Читать книгу The Two Sams: Men of the West - F. M. Worden - Страница 8

Chapter 2

The Farmer

Sam sold his extra ponies. Kept the two best, one to ride, the other to pack. Sold his traps and rigging’s he wouldn’t need any longer. After selling his pelts and skins, he pocketed one thousand dollars in gold Coin.

Sam said goodbye to Old Gabe. “I’m gonna miss you Gabe. You have been a good friend. I’ll always remember you, the rest of my life.” Old Gabe tried to hide the tear in his eye. He brushed it away with his left hand.

Sam had never seen him with a tear before. They gave a big hug to each other. Gabe slapped him on the back. “Get the hell on the trail, you’s a loosen daylight.”

Sam mounted and with the pack horse in tow, turned his face east. It was a long ride out of the mountains. Out on the plains he could make better time. Small villages, houses, and farms began to appear where there hadn’t been anything before. “Looks like farmers are taken over the whole prairie,” he said to himself. At one farm he stopped to talk. He was told emigrants were coming by the thousands from Europe to take the land the government was making available for homesteading.

Most of the homes were made from the prairie sod. Cut into square blocks and stacked like brick. The roofs were covered with prairie grass. Some had dug into the ground like a prairie dog. He saw men digging water wells and some were putting up wind mills. It all looked strange to Sam. The whole country had changed.

When he rode into St Louis, the town had grown to be a city. It truly had become the gate way to the west. He never thought it would look this way. The whole town had changed.

He rode thru the town and to the rear of the Hawkin gun shop. Knocking on the back door, it was answered by Jake Hawkin who recognized him right away. Anyone would have thought Sam was his son, the way he carried on. All the men in the shop came to welcome him. Jake had become one of Sam’s best friends. He thanked Jake for sending a new rifle by Old Gabe. He told him it saved his life too many times to count. “I’ll keep the rifle until my dying days.”

Jake asked all about the mountains and trapping. “I’ve seen places I never thought existed.” He told of the New Mexico country, the Apache Indians and his capture by them, How he was saved. “The rifle you gave me saved my life. The Apache chief liked it so much he let me live. He said I must be a great warrior to have such a fine piece.” Jake smiled and told Sam, “I hoped it would do good by you’s.”

Then Sam told him of the Gila wilderness. “It’s a great place. Hot as hades in the summer but nice and warm all winter.” He had to tell of the big canyon he had seen. “It’s miles across and it’s so deep, if you throw a rock in it you will never hear it hit. A river runs in the bottom. The colors in that canyon, I ain’t never seen before. Jake I tell ya, it’s worth the trip just to look at it.”

He then talked about his time in the Rocky Mountains. “There’s forest that it takes days to ride thru. Valleys with clear cold streams are every where. It is a wonderful place to be.”

He told of the men he had worked and lived with for so long . “I’ll never have such fine men around me again. They’re true friends. I’ll always remember them.”

Sam told Jake he was going home to see his folks. Jake tried to tell him, his home won’t be the same. “Time waits for no man. Nothing will be the same.”

Sam stayed in town a few more days while he sold his horses, tack and camp gear. He would never part with his Hawkin rifle. With his war bag in hand, he paid for a ticket on a paddle wheeler going south down the Mississippi and got off at Memphis. Then he walked and hitched rides all the way back to the Tennessee Valley. Along the way he stayed in several towns at night. Cross roads that became towns while he was away. It was great to get a hot bath, a hair cut and shave.

Arriving home he found his Pa and Ma had passed on to their reward several years ago. His older brother David had married and had sole possession of the farm. Not being welcomed with open arms, Sam was hesitant to stay, but his brother talked him into spending the winter.

His brother’s wife didn’t cotton to him at all. She made it plain he was not welcome every time she spoke to him alone. His stories had his brother hanging on every word. She may have been afraid her husband was getting the itch to go see the west.

In the spring Sam said his goodbyes and went back to Memphis. There he got a job as roustabout again, loading river boats on the docks.

During this time he had the good fortune to meet a beautiful southern belle, Elizabeth Moore. Her Pa owned the dock Sam worked on. He fell head over heels in love with her. She being only 16, her Pa didn’t approve of any relationship with a man so much older. Sam was twenty-six years old.

Sam and Liz as he called her, became lovers. They would meet down on a path by the river. Liz fell for Sam and against her parent’s wishes she wanted to get hitched, but the only way was to elope with him .They did in the late summer. They went west into Arkansas, were married by a justice of the peace in a small town.

They moved on to Fort Smith. Sam found a job in a livery stable. Not satisfied with this work, Liz and he decided they wanted to try to buy a farm. Having heard farms were selling cheap down south in Louisiana, Sam and Liz traveled south into the Red River country south of Shreveport. They found just what they were looking for.

With 1,000 dollars in a gold coin from his trapping. He made a deal for a farm that had been abandoned by two brothers, whose Pa had died. Wanting no part of farming the brothers were more than willing to sell the farm cheaply.

The property was in bad repair. Sam and Liz were delighted with what they had purchased. The house was a two story structure, half rock half wood. From a back porch that covered the back of the house a large kitchen was entered. It consisted of a large fire place and a stair way to the upper rooms. An open door way led to the parlor. Off the parlor to the right was a large bedroom. Up stairs was a long room having been used as bedrooms. The house was well furnished.

The place suited Liz just fine. Left of the porch and a few feet out, an old well still had water. Under the porch a cistern could be seen through the cracks in the floor. Back from the house a few hundred feet stood the best structure on the place. A large half rocks, half wood beautiful built barn. There were well-built wood pens on both sides of the barn. On behind the barn a few hundred feet nestled in a group of trees was a small cabin built of logs in bad need of repair.

East of the house, a small orchard with peaches and pear trees. On beyond the orchard, a cow pasture of about thirty acres, well fenced and showing new grass growth.

The whole place couldn’t have suited them more. A happier couple could not be found in the entire country. Fix up and rebuilding started immediately. The south field was plowed and prepared for planting sugar cane. The southeast field plowed and planted in sugar beets. All together it took several months to get organized and to make plans.

During this time they met their neighbor to the east. One Bill O’Reilly. A man of some advanced age, who became a very dear and trusted friend. A man who took this couple under his wing. He fell in love with Liz and made no beans about it. He admired Sam and wanted to help the couple all he could.

His farm was the show place of the whole county. He had untold acres, a beautiful home and many slaves. He had lost his wife to some unknown sickness and had never totally recovered. Liz and Sam gave him a new lease on life. He often sent his darkies over to help, even before he was asked. Sam got a long find with them. Sam tried to hire help, but the only ones he could find and uses were poor white trash or scallywags. They would steal and lay around and get nothing done. He had to try to do something. The farm was starting to do well and it was too much work for just the two of them. What to do was a dilemma .He asked Mr. O’Reilly what they should do. He suggested they should buy some slave help.

A slave auction was held in Shreveport the first Saturday of every month. Sam objected. He didn’t want to own another person, but O’Reilly convinced him. “It’s not bad if you treat em right.”

Sam and Liz gave it a lot of talk and finally decided they must buy a man slave. With only five hundred dollars, Sam was gonna try to buy a helper the next auction day.

Sam and Liz lay awake a long time that night talking about the buying of a slave. Liz asked Sam to try to get a kind and gentle man. “I don’t want no darkie we can’t trust and have to be chasing after all the time.”

The first Saturday in March, Sam hooked his mules to the spring wagon and drove to Shreveport. A three-hour trip.

Entering the town of about six thousand people, he passed a feed store, blacksmith shop, hardware store, a tavern and many other small stores. Then he saw the slave auctions big signs that read SLAVES FOR SALE - CHEAP SLAVES - BEST PRICES WEST OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

Sam drove onto a wagon yard not far from the auction house. He asked, “How much to care for my rig while I go to the auction?’’

“Fifty cents,” yelled the owner. Sam paid the man. Then walked the board sidewalk that lead to the auction house.

Walking along the board sidewalk, he watched the traffic and the people going about. Saying all the time to himself, what am I doing here? When he entered the auction house, he could see a long empty room, with just a counter off to the left side. On thru the building he could see a large door opening into a large walled open area. He walked on in. There was a platform facing about twenty wood benches. A crowd of mostly men filled the benches. Sam moved on down half way and sat on the end of one of the benches. The man next to him spoke up right quick.

“My name is Henry Stone. Are ya here to get some of them young bucks?”

“No,” replied Sam, “I’m looking for help for my farm.”

“These bucks ain’t no good. They’re from some big plantation over in Mississippi. Problem bucks, most have whip marks on em. You’ll be out chasing- em most of the time, if-n you get one. The old ones are all wore out, ain’t a good one in the whole bunch.”

Sam was looking over at a wire pen that held male slaves, most had chains on their legs and wrists, with a rope around their neck. Stone poked Sam. “Look at them Nigger women. They’re young, real young. Wish I had the money to buy one. A fat chance I’d have, there’s river men here. They’ll pay big bucks for them young gals.” Stone went on and on.

“How come, they want black girls so bad?”

“Them river boys, take em up river make whores out of em.”

“They’re too young for such goings on, why they can’t be more than twelve or thirteen year’s old.” Sam was uncomfortable with Stones words.

“Where you been man? Them boys up north love that black meat, they’ll pay big money to sleep with a black gal, the younger the better.” Sam was visibly up set.

“I’ve seen Indians take slaves, but they sure as hell don’t make whores out of them. Some things dead wrong with that. There should be a law against it.”

“Ever man to his own poison I say.” Stone was talk-n and look-n. “Wish I had the money, them gals will go for thousand dollars each, sure wish I had the money.”

Sam watching the women said, “There’s a few older ones, wonder what they’ll go for?”

“Them old ones done wore out. A man get a mammy pretty damn cheap, if that’s what you want.” Stone kept on talk-n.

Sam turned his attention to the men. Got up and moved over to get a closer look. An old looking fella setting up against the fence turned his head. He looked right into Sam’s eyes. He seemed to be pleading. Not a word was passed between them. The look penetrated Sam’s soul. Why would he buy this man? Sam asked himself. He returned to the bench.

The auction started. “Who’ll start this auction, who’ll give a thousand for this fine young buck?” Screamed the auctioneer. Someone in the rear yelled, “He ain’t worth that, look at all them whip marks.”

“He’s learned his lessons, I guarantee he’ll give you no trouble,” returned the auctioneer. “Most these boys are fresh off the boat, you’ll never find a better bunch than this. Look at the muscles on this buck, you’ll never find better. Who’ll give a thousand?” Up came the thousand. He sold for two thousand dollars to a man in a white linen suit.

Sam said softly to himself, “My five hundred ain’t gonna buy much here today.”

As the auction continued most of the prices stayed the same. More than sixty men were sold before the older ones came up. The first sold for five hundred.

Then the one he had looked at was on the block. First bid. One hundred, second, one fifty, then two hundred. Sam blurted out two fifty. The auctioneer cried for more. “This old buck has many more years in his old body. He knows more about cotton and animals than all the others put together.” He couldn’t get any more bids. “Going, going, gone to man in the black hat.” Sam had made a purchase of a slave. He felt total remorse about buying another human.

A short skinny man came and poked Sam. “Come with me you gotta pay for your old nigger.” Sam followed him to the counter inside the building. The man behind the counter said, “So you got an old one, good luck.”

Just then a rope was given Sam. In a gruff voice the man handing Sam the rope said, “Good luck! I’m a bet-en this old bastard dies before you get him home.” Sam’s temper got the best of him. “Get that rope off his neck and take the chains off him, do it NOW!”

“What! Hell he’ll run the first chance he gets.” The gruff one said.

“Hell, he’s so weak he can hardly lift his head. A fine bunch of ass-holes you people are. I wouldn’t treat a dog this way!” Sam was mad. Every blood vessel stood out on his face and neck.

“These ain’t people you son of a bitch,” the man said in a sneer. “They’re just niggers.” Sam in a fit of rage, drew back his right fist, it hit the loud mouth square on the nose. The blood fairly flew.

With blood freely flowing, “You broke my nose you dirty son-of-a-bitch,” the man cried. Sam drew his fist back again. Before he could let go, someone grabbed the bloody one and rushed him out the door to a water trough.

The man behind the counter handed Sam a bill of sale. “Get this old bastard out of here now. We don’t want no trouble,” he said in a loud voice.

Sam turned to the black man and said, “Follow me.” Out of the building, down the wood sidewalk to the wagon yard. There he told the old one, “Get in the wagon.”

Now the old one as he climbed in the wagon, spoke for the first time. “Master,” he said, “I knows you’s a good man, I can see’s it. I works this old body to the bone. I’z a never run a way, if-n you’s help me!”

“Help you, what do you want?”

“Master, did you see the woman in the grey dress?” The old one was trembling, as he spoke.

“I did. Why?”

“She’s my woman. We... we be together long time, can’s you’s buy her? She’s a good field hand, picks more cotton than any them young bucks and she’s with chill-en.” The old mans eyes were red and tears began to fill them. He was begging Sam.

“How do you know she’s with child, she don’t look that way to me.” Sam was looking for some assurance. “She knows, she told me so. We’ze done had two chill-en together.”

“Where are they now?”

“Kin’t rightly say, they was sold for house chill-en.” The old one said as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “White folk like little nigger chill-en . They keep- em to play with their chill-en. They been gone a long time. I needs this woman-I needs this woman,” he was begging. “Please Master can you’s see’s to get her? She won’t sell for much.”

Sam thought for a moment. I have some money left he said to himself.

“Please wont’s you’s try?” the old man was pleading again.

“Get in the wagon and stay put, I’ll go try. I can’t promise but I’ll try.”

Sam once more entered the building and on to the sale yard. He got some bad looks from some of the auction men. He didn’t see the one he had hit.

The young girls were on the block. The bidding was going crazy. Sam was amazed the kind of money being paid for these young black girls. They were bringing thousands of dollars.

He sat on the same bench. Stone was still there. He said with a smile, “Heard you got some trouble, at the counter.”

“Not much.”

The last of the young girls went up on the block and were sold. Stone got up and left. Now the one Sam came for was on the block. No bids. She looked terrible. In a dirty grey dress, more of a rag than a dress. She was bare footed, stood with her head down, never looking up. Blood streamed down her hands from her tied wrists. There was no reason for anyone to buy this woman.

The auctioneer was screaming for a bid. Sam let him scream. Still, no bids. Sam watched the crowd. It had thinned out quite a bit, still no bids and then Sam bid. “One hundred dollars.”

“Sold to the man in the black hat.” Sam was surprised he got her so cheap. He headed to the counter, paid the money, got his bill of sale. He was handed the neck rope. This time the gruff one backed away saying, “No trouble, I don’t want no trouble.”

Sam lifted the rope off her neck, tossed it to the man and said to the black woman, “Follow me.”

A man standing in the door said, “Watch her she’ll run off.”

Sam gave him a dirty look and showed him a clinched fist. Sam was uncomfortable with this whole business of buying slaves. To have some white numbskull say something made him mad. The man backed away. No more was said, any way not to this man. Sam had the look of a man of fixed conviction.

At the wagon yard, no words were passed between the two blacks but their looks told Sam all he needed to know. For the first time a smile broke the two black faces.

“We better hurry, it’ll be dark soon and we have a long way to go.” He hitched up the mules and turned them toward the front gate. He was looking down below the seat. He said, “There should be three sacks here, I see only two.”

He turned to the black man and asked, “Did you see two or three sacks?”

“Only two,” the black said as he showed two fingers.

Sam stopped the wagon, hopped down and entered the livery stable. “You the owner?” he spoke in a harsh tone to the man standing there. “Yeah, what’s the trouble?” The man seemed unconcerned.

“I have a sack missing from my wagon. I want it back, right now!” Any blind man could see he was mad.

“Okay, okay, if it’s here, we’ll find it. If it ain’t, too damn bad.” The man said and shrugged his shoulders.

“Too damn bad for you,” Sam said and opened his coat to show the handle of his pistol.

“OKAY, OKAY. Hey boy,” he yelled to a little black boy standing in the door of the tack room. “You seen this mans sack?”

“I ain’t see’d nutt-n’. I ain’t see-d no sack,” the little boy called back.

Just then another older black boy came from the harness room, holding a sack and asked, “Is this it?”

“That’s it.” He took the sack and returned to the wagon.

The three started the trip home. Sam Duncan had purchased two black slaves. A man and a woman.