Rush

by Jayme Mansfield

  Lord, he wants to kill me. The thought jolted through my mind as he galloped toward me, the stake raised in his right hand.

  “Don’t kill ’er, you fool!” the raspy voice yelled.

  The man pulled his horse to a stop, still holding the stake in the air. He scowled down at me with cloudy eyes, and then let out a laugh that quickly turned into a hacking cough. “No one …” he wiped a brown tobacco dribble from the corner of his mouth with his shirtsleeve, “is gonna jump my claim.” He squinted at me, peering through a matted mass of gray hair. “Especially a woman … if you call yourself one.”

  I pushed my hair to the side and brushed the dirt from my blouse.

  The bonneted woman shuffled towards me. Her face reminded me of a walnut—dark brown with deep creases running its length. “That’s right. This is our land, and you’d better get on your way before I take that stick to you myself.”

  “Who says this is yours?” The man had momentarily dangled the stake at his side. “I got down here before you.” With Sadie’s reins gathered in my hand, I started limping into the open field.

  “You’ll get hanged for sure, Pa,” the woman hissed.

  A shiver ran down my back to match the pain reverberating in my hip. I stopped and turned around to see the end of a rifle pointed at me.

  “Git on your horse, little lady, before my wife changes her mind.” He made a sideways nod. “She don’t stay kind for long.”

  I walked around Sadie and ran my hand along her neck and side. Dark sweat stains darkened her chest and along the girth under her belly.

  Not sure of what possessed me to be so bold—maybe the wretched couple’s injustice and dishonesty—but the moment my words were spoken, I knew they could be my last. “Your horses look awfully refreshed for running such a grueling race.” I pointed to the workhorse laden with bags and supplies. “For carrying all that and not even having a lather.”

  The couple sent sideways glances at each other.

  “It would be a shame if you were found out to be Sooners. The government isn’t too fond of folks who’ve been dishonest.”

  “We’d better git rid of ’er.” The man’s upper lip twitched as he glanced at his wife.

  “Then you’d be in even deeper.” Keeping my eye on him, I lifted my foot into the stirrup.

  A loud whoop sounded from the rise. The three of us looked up to see two dark-coated riders ascend over the top.

  “That’s a prime piece of land we got,” the first one to reach the bottom called out to the other who was close behind.

  “Dang it, Pa.” The wife swatted at her husband. “Now we’ve lost it for sure.” The woman, like a stiffened broom, swept across the dusty ground toward the men who didn’t appear the type to be intimidated by an old man and woman.

  Quickly pulling myself onto the saddle, I headed Sadie in the direction of the drizzle of water. I would follow the creek and hope it would lead to a more welcoming piece of land.

  *****

  The wasted time forced me to dig my heels into Sadie. Once more, the faithful mare broke into a gallop. After several minutes of hard running, we rounded a cluster of cottonwoods and followed to the left of a ravine that cut into the hardened earth.

  Surprisingly, the creek widened enough that a few stagnant pools formed on either side. Had they been clear, it would have been tempting to stop and cool both Sadie and myself. But even at that thought, other riders and bouncing wagons stirred up dust in the distance.

  “Come on, girl. You can do this.” I stroked her neck, realizing my words were more for myself than the horse. She whinnied and jumped forward.

  Side to side and straight ahead, the landscape became the same—one giant swath of brown, dotted with traces of faded green and tarnished gold. Even with the surveyors’ attempts to mark the land, it was now impossible to distinguish specific sites from the claim maps. Any distinguishing landforms had lost their identity.

  My heart pounded with the truth that I didn’t know where to stop. I could drive my stake into the earth, only to find that several others were on the same claim less than half a mile away.

  Lord, I’ve been plucked from the sky and have fallen in the middle of nowhere. Please give me some direction.

  Slowing Sadie, I trotted her in a tight circle, hoping to make sense of the landscape. The only form that stood out was a thicket of box elders in the forefront of a slight mound.

  Sod house. Shade.

  I gave Sadie a final kick as we headed to what would hopefully be the site of my makeshift house for the first winter on the piece of ground I would eventually call home.

  *****

  A tickly muzzle woke me, the sun still high but drifting toward the west. “Sadie, you were amazing.” I patted her nose as she nibbled on the few stubbles of green grass that were hidden under the trees from the late summer. This was no time to sleep, but exhaustion had won.

  Even pushing myself to a stand and walking was a challenge. My muscles ached, and my head throbbed. But I beamed proudly at the stake I had driven into the dirt after several blows with a rock.

  MJR. My fingers traced the carved letters. “This is my home now.”

  Like a pirate’s sword thrust into sand, the wood held fast in the ground, reminding me of the adventures Wesley and I shared of Long John Silver and Jim Hawkins in their quest for treasure.

  “Son, this is our home.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Daniel ~ Sprung Up, September 16, 1893

  The dust from the Rush had barely settled, and the sun still hung in the sky as a reminder the day had more to bring. Hammers pounded and saws gnawed an offbeat rhythm as the skeletons of buildings formed along a grid of beaten-down earth.

  “You might want to tuck that lady’s hat away.” Finn led the way through the maze of tents that now defined the birth of a town. “There’s nothing but serious business going on here. No time to look like a quine.”

  “And what would that be?” I caught up alongside and frowned at him.

  “A woman. And not necessarily a bonnie one.”

  “You can’t say she isn’t gorgeous.” I tucked the hat under my arm. “Besides, I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Daniel, the hat’s been trampled by stampeding horses. Do you think she’s going to want it wear it again?”

  “Returning it would be a nice gesture, don’t you think?”

  “You’re going to walk around with a woman’s tammy for days, maybe weeks until you see her? You may never—”

  I snagged Finn’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “I’ll find her.” My determination surprised me. Or perhaps it was madness. “It’s not easy—”

  “You don’t need to explain.” Finn elbowed me in the ribs. “Good to know there’s something stirring inside.”

  *****

  Of all the accounts we heard that first day from those lucky enough to have secured a town site, none were as lively as our own Mr. Bartholomew Reid. After interviewing at least two dozen others—including a banker writing loans atop a whiskey barrel, a bent-over farrier repairing broken hooves and shoes for a line of horses, and a grocer selling jugs of water that may as well have been gold—we stumbled upon our friend.

  “Ah, familiar faces.” Mr. Reid held up his forefinger, signaling us to give him a moment to finish his conversation with a man wearing worn leather chaps and a cowboy hat that had seen better days.

  They stood in front of an ill-figured tent. Canvas draped unevenly over four wooden poles, partially driven into the dirt. At a hint of wind, the structure swayed, making the handwritten sign, Simon, Levy, and Reid—Attorneys at Law, flutter and spin.

  After Mr. Reid shook the cowboy’s hand, he joined us. “Ninth client of the day.” He smiled broadly and patted his wide chest. “Already, disputes are boiling over who has rights to a parcel. Especially the cattlemen. They seem to think much of this land still belongs to them since they’ve been renting thousands of acres from the native people to graze their herds. It will be inte
resting how that will hold up in court.”

  “By the looks of some around here, it would be no surprise if they took the law into their own hands,” I said.

  “Regardless, it’s nice to hear business is good for our friend.” Finn gave one pole a slight tug that made it tilt even more. “You’ve either been too busy to build a proper shelter, or you don’t know the first thing about raising a tent.”

  “After my day, I’m lucky to be alive.” He tugged on his shirtsleeve that was garnished with small rips where buttons once adorned it. “How about some tea? Haven’t been able to step away for food and supplies for worry someone will tear down my sign and steal the lot. See this?” He held up a scratched glass jug, its contents dusky as though used as a spittoon. “Bought it from a boy going up and down the rows. Poor kid. He could hardly walk with all that weight tied onto each arm and roped around his waist. Said his father sent him out to make extra money selling tea and water while he set up a hardware store.”

  “How’d you get the tent supplies?” I asked.

  “Gave the boy a tip.” He jingled the coins in his pocket. “Told him to have his father deliver some wood and canvas for a fair price.”

  “And?” Finn cocked his head, still eyeing the tent pole.

  Mr. Reid pointed at the crooked sign. “You’re looking at the most expensive law office in the new territory. If there’s another place to buy hammers and nails, I’ll patronize that fellow next time. Regardless, I’m happy to have my claim and be able to report the good news back East.”

  “How were you so lucky? There isn’t an inch of land remaining,” I said.

  He blew out a deep breath. “Like I said, nearly lost my life or at least a limb.” He motioned us under the canvas where we huddled in close quarters. “As you know, my plan was to ride the Santa Fe in as far as possible until I could jump off and run to a claim. Did just that.”

  Finn and I looked at each other in confusion.

  “But first, let me tell you about the train ride.” He leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Never been in such a situation. Being a larger man, it was still feasible to squeeze into a space near a window, or I would have suffocated. People were pushing and shoving so hard it felt like the train would tip over right there on the tracks. Even ladies were throwing elbows. One swatted me in the face with a gloved hand, accusing me of touching her backside.”

  I cleared my throat to suppress a chuckle at the vision playing out in my mind.

  “For a moment, her wild-eyed husband looked as if he wanted to kill me. But then the whistle blew, and everyone took hold of whatever possible as the train moved forward.”

  “Did you grab the woman’s rear end?” Finn asked with a hint of a smirk.

  Mr. Reid laughed, and his belly shook. “No, sir. Stuck my arm out the window and held to a leg dangling from the top of the car.” He stretched out his arm to reenact the scene. “The top of those cars had as many or more people on them as inside.”

  “We saw that from where we were standing,” I added. “Amazing the train was able to move at all.”

  “It moved, for sure. In fact, as we got into the territory, we neared the town sites faster than I had planned.” Mr. Reid scooted on the ground in a hunched position. “I bent low and ducked under arms and bags to make my way to the open doorway.”

  Now Finn and I leaned forward so we wouldn’t miss a word.

  “I stood on the bottom step, holding onto the railing with one hand and my stake and bag with the other. The ground blurred—passing under my feet like a muddy river.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “All I could think about was how unforgiving the rocks and dirt were going to be when I landed.”

  He paused, drawing us in even closer.

  “I’m not Catholic, you understand, but I made that …” He touched his forehead, chest, and then left and right shoulders.

  “Sign of the cross,” I said.

  “Yes, and prayed to God that the fall alone wouldn’t kill me. Or worse, the train wouldn’t pull me under and swallow me like a giant beast.” He squinted his eyes as if refocusing the events in his mind. “I waited until the smallest patch of green was a few yards in front of me, then jumped.” He rolled his head side to side and rubbed his neck with both hands.

  “Incredible,” Finn mumbled.

  “No doubt it was to my advantage to be full of girth.” He patted himself on the stomach. “Must have rolled a good distance before jumping to my feet and running into the field.”

  “That’s when you drove in your stake?” Finn’s voice cracked.

  “Not yet.” He pushed himself to a stand, though he had to hunch over to fit under the canvas. “I wasn’t the only one who jumped. There were others rolling down the embankment and running in all directions. Some were screaming out in pain, probably from broken bones.” Mr. Reid pumped his arms, alternating them forward and backward. “Before long, a younger fellow was racing alongside me.”

  Like a final crescendo, he paused on a lingering note. “Most likely, the tenderfoot would have beaten me to the claim, but you won’t believe what happened next.”

  “Go ahead.” A detailed sketch was quickly forming in my mind.

  “A section of barbed wire, maybe set by the railroad or cattlemen, was blocking our way.” Mr. Reid resumed running in place, making the story quite fascinating. “The fellow made a bad decision. He tried to go over the top, but the sharp barbs caught and held him there. He was dangling from the top wire, his head nearly touching the ground and his feet up in the air.”

  “Poor fellow,” I said, shaking my head.

  He bent lower. “Knowing there was no chance for me to clear the fence, I decided to slip through the middle. It took some squeezing and caused rips in my clothes.”

  “Can’t imagine why you aren’t cut to bits,” Finn said.

  “There are a few to remind me of the day.” He raised his pant leg, revealing a jagged cut and dried blood. “The back of my coat was tangled up in the barbs, so I left it hanging on the fence and ran as fast as possible at the marked sites.”

  “What about the man?” Finn asked.

  “He was hollering at me to stop, but I kept going until my stake was securely driven into lot number nineteen. Had my sights on twenty-four, but this will do.”

  “Do you think he’s still hung up on the fence?” Finn asked.

  “No, sir. I may be determined but still have my dignity. Once my stake was in the ground, I went back and helped him from the snare.”

  “Really? You surprise me.” I could hardly wait to put my pen to paper.

  Mr. Reid laid his hand on his chest. “Even attorneys have a heart.”

  *****

  Finn wandered the area taking the last of the day’s photographs while I sketched what played out in my mind of Mr. Reid’s escapade and his claimed town site. The sights, sounds, smells, textures, and even the taste of the bitter tea, would eventually translate into a myriad of colors and compositions—an event coming to life in my paintings, and one I would never experience again.

  Mr. Reid insisted we call him Bart since we had now become part of what he considered his greatest accomplishment in life. Again, he was in deep conversation with two dirt-covered cowboys in need of legal assistance. The young men were brothers and, obviously, under the strict authority of their father.

  “If you don’t get this straightened out, you’ll have to contend with our father, Mr. Stanley Cooley.” The shorter one shoved his hands in his pant pockets and puffed out his chest.

  “And you don’t want to do that,” the taller one added. “It’s best if you go on over to the land office with us tomorrow, explain that the claim belongs to us, and get this taken care of before our father has to get involved.”

  “Besides, that woman has no business staking a claim on her own.” The shorter one spat on the ground. “Especially by the looks of her. She’ll be calling all sorts of attention to herself, and—”

  “Even if she rid
es a horse like a man,” the other brother said, laughing. “It ain’t safe for a woman with her looks to be out here alone.”

  I looked up from my paper. “Does she happen to have red hair?”

  Bart stepped to the side, allowing the others to see me under the drape of the canvas.

  “She might at that.” The taller and most likely older brother cocked his head. “What’s it to you? Do you know her?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  But I will.

  CHAPTER 22

  Mary ~ Alone, September 16, 1893

  I finished unpacking the few supplies I was able to carry on horseback, including a bag of grain for Sadie. A blanket and small canvas roll would serve as tonight’s shelter. Until I made my way back to the remains of the tent city to reunite with the Contolinis, a bottle of water, biscuits, jerky, and a couple of apples would have to be enough food to sustain me. Besides those things, I untied the rifle from the saddle and set the leather bag holding a meager supply of ammunition and a hunting knife on the ground.

  Joseph had been right. Without Sadie, the chances of me getting land by trying to run—or even with the three of us in the wagon—would have been sparse.

  Sadie nuzzled in my grain-filled hand. “Tomorrow, ol’ girl, we’ll head to the land office to register and then get you back to Joseph and Lizzie.”

  I shooed away the flies making her ears twitch. “You have an important journey ahead to get Lizzie to another doctor.” Whether it was from exhaustion or nagging fear and concern, my eyes welled with tears. “But it’s going to be hard to say farewell to all of you.”