By Naomi Cheshire
April 21, 2001
The Long Trail To Texas
Chapter  7

Dedicated To Dave Wilson
 
 

I drifted off to sleep, again. And once again, Hody was there so I got my horse, in the dream and followed him to a high cliff. There I could see down on an old farm. It was weathered to a dull gray and had an old swayed picket fence and a house garden in the rear; then a huge field of corn and other things. There was an old barn and a cage of wire on one side of it. I could see a form just lying still in it. But I couldn't see exactly what was in it.

But as I watched, a change came over the scene, as happens in dreams. For there was Hody and he had the sack that Coon had given him; he began to pull off tomatoes and drop them in the sack. He didn't know if Hody could count or if he just got one for each of them, but he gathered three of everything in his sack. And then he raced as a flying eagle back to the cave; then back again and again, as Coon ordered him. An evil looking old man, skinny and dirty with oily hair and in overalls, leaning on a home made hoe, started watching him. And a chill froze my heart with a terrible sense of dread.

For then a tall, skinny old woman, as unkempt as the old man began to point at Hody and watch, too. Then they talked together. I heard her say, "I seys jest shoot tha varmint. Weun's don't need no thieving dog aroun' heres."

"Ifen I had my hands on thet rascal,I could make hem work and work he would. Else it be tha whip fer tha likes of that thief." He spat snuff on the ground. "Yessir, he thinks highly o hisself. But ifs I can catch hem; I'll brung him down to tha low down thing he is."

"Whar ye recond he comes from?" She squinted up her small eyes and whipped her hand across her wild, wind blown hair.

"Outlaws. Thets whar. And ifen I could catch em jest right with my shotgun, weuns would take whatever they stole from some bank. Maybes thet I should try to follow hem."

"Ye be out o yore mind. Gunslingers shoot you half in too. Youse is old now. Not fast nough fer no gangs and I don'ts want none o em coming here.
Let thet theif of a dog take a tomater or two and git outa here. Fore they decides to come after us."

"Ye ain't got no sense, woman. Them out laws is shot up or hurt somehows. Air theys wouldn't be sending no dog fer food. Proabably in old Howler's cave. Yessirs, all shot up. I could jest shoot into thet cave and git them all. Be like taking money from a baby and weuns could use it." He nodded his head and pursed his lips.

"Yes, and thar be two or three lookie outs and ya recond thet they is jest gonna' lets ye shoot um all. When maybe jest one o them is shot?" She straightened up and rubbed her back.

"Guess ye could be right. Let me think on It.," he scratched his nearly baldhead and sniffed. "Maybes thet jest catching they dog and making him work fer me be tha best thing. And our old Howdy, she done took a shine ta him. Ifen we could raise a bunch o pups and make all of em works, well we could gets a little money fer them kind o dogs. Maybe takes em into town and sells em."

The dirty old man started building his all wire cage and plotting to catch Hody in it. And Coon kept sending Hody back every day. Even though, Ham had asked him not too. And Hody, with his heart full of love for all of them, never failed to go for Coon.

It made my heart ache, as I watched what was in store for Hody.

The old man tied his dog in the cage and waited for Hody to come and go to check on her. He slammed the door down and Hody was caught.

Hody circled the cage trying to find a way out, but there was no way for him. He sat down and whimpered, looking at the empty sack that was just out of his reach. He could not return to Davy. He chewed the rope that held Howdy in to. Freeing her, but to no avail. There was a wire floor; he could not dig out. He tried to chew the wire but it only cut his mouth.

He circled around and around whining. Ignoring the mean old man and woman that had come out to laugh and stare at him in his trap.

They let Howdy out but quickly shut the door on Hody. They left him there two days with out food or water. His stomach hurt from hunger and his mouth was cut and sore and so swollen with out water until he could not swallow The heat was making him dizzy for he could not pant to cool himself off.

The couple came out to look him over; "thet dog is about dead. Ye old fool, how come ye didn't give em any water." The old woman frowned. Not that she had any kindness in her; she was a murderer a dozen times over. She was filled with greed and wanted the dog alive.

"Had to shew em who is boss. Recond he might have took off my arm if I jest went in thar and tried to put a rope on em. He ain't able to bite a mushmellon now. Git me tha whip, jest incase. And I'll drag him out here and water him. Then he can take thet bag and fill er up fer us." He jerked his head toward the barn.

The old woman was quick to do his bidding. Bringing him the smallest whip that they owned. But it was four feet long, with a wooden handle and thick braided.

"Good popper. Ifen he acts up this here one will take guts and feathers and all off of em." He snapped the whip a couple of times with an evil smirk, curling his thin lips revealing his few rotten teeth that were stained brown and yellow.

He ducked into the cage and quickly slipped a thick rope over Hody's head. The dog just whimpered. He was too ill to stand.

"Bring a bucket o water, old woman," he ordered.

"I'll git it, but don't be thinkin ye can order me around, ya hear."

"Dang yore hyde, ya ugly old varment. Jest git it or I'll be taking this here whip to ya," he snapped.

"Ya do and ye'll die." There was not any kindness in her withered face. She had plotted a dozen times to kill him. But she needed him to do most of the dirty work. For they had murdered many innocent folks that had stopped by the out of the way farm. The Indians had let them alone because the old man supplied their booze.

He poured water over Hody's mouth and the poor dog gulped desperately and tried to swallow as much as his damaged mouth would allow.

The old man yanked him to his feet and Hody stood swaying, trying not to fall. He tried to look at the old man, not understanding being mistreated, as he had never been before and he had not any fear of people.

That was soon to change. He did not learn fear however; he learned to hate.

When I awoke, it all seemed so real. I knew that Hody was not far from where that I was. But he had been gone for weeks and I was afraid that the cruelties might have killed him by now.

But way down inside, something in my heart knew that he lived and was calling out to me for help. But I didn't know how much time that I had left to reach him, before he would give up and die. For the hundredth time I cursed Coon for all kinds of a fool.

But Hody had been my dog. I should have stopped it. Even if I had to do it with a gun. Coon might have got me, but I was fast. But there was not a handful of people faster than Coon. But Hody risked his life to save mine, couldn't I have done as much for him. I had failed him. That was the truth of it.

I was too sick at heart to even make coffee. I had to find Hody and fast. I wasn't the kind to believe in witch stories or spells; but as surely as I lived, I knew that the dream that I had was real. There was desperation in my very soul; telling me that I had but a short time to reach Hody, if I would be able to save him. And I had to try. I left that place; as if Hades itself was nipping at my heels.

It took me two hours to find the cliff. I looked down and saw the cage. Then I knew what was lying in it. In the dream, I couldn't make it out. Now I could!

It looked like a ball of unclean fur. And it was my Hody!

I turned the horse sharply and started down the hill. I tested pulling my gun out and it all but popped into my hand. I was grateful that Ham had made me get a special one made. He said that the half-second that you saved might save your life. And with this new pistol holder there was no way that it could snag.

I rode fast into the yard and slid off my horse and had my hand on my gun, but I hadn't pulled it yet. I all but ran to that infernal cage and hollered "Hody!"

He heard me, at least. Because he tried to raise his head. He was a pitiful heap. All naked spots where his skin had been beaten away and open sores and he was skin and bones; I doubted that I could ever save his life. But he would know that I gave it my best. My anger had turned black. If I had been angry before, I was crazy now. Tears were streaming down my face and a fire of hot metal sheered my guts.

I shot the lock off the cage. My colt shattering the morning still.

The old man came running and threw down on me with a shotgun. But in my rage, I just emptied my colt into him. Every move that he made resembled one of those dolls dancing at the end of a string; but I was beyond caring. I drew my other colt and like a fool shot all of it into him. That left me with out a bullet in either gun.

I had started to reload, when the old woman got the drop on me.

"Badun ain't ya? Well ya shot my man and now ya gonna die fer it." She aimed the shotgun at my chest and cackled in glee.

I expected to die. My hands held out helpless at my sides. But hate filled me for this murdering witch that stood in glee before me.

Her toothless mouth open and her gray and brown hair in a loose knot on back of her head, with her hair flying in the wind. She truly did look like a witch in her filthy clothes and her awful smell.

But just as her finger tightened on the trigger, she was blown to hell. A loud shot rang out and blood and pieces of flesh splattered me. She hit me hard and I flew backward, and hit the ground.

Coon stood grinning over me. "Ye aut ta keep cleaner company, son," his face alight in joy.

Once more this man had saved my life and I was never so happy to see anyone in my life. Because I had thought it was all over for me. And Hody would die at the mercy of this devil.

I jumped off the ground and grabbed him in a bear hug. Getting the blood and dirt off me and on him too.

But he didn't care. We danced around like a pair of fools. Then we ran to Hody, who was trying to hold up his head to see what we were up, too.

Hody patted his tail and gave us a lopsided grin, then laid his head back down. I don't think that he wanted any of that devil woman's blood on him. Although, you could see the happiness in his pitiful face at seeing us.

So Coon and I went to the pump and even washed our shirts and hair and put back on the wet shirts. At least we were clean and cooled down.

Then we went to the heart-breaking chore of trying to help Hody. It was plain that he was in agony and I would not be able to lay him across my horse. Coon came up with the ideal of making him a sling and putting it around my neck. Hody was so thin until he would be easy to carry.

Coon thought we should bath him and do what doctoring we could with what we could find and water him and try to get anything down him that he might could sallow. We didn't know if he would live over the ride back to camp.

Coon found a hollow cane and we used it to pour water down his throat and then some canned chicken soup. We washed the matted hair and sores as best that we could. Then Coon put some water in some horse liniment that we found in the barn and we knew it would burn, but there just wasn't anything else. Hody whined, but looked as if he understood and was happy to be in the sling and against my body where he could feel the beat of my heart. He must have felt safe, because he fell asleep and slept all the way to the cave.

Before we left, we discussed burying the devils, but after Coon told me who they were; I refused to give them a burial. They were kin of that Jenkins that Yonder Yielding had whipped back at the splitting of the trail. Their names were Paul and Jessie Jenkins and it was said that they had murdered over a hundred travelers. Men, women and their children, word had it that she had given birth to three children.

And he had killed the first two, both girls with a hammer at their birth. The next one had been a boy and he had let her keep it for three months. But it was frail and colicky and cried a lot; so in a fit of anger, he had killed it the same way. She had hated him for a long time. And then one night, she waited until he was asleep and poured kerosene on him and burned his body something terrible.

For some unknown reason they had stayed together; I supposed because they would have been killed without the other.

We found the dead dog that had been Hody's friend. She was hanging by a rope, dead in the barn. Coon said that they had tried to work the dogs and when the dogs refused to do it, they had killed the female and starved Hody.
We gave the dog as good a funeral as any two gunslingers knew how. And then we headed for Ham and the cave and with hope that we could save Hody.

For I was anxious to get to the Yieldings and to get them to help me get my mother. I did not know that they had found my pitiful father.
 

The Long Trail To Texas, Chapter 8