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

drunkard!” and she stormed out of the house, got on her grey donkey and rode away. She would spend the night with her son and daughter in law in town. It was good that the old woman decided to end her employment at the Flying S, for had she stayed, she’d have found herself smack dab in the middle of an Indian raid. No point in scaring the stuffing out of an innocent old widow woman.

Hinkley nervously paced around his house. He’d stepped out on the porch a few times and looked around, but went back inside. Had he seen Indians? He couldn’t be sure, and when he had gone back to the outhouse to look at that mocassin prints, he’d seen in front of the door, it was gone. “I have to quit drinking,” he told himself . But the whisky called to him from it’s place on the sideboard in the dining room. He could not resist and went in to pour himself a shot. “Esparanza!!” he shouted , expecting to see the woman appear at the door of the kitchen. He was answered by silence. The ranch house was too quiet , even unnerving. He gulped down the whisky, but it did not seem to help. The smell of smoke from the rear of the house caused him to run out the back door toward the barn. That was the moment he saw a black and white paint horse appear before him rearing high into the air , slashing its hooves, and on its back, a Blackfoot war chief, his lance raised as he shouted in a language that was centuries old. As quickly as he had appeared he was gone. Then he heard us coming, and turned to see what appeared to be the entire area behind the house on fire. He never thought for a second that it was the garbage pit. Hinkely whirled around and fled to the house. The war whoops and shouts were terrifying as they were getting closer. He could hear the thunder of many hooves as he ran through the house looking for his rifle, but it was gone. Where had he put it? He had no idea that earlier it had been removed , along with every other fire arm in the house. It was just getting dark as we rode in and began to circle the house. Sam rode up to the front steps , her lance poised , Trouble prancing and dancing around as if he was really enjoying being dressed up as a war horse. Hinkely ran out onto the porch and froze when he saw her. She shouted something in her native tongue and threw down the lance, burying its stone head in the dirt at the foot of the steps. Then she turned her horse around and joined the rest of us as we circled the house, shouting and shooting into the air with our pistols and rifles. Roger Hinkley’s worst night mare had just come true and he knew he was about to die a horrible death at the hands of these “renegades.” There were no neighbors for miles around and Grants Creek was too far away, and even if there were neighbors, they would not have bothered with him anyway. Well, we made lots of noise, and Sam, Little Fox and I grabbed Hinkley and dragged him off to the barn. Doc and Victoria were already there waiting. We tied him up to one of the center support posts and left him there for a minute to think about what might happen to him. Sam had that bottle that said “Coal Oil” on the label and Doc had just taken a fresh cigar out of the pocket of his dungarees. “What do you want?”, Hinkley cried out, terrified by the sight of all the “Indians” gathering around just outside. Scrub Pot, now dismounted and leaving Wakeeze out side the barn door walked in. “You know what we want,” he said “You might have avoided this, had you just met us at the bank like you said you would.”
“I-I forgot,” Hinkley cried “I went there and you and the girl didn’t show up.”
“You are not only a low life, “ Sam said “You are a liar too. I want the deed to the ranch, Hinkley and all the papers signed. I might even give you the money you have coming to you.”
His eyes were filled with terror as she walked around him, looking at him and making sure he saw the bottle she held in her hand. I was biting my lip trying not to laugh, because I knew what she was going to do. She looked him in the eye. “Where is the deed?”
“I don’t have it,” he lied “But I can get it. Untie me and I will take you into town and we will get it.”
“No,” Sam said as she pulled out the black cork and began to sprinkle the water on him. In his terror, Hinkly was sure it was coal oil because there was just enough smell to it. “When the Spanish came to our land,” Sam began, they burned our people. It really is barbaric, but it was something my Grandfather’s tribe adopted and is part of our history. Me, I have never seen it done or heard of anyone doing it recently, but considering that you tried to have me killed, then to cheat me out of what is rightfully mine. Maybe the punishment should fit the crime?” He heard a match strike and smelled fresh cigar smoke.
“You are making me nervous, Sam.,” Doc said “When I get nervous I drop things, like this match. I just lit my smoke with. Sam threw the remaining contents of the bottle all over Hinkley as Doc came closer holding the still flaming match. “All right!!” Hinkley screamed “The deed is in the house. I have the papers. Please! Don’t kill me.! “
Sam laughed, “I had no intention of killing you.,” she said as Doc drew his gun. Hinkley heard it being cocked. “Jerrod,” she said “Untie him.” I did and the coward slumped to the floor of the barn, in tears of relief. Doc and I dragged him to his feet. “You have business to take care of,” Doc growled as he shoved his gun into the man’s ribs, and we marched him back to the house. “Once you make this right with Sam,” he added “We have a date with the sherrif in town.”
Everyone waited outside the ranch house. We had made our point. I never understood why Hinkley wanted to hold onto the place when in the beginning it seemed that he didn’t care about it at all. He’d seemed eager to sell out and get rid of the cattle. I’d find out the answer as to why later on, but for right now, I was happy and proud to stand by Sam as she watched Hinkley sign all the papers and hand over the deed. She turned to me and looked up at me with those beautiful dark eyes and smiled, war paint and all. “We are home, Jerrod,” she said. “Home.” She had said it and earlier in the evening she had hinted that she wanted to marry me. I slid my arms around my Indian Princess and kissed her. I loved her more than my own life, but she had not said “yes” yet. We watched Doc march Hinkley out the door and off to jail. All that remained to do was for us to move onto the ranch and get matters settled legally with the judge in Grant’s Creek. In order for Sam to be the legal owner of The Flying S, she had to be a married woman, and I kept praying for her to say yes and marry me. I had never wanted a woman more than I wanted her, to be with me for the rest of our lives. That night, all the wild Indians rode back to Bear Claw, and we spent our last night camped there at Doc’s log cabin and Scrub Pot’s. No one ever spoke of the “raid” again. It seemed that everybody looked the other way and were glad that Roger Hinkley would be on his way to prison with his accomplis Ned Travis.

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THE NEW HOMESTEAD

We moved on to the Flying S and work began to repair, rebuild and get ready for winter, as it was coming, no matter how warm it seemed in the autumn of 1875. I lay in my bunk at night in that old log bunk house daring to dream of the day I might be sharing a room in the ranch house with Sam. All I had to do was get her to say yes and we’d be married right away. I loved her more every day and knew that she was the only one I wanted to be with. Now across the bunkhouse floor was Ely Jax’s bunk and while his snoring kept me awake every night since the raid that resulted in Roger Hinkely’s incarceration, I had tried to be open minded. After all he was a friend, but where Sam was concerned, he was competition. To any woman, Ely Jax would have been a man to reckon with. He was good looking, strong, could ride , rope and was deadly with a six gun. Why, Ely was a real cowboy, and I’d see in town how the ladies just seemed to fall in line whenever he was around. Why wasn’t he keeping company with one of them? The answer was simple. He was after Sam, and it was me who was going to marry her, and he was just going to have to accept that. Now if I’d listened to Scrub