Winter Crossing

by James E Ferrell

  Tillie knew that Mira had wasted no time in spreading the hurtful gossip around town, and the women were quickly embellishing what they had heard.

  “What is Mira saying?” Tillie asked with a questioning look.

  A quick look of denial came over Ethyl’s face as she stammered for words. “We know you did your best by Phil. Why there isn’t a bad thing ever been said about you, honey. Well, you know what I mean. There was just no cause for Phil going and doing what he did. Poor Phil was a good man. Why he always had a kind word to say to anyone he passed on the street. The poor man must have been out of his mind,” she said.

  Tillie considered the women standing in a tight bundle in the cemetery. They were always quick to tell her what woman her husband was with and just as ready to spread gossip around town. How quickly they had decided her poor husband was a man of integrity, and now she was the cause of his death.

  Looking back at the woman in the cemetery, Tillie said, “Thank the ladies for me, Ethyl. You will excuse me. I need to get my children settled down. This day has been a trying one for us.”

  Walking along the busy street, Tillie held tightly to a complaining Mary’s hand until a well-dressed elderly man stepped up on the boardwalk and scooped Mary up in his arms. He said, “Tillie, I want to extend my condolences to you and the children.” His bright blue eyes twinkled as he said quietly under his breath, “Everything is ready. You have the best outfit this side of the Rockies. Everything you need to travel by wagon is packed in a new Conestoga and waiting for you over in Harrison. I will pick you up in my buggy tonight after dark. You are wise to leave tonight before the wicked witch gets hold of the children here.”

  Putting Mary down, he whispered, “Just like Mrs. Wilson said, the rumor is circulating that Phil killed himself because he caught you having an affair. It is the first step of trying to discredit you. You must not be here tomorrow,” Buck said.

  “We will be ready to leave tonight. How can I ever thank you, Uncle Buck? I sure wish you would reconsider and come with us. Won’t you change your mind and come along?” Tillie begged.

  Buck Bonner was the brother of the children’s grandfather, Jack Bonner, who had died years before and left his wife Mira his half of the family business. Jack Bonner and Buck had never needed a legal paper between them, and when Jack had died, Mira had suddenly provided a signed copy of the documents stating that Jack had been the sole owner of the mill and all that went with it. Mira had run the mill’s business affairs, and Buck had signed many a document Mira had held before him never bothering to look at its content.

  The lust for money and control had corrupted Mira. Everything had been filed at the courthouse over the previous years without him even knowing what was happening. Suddenly everything he had was gone, including his own home.

  “Tillie, are you sure about traveling by wagon? You know it is not wise this time of year,” Buck stated.

  “Uncle Buck, it’s the only way we can leave here and have a prayer of getting away,” Tillie said.

  “I will take you to Harrison to your wagon, but that is far as I dare go. I have a friend in Harrison who will help you with the team to Buckley. Sandy Crow will teach you how to drive the team, and by the time you get to Buckley, you will be able to handle those mules like a true mule skinner. I wish I could go! I wouldn’t last long, and you would be burying me somewhere down the trail. This medicine I put under my tongue is the only thing keeping me alive now,” Buck said.

  “Buck, I wish--you would come with us,” Tillie stated.

  “I wish I could, but that’s impossible. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me! You need to get as far as you can away from here. If you stay around here, Mira will win and get the children. What she wants--she gets,” Buck said.

  “Where are we going, Mother?” Danny asked.

  “We will discuss this later, Danny. I will explain it all to you, but for now, we need to get home. There are a lot of preparations to be made. Buck, I will be expecting to see you tonight,” Tillie said.

  Tipping his hat, he walked down the boardwalk. Buck Bonner had a new spring in his step that had not been there for a long time.

  A few days later, Tillie stood before the small campfire braiding her long blond hair and securing the end with a pink ribbon. Tired and worried, she stood watching the rain course down the muddy street. It had rained for two days steady, without letup, and she saw no end in sight. If winter hit, there would be no way to get out of this country until spring.

  Sandy Crow had ridden the fifty miles from Harrison beside her, coaching her as she managed the team and encouraging her as they went along. Danny also drove the team, and at the end of the fifty-mile trip, they were both physically worn out from working the heavy leather reins guiding the six-mule team.

  Before he left, Sandy stood by the big mules and looked at Tillie and Danny. He said, “Miss Tillie, you just aren’t big enough to handle a team like this, and Danny is still too young, but your heart is willing, and I suppose you will do alright. I’ll remind you one more time, there is a whip under the seat, and if you want them mules to mind, you better learn to use it.” He left that next morning headed back home on the stage with the instructions not to divulge what he had been doing in the past few days.

  ααααααα

  The uncertainty of what could be behind them kept Tillie continually looking over her shoulder. ‘I’ll remind you one more time, there is a whip under the seat, and if you want them mules to mind, you better learn to use it.’ Sandy had said. Now she would take his advice. Occasionally the team would balk and that is when Tillie learned to use the whip. Walking alongside the team while Danny was driving the mules, Tillie became proficient with the whip. Before long, she could cut the top out of a thistle or a leaf out of a tree. The team realized she meant business and became easier to handle as her skills improved.

  A rainy week had come and gone making forward progress slow. The mules were pulling good, but the sky had her worried. A well-worn wagon trail ventured off to their right and on impulse, Tillie reined the team off of their southern course. It was dusk and gas lights of a small town twinkled across a canyon before them. The mules took the slow descent into the canyon town as if they knew there were hay and grain ahead.

  “Danny, this may be a place to winter! We have come a long way. This town must be one of the places Uncle Buck said we would see along the southern route,” Tillie said. In her haste to get as far away from Hunter as possible, she had passed much better places to winter. Looking at her son she said, “We will look this place over tomorrow and see if it is secluded enough for the next few months. Now Danny, knowing what we know about Grandmother, we must not trust anyone. We must not talk freely to anyone. I guess what I am saying is, we need to keep our business to ourselves. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Tillie asked.

  Danny walking alongside the wagon grinned to himself, and in the disappearing light, he called back up to her, “Mom, I think so! I will just answer any questions with a simple yes or no or just shrug my shoulders.”

  “Son, sometimes people stuck way out here, not seeing a lot of new folks, can get mighty nosey and like to know your business. Our business is none of anyone else’s business,” Tillie said.

  As the wagon entered the west end of town, Pace Jacobson stepped from the Snake Bit Saloon. Looking up and down the street, he searched his vest pockets for a match. A minute later, the flash of sulfur flared and the poorly rolled cigarette he held between his lips came to life. He blinked in the thick smoke and stifled a cough as the harsh tobacco bit his lungs. Leaning against a post, he breathed deeply as a fine team of six mules moved along the street. Tillie would have asked him for directions, but she had smelled the livery stable at the far end of the main road long before she reached the man standing before the saloon.

  Jacobson had just left everything but the change in his pocket on the card table. The god of good fortune had not been good to him tonight. Out of habit, h
e reached for his pocket watch. Touching his empty watch pocket, he remembered he had lost the most cherished possession of his gold pocket watch to secure the last hand. A cough from behind him got his attention. Looking around, he spied a figure standing in the shadows. “Doris, what are you doing back there in the shadows?” Pace asked.

  “I was trying to get away from that smoke you men emit like smokestacks inside and get a breath of fresh air,” she said.

  Pointing to a well-worn bench located on the boardwalk, he chuckled and said, “You don’t have to hide in the dark! There are benches for your convenience.”

  “No thanks, Pace! I had rather stay back here in the dark and enjoy a little peace without every drunk that comes in and out of the saloon getting in my face,” Doris King said.

  Doris often stepped from the smoke-filled saloon to catch a breath of fresh air. Life was getting harder and harder for her. The Snake Bit saloon was the center of all she had grown to hate in the last five years.

  “It looked like you didn’t fair to well with Frank Bellow’s new card dealer, Chet Ringer. Had I seen you come in tonight, I would have warned you to stay out of the games,” Doris said.

  “I guess I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. I know every time there are cattlemen in town, the fresh money will bring changes at the card tables. I guess I just got greedy and wanted to beat the odds,” Pace said.

  “I’m not saying the dealers are crooked, but the house always wins in the Snake Bit,” Doris said.

  Pace Jacobson considered what Doris said. Blowing the ashes of his cigarette, he shrugged and said, “Doris, I will get on a winning streak...my luck is bound to change. Too bad we don’t still have grandpa B. W. King as our town sheriff. Your old grandpa kept the games honest.”

  “If he were still sheriff, I wouldn’t be working in the Snake Bit,” Doris said.

  Pace smiled at her, waved back over his shoulder, and stepped down from the boardwalk. The street was well-lit and dry for a change. Jacobson made his way to the sheriff’s office and stopped before the town’s bulletin board. For a moment, he studied a poster before folding it up and placing it in his pocket. Stepping back in the street, he stood looking at the wagon in front of the livery.

  Doris watched him for a minute. She was always interested in most anything that didn’t concern her. ‘Now what was Pace up to?’ she thought before stepping back through the swinging doors.

  Down the street, Tillie pulled the wagon near the livery barn door and climbed down from the seat. A skinny young boy came from the dark interior of the barn pulling a suspender over his shoulder. Leaning a rake against the barn wall, he took in the situation. As the young boy pointed down the road, he said, “Ma’am, there is a fair size stream down there out of town where you can camp. If you would like, I will walk down and help you unhook your team. I can bring your stock back and give them a good bait of oats and hay.”

  “Thank you,” Tillie said, nodding a tired yes. She looked down the road at the stream in the distance. Having a campsite with a clean stream of running water elevated Tillie’s spirit.

  From inside the barn, a gruff voice called to the boy. Hearing that, the young boy turned back in the barn, and his smile quickly faded. From inside the barn, Tillie heard a loud voice yelling, “Boy, I told you to get these stalls cleaned an hour ago! Now get it done, or I will take it out of your hide. You expect me to pay you for nothing?” the voice asked.

  The young boy replied quickly, “Mr. Price, I’m working on the stalls. You have a customer out front, and I was trying to get them settled, and their mules cared for!” A loud slapping sound on flesh came from the barn.

  “I didn’t ask you for any of your lip! Now get busy! I’ll be back in a few minutes, and if the stalls are not done, I will take my belt to you!” the voice exclaimed.

  The boy walked back from the inside of the barn holding his hand over the side of his face. From the back of the barn, the sound of a barn door slamming echoed in the air. Danny was shocked at what he had just witnessed and asked the boy, “Is that your pa?”

  “No, my Pa is dead. He was killed in the war. After he died, Mother just cried all day long. She never got over Daddy dying and died two years ago. The stable is the only place I could find a job. No one around here wants a 14-year-old boy. So...I work for Mr. Price, and he lets me sleep in the hayloft,” the young boy stated flatly.

  “I don’t think I will be boarding my mules with this stable. Is there a place down by the stream where I can graze them tonight?” Tillie asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am! For this time of year, there’s plenty of good grass by the stream. Lots of fish, too!” Looking at Danny, the boy’s eyes brightened, and he said, “When I finish the stalls, I will come fish with you. I have my fishing poles hid down by the stream. The catfish always bite best at night. That stream is where I get most of my meals these days,” the boy said.

  Tillie was deep in thought as she considered the skinny boy they had just met. “What is your name?” she asked.

  The young boy responded, “My mother named me Abraham Lincoln Cole after the President of the United States. That’s why most of the people around here don’t want anything to do with me. They still sympathize strongly with the Confederacy.”

  “I think it’s a great name! If you are not kin to the man that owns the stable, why don’t you quit?” Danny asked.

  “I don’t have any place to go. I sleep in the barn loft,” Abraham repeated.

  Danny’s eyes immediately went to his mother’s face, and the two were thinking the same thing. “Why don’t you come down and have supper with us after you finish the stalls. I would like to talk to you about your situation,” Tillie said.

  Across the street, Pace Jacobson rolled another cigarette while studying the family as their wagon headed out of town. Removing the paper from his pocket, he looked around at the telegraph window down by the railroad station. Being a creature of habit, Pace reached for his pocket watch. Grimacing, he missed not knowing what time it was. His mind was calculating if he could make it to the telegraph office before Walter Snow called it a night. ‘The light was still on, and if I hurry, I might get a telegram off before Walter gets off his shift. For a silver dollar, Snow could always keep a secret.’ Purpose was evident in his step as Pace made his way back along the boardwalk.

  Inside the saloon, Doris had walked back to the swinging doors and was watching Pace down the street. Suddenly he turned and came walking down the boardwalk. “Where are you going in such a hurry? I didn’t know those old legs could carry you any faster than a slow shuffle,” Doris said as he passed the saloon.

  “Doris, aren’t you supposed to be running the Snake Bit for your boss? Surely you have more to do than keep an eye on me. For your information, it’s none of your business,” Pace said as he passed the front of the saloon.

  “Well, slow down! I’ve never seen you move so fast. It don’t look natural, Pace!” Doris said with a laugh. As he marched on down the street, she cast an eye back the way he had come. Whatever was motivating him must concern the notice he had taken from the town's bulletin board. She had read the bulletin board this morning and stood trying to remember a bulletin that would be of interest to Pace. He had been mighty interested in the wagon that just came through town. Behind her, a tap on her shoulder broke her concentration.

  “Doris, you need to come talk to Betty. She is at it again. I told her not to drink the hard liquor with the customers, but she is getting loud and her red face is not from the rouge she wears,” the owner of the saloon stated.

  ααααααα

  Tillie helped Danny unhook the mules, and together they set up camp. Back at the stable Abraham Lincoln made fast work of the stalls. Placing the rake and shovel back in the tack room, he ran back to Tillie’s campsite. She saw the smile on his face as he came into the campfire light. It was evident he needed friends in his lonely existence, and for an instant, her eyes started to tear up.

  “Abraham, supper will
be a while. Why don’t you join Danny and you boys try and catch some fish to go with these biscuits? Danny found a boat like thing over on the other side of the stream, and he is sitting on it cooling his feet in the stream,” Tillie said.

  “Miss Tillie, that’s not a boat, it’s a barge my daddy Sgt. Jackie Cole and Mr. Walley built. Downriver there is a place where people come to cross. Pa and Mr. Walley were ready to put the barge in this stream and float it down to the big river. They were going to charge people to ferry them across. Then nightriders came and burned our house and barn down. That night Pa and Mr. Walley snuck off and joined the Union Army,” he said.

  “That sounds like a fascinating story. Go and find Danny! Tonight, I would like to hear more about your father and Mr. Walley,” Tillie said.

  The two boys explored the stream for several hundred yards having the time of their lives. The water was high for this late in the year, but even the cold water didn’t hamper their enthusiasm. Tillie realized it had been too long since Danny played with a boy about his age. The two came back to let Tillie know they were going to Abraham's favorite fishing hole and quickly dashed away, chatting excitedly. “Tomorrow, I will take you to my favorite hiding place. It’s too far upstream in the dark. If we go early enough, we might get to hear the angel sing,” Abraham said excitedly.

  ‘Angel sing,’ Tillie grinned, knowing the tall tales boys can dream up. She called after the boys as they ran downstream, “Danny, if you hear my whistle, you both come a-running. Supper will be ready.”

  Tonight, there wouldn’t be any fish to go with supper, so Tillie cut some salt bacon to fry. It was going to be a late supper. As cold as the water was, Tillie intended to take a good bath. It had been days since she had been able to bathe and above all wash Mary’s hair. It was late when things settled down where Tillie could get to know Abraham. It was apparent Danny had taken him as his best friend.

  “Tomorrow, we will catch some fish for sure! Just wait and see. I always catch fish when the moon is full!” Abraham said excitedly.