Easy Pickin's - The Story Of Eli Jefferson

By David W. Bailey

Eli Jefferson left his home in Sweetwater, Texas, intent on doing as a good son should, and helping to raise the money his father needed to pay the upcoming bank note. After finishing a cattle drive and earning the money needed, Eli set out for home, ecstatic.

As he neared home, Eli was bushwhacked by an unknown gunman. The bullet creased his head and left him with amnesia. With no memory of who he was, he stumbled unknowingly on the burned remnants of his family's ranch. His mother and father had both been brutally murdered, and the cattle stolen.

Befriended by a group of men who'd found and helped him, along with a few he'd met on the drive, Eli and his friends form a 'posse' in search of clues to the murders and burnings of ranchers and their homes in the surrounding area. Together with the sheriff and his deputy, they rush to end the string of violence and the men causing it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outlaws Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224179602

David W. Bailey

David W. Bailey was born in Parkersburg, West Virginia on February 3 1951. He has traveled across the U.S and back with his family. He is a Navy Vietnam veteran and proudly so.  He now lives in Bakersfield, California with his wife of 40 years He is the middle son of three boys. At an early age, he and his family traveled the U.S., from Parkersburg, West Virginia to Bowie Maryland down to Tampa, Florida. From Wellsville, Ohio west to Casper, Wyoming and all points in between. When his family landed in California in the mid-60s, they set roots in Ventura County. David is a Navy Vietnam veteran. Six years after his discharge, he joined the Army, spending six years with a total of twelve years military service. He and his wife, Sandy, married on July 4, 1981 in Casitas Springs, California and now lives in Bakersfield, California. They have three grown children and three grandchildren. His favorite quotation is, "I'm here 'cause I'm not all there."  

Book preview

EASY PICKIN’S  

The Story of Eli Jefferson

DAVID W. BAILEY

COPYRIGHT © 2018 BY David W. Bailey

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above-mentioned publisher of this book, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copy written materials.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

This book may contain views, premises, depictions, and statements by the author that are not necessarily shared or endorsed by Outlaws Publishing LLC.

For information contact: [e-mail]

Edited by Ann Mealler

Cover Art by Michael Thomas

Cover design by Outlaws Publishing LLC

Published by Outlaws Publishing LLC

February 2021

10987654321

PROLOGUE

Back when there were large herds of buffalo, elk and deer, there was another animal that thundered onto the prairie and the plains. Cattle. Cattle that brought wealth and prestige to the men who managed them and hired men to drive their cattle to market for profit as well as to feed the populace of the east. There was big money to be had in driving cattle to market and it took rough and rowdy cowboys to get it done.

It also took men with vision and a keen mind for business. Men such as Charles Goodnight and Maduro Mackenzie, just to name a couple. These were men who managed the profit and loss of their business ranches, such as the Matador, XLT and the King ranch. The Prairie Cattle Company, Limited, owned over one hundred fifty thousand cows that roamed over an exorbitant amount of land. Not only did these men create a business, they created a way of life. The way of life for the cowboy.              

These were hard times and you couldn’t tame the time, you just had to adjust to it. Among the hustling herds of Buffalo, the cattle, at times would stampede across the land with the sound of many hooves. It took many brave men to turn those cattle, even at the cost of a few men’s lives. In dry dusty gulches in the sparse barren land of the southwest to the lush carpeted lands of the mid-west, the cowboy made his mark in history. The average age of these cowboys was twenty-four years of age.

From the White face of Montana to the Longhorns of Texas, they thundered onto the prairies and the plains in all their glory. The cowboy sang lullabies to keep the already nervous cows from going on the run. When a stampede did happen, it was, ‘Katie bar the door.’ Men and cattle were in harm’s way. On one such stampede, which happened late in the evening, the banging of pots and pans from the chuck wagon, caused the cattle to run. Men taking to their saddles took their chances of death to try and stop the stampede.

The cowboy spent many months on the trail running rough shod over mangy, ornery critters that would run at the least little sound, making the cowboy a nervous Nelly till trails end. Long, dusty trails of a cattle drive, smacked of devastation at times due to the weather, Indians, and cattle thieves. Indians stealing a few head of cows to feed themselves or, charging a dollar per head of cattle for crossing Indian land. The white man rustling cattle for profit to themselves was another brazen act. 

Forging a river was no walk in the park. Cows, horse and man could be swept away by the raging torrent and drowned. At times, ropes were used to pull the chuck wagon across the river to keep from losing it and the much-needed supplies to sustain the men on the drive. Thunder storms, lightning, causing a grass fire, had occasionally rose their ugly heads to cause the cattle to run. Day, or night, a stampede can be an ugly thing for a cowboy. 

The loss of cattle was one thing, but to lose a man? A friend? That was gut-wrenching to every mother’s son. Sad, but true, many a cowboy had come to his demise in his effort to stop a stampede, being trampled by the hooves of cattle. Many grave crosses were found on the prairie. Yet, these men were loyal to the brands they rode for. At the end of the trail was a hundred dollar pay off. For some, more money than they had ever had at one time.

Snow storms can cause the cowboy, as well as the cows themselves, to freeze to death in the cold, hard winter. Spending hours on end in the saddle could cause the cowboy to go snow blind as they huddled inside jackets and whatever else they could find just to keep warm. Floods were also a hazard for the cowboy and the cattle. A few cows and cowboys had been swept away by floods who were not paying attention to that particular hazard. Rain would cause the cowboy some misery as well. His clothes, saddle, and bedroll were often soaked, and he would have to sleep on wet ground causing various types of aches and pains, even a slow death from one malady or another.

The life of a cowboy was often romanticized in the newspapers, as well as the dime novels of the time, catching the eye of the young, adventurous lad who yearned to ‘ride to heck on leather.’ What he didn’t know he learned in quick fashion on the cattle drive and eventually, a few spawned a yearning to own his own cattle ranch with scores of cattle to drive to market for profit. Such dreams, as often as not, did come true, but it took many years and many cattle drives to see that dream come true.

Eli Jefferson lived on a ranch with his mother and father just outside Sweetwater, Texas. His father owned and managed about a thousand head of longhorn cattle. When round up came, there were no drovers to drive his cattle to market. The mortgage money for the ranch was soon approaching, three to four months away, so Eli took to hiring out for various jobs that he could find to collect the mortgage. His father was forced to sell off a couple of his cows and a bull to support that effort.

Eli had tried tanning hides, which he found was not to his best interest. He had even tried being a Butterfield stage guard, which nearly cost him his life on a few occasions from holdup bandits, so he readily left that position for healthier employment, which was few and far between. He once stopped at a farm house and painted the house for room and board. He was blessed with supplies when he left the farm. At another farm house, he helped re-shingle the roof. He was to be paid for his help, but he refused his pay, realizing the old man and woman needed the money more than he did.

When Eli was in the panhandle of West Texas in search of employ, he had heard of a large cattle drive by a conglomeration of three ranches and were in need of drovers. The need was in Clayton in the northwest territory of New Mexico, so he saddled his horse and took out for Clayton. Time would tell if he had chased a hare down a rabbit hole. Hopefully, they were still in need of men to drive their cattle to market. Hope had sprung in Eli’s chest as he rode towards his goal. Clayton, New Mexico.

CHAPTER ONE

Clayton

Crossing the Rio Grande River, Eli knew he was but a short distance away from Clayton. The anticipation rose in his chest. Before dawn he was on the outskirts of his intended goal. As he entered the town of Clayton, he noticed the streets were alive with activity. Well-lit saloons with men meandering in and out of the them was a telltale sign he was not the first to arrive. However, he kept to his vigil with a steadfast assuredness of obtaining an open position for himself on this cattle drive.

He reined in at the first saloon he came to. The board above the door read; ‘Broken Arrow Saloon.’ He dismounted and tethered his horse at the hitching rack and went to the bat wings, stopping before entering. The saloon was near full capacity as he surveyed the room. Giving a sigh and with raised eyebrows, he stepped through the batwings and headed for the bar. Positioning himself comfortably between two men, he asked for a beer. The bartender eyed this young fella with speculation but gave him a beer anyways. Taking a swallow of his beer, he turned to the crowd. His anticipation of finding employment here in Clayton suddenly diminished to not so hopeful.

Eli turned to the man to his right, who was dressed in brown hat, checkered wool shirt, light brown leather vest, cream colored breaches and dark brown leather chaps, asking, You with the cattle drive outside of town, are you?

The man did not turn to Eli, but took a swallow of his beer before he replied, Yes, I am.

Just who is it I need to see to hire on with this outfit? Eli asked.

The man then turned to Eli, asking, You know ‘bout cattle drives, do you?

Some, Eli replied with a smile.

Eli took another swallow of his beer as the man questioned, Some, huh? Just some?

Yes. Some.

The man chuckled then said, Prado Ferris.

Eli asked, Prado Ferris?

Trail boss for this outfit, the man replied. But, he’s not in town. He’s out with the cows hirin’ men what has experience.

Well, I have... Eli began.

The man interrupted, saying, Yes. I know. Some. He smiled.

Yes, Eli smiled with a jovial expression. Turning to the crowd, Eli stated that him finding employment here in Clayton was next to naught what with the amount of men already here.

The man himself turned to the crowd, saying, See all these men, do you? Eli didn’t answer as he took another swallow of his beer. The man continued, Not every mother’s son got hired on for one reason, or other. Were I you I’d high tail it out to the herd and find Prado and let him know you have, ‘some’ experience.

Eli thanked the man for the information.

As the man turned back to order another beer, he said, And, tell Prado that I sent you. He might take kindly to you. Another beer, barkeep. Turning back to Eli, he said, The name’s Tom Appleton. Everybody just calls me Apple. Sort of a nickname, you might say. Grew up with that since I was knee high to a tall Indian.

I purely do appreciate that... Apple. Eli replied. I surely do.

Aw, anything to help another fella. I been in need of help myself, once or twice, Apple said.

Eli quickly downed the rest of his beer and headed for the batwings. As the batwings flapped back and forth, Apple turned to a man next to him, saying, There goes a well determined young fellow. I hope him the best of luck. The man didn’t reply as he took a swallow of his beer. Over raised eyebrows Apple, then said, Well, I do.

The man landed his beer mug onto the bar and looked at Apple with an agitated look.

Apple smiled, shrugged his shoulders, then said, Just sayin’. He scoffed. Ain’t no skin off my nose if’n he don’t git hired on, though.

As he neared the herd, Eli stopped his horse and whistled through his teeth at the enormous amount of acreage taken up by these steers. He rested his hands on the saddle horn as he surveyed the sight. To the rear of the herd, he noticed a large campfire and surmised it was where he would find Prado Ferris, trail boss. He kneed his horse in that direction, again with anticipation of being hired on.

As Eli rode slowly through milling cattle towards the campfire, a drover yelled, Rider comin’ in, Mister Ferris!

As Eli approached the campfire, he was met by three men, standing waiting for him. Eli halted his horse and put his hands on the saddle horn in a gesture of being friendly.

One of the men waiting for him asked, What can I do for you, Mister?

I’m lookin’ for a man by the name of Prado Ferris. Know where I might find him? asked Eli.

The same man then asked, And what do you need to see him about?

Eli chuckled, I’d like to hire on with this outfit.

What makes you think there are open positions left?

I met an Apple in town and he sent me out here to see this trail boss, Prado Ferris. 

All three men chuckled at that.

An ‘Apple’, huh? Turning to one of the other men, he said, Sounds like he talked to Tom Appleton, Prado.

Sounds that way to me, too, Caddo, Prado finally spoke.

At that, Eli went to step down, when Caddo warned, Nobody said you could step down, Mister.

Eli settled onto his saddle and gave Caddo a wry smile.

Now, Caddo, that’s no way to talk to a new prospect, Prado said. Ya know dang well we need more hands for the drag positions.

Caddo replied, I just don’t like the looks of him, Prado. Caddo gave Eli the once over, then said, He looks like he just came off the farm all haggard lookin’ like he does.

I’m not too fond of your looks either, Mister, but that could be a mistake in judgement, Eli said with a smile.

Angered at that, Caddo reached for his gun.

Eli cautioned, I wouldn’t do that, was I you.

Caddo went for his gun anyways. 

No, Caddo! Prado yelled.

The sting from the bullet turned him from the impact, taking his gun from his hand as it skittered away from him. Caddo turned with anger and malice toward Eli. He held his right wrist, shouting, Why, you... I’ll git you for this!

Came lookin’ for a job, Mister, not trouble. No need to be unfriendly, said Eli as he holstered his gun.

Caddo stood there shaking his hand from it stinging. Prado turned back to Eli with raised eyebrows then exclaimed, What’s wrong with you? You could have stampeded those cows, you dang fool!

It was either him or me, Mister Ferris, Eli insisted. I had no other choice.

Prado just stood there staring at Eli. He then turned to Caddo, who was still shaking his hand, saying, You could have got yourself killed, Cad. You know better than to draw on a man without knowin’ his brand.

Caddo stared at the stranger as he replied through clinched teeth, Didn’t like what he said.

Prado chuckled a nervous chuckle, saying, He didn’t like what you said either, Cad.

Caddo walked over to where his gun lay and stooped to pick it up.

Eli warned, "Easy, Mister. Real easy."

Caddo turned his head to look at Eli as he gently picked up his gun and holstered it.

Eli turned to Prado, saying, He always meet with possible new hands with gun play?

Prado turned to Caddo and replied, No.

Then, I’m the lucky one. Surprised he ain’t dead yet, Eli said.

Prado turned to Eli and said, Came real close, though, didn’t it, Mister?

Nah, Eli replied as he smiled. No need for killin’ when a warnin’ will do.

At that Caddo stormed off, still shaking his hand.

Prado turned to the other hand and said, Go with Caddo, Pete, and cool him down some whilst me and this... He turned to Eli, saying, this gentleman has a powwow.

Pete nodded his head, then turned to follow Caddo.

Not many can do what you just did, Mister. Caddo is purdy fast on the draw, but you just bested him, said Prado.

Must I be sittin’ in the saddle when we have that powwow? Eli asked.

Prado chuckled, then said, No, I reckon not. Lite and come have a cup of coffee. We’ll talk about your employment over a cup.

Suits me just fine, Mister Ferris, Eli replied as he stepped down from the saddle.

When each man had a cup of coffee, Prado just stood there staring at Eli without saying a word.

Eli took a sip of his coffee, eyed Prado over raised eyebrows, then asked, Hair out of place or what, Mister Ferris?

You remind me of me, when I was your age. Course, I wasn’t as fast with a shootin’ iron as you are. I reckon I never had the need, Prado said with a smile.

Eli chuckled then replied, I found it to be a necessary evil, Mister Ferris. It has warded off trouble as well as got me into trouble, as you might well imagine. He took another sip of his coffee, then asked, About my hirin’ on?

If, ‘Apple’, sent you out to me, then he must think you’re alright, Prado surmised. Then, with narrowed eyes he asked, Think you could handle a drag position if I was to offer it to you?

Eli answered, I’ll take any position you have to offer. I have some experience with cattle from back home.

Oh? Prado replied over raised eyebrows. How so?

My pa owns ‘bout a thousand head of longhorns. Cattle drives and roundups is no stranger to me, Eli told him.

Then, why are you here, mister? Prado asked.

The name’s Eli Jefferson. Came from near Sweetwater, Texas, for this.

Sweetwater? Prado said. Nice place. Been there once, or twice. Friendly piece of easy livin’.

Silence between them as they sipped their coffee.

Prado asked, Then, why are you here and not back in Sweetwater with your pa and his cows? Getting a raised eyebrow stare, Prado, then said, Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. I suppose ya have your reasons.

I do, Eli replied.

Well, powwow over. You’re hired, Mister Jefferson. Oh, by the way, we already have an Eli. Eli Somerset is his name, so we’ll be callin’ you, Jefferson.

Eli chuckled and said, Call me anything, but...

Prado interrupted, saying, Late for supper, I know.

Both men chuckled at that.

Prado asked, How you fixed for spendin’ money?

Eli shifted from one foot to the other. A little embarrassed, he tipped his hat back on his head and replied, Spent the last penny on a beer trying to...

Well, no matter, Prado replied. Fishing in his pocket, he brought out a five dollar silver coin and handed it to Eli, saying, Here. This’ll tide you over till we git on the move. We won’t be movin’ for a couple days till we hire all hands what has experience.

Eli frowned at the money he was given and said, I can’t be beholdin’ to anyone, Mister...

Who says you’ll be beholdin? Prado replied. That was just a friendly gesture, but be well assured, Jefferson, Prado smiled, you’ll be payin’ that back at trail’s end.

Thanks, Prado, said Eli with a smile.

Uh, to keep up appearances, call me, Mister Ferris. I don’t want to be too friendly with anyone but my own choosin’. To be quite honest, Jefferson, I don’t like the looks of many I hired on, but their experience was needed. He chuckled at that. But, to tell the truth, you’re the exception to that, but still, call me, Mister Ferris, if you would.

I can do that, Mister Ferris, Eli replied with a grin.

Good. Good, Prado said. Let’s just git ya signed up on my list here....uh, you can write can’t you? If not, just make your mark and I’ll pencil in who it was.

There’s no need. Eli replied. My handwritin’ may look like hen scratchin’, but it’s plain enough.

Prado chuckled then smiled as Eli signed his name to his sheet. After Eli had signed, he straightened and both men shook hands.

What position do I have? asked Eli.

Drag right, Prado replied.

Eli asked, With such a large herd, are there more than just two drag positions?

There will be four drag positions. Prado replied. The other Eli has drag left 

Meanin’ drag, center right and center left is still open? Eli asked.

"You do know somethin’ ‘bout cattle drives, don’t you?" Prado said with a chuckle.

Some. Eli replied, then asked, This Caddo fellow, who is he? Am I gonna have trouble with him? What’s his position anyways?

Position? Prado asked. He’s the ramrod on this drive. And in answer as to who he is.. he’s my brother.

Eli breathed out, "Brother?" His eyes grew wide and began to move from left to right in a hurried fashion. He seemed to be on the verge of passing out.

With concern on his face Prado said, Say, you don’t look so good. You alright?

"Oh, I’m all right