Dakota Trail

by David R Lewis

  Once we got ‘em out to the Jervis House, Lotus give them girls a little speech a some kind an’ they settled down quite a bit. She an’ Marie took ‘em inside to meet the rest a the folks that was gonna take care of ‘em an such, an’ show ‘em they rooms an’ all. We went around back to help Carlton take care a the horses an’ put up a lot a the possibles he brung on the trip. It was gittin’ on toward evenin’ when we got finished.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “you have done a wonderful thing for Miz Jervis and those young girls. You have givin’ all of them a new life.”

  Marion smiled.

  “And complicated yours quite a bit I reckon,” he said.

  Carlton chuckled.

  “Miz Jervis has never been short on ideas to keep me busy.”

  We all shook hands with him then, an’ went over to the livery to drop off our horses an’ that little sorrel.

  Mister Milner was some glad to see us. He stalled our horses an’ the sorrel an’ wanted to know what had been goin’ on. We tolt him quite a bit of it, an’ he was some disappointed to hear about Jimmy Jacklin, but seem some uplifted about us gittin’ them Chinee girls a better life. Durin’ our conversation, I could feel Homer gittin’ some restless. Somebody showed up to return a buggy they had rented, an’ Mister Milner went over to see to ‘em.

  Marion turned to Homer.

  “You nervous about somethin’ are ya?”

  “I am,” Homer tolt him. “We been on the trail for near two weeks an’ I have noticed somethin’ missin’ in my life.”

  “And what might that be, Marshal Poteet?”

  “A Jenson’s ground beef sandwich dinner,” Homer tolt him.

  Marion perked up some.

  “Damn,” he said. “I’d durn near fergot about them sandwiches. Quite a ways over to Jenson’s and our horses is all put up an’ restin’. How’s yer leg? Can ya walk that far?”

  “I kin crawl that far if Rube ain’t got enough left to carry me.”

  “I ain’t carryin’ you nowhere,” I tolt him. “I am sick an’ tired a you two ol’ cobs tryin’ to take advantage a my youth. If you wait here, Homer, I’ll bring ya a sandwich after Marion an’ me git done eatin’. ‘Course that sandwich may be some cold by the time we walk all that way.”

  Mister Milner come back then an’ spoke up.

  “I have a solution for your problem, gentlemen,” he said. “Take that little carriage that’s tied out front. It’s on the house, boys. No charge at all.”

  We done it. Marion drove while me an’ Homer set in the back. Homer kept givin’ Marion orders to slow down or speed up or where to turn an’ such. Marion never paid one bit of attention to him. It tickled me quite a bit, is what it done.

  It was gittin’ some close to suppertime when we got to Jenson’s Café. Miss Lucy seen us when we come in. She give us a big ol’ grin an’ pointed to a table near the front winda. We set an’ one a them boys that cleaned tables an’ such showed up with coffee an’ a bowl containin’ five or six biscuits. Homer had one about halfway down his neck when Miss Lucy come over.

  “It is good to see you marshals again. I was afraid you left without saying goodbye to me.”

  “There is a lot a things I might not do if we left town,” Marion said. “Sayin’ goodby to you is not one of ‘em.”

  Miss Lucy smiled real big.

  “I hear that you men and Miz Jervis has brought a dozen little Chinese girls to town, after saving them from a life of slavery and worse.”

  “Just eleven,” I said, smilin’ some. “Word gits around right smart.”

  “It’s because of those telephones,” Lucy said. “On orders from the owner, your meal is free this evening, gentlemen, and so is every other meal you eat here before you leave town.”

  “Well thank you, Miss Lucy,” Marion said, “and thanks to anybody else who is part of such a nice thing. Maybe I won’t leave town. Maybe I’ll just rent me a room someplace and stay on for a few months.”

  “The usual, gentlemen?” she asked, grinnin’ real big.

  Homer nodded, an’ she scooted off.

  After we et, we took that buggy by Rafferty’s an’ dropped Homer off, then went on to the livery. It was almost dark afore Marion an’ me got hiked back to the roomin’ house. Homer was settin’ on the porch with Mister Rafferty.

  “Good evenin’ to ya, lads,” he said. “Homer has been tellin’ me how heroic he was on your trip to save them little girls.”

  “He usually does have to tell as many folks as he can,” Marion said. “I figger one outa seven might believe him.”

  Mister Rafferty went inside then, an’ me an’ Marion took a set. It warn’t but a minute afore he showed up with a pot a fresh coffee for us. He passed out cups of it an’ set back down.

  “I understand you boys found Jimmy Jacklin’s body an’ burnt it up,” he said.

  “Did,” Marion tolt him. “Warn’t enough left of him to even move for a burial. If he didn’t have his initials burnt into a boot heel we never woulda knowed who he was.”

  “I believe you men done the right thing,” Mister Rafferty said. “Hot air rises toward the heavens, boys. Seems to me you give Jimmy a head start.”

  Mister Rafferty went back inside then, an’ we set on that porch for another hour or better, drinkin’ coffee, rockin’ in them chairs, an’ lookin’ at the streetlights an’ such.

  We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Even though it was a fair ways past daybreak when I woke up the next mornin’, it shore seemed terrible early. I kindly stumbled downstairs an’ out onto the porch. Marion an’ Homer was already there, both of ‘em settin’ some quiet an’ kindly just starin’ off into the distance. I took to a rockin’ chair an’ Marion looked over at me.

  “Slept a little late, did ya?” he asked me.

  “I ain’t sure,” I said. “What day is it?”

  “Second Thursday a next week,” Homer growled.

  Things got some quiet then, an’ the three of us just set there, kindly numb like, lookin’ off into the distance an’ watchin’ the town git the day started.

  Mister Rafferty come out with coffee, took a look at us, an’ went to smilin’. He filled three cups an’ set ‘em down, easy like, where we could each reach one.

  “Got some biscuits fresh out of the oven an’ sausage gravy on the stove, boys, if any of you fine lads are awake enough to eat.”

  Homer give a grunt an’ looked at him.

  “Biscuits ya say?”

  “Aye lad, and I deliver. I’ll be back in a minute with breakfast, gentlemen. Keep your seats. It would disappoint me some if any a you boys fell off the porch.”

  We watched him go inside an’ Marion looked at me.

  “Well,” he said, “we know that Homer’s alive. How ‘bout you, Ruben? You drawin’ breath, are ya?”

  “Little bit,” I tolt him. “I doan think I knowed how wore down I was until I woke up this mornin’.”

  “None of us did, boy. We is all near wore plumb out. Hell, I got up outa bed, took half a step backwards, and stomped on my own butt.”

  That tickled me some.

  “I’m sorry I missed that,” I said. “You see it did ya, Homer?”

  “Not me,” Homer said. “I was on my hands an knees at the time, tryin’ to git to the outhouse. I made it, but I may have took a nap in the back yard on the way back.”

  “I am some glad we ain’t strikin’ out for home today,” I said. “I ain’t sure I could make it to the livery to collect the horses.”

  “I figger we’ll head out tomorra,” Marion said. “I’ll git down to the yards this afternoon and make arrangements. You and me will go the same route, Ruben. I reckon Homer’ll go with us to St. Joe, an’ then we’ll part company.

  Mister Rafferty come out on the porch then, totin’ three plates a biscuits an’ gravy. We thanked him an’ dug in. I doan believe I ever had a breakfast that tasted better’n that one did.


  The three a us had just finished up an’ was gittin’ in our second cups a coffee, when Sheriff Forest Hickman rode up on a rough lookin’ little bay. He come up on the porch an’ all of us just set there a spell afore he spoke up.

  “Mornin’, boys,” he said.

  “I was fixin’ to head over your way in a little bit,” Marion said.

  “Glad to save ya the trip,” Forest tolt him. “You fellers have been on the trail an’ through quite a mess, the way I hear it. Figgerd I’d come to you. Found Jimmy Jacklin, did ya?”

  “Ruben found what was left of him. I figger them ol’ boys that was sellin’ them little girls shot him to death an’ just rolled the body up in a tarp an’ left it layin’ out in the barn. It was too far gone to even try to move him. We burnt the barn down with him in it. We burnt down the house an’ a shed, too. The only thing we left standin’ was an outhouse.”

  “Don’t blame ya a bit,” Forest said. “Terrible thing. But now, thanks to you boys an’ Fannie Marie, a mess a little girls that had run outa luck got a new lease on life. You men saved ‘em, an’ God bless ya for that.”

  “We didn’t save all of ‘em,” Homer said. “They was a mess a little graves out behind the house.”

  “Thanks to you marshals, they won’t be no more graves. That is a hell of a accomplishment.”

  “The real accomplishment was gittin’ back with all them little girls,” I said. “Once they come to know we was takin’ ‘em away to a better place, an’ they warn’t gonna be slaves no more, they commenced to shine. After they found out they was fixin’to git all they wanted to eat an’ folks was gonna be nice to ‘em, they got plumb silly. Keepin’ track of ‘em was like tryin’ to git a good count on a mess a tadpoles swimmin’ in the bottom of a bucket.”

  “I oughta git out that way,” Forest said, grinnin’ at me. “Any a you boys want to come along?”

  “I’d be glad to,” I tolt him, “but I got to git my horse from the livery.”

  “Hop on the back a my bay an’ I’ll take ya over to Milner’s place,” Forest said.

  I went back inside to git my handgun, an’ off we went. Marion declined to go ‘cause he had to git over to the rail yards an’ book passage for all us an’ our stock. Homer said he warn’t goin’ nowhere unless they was a biscuit at the end of the ride.

  When we got to the livery, I had myself a idea. Instead a takin’ Willie, I got that little sorrel out an’ put his blanket, saddle, an’ headstall on him. Willie watched the whole thing, an’ come to lay his ears back an’ fuss some, stompin’ his feet an’ hollarin’ at me a little bit. I went over to his stall, give him a candy, an’ tolt him he was the best horse that had ever drawed breath. I give him another candy an’ scratched on his jaw some. He settled down quite a bit, but he warn’t terrible happy, me bein’ unfaithful an’ all. It set me to smilin’ some.

  That little sorrel was about as good as he could be. He had a easy trot, a soft mouth, an’ purty much did everthin’ I asked him to with no complaint at all. Judgin’ by his teeth he was only five or six years old. I figgerd he’d durn near be a perfect rent horse for Verlon, an’ would fit Bill right smart as time went on.

  We got to the Jervis house an’ seen four or five girls in they new white outfits out in the front yard with hoops an’ sticks, tryin’ to git them things rollin’ on the grass. A few of the young ones was up on the porch with stuffed dolls an’ wood blocks an’ such. Them girls looked at us until we was near the hitch rail by the side of the porch, then one of ‘em hollerd “Roo-bin,” an’ here they come on the run, most of ‘em yellin’ out my name. I was some took aback. I never figgerd any of ‘em but Miss Lotus even knowed my name, but I speck she tolt ‘em an’ got some of ‘em to remember it. Quick like, I took off my gunbelt an’ hung it on my saddle horn then got down. I got swarmed by a bunch a open arms an’ smilin’ faces. I speck I hugged six or seven a them little sweethearts, an’ some of ‘em even twice. Sheriff Hickman stood there grinnin’ like a burglar that just made a getaway.

  We hung out there for a hour or better, jawin’ with Marie an’ Lotus, an’ fussin’ with some a them girls. It was a treat, is what it was. Marie asked me when we was leavin’.

  “I ain’t sure, M’am,” I tolt her. “Marion is on the way over to the railyard about now to get our schedule set up for the trains we’ll take.”

  “I expect to see the three of you here sometime before you leave. Day or night, I don’t care. Just be here.”

  “Yes M’am,” I tolt her, an’ I meant it. When Fannie Marie Hopshell Jervis tells ya to be someplace, it is in yer best interest to show up.

  After we got back to the livery, I took the tack offa that sorrel an’ give him a little bite a candy. Then I loved on Willie some an’ give him a treat, too. Sheriff Hickman toted me back to the roomin’ house an’ dropped me off. Marion warn’t nowhere in sight, but Homer was kindly snoozin’ in a rockin’ chair. It looked like a good idea to me.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  It was early afternoon when Marion come back to Rafferty’s on that big ol’ Appaloosa a his. Me an’ Homer was still settin’ on the porch. Both of us had been dozin’ a little bit now an’ then, kindly tryin’ to git over the past few days. Marion come up the steps an’ looked at us.

  “You two boys are the sorriest mess a uselessness I have seen in quite a spell. Can either of ya even walk?”

  “You know any more than ya did afore you struck off, ya ol’ bastard,” Homer asked him.

  “I know we leave town on a train tomorra mornin’ about seven o’clock. From here to St. Joe is over three-hunnerd an’ fifty miles, and we should git there by late in the afternoon. Homer, yer train’ will leave at eight o’clock the next mornin’ an’ should have you back home by suppertime. Me an’ Ruben got us one that leaves about six o’clock, and we’ll make it home in the middle a the afternoon. This trail is damn near over, boys, and that don’t hurt my feelins one bit. I’m tired.”

  “You gittin’ some feeble in yer old age?” Homer asked him.

  “You been dozin’ in that chair all day, Marshal Poteet?” Marion said.

  Homer grinned a little bit.

  “Hell yes,” he said. “I’m tired.”

  “Doan go to sleep, yet,” I tolt ‘em. “Miz Jervis expects us to come by her place afore we leave. She tole me that it didn’t make no difference what time a day or night we could git there, but we definitely got our orders to show up.”

  “I speck we should git it done,” Marion said.

  Homer spoke up.

  “I’m gonna miss them ground beefsteak sandwiches quite a bit. I need one last stop over at Jenson’s Café.”

  Marion smiled.

  “Let’s do this,” he said. “Let me git to the privy an’ then clean up a little bit, an’ I’ll tote Homer over to Jenson’s. Ruben, why doan you strike off to the livery, throw a saddle on Homer’s horse an’ bring him with ya over to the café. We’ll git us a good meal, say goodbye to Miss Lucy, then ride out to the Jervis house an’ see what Fannie Marie has got on her mind.”

  That there is what we done.

  Miz Marie, Lotus, an’ all them girls was some glad to see us. We hung around outside, givin’ an’ gittin’ hugs an’ watchin’ how happy everbody was. After a spell, Marie took us inside and Carlton showed up with coffee for us. Marion spoke up.

  “Miz Jervis,” he said, fussin’ at a inside pocket of his vest, “I have forgot to give you somethin’ several times since we been on the trail.” He pulled out a little bag then an’ laid it on the table. “That there is three hunnerd dollars we got for Miss Lotus when we sold off Rayland Craig’s horse an’ buggy. We’d be pleased if you’d take care of it for her.”

  Marie smiled.

  “No,” she said. “Lotus has no need for it. You keep that money for yourselves. It will go well with the twenty dollar gold pieces you’ll all find in your saddlebags. There is a thousand dollars for each of you men. I spent that money and more on these girls, and
you brought it back for me. I think it is only fitting that I pass it on. You marshals have left your families, risked your lives, been as good and true as anyone could be, and have given my life meaning again. My debt to you goes far and beyond a few pieces of gold. I will tolerate no objections, gentlemen. Not one word. It is my decision to make, and I have made it.”

  “Would you accept a thank you, M’am?” Marion asked her.

  “I would,” she said.

  “Well, you’ve got three of ‘em,” Marion said, “along with a considerable amount of both respect and affection. It has been our pleasure to have come to know you an’ been a part a what you are doin’ for these young ladies.”

  We hung around for a little bit longer, an’ then, in the middle of quite a few tears, we said goodbye to them girls. Miss Lotus follerd us to the horses. She give Marion a hug, then give Homer a hug, then come to me.

  “For all my life I will remember you, Ruben. Very yes.”

  “And I will remember you, Miss Lotus,” I tolt her.

  Tears come outa her eyes then, an’ she run off toward the house.

  I missed grabbin’ Willie’s reins on the first try. My vision was some blurry.

  We spent part of the evenin’ gittin’ our possibles together an’ such, an’ it kindly seemed to me like we was all some numb or something. We didn’t talk much about where we’d been or what we’d done. I cain’t speak for Marion or Homer, but I was kindly fuzzy or somethin’. I was some pleased with what we had done, an’ terrible sorry that we’d had ta do it. I knowed I’d remember Marie an’ Miss Lotus an’ them little girls the rest a my life, an’ that was some fine. I just hoped I could find a way to forget everthin’ else that come with it.