Yours kindly,
Benjamin Shreve
MY TESTAMENT
We packed up supplies at the preacher’s house, watered the horses, saddled up the preacher’s old gelding that was not much to look at, said so long to Ida and the three kids, and started back to our place with about three days’ supply of food including a jar of pickled cucumbers Ida give me on account of I had admired the salt on the chicken and she knew I would appreciate them, as they was salty.
We could not move at a fast pace. The mare was not fresh, Preacher Dob’s gelding had seen better days that was over, and Zechariah was afoot. It was only the pinto that was not jaded, as he was young and feisty. We was light of heart to be shed of Hanlin and to of secured the help of Zechariah, although there was none of us not nagged of doubts about that dog. These doubts was aggravated along the way. The dog got winded whilst traveling, sat down to go no further, and Preacher Dob had to haul him into the saddle and ride double with him for a spell, which the old gelding did not seem to much mind in spite of that he had rheumatism and the extra weight could not of gone unnoticed.
The main trouble with the dog being horseback was that it put him on eye level with Sam. He kept watching her just about the whole way when he was up there. She was on the mare with me, whilst the dog was astraddle Preacher Dob’s lap and would shift hisself every which way to get a look at Sam no matter if before, behind, or alongside us.
Sam said, What is he doing it for, I got to know.
Mr Pacheco said he believed the dog had uncommon intelligence and sensed in her the distinctive qualities others might not.
Preacher Dob said, Zechariah knows a fellow sufferer and survivor. He knows what you been through. He has felt a panther’s teeth and claws on him same as you done.
Sam said, That is all hog wash. Do the both of you take me for a fool. He is looking at me on account of I’m ugly and he can’t figure my face out.
I said, If you know that, why did you ask.
Have you not looked in a mirror, she said to the dog. You ain’t nothing to look at yourself. Did you not know that.
He did look abashed to hear it. For a while he quit staring at her but he could not hold back for long, and took it up again until Preacher Dob made him walk.
We crossed a creek and watered the horses and approached our place at sundown as the air got nippy. Mr Pacheco had a poncho in his saddlebag, and he give it to Sam to wear. Zechariah was horseback again by then, asnooze and astraddle Preacher Dob’s lap. We seen a gang of buzzards circling about the bur oak we had sat in all night, so we rode over to study the situation as best we could in the scant light. The pigs had come up from the creek and was pestering the shot camel and scuffling over the dead kid. We thought we might spy the gone finger laying upon the ground, so we put up a hunt for that. But it was gone from there too. We figured one of the pigs had ate it. Mr Pacheco said he believed one of the buzzards had ate it, and it was now aloft. This give him a good laugh to think about the soaring finger.
Preacher Dob asked how Sam got to be such a good shot as to shoot off a man’s finger. Did your brother teach you how to shoot like that, he said.
She said, My brother can’t shoot worth squat.
I did take offense at that. I said, It was luck that you had a good shot.
She said, I took aim. I shot that pistol out of his hand. It was not luck.
When we give up looking for the finger, we rode up to the house, thinking to stay the night, as we could not track in the dark. We figured to rise early, make ready, show Zechariah the places we knew the panther had walked, and hope he might pick up a scent.
The trouble commenced when the preacher dismounted and pulled Zechariah out of the saddle. He was fixing to leash him, but before the dog even settled upon the ground he tossed his head up, become alert, sniffed the air, and took off. He run first to the goat pen and just about went crazy sniffing around there. I never seen such energy in a dog. He was all a-tremble with every sniff, and then on to the next. He run off down by the creek, his nose stuck to the ground the whole way. He did not lift his head even to look around. Sam and me and Preacher Dob run after and yelled at him to hold up, but he was on the go and would not be got hold of for anything. Mr Pacheco stayed on the pinto and took it all in.
The dog was hard to follow, on account of he was of a mottled color and the light was pretty well gone. He come upon the dead kid that we had not found before, which was the brother to the one yonder under the bur oak that the pigs was having a meal of. The panther had broke the neck and partaken of the organs.
Hardly did the dog give it even a sniff before taking off back to the pens. He must of been making his way exactly as the panther done when he dragged off one kid and went back for another. We tried heading the dog off to get hold of him, but he run past us and sniffed at the pens and took off to the place out in the field where Sam had found the other dead kid. It was not to the bur oak but to a hideout by a big rock where the panther had left the kid before Sam moved it to the bur oak in the effort to trick me into thinking that was the place she had found it. The dog was no more fooled by the bur oak than I had been at the time, and did not even give it a glance but lit out in a southeasterly direction that I suppose was how the panther gone.
It was plain the dog did not intend to wait for us but would keep on going. Sam kept after him afoot, although I hollered at her to come back. She was nearly as fast as Zechariah and was not wasting her strength by yelling at him to stop. She was going wherever the dog was going. I was glad to see Mr Pacheco come running by on the pinto, hot on her trail.
Me and Preacher Dob run back to the house to get our horses. They was both tired and old and not yet fed, and they was not happy to have us mount and head off into the dark on rocky terrain on a unmarked route full of thorny bee bush and cactus and following the sound of the dog. I hollered at Sam to hold up and wait, but she did not answer me, so I give up on that, for fear Comanches or Sesesh might hear us.
It was then the dog begun to cut loose with the most peculiar bawling noise I ever heard out of a dog. I have heard dogs on a trail, but I have never, before nor since, heard a sound like this panther dog let loose on the night. I thought Comanches had hold of him and was doing him in by a gruesome fashion. Then it become plain the sound was moving in a orderly direction, and I understood the dog was now on the track in a serious way. Wherever that dog was headed, Sam was headed too, lacking even a pistol with bat shat on this occasion, as she was unarmed. The chill had set in, the night was clear, and the sound sang through the air like the songs of the mermaids in The Whale, enticing Sam to follow along no matter what danger might befall.
It was a wild run, I will tell you what. Mr Pacheco caught up with Sam before Preacher Dob and myself did, as he had a head start and not to mention a better horse. Sam did not put up a fuss but jumped right up behind him on the pinto and off they went after the wailing dog.
Preacher Dob and me rode hard to keep up. It was dark, it was chilly, we was hungry, our horses was not happy, and we was not moving along any known path but through a bunch of brush and scrub trees that scraped us up pretty good. We had to skirt large patches of prickly pear and catclaw and possumhaw and pick our way through cedar breaks, but luckily our horses could see better than we could in the dark and was willing. Preacher Dob’s gelding lacked shoes. He had rock feet but it must of been a rough ride for that old boy. My mare picked up a stone and slowed us down, as I had to stop and dig it out. One minute I would think we was gaining on the dog, and the next he was up higher on a bluff, wailing away, or lower in a ravine, and it would be hard to tell if we was closer or farther or maybe even going the wrong direction. I was mostly following Mr Pacheco, and Preacher Dob was mostly following me. There was cussing going on, I think even the preacher had a few words to say. We was all struck by branches. We dropped down through a steep canyon header and had to slow to a walk to get through a cedar break when we come up the other side. Sam was the luckiest amo
ngst us, as she was tucked in behind Mr Pacheco and wearing his poncho and therefore well shielded from the worst of what we was riding through.
It was a good thing the moon come up. It was the right size moon, not Comanche. A Comanche moon would of done me in with fright considering the stir we made. The one that come up was no more than a shard but give us enough light so we was not plunging off cliffs into thick dark. I am not sure how long we rode or how far we traveled, maybe only three miles, maybe four, as it was slow going in places, all up and down, but I can tell you we did not stop until we heard the dog barking from a fixed position and halted to catch our breath and consider a plan.
Preacher Dob said, I think he’s got the panther treed. I don’t think he would stop otherwise. I worry the cat will jump him if we don’t get there fast.
We concluded to ride in as quick and quiet as we could so the cat would not take a leap and lead us off on another chase.
My pistol and rifle was back at the house, on account of Sam had used what ball and bat shat we owned to fire on Clarence Hanlin, and they was useless to us. I had Hanlin’s pistol, but Sam had none, and she demanded me to give it to her on account of her aim was better.
I said no. I had not shot a Colt’s before and was eager to do so.
She jumped down from the back of the pinto and rushed at me to seize the Colt’s out of my belt. I thought we might have a considerable fight, as I was not about to let her take it.
However, Preacher Dob said, Hold up. He said, I think Sam aught to have a shot at the panther, and she can use my pistol. It’s a good luck one.
It was a Sharps four-shot breech loading pepperbox just her size, and Preacher Dob said it was given him by a gambler who heard the Lord’s word and swore he would gamble no more.
Sam said, I want the rifle instead.
You can’t have the rifle, said he. It fires a big heavy ball and chews down too hard. It would knock you off your feet.
She said, If it does, I’ll get up again.
Still he refused her the rifle. He loaded the pistol and give it to her and told her just to aim, cock, and shoot. She would have four shots, he said, but he bet she would knock that panther out of the tree with the first out of the barrel. Any girl that can shoot a finger off a man can shoot a cat out of a tree, he said.
Mr Pacheco said Sam aught to have the first shot, and if she was to miss and the panther to flee, then we would back her up.
She declared she would not miss. She said, And I want all four shots before any one of you pulls any one of them triggers.
We started in the direction of the fixed barking and struck a shallow ravine with a small stream where we allowed the horses a hasty drink and filled our gourds. The water was mucky on account of we was low on rain that year, as you know, so we did not drink our fill and was thirsty yet. We had not gone much past the ravine when the fixed barking changed to the bawling again and it become clear the dog was on the trail once more.
The cat must of jumped the tree, Preacher Dob said. He’s took off.
We followed a ways, and then the noise ceased of a sudden and left only the chirping of crickets and other expected sounds of the night in our ears. We halted and listened, and none of us for a minute said one word.
Then Preacher Dob said, He’ll start up again if we wait.
However, he did not. Zechariah had said all he intended to say on the matter, and had gone mute.
Mr Pacheco said we should follow in the direction we last heard him, and we would come across him.
We started out, but soon we disagreed on the direction we was to be going. Preacher Dob thought we aught to veer off a bit to the north and Mr Pacheco thought to the east. Sam stated a number of sundry ideas about it. I had no opinion on the matter, as I had no sense of where we was, other than we had seemed to go somewhat south then east, but not along any path, and had passed through a header of a canyon I did not know of. I had thought I knew my way around, but there was more to the land than I had figured and a greater number of canyons. The canyons was mostly shallow ravines and dry washes, but nevertheless they was trouble to get into and out of. There was wilderness north, south, east, and west. We was at the mercy of whoever might happen upon us, and of course Indians was foremost in my thoughts, as the Comanches was active in weeks past and busy doing their mischief.
I said, Do you think we should turn back.
Sam said, I ain’t turning back.
Preacher Dob said, I am not leaving my dog.
I said, It was only a idle notion.
To tell you the truth, I did not know which way back might be. I figured I could give the mare the bridle and she would take me, but I was not inclined to head off without the others.
Mr Pacheco said we aught to go back as far as the creek, make camp, and wait for the dog to strike up again.
That was the counsel we followed. We made our way back and scouted a tolerable place not more than ten feet from the water and under a persimmon tree. We unsaddled the horses, hobbled the gelding and ground tied the mare where they was able to graze on a oak tree overhead, and left the pinto to his own, with neither saddle nor bridle, as he would not wander off far without Mr Pacheco.
Whilst we was making a fire Preacher Dob bemoaned the possible fate of Zechariah. He said, Zechariah has been my companion for seven years. I hope I have not turned him loose to his demise. He does not see much. He has only got the one eye. I hope he did not try to take on the panther hisself.
Mr Pacheco said it was more likely the dog had lost the panther’s scent and was out there searching for it.
Preacher Dob said the panther could of took a long leap into a tree and pounced on Zechariah whilst he searched for it.
We pondered on how this might be so.
Preacher Dob said, I can think of nothing good that would happen that would shut him up. He first treed the panther, then he trailed it again, then he ceased to trail it and was silent. Wherefore is the silence.
We settled in by the fire and nursed our scratches. We ate most of what Ida had packed, however I saved my pickled cucumbers, which I figured I would be glad of later. Mr Pacheco showed us how to clear muck out of the water by slicing portions of prickly pear and dropping the flesh in the cook pot. I had not seen that trick before, nor had Preacher Dob. It drew all the muck to the bottom.
Sam and me was tired out from having sat all night the night before in the tree and rode all day. We made a bed on the poncho and Preacher Dob kindly give us his blanket, as the cold was starting to bite and he was dressed warmer than us. Sam hogged it until I give it to her.
Preacher Dob was so disheartened, on account of Zechariah was missing, that he did not have a cheery word to share. He poked at the fire and recounted tales about folks that lived sorry lives of deceit and died with regrets, such as a horse thief that got shot and passed whilst confessing his sins to Preacher Dob but would not state his name, as he did not want his kids to know what he become.
Preacher Dob said, There’s times I can’t fathom the ways of the Lord. I am a preacher, and I am supposed to explain these things which I can’t. I was once set to join a couple over on Tow Head Creek in matrimony, and the bride flew the tracks a hour before the wedding and left her intended standing forlorn in a suit on his front porch with nothing to do but feed the hogs. What was I to say to him. The very next day I learned he had gone for a hunt to steady his nerves and shot his own mule by accident when it was tied to a tree. And what was I to say to that. There is no words to make it all right when you shoot your own mule. Other terrible things has happened too. Kids falling off the backs of wagons and getting run over. Indians depredating. My poor boy Jackson getting stole by them from the Mexican family that likely loved him. The hangerbande stringing up innocent folks. Terrible things has happened in my own life as well. As a youngster I set out west on my own and got no farther than Arkansas when a gang of bandits come out of nowhere and beat my head in with rifle butts and left me for dead by the road. If you look he
re, you can see the dent in my skull.
Preacher Dob and Mr Pacheco then commenced to reveal their scars and talk of their injuries and discuss how the years was wearing them out. Preacher Dob went on for some time about a cousin of his that come down with atonic gout and other things that added up to a awful demise. He took off his shirt and showed us a hole in his arm where he had got a vaccination that ate a chunk of flesh out of it. Mr Pacheco showed us a rib that stuck out three inches, and a hole in his knee where he had hammered a horseshoe nail in it by accident, and not to mention the powder pocks on his face, which he did not talk about. He said there was a time when he was young and boastful and put on spurs with four inch rowels to impress a girl, and got drunk and sat back on his heels and now had rowel holes in him for the rest of his life, which we was not allowed to look at.
It give him a good laugh to tell that story, and yet you could see a ruefulness to the tale, which bespoke of time moving along and things having passed. It was not any of it a inspiration for living your life.
Mr Pacheco then asked Preacher Dob to tell us how he come to be a preacher.
Preacher Dob said more than twenty years back he taken a respite from hauling furs and come to Texas to see his sister. On account of imprudence he fell in with a bunch of troublemakers younger than him that was going to Mexico to take over some Mexican towns and get horses and cattle and plunder and whatnot. It sounded like a lark, so he signed on. They went down there and got caught and was put in prison, and escaped, and wandered about in the mountains, lost like Moses, looking for the Rio Grande, until some of them perished of thirst and the rest was caught again. Preacher Dob was not a preacher nor even devout at that time, but was just Dobson Beck. They was all marched back to prison, he said, and lined up and told to draw beans out of a pot, and them that drew black beans rather than white ones was to be executed.
The Which Way Tree Page 12