Pitt did most of the talking when they reported back to the posse, telling the sheriff that they had been forced to shoot the outlaw when he refused to surrender. He told him that the man they chased wasn’t carrying any bank money. And when they found out that the second outlaw had been killed as well, Dan and Possum were even more encouraged to keep quiet about the money they had hidden. A canvas bag, filled with money, was found with the man the sheriff had killed, so they assumed it was the whole sum stolen. Possum remembered the grin on Pitt’s face when they realized there was no one to say the outlaws had two sacks of money, no matter what the bank said.
The three-way partnership started out all right, with all three men riding back together to the spot south of the Arkansas where they had buried the money. The money was counted and divided into three separate piles of eleven thousand, three hundred dollars each, more money than any of the three could imagine earning by honest means. They agreed then to go their separate ways, but to refrain from spending any of the cash until there was time for the robbery to become old news. Feeling a trusting kinship with young Dan Slocum, Possum had decided to hide his share of the robbery with Dan’s. They agreed it a good idea to avoid Jack Pitt, especially since witnessing his lack of hesitation in killing the helpless outlaw. It wasn’t long, however, until Pitt sought them out.
Thinking back on it now, as he kept the horses to a fast walk, he blamed himself for possibly causing Dan’s death. The fault lay in the easy friendship that had resulted between them, when it might have been better had they not associated with each other at all. Had they not been sitting at a table in The Trail Driver, having a drink, they would not have run into Jack Pitt. And Dan would still be alive. It had been this feeling of guilt, and not his share of the money, that had caused him to come for Emma and the little one. The decision to be made now was, where should he go? He decided he would talk it over with Emma when they stopped to rest the horses.
* * *
As near as he could estimate, they had traveled close to ten miles, maybe a little more, when they came to a small creek. Thinking he would not likely find a better place to rest, he drove the horses about forty yards up the creek where he stopped the wagon. While Emma took care of the baby, Possum unhitched the horses and led them down to water. He left them to graze on the grassy bank of the creek while he gathered some limbs for a fire. He had a healthy flame going when he looked up to see Emma coming back from the trees after having answered nature’s call. “We’ll have to rest these horses for a little while,” he announced when she approached the fire. “I thought a little fire might go good right now, and I’ve got some coffee in my packs, if you want some.”
“That would be good,” Emma said. “Tell me about Dan,” she was finally able to ask.
“Well, it was just bad luck,” Possum said. “We was just havin’ a drink while we talked about startin’ us up a cattle ranch somewhere away from here, now that we had some money. Jack Pitt walked in. We wasn’t expectin’ to run into him. He said he was gonna head for Wichita, so we didn’t know he was still in Dodge. He was half drunk and talkin’ crazy about me and Dan takin’ more’n our share of the money. Well, Dan told him to quit shootin’ his mouth off about the money before somebody heard him.” Possum paused, as if reluctant to go on. “It was just like it was with that outlaw we caught up with, Pitt drew his .44 and shot Dan, without any warnin’ a-tall. I reckon he realized what he had done then, so he ran out the door.” He shook his head slowly. “I’m powerful sorry, Emma, I reckon Dan had no business foolin’ with people like me. He shoulda been home with his family.”
Emma sat, calmly listening to Possom’s accounting of her husband’s death. It was a sad, heartbreaking story to hear, but there were no tears in her eyes, just a feeling of sorrow that she had become accustomed to. Her life had been defined by bad choices, choices that seemed to always result in disappointment and regret. She had never truly loved Dan Slocum. He was a good man and had stepped up to take her out of a bad situation. She gratefully said yes to his proposal of marriage. Dan was the youngest son of Zachary Slocum, owner of one of the biggest cattle ranches in North Texas, so she gladly accepted the opportunity for a good life for her away from Butcher Bottom. It was not to be, however, for Zachary Slocum was not happy when his youngest son wanted to wed a girl from Butcher Bottom, a small settlement of poor farmers. There resulted a clash between father and son that ended with Dan and his bride striking out for Kansas. “I reckon we’d best decide where we’re headed,” Possum said, breaking her silence.
She had no place to go, other than to return to her home. She had Dan’s share of the stolen bank money, but she had no idea what to do with it. “I don’t know of any place I can go except Butcher Bottom,” she said. “That’s the only place where I know anybody.”
“Butcher Bottom,” Possum repeated, “that’s in Texas, ain’t it?” He had heard Dan refer to it, but not in a complimentary way. “Well,” he sighed, “if that’s where you need to go, I reckon I’ll try to get you there in one piece. “Or maybe two pieces,” he added, with a glance at the baby.
“You ain’t got no obligation to take me all the way to Texas,” Emma said. “I reckon I’ll just have to drive this wagon, myself.”
“No such a thing,” Possum replied at once. “I can’t let you start out all that way by yourself. What if you broke a wheel or somethin’? No, ma’am, I’d best take you to Texas.” He wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the idea, especially since they would be carrying all that money, but he couldn’t escape the feeling of guilt he had for Dan’s death. “I might not know exactly how to find Butcher Bottom, but Dan’s talked some about what part of Texas it’s in. We’ll get there, all right.” He shrugged. “I reckon we can just follow the Western Cattle Trail back down to Texas, then somebody oughta know where Butcher Bottom is. If they don’t know that, they might know where your daddy-in-law’s ranch is, if it’s as big as you say.”
“You have my thanks, Possum,” she said humbly, “and I’ll pay you some of Dan’s share of that bank money for your trouble.” She was more than willing to pay him for the expense of the trip. He was getting along in years, but he was a sight better than a woman alone.
“No such a thing,” Possum said again, making an effort to cheer her up. “I’d like to see Butcher Bottom.” His almost-white whiskers parted enough to permit a smile.
* * *
John Gates pulled over close to his brother and commented, “Looks like somebody’s havin’ some trouble.” He pointed to a wagon jacked up on the far bank of the river with the left rear wheel off.
“Yeah, I’ve been watchin’ him for a while,” Rubin replied. “Looks like one man and one woman. We’d best cross a little farther over this way.” He pointed toward a low bank east of the straw bridge the Doan family had built out of hay. In the summer, the river was usually down so low that there was a danger of quicksand, so they built the bridge for the cattle to cross. The charge was twenty-five cents per head, but after John’s inspection of the river bottom, he decided it was unnecessary to drive their herd across the bridge. The two brothers were riding point on a cattle drive of three thousand cows that had left Lamar County, Texas, two weeks before. Having pushed the herd west far enough to reach the crossing at Doan’s Store, they prepared to cross the Red River into Oklahoma and head north to Ogallala on the Western Trail. “Better signal Ollie to turn back this way.”
“He’s already thinkin’ the same as we are,” John said. Up ahead, Ollie Dinkler drove his chuckwagon on an angle to pass more to the east of the wagon on the Oklahoma side of the river. In about a quarter of an hour’s time, the lead cattle entered the water. Soon the river was filled with Triple-G cattle, drinking the water, until being driven up the other bank. Following their customary drives, Ollie drove his chuckwagon across and unhitched his horses, preparing to spend the night there by the river.
Once the cattle were peacefully settled for the night, John and his younger brother, Per
ley, rode over the low ridge to see what the situation was with the broken-down wagon. As they approached the wagon, a man crawled out from beneath it and stood up, prepared to greet them. A woman holding a baby came from behind the wagon and stood beside the man, watching John and Perley. “Looks like you folks are havin’ a little trouble,” John offered in greeting when he and Perley pulled up beside the wagon.
“Reckon so,” Possum said. “This wheel has been leanin’ a little outta line ever since we crossed a stream earlier this mornin’ and I think I musta bent the axle when I drove it up on a rock under the water. The wheel’s been squeakin’ ever since, so I pulled it off to put some grease on that axle. Sure ’nough, it looks a little bent to me.”
“That’s sorry news,” John said. “How far do you have to go?” He glanced from the man to the woman standing beside him and assumed them to be father and daughter. There was obviously a sizable difference in age.
“Well, that’s hard to say,” Possum replied, “a-ways, maybe fifty or sixty miles, I expect.” When both of their visitors responded to his answer with questioning looks, he tried to explain. “My name’s Possum Smith. This here lady is Emma Slocum. Her husband met with an accident in Dodge City, up in Kansas territory, that took his life, so I’m tryin’ to take her home.”
“You’ve come all the way from Dodge City?” Perley asked, surprised.
“That’s a fact,” Possum answered.
“Where are you headin’?” John asked.
“You ever heard of a place called Butcher Bottom?”
“Can’t say as I have,” John replied and looked at Perley, who shook his head as well.
“Me neither,” Possum said, “so I’m gonna have to look for it when we get down into Texas. That’s where Emma’s from, but she don’t know how to tell me where it is. All I know is, it ain’t too far from the Lazy-S cattle ranch, so I reckon I oughta be able to find it.”
“Zachary Slocum,” John said at once.
“That’s right,” Possum said. “You know him?”
“I know of him,” John replied, “but I ain’t ever met the man. He’s got one of the biggest cattle operations in North Texas. We’re from the Triple-G, east of here a couple hundred miles.”
Perley looked at the forlorn-looking woman holding the baby. “If your name’s Emma Slocum, then I reckon your husband was Zachary Slocum’s son. Is that right?” Emma nodded. “Well, we’re mighty sorry for your loss, ma’am. My name’s Perley Gates, and this is my brother, John.” While they had been talking, Perley had taken a quick glance in the back of the wagon. It didn’t take more than that to see they looked awfully short of supplies. “You plannin’ on campin’ here tonight?”
“That’s right,” Possum answered. “I think our horses have had enough for today. I figured I was gonna have to try to fix a wagon wheel, but after I took a look at it, I think it’ll hold up till I get Emma home.”
“We’re restin’ the herd here tonight,” Perley said. “If you folks don’t mind eatin’ some chuckwagon food, why don’t you have supper with us? We’ve got a mighty fine cook.”
Perley’s invitation surprised his brother, but from the obvious expression of delight in Emma’s face, he concluded what Perley had already surmised. “That’s a good idea,” he said then. “Won’t be anything fancy, but there’ll be plenty of it.”
“Why thank you, kindly,” Possum said after glancing at Emma. “We’d be happy to take supper with you, wouldn’t we, Emma?” There was no hesitation on her part to agree.
“Good,” John said. “You’ll hear Ollie when he bangs on his dinner bell. We’ll look for you to come on over and join us.” He glanced at Perley and said, “I expect we’d best get back to the herd.” They climbed on their horses and headed back the way they had come.
When they were out of hearing distance, Perley pulled up even with John. “Did you take a look in that wagon?” When John said that he hadn’t, Perley said, “It looked like it was filled up with clothes and furniture and such, but I didn’t see anything that looked like food. You reckon they’ve run outta supplies?”
“Maybe,” John replied. “I expect we’ll find out when they come to supper.”
* * *
Possum and Emma were treated like royalty when they walked over to join the crew of the Triple-G for supper. Ollie was more than pleased with the compliments he received for the meal he prepared, although they were not really needed. Judging by the enthusiasm with which his guests attacked his steak and biscuits, it was plain to see they appreciated his efforts. It also told Rubin and John that Perley had been right when he suspected they were desperately short of rations. It was so evident that the three brothers had a quick conference and decided it would go against their Christian upbringing to leave Possum and Emma in the dire straits in which they had found them. Before the evening was ended, they learned that Possum had no connection to Emma beyond the happenstance that he volunteered to ride in a posse with her husband. According to Possum, Emma’s husband had been the unlucky victim of one of the bank robbers they had chased. Being the Christian man that he was, Possum could not turn his back on the grieving widow, so he had volunteered to take her home to Texas.
While they ate, Rubin brought up the subject of supplies. “You folks still have about fifty or sixty miles to go you say?”
“Near as I can figure,” Possum replied.
“How are you fixed for supplies?” Rubin questioned. “Perley said it didn’t look like you had much in the way of food.”
Possum looked surprised. “Did he say that? Well, I reckon he’s pretty much right about that. We ain’t. We just had to do the best we could with the little bit we had, mostly livin’ offa bacon till we could get to Doan’s Store. There ain’t many places to buy supplies between here and Dodge City. I was hopin’ to run up on somethin’ to hunt, but so far, I ain’t had much luck.” He paused to grin. “Maybe the deer are all waitin’ down in Texas for us.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Rubin said, “we’ll make you a present of a cow, in case the deer ain’t waitin’ for you.” He looked at John and Perley for their reaction, and both his brothers nodded their approval. “We’ll even help you skin and butcher it tonight, but we have to keep this herd movin’, so it’ll be up to you to take care of it in the mornin’.”
The immediate display of gratitude on the faces of both Possum and Emma told him how much it meant to them. “That’s mighty kind of you fellers, Possum said. “We’ll surely appreciate the beef, but I can do the skinnin’ and butcherin’. No need to have your men doin’ that.”
“All that beef needs some coffee and beans to go with it,” Perley suggested. “How are you fixed for that?”
Emma spoke up at once. “We’re already out of coffee. I’ve been reusing the old grounds for the last two days.”
Possum was quick to interrupt her. “We may look poorly, but we ain’t flat broke. I was figurin’ on buyin’ some coffee and other stuff at Doan’s Store when we crossed the Red. You folks have been more than generous, and I don’t wanna take advantage of ya.”
Rubin glanced at his two brothers. He could guess that their feelings were the same, he felt. Possum and Emma looked to be in a desperate situation and could use a little help in finding the settlement called Butcher Bottom. Then Rubin and John turned their glances to light on Perley, and he knew immediately what they were thinking. He frowned and shook his head slowly, hoping they would guess his reaction to their thoughts. Neither one made a comment, much to his relief, but there was a deep discussion to follow as soon as Emma and Possum expressed their thanks and returned to the wagon with their gift cow. Sonny Rice and Charlie Ramey volunteered to go with them to help with the butchering, even though Possum had insisted he could handle it. Before the evening was over, Ollie Dinkler went over to supervise the smoking of most of the meat to keep it from spoiling.
“That poor woman looks like she’s about to give up and die,” John remarked after Emma returned to her wagon. “An
d the old fellow with her didn’t look much better. You reckon he’ll find that little place she says she’s from?”
“I don’t know,” Rubin replied. “What bothers me is, she says he just happens to know her late husband. That old fellow looks plum wore out. He just might decide he’s done enough for her and take off, leavin’ her to try to find Butcher Bottom by herself—her and that little baby.”
“I already know what both of you are thinkin’,” Perley said, “and I ain’t gonna do it.”
* * *
With the first rays of the sun the next morning, Possum crawled out of his bedroll under the wagon. He had worked late the night before, saving as much beef as he could for the rest of their trip. He woke up only once during the night when he heard the sounds of the herd of cattle moving out of the river valley, so he figured they were out of sight by now. He listened for sounds that would tell him Emma and the baby were awake, satisfied when he heard none. He went at once to revive the fire, then when he was sure it was caught up, he turned toward the scrubby bushes on the river bank to answer nature’s demands. It was then that he first saw the horse and rider standing silhouetted against the early-morning light, no more than thirty yards from the wagon. “Hot damn!” Possum blurted in shocked surprise, thinking Jack Pitt had already found them.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Perley said. “I just figured I’d wait till you woke up before I went ridin’ into your camp.” Possum seemed unable to come up with a suitable reply, so Perley continued. “Good mornin’. You remember me? I’m Perley Gates.”
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