The Diary of Jerrod Bently, J.W. Osborn [the false prince series TXT] 📗

Some one nudged me with the toe of his boot. I woke out of a dead sleep, sitting up quickly and struck my head of the bottom of the wagon. “Easy, Jerrod,” I heard Doc say “Just thought you ought to get up and see us off.” A little stunned by being thrust back into the world of the living from a reasonably good sleep, I threw aside my blanket and climbed out from under the wagon. “Is Sam all right?” I asked. Doc was looking me straight in the eye as he lit his cigar. “She’s not really awake,” he said as he released a puff of smoke. “ Scrub Pot gave her laudanum so she would sleep during the ride today.”
“That is good.,” I said, recalling that had been the plan to try to keep her pain dulled for as long as possible. He was still looking straight at me. “What are your intentions where my niece is concerned, Bently?,” he asked “I am her uncle and have been one of her guardians since she was a baby, and I figure I have the right to know.”
Until now my intentions of a future with Sam Dodge had been a dream of mine, but now I was being asked what they were. “I intend to marry her if she will have me,” I said with a yawn.
Doc laughed out loud as the smoke curled around his face in the early morning mist. “She’ll have you,” he said confidently “but it’s going to be like breaking a mustang filly to saddle.”
I walked away to where Scrub Pot had set the coffee pot on the fire to boil. I poured myself a cup of his thick and bitter brew. I’d grown used to it by now and held the hot cup between my hands to warm them. “I think you ought to go say your good byes, to her, Jerrod,” Doc said as he joined me by the fire. “We’re leaving as soon as Johansen gets that team hitched up.” I handed my steaming cup to Doc and went back to the chuck wagon. I knocked on the wooden tailgate. “Sam,”I said “It’s Jerrod. May I come in?”
“Help me carry her to the buckboard..” Scrub Pot answered quietly, “She is sound asleep.” A moment later he lifted her up over the rear of the wagon and handed her into my arms. She nestled there like a child. I looked up at her Grandfather. “She is fine, Jerrod,” he said reassuringly, “take her over to the buckboard and get her settled. Then go get Trouble.”
“Sam murmured something as I held her. “I don’t understand,” I said to Scrub Pot as he stood there in the back of the wagon. “What is she trying to say?”
“It’s Blackfoot,” he said “She is telling you to be careful.” Gently I kissed her on the forehead and carried her to Doc’s buckboard. Being ever careful of her badly broken arm I laid her down on the bed her uncle had prepared for her. Her right hand grasped mine. “I will miss you,” she said sleepily. I kissed her hand as I held it. “I’ll miss you too, Sam,” I whispered back to her “But you have to get better. Then, when I get back to Portersville, may be you will let me ride Trouble.”
She smiled. “Bring him to me, Jerrod,” she asked. When I let go of her hand and looked down at her now peaceful face, I was greatly relieved. She was fast asleep again. I left her there and went to fetch her horse. I was always a little nervous around that big stud, but Trouble and I had reached sort of an understanding. He tolerated me and I tolerated him. He’d been out of sorts for days and I figured it was because Desert Rose was gone and he was missing her. Doc was just about ready to pull out, and I all ready missed Sam. Trying not to think about it, I slipped the rope halter over Trouble’s nose. For the first time, I touched that white diamond on his forehead and he stood as still as a statue, then lowered his head to touch mine. “Don’t worry, fella,” I told him “You are going home and you will be with her all the way. Now, you be a good man, and take care of Sam for both of us.” The rumble in his throat was his answer and he nosed me the same way he did Sam and her Grandfather. “Good boy.” I said as I led him away from the makeshift paddock he had shared with Desert Rose.
Doc was mounted up and ready to go when we got there. As soon as the stud caught Sam’s scent, he pulled away from me like I never had a hold of him at all and trotted directly to the buckboard , nickering and rumbling as he always did when he was trying to talk to Sam. Scrub Pot calmly waked over to the horse and caught his trailing rope and spoke to him firmly in the Blackfoot tongue.
“What did he say, Doc?”, I asked as the old man tied the stud’s rope to the back of the buckboard. Doc drew on the cigar he’d been smoking. “He told him not to fight with Joe,” he said.
“ Thought your black was a gelding.”I said.
Doc laughed “You’re just too polite to lift his tail, Bently,” he said “Joe’s a breeding stallion. One of the best to ever come out of North Texas. Once Victoria and I get settled down, I am going to find him some mares and put him to work. ” He turned in his saddle to see his deputy coming across the camp toward the wagon, finishing the last of his too early in the morning coffee. “It’s about time, Johansen,” he said. Glowering at Doc, Hap climbed up into the wagon seat and gathered the reins of the team.
“You drive that team as though you were carrying your mama’s best Swedish china and crystal,” Doc said “one wrong move and we could hurt Sam worse than she already is. Understand?”
“Yes , sir,” Hap replied as he released the break “I will do my best.”
Doc nodded, “I know you will, son,” he added. Young Hap Johansen III grinned. Maybe this trip home would be easier than he’d thought, he’d finally won Doc’s respect.
I felt the old Indian’s hand on my shoulder as I stood there in the dampness of the early morning. “Go tell her good bye, Jerrod Bently, “ he said “You must trust that God will bring you safely back together with her when our work here is done.”
I went to the side of the buckboard. Sam looked comfortable as she lay there drowsy from the pain killer Scrub Pot had given her. As I touched her face, she reached up and took my hand. “I am sorry, Jerrod,” she yawned.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I replied quietly “Scrub Pot and I will take care of the herd. Don’t you worry about anything.”
“Will you ride back to Texas with me?,” she asked.
“You bet I will, Sam,” I promised as I smoothed the colorful Indian blanket around her to ward off the early morning chill.
“You will get the herd to Abilene.,” she said , “I know you can do it.”
I could not help but smile. “Guess I ‘m not a green horn anymore,” I teased gently.
“No,” she said fighting to stay awake a little longer “ You are almost a real cowboy.”
I leaned over the side of the wagon and kissed her softly. “Go home with Doc and get better, Sam,” I said “Scrub Pot and I will see you as soon as we can get to back to Portersville.”
“What God has joined together, let no man put asunder,” the old Indian muttered to himself. Doc finished his cigar and threw the butt on the ground. “Well, Zachariah ,” he said as he turned his horse to the South. “They do make a pretty good team, don’t they.”
“God go with you, Elliot,” Scrub Pot said “Give my love and gratitude to Victoria and get my granddaughter to her safe.”
“Don’t worry, “ Doc replied ,“Sam will be riding that stud in the streets of Portersville by the time you and Bently get there.”
I watched them pull away, and watched until they were small specks that moved across the endless planes and into the horizon.. Some how I knew that they would be safe. I could not explain it in words, it was more like a feeling that came over me and told me that all would be well. Scrub Pot walked passed me his white hat squarely on his head , his grey streaked black hair in the usual single braid down the back of his red shirt. He was heading for the picket line. “We’ve got a herd to move, Jerrod Bently,” he said “Wakeeze must be made ready. I will be riding point today.”


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Victoria tied her long blond hair up in a colorful silk scarf and donned her full length apron. She was cleaning today. Cleaning up a room in her cottage that had not been used since before the death of her first husband in the battle of Shiloh. It was supposed to have been the