He climbed aboard the gray and was suddenly drawn to look back toward the restaurant. Sheriff Johnson and Sam Waters, along with Ed and Michele Spencer, stood just outside the doorway and appeared to be gazing up the street at him. Charlie McCloud and Floyd Thomas remained inside with the two prisoners. Misty, Lovella, and Margaret; accompanied by her husband, who carried a bucket of water in one hand and some clean towels in the other, were just starting up the sidewalk toward the bank.
“There’s something real strange about that man,” Ed whispered to those standing near him. “I wonder if he can walk through walls?” he jested.
Sheriff Ben Johnson took a chew on his tobacco and then spit a mouthful of juice into a brass spittoon sitting just outside the door of the restaurant. He looked back up the street toward Michael. “I don’t know about walkin’ through walls, Ed, but that man knows what’s gonna happen before it happens—and I have a feelin’ that he knows somethin’ about every one of us here in Lone Pine.”
Michael suddenly smiled at them, and then reined his mount north and rode on out of town. The group of women and Don Warner entered the bank. Ben Johnson then started back into the restaurant.
“C’mon, Sam. Help me march these two Cutler’s on over to the jail—we’ll give Charlie and Floyd in here a break—them outlaws smell pretty bad. We’ll hold the money over there at the jail for Jim as well. Ed—why don’t you or Michele, one of you, go on over and get Doc Mucci. He needs to tend to this fella’ in here and get him buried.”
“Ed can do that,” Michele replied. “I’ll stay here and clean up after Doc takes the body out. I’ll go to the pharmacy and get some supplies to sanitize the place. Ed—you’d better go back to the pharmacy as well after you fetch the doctor—in case the girls need anything for Jim. In fact, you might have Doc just go on over there to the bank first. The girls might need him. This body can wait.”
Jim Dawson had regained consciousness, but still lay on the floor when the group walked into his office. Misty and Lovella had rushed to his side, while Margaret and Don fired up the stove and heated water to clean the man’s head wound and wash out his hair. Margaret worked at cleaning up Lovella’s face as well. Jim soon began to focus in on his surroundings.
After she cleaned the head wound Misty dabbed his face with a wet cloth. “How are you feelin’ Jim?”
The man tried to smile. “There’s a few stars on my horizon and I have somewhat of a headache, but other than that, I’m not feeling too bad. Have those criminals fled with the money?”
“No. That stranger—Michael, came to our rescue. The man who hit you on the head is quite dead. The other two are now in the custody of the sheriff. He has the bank’s money as well.” Misty then looked over at Margaret, who was tending to Lovella. “You might want to look at this head wound, Margaret. The doctor may have to stitch it up.”
Margaret stood up and looked out the window. “He’s coming down the street now—with his bag.”
Moments later Doc Mucci entered the bank. “Well, Jim, I see you’re still with us,” he smiled, closing the door behind him. “I’ll need to take a look at that head wound. And how are you feeling, Lovella?”
“I have a loose tooth, Doc.”
“Well, it may be okay—let me take a look at Jim here first.”
In the cattle camp south of town Ed Winter rode up to the chuck wagon. He had spent most of the morning out among the herd, talking with some of the men that were on watch. He dismounted, poured himself a cup of coffee and soon afterward approached his foreman.
“Cookie says a rider was in here a bit ago, Slim.”
“Yes, sir—a fella’ we first saw over in town just yesterday. Gunfighter, I think. Nice fella’, though.”
“What did the man want?”
“Seems he was concerned about our cattle. Said he thought some rustlers were headed this way from down south—thought we might want to move the herd. The man come in for breakfast after that, but didn’t say no more. We talked about the weather, mostly. He rode on back toward town just after he ate,” Slim gestured, pointing toward the town with a wave of his hand.
“Well, I heard some things about this stranger, Slim. The fella that owns the general store said he thought the man could see into the future. I guess there’s a lot of talk about him in town right now.”
Slim was taken aback. “You don’t believe that, do you, Ed?”
“Well, the man told the livery owner about a broken ladder rung he never laid eyes on. He told a lady about a faulty hammer on her gun—that he also never laid eyes on. And, they say he cured a wild dog that was foamin’ at the mouth. One fella seen that dog later on in the Indian village—playin’ with a little girl.”
Slim nodded. “We were sittin’ in the restaurant when the man done that. Most everyone was lookin’ out the window, but we really never paid it no mind. Now, when he talked to me about those rustlers this mornin’, he never looked me straight in the eyes. I some how got the feelin’ that he was maybe not bein’ all the way truthful, but he sure seemed concerned about the cattle—no doubt about that.”
Ed Winter became curious. “What, exactly, did the man say to you?”
“Well, he said that the animals would be in some kind of danger—tomorrow night. I asked him if it was rustlers, and he said, ‘you might call it that’. But he also said that I wouldn’t believe him if he told me—about the danger. Then he went on about a large band of rustlers he thought was headin’ this way out of Los Angeles—Spaniards, maybe. That’s about the whole of it, Ed.”
Ed lowered his head in thought for a moment, and then spoke at the foreman. “Take half the herd north—up beyond the town into the hills, Slim. There’s a little valley up there where they’ll be safe—tall hills on both sides. Not enough grazin’ for all of ’em here anyway. Put two or three riders up there with ’em. The others can stay here and keep a watch on the rest of the herd. If we are overcome by rustlers, we won’t lose everything.”
Slim Woodson removed his hat and scratched at his head. “You really believe this stranger might know somethin’? I’ll admit, some strange things have happened here a’ bouts, but seein’ into the future? That might be goin’ a bit far, Ed.”
“The man came out here to warn us about somethin’,” Ed responded. “A feelin’ in my guts tells me to take notice. I figure it’s better to be ready for somethin’, than to not be ready and have it happen.”
“We’ll get ’er done right away, boss,” Slim nodded.
“You do that. I’m gonna’ ride on into town and look into things a little bit more.”
Out in the hills to the west, Michael rode for a time through a dry wash, then reined in at a pile of large boulders at the base of the great mountain. He dismounted and brushed at the horse’s mane, speaking gently into its ear.
“Clouds are gettin’ a mite thick up there, boy. It’s almost time to ride on up that way—tomorrow, big fella’. I suppose you’re chompin’ at the bit, like always, huh?”
The tall horse lowered its head and nickered, pushing gently against the man’s chest.
“I know,” Michael responded. “I’m a bit anxious myself. It looks like a steep climb in some places. You up to it, Spirit Rider?”
The horse whinnied at the man, then bobbed its head up and down and snorted.
“Oh, I know,” Michael responded. “You’d like to see your brother first. Well, I figure we’ll see him in just a bit. That’s why we came out here. We should…wait a minute—there’s a rider comin’ up on us now. I think you may just get your wish a mite early.”
Back in town most everyone had gathered at the restaurant. The Spencer’s were there, along with Sheriff Johnson and Sam Waters. Charlie McCloud and Floyd Thomas sat at a table nearby. The Warner’s had just stepped inside, as did Misty, Lovella, and Judge Dawson. John Replogle sat at a table with Doc Mucci and Claude Davis. Jerry Garcia and his wife, from the orange groves, had come in for breakfast just a little earlier, and were glad to see their
favorite cook return.
“I’ll whip up something in a few minutes,” Misty smiled at them. “We’ve been a little busy around here.”
There were other townsfolk starting to come in as well. Two miners, Jim and Will Boyce, came in with Buck Grace, the local woodcarver. Their wives were present with them. Misty went straight into the kitchen. She walked just past Margaret, asking the woman if she would help her catch up with things. Jerry Garcia’s wife, Juanita, then walked into the kitchen and volunteered her services as well.
Lovella looked over at the sheriff. “It’s a good day for a town meetin’. I’m gonna’ go help the girls in the kitchen. You make sure nobody leaves!”
Ben smiled. “They all gotta eat first, Lovella. I don’t reckon anyone will be goin’ anywhere for a while. Don’t wet your pants!”
There was immediate laughter in the room. Lovella quickly grabbed Jim Boyce’s wig off the top of his head and threw it at Ben, striking him in the face. Jim Boyce, taken aback, quickly covered his head with both hands.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Ben!” Lovella snapped. “That’s embarrassin’, you ol’ coot! Talk like that ain’t at all gentlemanly.”
Ben picked up the wig from where it had fallen onto his lap and threw it back toward Jim Boyce. The laughter continued. He then spoke at Lovella once again.
“Well just the same—don’t you fret none. Everyone’s gonna’ be right here, Lovella. Nobody’s goin’ anywhere anytime soon. No one’s ’et just yet.”
She then stooped over near the table where the Boyce brothers were seated and picked up Jim’s wig off the floor. She shook the dirt from it and immediately placed it back on his head, smacking it down firmly with her opposite hand as she did so. Jim Boyce winced and gave her a scowl.
“Dang you, Lovella!”
She patted him on the back and walked on into the kitchen. Everyone in the room continued to laugh a bit except for Jim Boyce. He folded his hands on the table and glared down at the floor. His brother soon reached over and brushed a hand against his chin.
“C’mon, now, Jim. Everyone in here knows you wear a wig. It ain’t all that bad. You know how Lovella is—she’s just ornery. I wouldn’t have laughed ordinarily, but she grabbed the first thing she could throw, and you gotta’ admit, her chuckin’ that wig at Ben was down right comical, Jim. Now, c’mon, let’s see a smile out of that wrinkled puss of yours.”
Jim Boyce lifted his head and looked around the room at the others. Most everyone was smiling at him. Some were still laughing softly. He then shook his head, a slight grin on his face, and afterward broke into a chuckle. Seeing that expression his brother applauded him, and most everyone soon joined in.
“That’s the spirit, Jim,” Buck Grace blurted, patting him on the shoulder. “You was a’ settin’ all stiff there—like that wooden Indian I carved out last week! Hell, bein’ on the butt end of a joke is good for you sometimes. It’s what keeps us old timer’s goin’. You handled it well, my friend,” he smiled.
Chapter Seven
The dark gray clouds had overshadow the High Sierra crest, and now moved in to embrace the summit block of the great peak, making their way ever so slowly down the face of the mountain. The sun was still shining brightly to the east.
With that sun against his back Stalking Moon rode down into the dry wash near the base of that granite wonder, where he immediately sighted the stranger standing next to his mount, not too far ahead of him amidst the tall rocks. The Indian abruptly reined in, holding his place for a moment, his eyes fixed on the stranger. Wind Spirit snorted, dragging his right hoof against the ground repeatedly. He began nickering as well.
“Easy,” Stalking Moon spoke to his mount.
The stranger’s horse lifted its head, his ears perked. He panted momentarily and then sniffed the air. With his next breath he whinnied loudly, stroking the ground three times with his right hoof. Michael then spoke to the animal.
“Spirit Rider, your brother approaches. He’s called Wind Spirit. You fella’s were a mite young when you parted company.”
The Indian then nudged his horse forward, closing the distance between the two animals. Spirit Rider remained in his place beside Michael. When the Indian drew near to where the animal’s noses were just inches from one another, he then dismounted and allowed his animal to move in closer. Their noses soon came together. They both nickered softly and sniffed at one another. Stalking Moon looked into Michael’s eyes.
“You are the gray rider. I have heard this story from my father for many years—a story of a great warrior who rides in the heavens and roams the earth as well—you are the Ancient One. I was told that this gray horse you ride was of the same blood as my Wind Spirit. Tell me more of this, my friend, for my father has not gone into great detail. Consider me as one who would serve you.” The Indian then bowed his head.
“Indeed,” Michael responded. “You will ride with me, but for the time bein’ your place is here—with your father. It was about four years ago that our mounts were born to a rancher, who lived near a town called Bodie—up north a’ piece. Spirit Rider had been destined to serve with me, and so he does. Your mount was to, shall I say, join our forces at a later time. In the meantime he was given to Bear Claw, your father, who in turn felt that you were worthy, and allowed you to raise him.”
Stalking Moon shook his head. “I do not understand this thing you speak of? You are the Ancient One. I would assume that your mount would be ancient as well? And I do not understand why you dress as the white man—but if this is your true form, you look good as a human being,” he smiled. “This bold clothing you wear fits your spirit well.”
Michael nodded. “I take it your father hasn’t told you all about me just yet? Don’t hold that against him. He’s a mortal, like you, and tends to hold a little unbelief in his heart. I’m sure if he’s told you that you have to wait, it’s only because he himself has to see to believe—in some respects. He wants to confirm that I am who I am before he tells you the whole story. I’m obliged to honor his feelin’s, and you’ll have to wait until he does speak with you. It’s a courtesy on my part—more or less. Don’t be offended by it.”
“I am not offended, my friend. In your eyes I see a purity of heart that radiates like the sun. My father’s eyes grow dim, but I have seen this purity in his heart as well, though he is mortal, as you have said. I am overwhelmed by what I now feel in my own heart. I have a comfort that I have not known before. Can you tell me anything of this?”
Michael smiled. “Your destiny is not like that of most other mortals. Every mortal has a purpose, and each purpose, small or great, is given by the Great Spirit, that he might accomplish all things according to his will. Mortals have great importance in the overall scheme of things, but most of them don’t understand that. They feel a mite insecure about things. But your particular destiny is one that few mortals attain, though they will attain to even greater things—when time, as you folk’s here on earth know it, comes to an end.
“Now, your father, when he does speak with you, will probably refer to me as a Ghost Rider. But you can tell him that I’m not a Ghost Rider. And you won’t be a Ghost Rider either. Sit down here with me on the rocks for a bit, and I can go ahead and tell you what I can about who I am, and who you’ll someday be—but it’s your father who was chosen to reveal to you the meaning behind my presence here in Lone Pine.”
Everyone in the restaurant had been served, and most all were still eating their breakfast when Lovella stood up from her table and spoke to them. Misty had left the kitchen and was at that time seated at the table with her.
“This isn’t the regular day for our monthly town meeting, but we sure need one today, so I’m callin’ it to order right now—to deal with some strange things that have taken place around Lone Pine in the last couple days. Most all of you that live in town are here, and I see a few others from the outskirts as well. How many of you have seen or met Michael—the stranger that came into town just yester
day?”
A few folk’s raised their hands, while others chattered a bit among themselves. Lovella raised a hand in a gesture to calm the sudden chattering. “I see the hands—no need for any chit-chat. Anyway, the sheriff will be presiding this morning, and he’s gonna’ talk to you a bit about Michael. Go ahead, Ben.”
At that moment Maggie MacDonald walked into the restaurant. She was taken aback at the number of folk’s who were present there. About the only time that so many folk’s were seen gathering in town was when there was a local meeting. She shook her head at Lovella, a bit discouraged about the fact that she had not been informed.
“Nobody told me there was a meeting, but I’m here. That cattle boss was over at the saloon. I told him it looked like a lot of folk’s were gathering over here for something, and he said he’d like to join us. I told the man to come on over.”
She quickly looked back out the door. “And here he comes. He’s a decent man—you all ought to welcome him.”
“Sure—he’s welcome,” Ben responded. “His drovers spend money in this town.” Several others in the room nodded and voiced their agreement. Some conversations regarding the large herd of cattle south of town then ensued among those in attendance.
In the meantime Maggie took a seat next to Lovella, and Lovella, feeling a bit uncomfortable, whispered to her that she had been so busy that she had just forgotten to let her know what was going on. She said the meeting was a spur-of-the-moment type thing, since so many folk’s were in town.
“I understand,” Maggie whispered back to her. “I’m not mad at you.”
Moments later Ed Winter stepped into the restaurant. Most everyone then became silent and looked his way. He suddenly felt obligated to speak, and did so.
Three Days In LONE PINE, An Untold Tale of The High Sierra Page 9