“One of you boys can go,” Rachel insisted. “I think we owe your father that. He wanted so much to make things right with his father, so we can at least let your grandpa know about his death.”
Rubin still looked uncertain, so Rachel continued. “I think Perley should go look for him. You and John have wives to take care of. Perley doesn’t, so I think he should go.”
“Mama’s right,” John said. “We oughta at least tell the old man about Pa’s death.” He looked at Perley then and asked, “Whadda you think, Perley? You wanna ride up in Indian Territory to see if you can find Grandpa? If he’s still up there in the Sans Bois Mountains, you oughta be able to get up there and back before we start the cattle out for Ogallala.”
Perley shrugged indifferently. “I reckon, if he’s still there and if Mama thinks that’s best.”
He didn’t express it, but any chance to get away from the routine of the ranch was always welcome, even in unhappy circumstances like these. When there were no objections from anyone, he shrugged again and announced, “I reckon I can start out in the mornin’.”
Rubin walked out of the room with him after the family meeting. When out of earshot of the women, he spoke to Perley.
“I think it’s important what Mama wants to do, and I hope you can find the old man up in those hills. But Perley, if you can’t find him in a week, come on home. We need you on that cattle drive.”
“I will,” Perley said.
* * *
Since no one in the family knew for sure how to find his grandfather, Perley determined to start out on his search the next morning. He’d follow the Kiamichi River up into Indian Territory until reaching the Kiamichi Mountains. He figured when he struck those mountains, he would head north of the river, hoping to find the Sans Bois Mountains, where his grandfather supposedly had his camp. Once he knew he was in the Sans Bois Mountains, his plan was to find someone who might know his grandpa and be able to tell Perley how to find the camp.
“If that doesn’t work,” he told his brothers, “I reckon I’ll just comb those mountains till I stumble on Grandpa.”
“Well, don’t keep lookin’ for him forever,” Rubin repeated. “If you don’t find him after a week or so, come on home. He mighta moved on to God knows where.”
Perley nodded in reply.
“You got everything you need?” John asked. “You’re gonna be gone for a while. Make sure you’re takin’ enough bacon and hardtack and coffee. I reckon you’ve got plenty of cartridges for your rifle.”
Perley couldn’t help chuckling. His two older brothers were fretting over him like a couple of worried parents. “I reckon I’ll make out all right,” he said. “I think I’ve got everything I’ll need, and as long as I’ve got my rifle and cartridges, I reckon I won’t starve.”
With everything ready, he threw his saddle on the big bay gelding he favored most. Working cattle, he used many different horses, but the bay was his personal horse. He was named Buck after Perley’s brother John bet him a dollar he couldn’t saddle-break the horse. Perley not only won the bet, but in the process, gained a four-legged friend that bucked off every other rider who climbed on his back. It didn’t take long before all the crew at the Triple-G Ranch learned that it was no use cutting Buck out of the remuda, because they wouldn’t stay in the saddle for long before the horse came back to the barn looking for Perley. His brothers chided him for making a pet of the horse, but they could not deny the big bay’s strength and stamina.
On hand to see Perley off, one of the older ranch hands, Fred Farmer, was there to offer his help. Fred had spent a great deal of his life in the mountains of Oklahoma and suggested the best way for Perley to start looking for his grandfather was to go to a trading post he knew about in that part of the country.
“What you oughta do,” Fred advised, “since you don’t really know that country, is to follow the Kiamichi River up through the Choctaw Nation. It’s gonna be about sixty-five miles or so after you cross the Red, but if you stay on the river, you’re bound to strike that store. It’s run by a feller named Russell Byers—I reckon he’s still there. If he ain’t, his son’s most likely runnin’ the tradin’ post. There ain’t any other places up that way for folks to buy supplies, that I know of.”
“’Preciate it, Fred,” Perley said. “That’s just what I’ll do.”
Ready to ride, he held up when his mother came out on the porch and called to him. She walked down the steps to stand at his stirrup.
“Here,” she said and handed him a small velvet pouch. “This is the locket your grandfather gave your grandmother when they were married. Your grandfather might not believe you if you tell him you’re his grandson. Show him the locket inside this pouch and he’ll know.”
She stepped back then, and he put the pouch in his inside vest pocket.
“And son,” she said, “you be careful and come back home safely.”
“I will, Ma.”
Notes
1 See the novel Those Jensen Boys!
Buckhorn Page 33