Читать книгу Iron Shirt - John Collins - Страница 7

Mount Sterling, Kentucky

Will and Isaac camped a half a day’s ride outside Mount Sterling.

“Isaac, we’ve never talked about it, but what do you want to do with your life?”

“Pa, I sure don’t want to be a hillside farmer trying to scratch out a living on rocky ground.”

“I know, son. That was my choice and not a very good one. Maybe if I’d chosen better and took your ma out West, things would have been different.”

“Pa, I would like to get a small farm and raise horses and cattle.”

“Well, son, maybe it’s not too late for you. After we sell some horses, we’ll talk about it again.”

Will had spoken with a farmer the day before and was told that the court days would be starting the next day, on Friday. The circuit judge would come to town to try criminals. People would come from miles around to sell their crops, trade horses and mules, and swap goods and services. Guns and knives were the top items to trade and sell.

Will told Isaac to saddle up and pack up their camp. A short time later, they arrived in town. Isaac was amazed by the number of people. They stabled their horses on Local Street by the stockyards and walked among the mass of humanity that seemed elbow to elbow. After a short walk, he spotted a man selling guns. Isaac had never seen so many of all shapes and sizes. A Henry lever-action rifle caught his eye. He could not take his eyes away from it.

His dad said, “Son, that’s a new gun the Union army is using in the war. I don’t know where this guy came up with it, but it’s useless. You can’t buy shells for it. The only factories are in the North, so it’s just a pretty club.”

They walked to the end of the street where a man was buying horses. They watched for a while.

Will said, “Son, this man is paying top dollar for horseflesh. We will talk to him after his business slows down.”

Later, Will approached him and told him he had two horses to sell. The man said he would look them and that his name was Mike Staley, and he seemed to know good horses. Mike left his colored slave to watch his stock while he, Will, and Isaac walked to the stables. Will showed him the two horses he had taken from the robbers.

The man said they were good, but he was interested in the buckskin and the chestnut mare. Will advised him that those two were not for sale. Mike asked if he had a bill of sales for the two horses. Will lied and told him that he had raised them since colts. Mike said he would buy them but would have to pay less without a bill of sales and would need to have a sworn affidavit of ownership.

All this was confusing to Isaac. He wished he had time to learn to read and write.

Mike offered forty dollars a head. Will said he would need to have fifty. They finally settled on forty-five.

Will told Isaac, “Not bad. All we had in them were four shells.”

Isaac told his dad he wanted to buy some pants. He said that the bib overalls he was wearing were chaffing his bottom, which was something pretty bad. His dad laughed and said they could do that to save his poor ass. Isaac also said he needed a holster for the new .44 Colt. They went to a small dry goods store on Main Street. Isaac found a pair of canvas pants. They were about four inches too short, but with his slim waist, he could not get the right combination of waist to length.

His dad looked at his old brogan half boots and said, “It’s about time for some new boots to go with those pants, and you will need a new shirt too.”

Isaac walked out, feeling like he was ten feet tall, carrying a brown package with his old outfit. His dad said he should keep them, for he might need them sometime down the road. Isaac thought, in all his eighteen years, he never had new clothes.

“Now, son, to get you that holster.”

At a small leather shop, they looked at used holsters. Most were flaps, either the US or CSA, that were cheap. Isaac said either would do. Will said no and picked up a Western holster and cartridge belt. Isaac said the flaps were two dollars. The Western was ten dollars. He told his dad that the flaps were cheaper.

Will took him to the side and said, “Son, those flaps will get us killed. They were taken off from dead soldiers. People will think we are scavengers and kill us for robbing the dead.”

Isaac and Will left with his new Western rig and went back to the stables, saddled up, and rode to a small store and bought bacon, flour, beans, and coffee and started the last thirty miles to Lexington.