Traveller, L.W. Samuelson [best adventure books to read .TXT] 📗

familiar enough with the way things work on this stinking planet to make it on my own.
Traveller watched out the slats of the trailer. They were traveling on a narrower highway. After a few minutes, the truck passed through a small town. A short time after that the Ford turned right onto an even smaller road, one with ruts and washboards. Now dust filled the trailer as it bumped up and down with an occasional fish tail.
They traveled several miles on what the alien thought was the most primitive road in the universe until the truck slowed to a crawl and turned yet again. Traveller changed his mind when the truck started bouncing over rocks and ruts so deep that the trailer threw the horses into the air. This was the most primitive road in the universe.
They were winding their way up the side of a mountain. The evergreens on both sides of the road became ever more numerous until the terrain reminded him of where he had first landed his spaceship. He had never felt so alone.


Chapter 52 - The Homestead

Eventually the road smoothed out. It crested and then they drove down through a forest heavy and dark with pine trees. Traveller’s stomach felt funny like there was a bird in it beating its wings to get away. He hadn’t been this nervous since he had blasted off into space.
The road stayed along the edge of the trees. Through the openings on the other side of the trailer, Traveller saw a stream meandering through a meadow of spring green grass. Black Angus cows dotted the landscape. The air felt crisp. It smelled clean almost pristine. The marvel of it took away his apprehension, he calmed.
Eventually the road ambled away from the forest. A half mile further, it ran parallel to a pole fence. On the other side, between the trees and the fence, four large muscular Angus bulls were eating grass. Only a few minutes later the pickup turned back toward the trees going up a lane bordered by the pole fence. Traveller could hear two dogs barking with joy at the pickup’s approach. It slowed just past the end of the fence as it passed the out buildings of weathered wood on either side of the road. The pickup stopped, idled for a second and then all was quite.
Traveller climbed out of the horse trailer and stood on the driver’s side of the truck as still as the day. When the door opened, an old man in a sweat stained straw cowboy hat crawled out of the pickup. He stayed bent over holding his back until gradually straightening himself against the pickup. The dogs cavorted between and around the man’s bowed legs, legs that reminded Traveller of the wishbone he and his friends had wished upon at Thanksgiving.
Traveller watched the old man pet the dogs before he became aware of Traveller’s presence. He turned and their eyes met. “Glory be! Praise Jesus! You’re the one from my dreams.”
“I am not a Christian, but I come in peace,” Traveller said holding up two fingers like the protesters he’d seen on television.
Glen looked at him shrewdly before saying with his eyes twinkling, “Dad gummit, I’ll be the judge of that. Do you believe in helpin’ your fellow man?”
“Yes sir. I was taught to make the world a better place.”
“Well then, you’re Christian enough for me,” he said and walked over with his hand extended. “Glen Berryman,” he said as they shook.
“Traveller Orlov . . . Traveller Orgen.”
“I know the good Lord sent you, but how did you get here?”
“Inside of your horse trailer.”
“Tarnation! And you didn’t get stomped to death,” he chuckled. “You must have a way with horses. Well come on then, let’s get’em out of the trailer and into the corral where they belong. Virginia’s probably got dinner fixed by now.”
Traveller followed the bull-legged old cowboy to the back of the trailer. When the old man fumbled with the trailer latch, Traveller lifted the hook that held it and let the gate down.
“Thankee,” Glen said as he moved into the trailer and untied one of the horses. He backed it down the ramp formed by the gate. When it was clear, he handed the lead rope to Traveller.
Glen hobbled back inside the trailer. As he untied the other horse it snorted kicking its back feet up. “Whoa, easy now,” he said. The horse backed down the ramp with its eyes wide. Once its back feet hit the ground, it reared up and jerked Glen forward off of his feet. One of the front hooves caught the old man in the head. His cowboy hat was smashed into the ground as he covered himself with both hands
Traveller dropped the rope in his hand. He impelled forward catching the recalcitrant horse by the halter. Holding it with a steely grip, he looked into the wild eyes until it calmed and stood as docile as an old nag. He tied it to the side of the trailer before grabbing Glen by the arm and helping him back onto his bow legs.
Glen dusted himself off. “Gosh dang turd licker like to killed me. Good thing the Lord sent you to us. Never did see anyone move that there fast before.”
“No one sent me here,” Traveller said picking up Glen’s mangled cowboy hat and handing it to him. Glen rubbed the knot on his bald head before plopping the hat back on.
“Heh, heh, heh, that’s what you think. What in tarnation made you hitch a ride in a horse trailer anyways?”
“I was trying to get away from some humans.”
“You mean all those danged police were after you?”
“Yes sir and I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then why in tarnation are they after you?”
“I didn’t stick around to find out.”
“Heh, heh, heh, so you just happened to jump in an old man’s trailer who needs a ranch hand? Who dreamed about you? Who’s so old and crippled he can hardly move? The Lord works in mysterious ways, that he does.
“Listen sonny, you put them there horses in that corral over yonder and come on up to the house. I’ll have Virginia set an extra plate,” Glen said before he turned and walked away. He turned back once to point to a contraption and say, “You can wash up at the pump.”
Traveller watched his wishbone legs wobble up the path before gathering the horses and leading them to the designated corral. How does someone’s legs get that way? If they bend any more, they’ll break he thought.

Traveller walked up to the log cabin. He wondered if it was the one Abe Lincoln grew up in. To the right of the path leading up to it was the pump. He pulled the handle up but no water came out. There was a stump nearby with a bar of soap and a towel on it so he knew this was where the water was. He grabbed the soap and waited.
After several minutes the door to the cabin opened. Glen stuck his head out laughing, “Heh, heh, heh, it’s a pump. You have to move the handle up and down, city slicker.”
Traveller turned red under his blue skin. When he moved the handle up and down the water came out but he could only hold one hand under the flow.
Glen laughed again. “Fill the bucket,” he said pointing to the other side of the stump.
Traveller turned red again. He grabbed the bucket and filled it. The water was ice cold when he cupped it in his hands. It took his breath away. His forehead tingled as he washed the dust from his face and hands sputtering. With all the excitement, Traveller hadn’t realized how cold he was. He had escaped without a jacket and even though it been a relatively warm March day, the temperature was beginning to drop.
Glen held the door open until his godsend finished. The late afternoon sun was drooping into the mountains leaving the sky red and angry. “Heh, heh, heh, come on in.”
Traveller followed his nose into the warmth of the cabin. The delicious smells of homemade rolls, steak, potatoes and gravy brought salivation to his mouth. My salvation brings salivation Traveller thought.
“Virginia,” Glen said, “this is the man I told you about. Meet Traveller.”
Glen’s wife was as aged as he. Her grey hair was thin, her face filled with the rivulets of old age, but her eyes were those of a young person. She came forward and held her hand out.
Traveller remembered a scene from a movie. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “It is an honor to meet you, Virginia,” he said.
“The pleasure’s mine. Glen said you’d be here today. He told me how you saved him from bein’ stomped to death. I don’t know what we’d a done if you hadn’t showed up. Well, sit down and eat, it’s getin’ cold.”
Traveller did as requested. He filled his plate with food before smothering the potatoes in gravy. The alien hadn’t realized how famished he was. He relished each bite with hunger seasoning and gravy for sauce. Both made this meal heavenly delicious.
After dinner Traveller helped Virginia clear the table. Each plate shook in her gnarled hands as she picked it up from the table to set it in the sink.
Traveller watched with awe wondering how these two decrepit human beings had been able to take care of themselves until now. He was so overcome with pity that he insisted on doing the dishes. Virginia sat at the table. With the weight off of her arthritic ankles, she teared up with gratitude.
Traveller carried water in, heated it up, and washed the dinnerware while Glen stoked the logs in the fireplace. Soon, bright orange flames danced behind the spark screen. “Come yonder and sit. Tell me all about yourself.”
Traveller held an arm for Virginia helping her out of the hard wooden chair at the kitchen table. He walked her to an arm chair. She held his arm to lower herself into the well used furniture. “Glen, you was right. He is heaven sent. I swear I was ready to give up till he came, and he’s polite for a young’n.”
“Heh, heh, heh. I told our payers’d be answered. Come sit over here son,” he said patting a place next to him on the couch. “Tell us all about yourself. How comes the law’s after ya?”
The two octogenarians stared at him with rapt attention as he began his tale. He told them of his escape from the mother ship, of finding friendship, of gaining U.S. citizenship, of his battle with the cougar, the befriendment of the rattle snake, and his career as rock star. He left Jacki Daniels and Porter out of the story.
“So that’s why they’re after you,” Glen said nodding his head.
“Why? I’ve done nothing wrong,” Traveller said.
“Yes you have. Not only are you an alien, but you’re an illegal alien. You can’t just up and forge your own papers and be legal.”
“The only paper I faked was my country of origin. I couldn’t tell the authorities I’m from outer space, could I? I passed the naturalization test square and fair.”
“I’m afraid the INS doesn’t see it that way. I wonder who tipped them off. No matter, you’ll have to stay here for a while and let things blow over. We should be able to get some help come summer. Until then, I’ll pay you room and board plus $2.00 an hour to help us out.”
“What about my friends? They won’t know what happened to