the barn and harnessed the mules. He attached a rope to Jubilee’s hind legs, and the mules dragged her to the low spot. With Ridge’s help, they turned Jubilee over on top of the limbs. They piled more limbs and leaves on top of her.

Milam pointed toward the house. Run up there and get that can of coal oil and my axe and crosscut saw. We’ll need more limbs to build up a really hot fire.

The coal oil worked and a blaze shot up. Father and son gathered all the dead limbs in the pasture and worked with the axe and saw to cut new ones. The fire was still smoldering at dark. The next morning, they gathered Jubilee’s bones and buried them in the creek.

After losing Jubilee, the family was left with only two mules and Shooter. Both mules were trained to pull plows and wagons but were too ornery to ride. Milam did not like to ride horses until they were close to two. Shooter was barely one, but Ridge was small for a ten-year-old, so he decided to let him try to train the young colt. Milam supervised closely until both Ridge and he gained confidence when Ridge showed a natural aptitude and Shooter showed cooperation, even joy at being trained. Before Shooter was two, Ridge was riding him back and forth on their land and even to Klondike, where he drew the admiring stares of Pop and the Remuda.

Chapter 3

1913

Ridge, now seventeen, had worked part-time for Chuck Hollon from the time he was ten. Klondike school was almost within shouting distance from the store, so Pop’s customers grew accustomed to seeing Shooter, now a gelding, tied nearby on most days. Ridge didn’t like working inside the store at first but enjoyed waiting on Raney when her parents sent her to shop alone. Pop made the job fun and helped him to realize he was learning about how a small business was run. Chuck also let him work with his cattle and pigs and occasionally took him a few miles north to Gough, where his original store was located and where he kept a small inventory of wagons and buggies for sale. He kept most of his livestock there, too.

On the most recent trip to Gough, Chuck told Ridge that he was going to close the Gough store and would need help in moving the merchandise and livestock. He said he intended to focus his efforts on Klondike because of the rail line that passed through it and make it a big store as the town grew around it. Ridge’s ears perked up when he heard livestock. Gonna drive ‘em over here?

Chuck smiled. He had seen Ridge help his father birth calves and doctor cattle and knew how much he loved working with livestock. Yep. But don’t get your hopes up, Ridge. Won’t be any roping and branding. They’re all penned up and just waiting. Pretty tame bunch, and I want them treated gently. Still want to help?

Sure do, Mr. Hollon. Where we gonna put ‘em?

Chuck nodded across the street and pointed slightly south. Can’t believe you ain’t noticed that pen over there. I plan on selling a few cows for slaughter and a few for breeding. Then I plan on bringing in a few horses, hogs, maybe even some sheep and goats. ‘Course, I’ll need some bigger pens.

Sounds good. When do we leave?

Tomorrow morning, about an hour after sunup. That ought to give you time to ride over. He put his hands on Ridge’s shoulders. "Now,

Ridge, I’ve been watching you for many years. Talked to your father, even your schoolteachers. They tell me you gonna graduate top of your class."

Ridge looked down. Wadn’t but eight of us.

Still, your teachers speak well of you. I want you to start working for me full-time now that you’ve finished school. I need a man to help Pop manage the store and take care of any livestock we get. I plan on adding buggies, wagons and surreys, and more chickens to our inventory—maybe an automobile or two when they become more available. Pop sure won’t be able to manage the outside stuff or the stock. Things ought to pick up as the railroad brings more folks through here.

Milam had mentioned the possibility of Ridge working full-time for Chuck, but Ridge could not see himself working inside the store, at least not for very long. He and his friend Wake Winfield had plans to work as cowboys on a big ranch, but they needed seed money to buy supplies and make the trip west. I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hollon, and I would be pleased to work for you. He wanted to ask about the pay but figured it would be disrespectful. First things first. You got a trail picked out for the cattle from Gough to here?

Yep. I’ll show you on the way tomorrow. I expect we can get back with the cows and inventory by sunset. Like I said, they’re gentle and already in pens.

How many?

A dozen heifers, three calves, and a young bull. Think you can do it by yourself or should I hire somebody else to help you? I’ll be driving a wagon loaded with goods from the store right along with you, but I won’t be much help if they start acting up.

I think I can do it. The prospect of a real cattle drive, even a small one, excited Ridge.

Milam had been watching from a few feet away and knew what the discussion was about. He approached when the talk was over and looked at Ridge but spoke to Chuck. Y’all get things worked out? Are we on for tomorrow?

Chuck nodded, and Ridge spoke, Better get home and look after Shooter. Big day for him tomorrow.

The next morning, Ridge was impatient as he rode behind Chuck’s wagon. He was ready to herd cattle. The Gough store was a little larger than Pop’s but with less stock. He helped empty what was left of the inside inventory into Chuck’s wagon while glancing at the penned cattle. It was almost two when they finished loading. Chuck looked at Ridge. Ready?

Ridge mounted and nodded. "Want me to open the gate or you?’

Chuck climbed into the wagon and picked up the reins. Go ahead. Try to keep ‘em calm.

Ridge opened the gate and backed Shooter out of the way but stayed close enough to provide a deterrent if they decided to run in the wrong direction. The cattle had been penned for a few weeks and seemed reluctant to go through the gate. When the young bull sniffed at the gate opening, Ridge began by leading instead of driving them. It was a trick he had learned from Neff Rainbolt to keep cattle calm and was almost surprised when they followed him. There were no fences on the sides of the road, so Ridge worried about the small herd stampeding or taking off in all directions, but they stuck together for the most part. The young bull ventured away occasionally, and Ridge loved bringing him back. When they seemed to be content with their circumstances and with him and Shooter, he moved over, let them pass, and rode behind the rest of the way.

When Klondike came into view just before sunset, Ridge felt, for the first time in his life, that he was doing what he was meant to do. Pop had already opened the gate, and Ridge eased them into the lot. He wanted to whoop and wave his hat as he stepped down to close the gate.

Chuck stopped the wagon in front of the store and walked over. Good job, Ridge. I figured we might have a little trouble, but you and Shooter kept them calm. It’ll be dark soon, so you best head on home.

No, sir. I’ll stay and help you and Pop unload.

Milam and Pearl will be worried. Don’t think they want you to ride home in the dark.

Ridge picked up a box from the wagon and headed toward the store. Done it plenty of times before.

When they finished unloading, Chuck sat on the wagon’s tailgate. We haven’t discussed your pay yet. What were you expecting?

Whatever you think I’m worth.

Going wage around here for this kind of work is about eighteen dollars a month. I’ll pay you twenty. There will be times when you work less than full-time and times when you work extra. I’ll pay twenty either way. Don’t want to have to keep track of your hours.

Ridge mounted Shooter and nodded. Fair enough. What time you want me here tomorrow?

About eight, I reckon. When I’m not here, just check with Pop and see what he needs help with. Chuck stepped down from the wagon bed. There is one other thing we need to talk about.

Ridge leaned forward on his saddle horn. What’s that?

Suppose you know about that college over in Commerce.

Ridge nodded. Heard about it. I thought it burned.

Burned twice, as a matter of fact—once in Cooper, then in Commerce after they rebuilt it. But it’s been rebuilt again. Your daddy and I want you to try it out.

Ridge’s eyes widened. He never mentioned it to me.

That’s because it just seemed to be out of the question moneywise. But the tuition is only about four bucks a month, and room and board is about eight if you need to stay over there.

Ridge shook his head. I don’t get it. I thought you just offered me a job. How can I go over there to that school and work here, too?

Well, I admit there are some details to work out, but I think we can handle it. For one thing, you can catch the train from here to there or vice-versa at least a few days a week. That’ll save some time for you to work here.

You said something about what it costs, too.

You have a right to know, I guess, but your daddy and I will work out the details. I will basically pay your expenses and set up a loan for you and your Pa to pay when you finish with college.

Ridge felt his face turning red as he shook his head hard. Look, Mr. Hollon, I am very grateful for all you have done and will do for me, but I have absolutely no interest in going to that college. Besides, I heard it was just for teachers.

Just goes to show you’re thinking. You got a good head on your shoulders, boy. It is mostly for teachers now, but you can still get a good education without becoming a teacher. There are certain things folks need to know that they don’t learn enough about in high school. Getting even a year or two of college just adds a lot to your prospects for the future. You never know what you might be doing years from now.

Ridge shook his head in confusion and frustration. And about the money. I just don’t want to take on debt right out of high school. I appreciate the offer, but—

Chuck held up his hand to stop him. You won’t owe me a dime. That’s between me and Milam and Pearl. If they are able to pay me back, that’s all well and good. If they can’t, it’s still okay. You can work it out. I will give you or them plenty of time to pay.

I just don’t want anybody to go into debt so I can go to a college I don’t want to go to. I don’t see the point.

Chuck walked over and put his hand on the cantle. Look, Ridge, your papa and I been friends a long time. If it wasn’t for him, I might be in jail or dead."

Ridge showed his surprise. I never heard that.

It’s a long story, best left untold. I just spoke without thinking. Just ride on home, talk to Pearl and Milam, and take time to think about it. I don’t see how you can go wrong attending a few college classes and holding down a good job at the same time.

Chapter 4

1913

Ridge stopped at Raney’s house on the way home. He rode Shooter as close as he could to the front door without disturbing the grass and hoped somebody would see him from the living room window. He knew there was no hitching post or rail. When nobody came to the door, he stepped off his horse and laid the reins on the ground in front of Shooter. He had spent hours teaching his gelding how to stay ground-tied, and Shooter was obedient as Ridge knocked politely on the front door. He was disappointed when Fay answered instead of Raney. Hidy, Fay. Raney home?

Fay looked over her shoulder and