Best Laid Plans

Wished I owned them but I don't. But I do get to enjoy their company when I'm of a mind to.

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"Mama?" The tiny, yet tall little boy tugged at the hand of his mother as they stood beside his father's grave. "Will Papa ever come back?"

"No, Sweetheart." His mother wiped away a tear as she shook her head. "Papa's gone and he won't be coming back."

"Did he want to go away and leave us?" His mama had told him that his father had gone to heaven but he was still having trouble figuring out why? And why they had placed his body in the large oak box and put it underground.

The brunette woman looked down at her lanky child with a tender yet sad smile and gripped his hand a little tighter. "No, son, he didn't want to leave us. He didn't plan on going anywhere. But sometimes best laid plans don't work out."

The little boy took in his mother's words silently for a moment. He knew his mother had loved his papa, she had said so many times, even when his Papa had left for long stretches of time without word. His mother had always kept a lamp sitting on a table in the front window of their small house so that when he came home, no matter how late the hour or dark the sky, he would be able to find his way home to her. But now, his Papa would never come home.

"Mama?" He looked back up at her and then at the darkening sky. "When we get home, will you light the lamp again in the front window even though Papa's gone?"

The woman knelt down and scooped her son into her arms and finally turned away from the grave. It was getting late, his question reminded her, and she needed to go home. "Yes, son." She answered just before they left the cemetery and the man she loved behind. "I will light the lamp."

"When I grow up, I want to be just like my Papa." The boy declared as his mother carried him back towards their small home. "Then you can light the lamp for me."

"I hope not." The woman shuddered at the thought. "I hope you plan for any other future besides being a lawman."

Several years later, the little boy was not so little any longer as he once again stood next to a grave, this time his mother's. She had done her best for him after his father had died and somehow had always managed to keep a roof over their head and food on their table. But the roof was not theirs and the food was now gone. And the boy was now alone.

Neighbors to the north, friends of his parents' had taken him in and tried hard to treat him no differently than they did their own boys but he knew he was different. He was not yet old enough to be in charge of his own fate, but that time was coming and he planned on escaping from these people and this part of the country as soon as he could.

Of course how best to accomplish that was still in question.

"What'cha doing?" His guardian's youngest son stood and watched as the young man carefully shaved what little peach fuzz there was on his face a few weeks later.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He grumbled. "I'm shaving."

"Why?" The tot demanded.

The young man turned and looked at the boy angrily. "Because that's what men do before going out." He answered in irritation. "We shave and get cleaned up."

"You goin' to the barn dance?" The boy was just full of questions and the young man was sorely tired of them. In truth, he was sorely tired of the boy himself. Or maybe, he reflected as he wiped the last of the lather off his face and grabbed his string tie, maybe he was just tired of his present life.

Working on a ranch, while secure and safe, for the most part, was also boring and this young man yearned for excitement and adventure. He was good at ranching but he was good at other things as well, like drawing a gun. Although he'd never drawn it against another person and had no desire to do it, he did enjoy the times he'd take the old holster and revolver, he managed to buy, out into the back woods and practice. He was beginning to get pretty good at it and many times he thought seriously about keeping his childish promise of being like his papa.

But he didn't want to do that just yet. He had some living he wanted to do first, some traveling and maybe even some whoring. He hadn't yet been with a girl, like that anyway, but he knew from the looks he got and the many times girls flirted with him, that he could probably have any girl he wanted anyway he wanted her.

But tempting as the thought was, he was holding out for a while. He wasn't ready to settle down or get serious about any girl, though there were a few, like Cara, that definitely made that decision hard to stick by. But he knew anything more than the occasional kiss, or barn dance, like tonight's shindig, would mean his having to settle for the staid life of a rancher or farmer with her and he wanted none of that. Uh huh. Not him. He had better plans for his life than that.

Several years later, the still young man, had aged precipitously in the few years since he'd pulled up stakes and left the ranch of his neighbors. He'd not only grown in body and height, but also in maturity and even a certain amount of wisdom. As he'd planned, he'd done his traveling and cowboying and drinking and even a certain amount of whoring.

There'd been girls aplenty in most places he'd gone to and though he tried to remain celibate, it had proved to be a little too difficult and one night, while out on the town with a friend of his, he'd succumbed to the kisses of a brown eyed blonde who promised him all the delights a man could want. And she'd followed through on them too. After that, he never shied away from indulging himself when he was in town and had the money. But though he gave them his money and his body, he never gave them his heart. That was one thing he held in reserve.

Despite the many adventures, or mis-adventures the young man had gone on so far, he wasn't ready to settle down. He still had more he wanted to do. When he'd been kidnapped by bank robbers, he'd over heard them talking about a war that was coming and knew as he listened, he wanted to be a part of that. So when the older man, mercifully let him go without, killing him, he set off to see about doing just that.

Now, as he lay on a hospital cot, his leg incased in bandages as well another wide one around his middle, he thought about those plans. Best laid plans, his mother had said many years prior. Well, he'd wanted adventure and he'd wanted excitement and the opportunity to be a hero and he'd gotten all that in spades. Question was, what did he want now?

Months later when he was able to walk, without having to hold onto a crutch or a cane, he knew what he wanted to do. It was an old plan but the one that felt right and was right for him. He knew his mother's wishes in the matter, but she was gone and he had no other family to voice any objections.

Once he was mustered out of the army, he traded his uniform for a piece of tin. Though the tin was smaller, it was no less conspicuous and made him an even bigger target then he was in a Union uniform in a sea of rebels. He accepted that. It wasn't going to be easy, this new life he was choosing, but it was the one he planned on and the one he felt was meant for him.

TBC