The Diary of Jerrod Bently by J.W. Osborn (large ebook reader TXT) 📕

and introduce you to him.”
“Oh! A HIM!!”, she cried “How nice! Is he handsome? Is he rich? Do you think he will like me!!” Scrub Pot wanted to scream at her, but instead he gritted his teeth and ground out a smile, “I think he will love you,” he said, praying that his plan would work.
“Oh good!” she cried “Go get him. I will freshen up. I have to look my best, you know.”
“Buffalo cow needs no grooming,” he hissed to himself “Plenty fat and ugly too.” He looked back at her and pasted on a smile. “Wait here,” he said “I will be right back.” She batted her eyes again and smiled, “Don’t be long,” she said demurely, her smile and manner flirtatious.
“God forgive me for what I am about to do,” Scrub Pot breathed as he went in search of Angus Watson. He knew he was close by as he had seen his horse was back with the remuda. In a short while, he found Angus, stretched out at the edge of a brook, napping in the sun. “While my Granddaughter works, you sleep,” he said to himself. He wanted to kick the man. “I have the woman waiting back at my wagon,” he said. Watson snored loudly and turned over on his side. “I said, I have the woman you want waiting “ Scrub Pot shouted. Watson was on his feet in seconds, scrambling for his gun until he realized it was Scrub Pot standing on the rocks next to the water. “Oh,” he said “It’s you. What do you want?”
“You wanted to meet my old friend,” Scrub Pot said “she is here now.”
His blue eyes filled with interest. “The woman who came to camp the other night?”
“Yes,” Scrub Pot replied “Come, I will introduce you.”
Suddenly Angus was nervous. “I need to freshen up a bit, lad,” he said “I want to make a good impression on that fair lassie.”
“I am sure you will,” Scrub Pot replied “Come quickly. There was a young brave here earlier who wanted to meet her. Probably wants to marry her.”
“No!” Watson protested “I’ll not stand for that!”
“Well, “ Scrub Pot lied “A woman like her is rare and when I was young, I almost married her myself.”
Watson scowled at him “You have no interest in her now do you,” he questioned.
“No,” Scrub Pot answered “I will tell her you are coming and I will chase that young brave away.”
“Aye,” Watson replied “See that you do.”
Smiling to himself, Scrub Pot walked away knowing Watson would be right behind him. Now, where had he put his bible? He had not performed a wedding in quite a while but knew he could. He was anxious to officiate, for this wedding would rid him of Bird That Talks once and for all.
At the edge of the brook, Watson knelt down to wash his face and slicked down his hair as best he could. For days and days he had dreamed of meeting Bird That Talks. Now was his chance and he hoped the outcome would be of a positive nature. He caught up with Scrub Pot just before he crossed the clearing to where the chuck wagon was. “Is she as fair as she was the first time I laid eyes on her , lad,” Watson asked nervously?
“I am sure she is even more so,,” Scrub Pot lied. As the two men approached the wagon, Bird That Talks , with much effort pulled herself to her feet. She was intrigued by Angus’s wet but still curly red hair. As their eyes met, Angus was star struck. “An angel,” he breathed as he gazed at her. Scrub Pot was finding it very hard to keep a straight face. He motioned for Bird That Talks to come. She was gazing at Watson’s blue eyes, a dreamy expression in her own. “Angus Watson,” Angus said as he reached out and took her chubby hand in his and raised it to his lips. “This is Bird that Squawks,” Scrub Pot said, trying to sound cordial. “Talks!,” the squaw spit back at him in annoyance, “Bird That Talks.”
“No,” Angus replied “Bird that sings beautiful songs.” Scrub Pot was thinking that he should go check on Wakeeze and the mare and leave these two alone, before their actions caused him to become nauseated. Nature would take its course and undoubtedly in a day or two, he would be preforming that wedding he was so anxious for. “I will see you both for supper,” he said as he walked away. He was sure the last thing that Angus Watson and the squaw were thinking of was food. His plan had worked and he would have peace again.
Well, the men came in for the night around six in the evening, and the night watch went out, but no one saw the trail boss or the Pawnee squaw. As Scrub Pot was washing up the last of the tin plates and forks, Sam came up to him, her log book under her arm. “Have you seen Watson?”, she asked “I need to talk to him about tomorrow’s plans.”
Scrub Pot kept on washing. “Not seen him,” he lied.
“I will rough out a route,” Sam said “We should be getting close to the border. I want to let the herd graze for a day or so once we cross into the Oklahoma territory.”
“Portersville in close, Granddaughter,” Scrub Pot said “The men will want to have time off in town.”
“That is what I am afraid of, “ Sam said worriedly “You saw how they behaved in Grants Creek. Most of them ended up in jail.”
“What about Bently?”, Scrub Pot asked .
“He doesn’t drink,” Sam replied “I think I can count on him.” Scrub Pot smiled “Yes,” he said “I think that you can. He is a good man.” Sam just shook her head and walked away. “Jerrod Bently is a green horn.”
“But he has learned a great deal since we started,” Scrub Pot said. “I saw him rope a steer earlier today.”
“Good for him,” Sam answered half disgusted as she untied Trouble’s reins from the wagon and climbed into the saddle. “I am going out to check on the riders,” she added.
Scrub Pot grunted his answer and watched her ride away.

+++++++++++++++++

Now Ned Travis had just about everything he needed to carry out his felonious plans. He’d cold cocked the freight driver, stolen boots, slickers, hats, pants, shirts and chaps and that Winchester rifle the driver had had with him when he picked him up. Ned was all set, he’d found a good hiding place and soon enough he would get a shot off at either Sam or Scrub Pot or both, but he still needed a horse. Then he would make his get away. He crept up on the edge of the camp and silently looked over the remuda. He needed something fast, and those horses looked played out. That was when he saw that sorrel mare grazing next to a black and white paint near the chuck wagon and a evil smile crept across his face. Ned moved toward them, hoping to not attract any attention and get the horses excited. His eye was on Desert Rose but she was mighty close to that big black and white paint. As he was calculating his move, he had not expected Sam Dodge to ride in to camp just as he began making his way toward the picket line. He could have had her. She would have been in the cross hairs of his stolen Winchester and he could have shot her off the back of her horse, had he remembered to bring the rifle with him. It was still back in the thicket where he’d been hiding waiting for his chance to steal a horse. He cursed to himself. He had heard how deadly Sam Dodge was with a knife and if she saw him, he would sure find out fast that all the rumors he’d heard about her were true. He elected to slip back into his cover, get his rifle and wait for the right moment. He watched her dismount from the back of that big sorrel stud and tie his reins to the wheel of the chuck wagon. On seeing Trouble, tacked and standing there riderless, Ned changed his mind about the mare. That stud was all he’d need.. A strong horse like that would help him make his get away and then carry him on to the Mexican border after he got what was due him from Roger Hinkley. Silently he watched and waited. Sam climbed into the back of the wagon, apparently looking for something or someone. Ten minutes passed . Ned only needed a second to get on that horse and ride way. Sam had still not appeared, so he decided to make his move.
Now Sam had raised Trouble from the day he was born and lost his mother shortly afterward. She had trained him and been his only rider for the last four years. You might say that Trouble, was a one cowgirl horse. Too bad for Ned, that he did not know that as he crept forward ready to steal Trouble and commit the crimes he’d been trying to commit for a while now. He crept along, dragging the Winchester behind him and very sure he had not been seen by anyone. Trouble sensed something out of the ordinary and began to nicker and move around. Ned made it to the side of the wagon and carefully untied the reins. A second later he was in the saddle.