The McCullough Story
Back out on the Trail
Recap...
The rest of the trip had gone well. Chris and Coop had left the day before to sell the wagons and stock, while all the other hands had ridden out in the morning. Bill and Charlie had convinced Duke to ride out to the ranch with them and meet the family, as he had nowhere particular to go until the end of the month…
"Bill, do you reckon, I might could buy myself a six shooter? You said I could when I was sixteen; I'm nearly seventeen," asked Barney leaning back and resting his head on his saddle…
"You sound just like I did trying to convince my Pa I was mature enough, when I was your age," laughed Duke, kicking Barney's boot…
"Tell us about it, Duke," pleaded Barney turning on his side and looking right at him…
"That's right whippersnapper; we got a while until suppers ready, now out with it. It's your turn to spin us a yarn," chuckled ole Charlie….
Chapter 26 Caught with Your Pants Down...
"Well, Barney, Let's just see if I can remember," sighed Duke as he settled back against his saddle.
Flashback
"Pa, you promised. You said when I turned sixteen and if I earned the money myself, I could buy my own gun," whined Duke as he passed his pa the hammer. He held the board waiting for a response. When he got none he started again. "They've got the perfect on down at Lewis' gun shop, please pa, you promised?" he pleaded for at least the seventeenth time in the three days since he'd turned sixteen.
"Boy, I swear if you ask me one more time this week about that gun, I'm a gonna hang you by your toes forty foot up in that elm and leave ya there. I told you we'd see about it when we went to town on Saturday! Now fetch me some more nails and let's get this coop finished," grumbled his father, not as upset as he sounded.
"Three more days, how will I ever make it," moaned Duke to himself as he trudged across the yard to the barn to get the nails.
(Flashback Ended)
"Oh, I bet those were the longest three days ever," groaned Barney, pulling Duke's thoughts back to the present.
"You can say that again, every night right after supper pa would hand me his gun. I'd have to take it apart clean it and put it together again. Then there were the endless gun safety rules: guns are not toys; never draw a gun unless you plan to use it; never leave a gun out where a child can find it. Guns are a tool. And of course my favorite; wearing a gun never made anyone important or powerful. I remember getting my ears boxed more than once for rolling my eyes at that one. I mean; I thought I knew it all. Who he was kidding; wearing a gun was the manliest thing any of us boys could think of. That and being able to show off for some pretty little lady. That was what all us lads lived for," said Duke giving Barney a wide grin."
"Go on, Duke. Finish telling us how it turned out. Of course I already know you broke all the rules, cause you said yer Pa took it away," prompted Barney.
"Finally Saturday came and I got to ride into town with Pa, which was an occasion by itself; pa usually figured there was plenty for us youngster to do around the farm. Any way's, there I was strutting with my chest puffed out when we pulled up in front of Lewis' gun shop.
Flashback...
"Howdy, Mr. Shannon; Duke, what brings you to town today?" greeted Mr. Lewis from behind the counter.
"My boy here, is looking to buy himself his first gun. We like to see a Colt Frontier, maybe a good used one," answered Mr. Shannon.
"But, pa I want this one here; it's newer and fancier. It's a Remington. I already asked and its only its sixteen dollars and seventy-five cents. I've got that and enough for a dozen shells too," explained Duke, excitement edging his words.
"That's too much of a gun for a boy; you need a serviceable tool not a fancy toy, " admonished his father.
"But Pa, it's my money and I want this one!" Duke almost shouted.
"No son, you can choose one of these, or you can go home without one," said Mr. Shannon giving him a stern look.
"That's. Not. Fair! It's my money; I earned the money, I should be able to buy the one I want," shouted Duke slamming his fist on the counter.
"That's it boy, go wait for me in the buckboard," thundered Mr. Shannon.
"Sorry to waste your time, Mr. Lewis. I guess he wasn't as ready for this as I thought he was," said Mr. Shannon turning his attention back to the gunsmith.
"But Pa, you promised!" protested Duke.
"Boy, I said… Go. Wait. For me in the buckboard!" growled his pa.
"But Pa! Why..." whined Duke.
"Marmaduke, keep it up, and I'll take my belt to ya, now get!" thundered Mr. Shannon. That was enough to send Duke running from the shop.
"Mr. Lewis; if Duke comes in here next week, I don't want you selling him so much as a slingshot, not unless I'm with him," said Mr. Shannon.
"You've got my word, Mr. Shannon, he will not buy anything from me without you present," replied Mr. Lewis.
Flashback Ended
"What rotten luck, so close. How long did he make you wait?" asked Barney shaking his head.
"Well, I don't rightly know, cause I wasn't smart enough to just wait. Wednesday of the following week, I was tired of the fellas ribbing me about me not getting my gun. I snuck away from school and wound up at the gun shop. I was just looking mind ya. Funny co-incidence though, it wasn't Mr. Lewis behind the counter; it was Mr. Jones. He didn't know that pa had forbid me to by any gun," Duke got a far away look in his eyes as he continued…
Flashback...
"Hello there, young man, looking to buy yourself a gun?" asked Mr. Jones.
"Yes sir. I had my eye on this one here," said Duke pointing to the Remington, with the white grips, trying not to act too excited that he was actually going to get the gun he wanted.
"Will you be wanting the holster and shells as well?" asked Mr. Jones.
"Yes sir," answered Duke, reaching into his pocket for his money before something happened to spoil everything. Ten minutes and twenty dollars later, Duke ran to his horse with a shiny new gun strapped to his hip. Duke rode for the edge of town and the Swanson place; it was deserted and nobody would see him there where he could practice his shooting and decide how to explain to his father that he no longer had money for a gun. He hadn't gone far when he heard someone calling his name.
"Duke, hey Duke wait up, I got something important to tell you," called his friend Lonnie.
Duke pulled his horse to a stop and waited for Lonnie to catch up.
Lonnie caught his breath and then started spouting. "Old Lady Simmons, she gave us a pop test, and she noticed that you were gone. I told her that you was feeling sick and went to the outhouse. She excused me right after the test to come check on you. She said to tell you; that if you didn't feel good you should go on home. She would drop by your place on her way home and leave you the homework assignment. I gotta get back. I'll tell her you were throwing up and I put you on your horse and sent you home," said Lonnie nervously looking over his shoulder.
"Thanks, Lonnie. I better get on home. Pa wouldn't understand my leaving class. Thanks for covering for me. I better get home and get sick... quick like," decided Duke turning and kicking his horse toward home. Minutes later, Duke pulled his horse to a stop in front of a small clump of trees just around the corner from the house. He slid from his horse and unstrapped his gun; it wouldn't do for pa to see it; not today. He wrapped the holster belt around the gun and slipped it into the saddlebag he used for his books. He have to hide it somewhere, until he figured out how to explain things to his pa. Now for the sick part; that would be easy. He would just eat a hand full of wild berries; he was allergic to them. He'd get a terrible headache and a stomachache sure as shooting. He snuck into the trees and down the slope to the berry bush. He shoved a fist full of berries into his mouth without even slowing down to chew, then mounted his horse, slumped in the saddle and started moaning as he rode up to the barn door.
"Ugh, I don't feel so good," he whimpered as he slid from the saddle and lead his horse into the stall. Soon as he was sure no one was around, he ran to the tack room and grabbed a gunny sack. After stowing his saddle he wrapped the gun in the sack and dug to the bottom of the feed bin and placed it there. Covering it with oats, he was satisfied that no one would find it. He gave his horse a scoop of oats and then turned, saddlebag in hand, and trudged toward the house moaning and groaning.
"Ma, I ugh, I don't feel so good," he moaned as he opened the back door.
"Duke what are you doing home?" asked his mother.
"I got sick at school, the teacher sent me home. Ugh, ma I don't feel good; can I go lay down?" moaned Duke.
"Sure son, but if you're sick, first let me get you a dose of castor oil, that'll settle things," she said turning to the kitchen cabinet.
Duke's face turned green as his stomach did a flip just at the thought of that awful stuff.
"Open wide," said his Ma as she filled the spoon.
"Duke obeyed and hoped he could keep the awful stuff down.
Just as he closed his mouth his father walked in."Marmaduke Shannon, you have some explaining to do. What is your horse doing in the barn?" roared his father having come in from the field.
"Simmer down, Oscar, the boy got sick. I just gave him a dose of caster oil; that and a good night's sleep will have him right as rain," explained Duke's mother.
"I see, then it's off to bed with you," said his father.
Young Marmaduke breathed a sigh of relief. He was in the clear for tonight, but tomorrow… Well, he would worry about that tomorrow.
~oOo~
Flashback pauses…
"The next morning, I discovered that I had a rash; a very itchy rash. For sure I was goin' ta be in a peck of trouble once ma got a look at it." Duke subconsciously started scratching himself, just remembering that time.
"Whoa, Duke what would be so bad about you ma seeing you had a rash wouldn't that prove you were sick" interrupted Barney somewhat confused.
Duke laughed shaking his head, "Well Barney it like this when my brother and me were growing up we learned real fast that you didn't want ma knowing you were sick, and you definitely didn't want her to find out you had a cut or a rash. She would make you let her inspect it, every inch of it and yer body and then she'd grease ya down with one thing or another. It weren't so bad having to undress and let her doctor things when we were little, but the older we got... well ya know… Teddy and I learned real quick that there was only one thing worse then being 'mother hened, as Pa called it and that was letting Pa catch you sassin' ma about it. Now where was I… Oh yeah...
Flashback resumes...
Duke panicked as soon as he saw the angry red rash. If his mother saw the rash she was going to know he'd eaten berries,and she was bound to start doctoring him. His only hope was to stay in bed and under the covers. If he was lucky the rash would be gone by noon and he could beg to come down for supper, having by that time recovered from what ailed him, thought Duke, as he tucked the blanket tight around his chin and then moaned when his mother came in to see how he was fairing.
"How are you feeling, son?" she asked.
"Oh, ma, my head still hurts and my stomach feels weak. I think I just need to stay here and rest today," moaned Duke, giving his ma a sad eyed look, hoping there were no signs of the rash on his face.
The concerned mother reached out her hand and felt his forehead. "No fever. Still I think, I'll give you just one more dose of caster oil. Then you can rest. Now you stay under that quilt and I'll be right back," she said leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead.
Before leaving him to get the awful medicine, Duke smiled at his ma; things were working out well.
Just like he had hoped the rash had disappeared by noon and Duke's Ma had let him come down stairs around four to sit on the porch and get some sun. Even luckier was the fact that his Pa had left early in the afternoon telling his ma; she should not wait supper for him. Duke's ma had made him his favorite supper; chicken and dumplings.
Duke was just placing his dishes into the sink when his father can in thundering!
"Sick, are you? Perhaps you can explain why Mr. Lewis, flagged me down in town," boomed Mr. Shannon,stepping up behind Duke as he stood at the sink. Duke's brother and sister jumped as they cleared the table. Mrs. Shannon stopped her mending and turned her attention to her husband and son. Unfortunately, Duke's stomach lurched and he lunged forward toward the slop bucket losing the contents of his stomach.
"Let's go! To the barn…March!" ordered his father. "Hand it over!" bellowed his father as he closed the door to the barn.
"Hand what over pa?" asked Duke, trying to pretend he didn't know what his pa wanted.
"You know very well what I want, now where is it Boy!"
"But, pa..." stammered Duke.
"I'm going to make you think, but…" said his father, before spinning Duke to the side and delivering ten hefty swats. "You want to stall some more?" he growled as he turned him back and gave him a piecing look. "Go right ahead; ain't worn my hand out yet boy!"
Duke jumped at the stern tone in his father's voice and hurried to the feed bin and began digging with both hands. When he turned around with the gunny sack in his hands, he didn't like the look on his father's face.
Mr Shannon pointed to the bag in his boys trembling hands. "Take it out of the sack son," he ground through gritted teeth.
Duke knew he was sunk. He reached in and pulled the gun from the bag letting the it fall to the floor. "I can explain... pa..." he began.
"You can explain disobedience, defiance, and deceit? I think I've heard all I want to. I want you to unroll that holster and lay the gun out there on the feed bin."
Duke carefully unwrapped the gun and placed it flat on the top of the bin, before turning once more to face his angry father.
"After all that talking we did about responsibility, and after my explaining to you, on the way home Saturday, the reason why I didn't want you buying the Remington, you wait until my back is turned and...I want you to turn around there and take a real good look at that gun; and while you're at it you can drop your britches," demanded his father as he reached down and pulled the belt from around his waist. Folding it in half he stepped forward and placed his hand on Duke's back bending him over the feed bin.
Duke stared down at the Remington, waiting for the first lick. He never took his eyes of it as each lick from his father ignited a fire and instigated a guttural yelp. In the end, Duke was sobbing so hard that he lost count. When the belt finally stopped Duke shook as he stared down at the gun.
"Now, young man, I want you to turn around here and look at me," ordered his father.
Duke did his best to obey quickly, but it wasn't easy to turn around with his britches at his knees. He waddled and hobbled around as he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at his eyes.
"Marmaduke, I am very disappointed in you. I thought you were ready for the responsibility of a gun. First you argue with me on Saturday and now this... you… you were deliberately deceitful. You left school without permission. You went behind my back and deliberately purchased the very gun I expressly said you could not have. Then you top it all off, by lying to cover it up. There is no excuse for such behavior. I will not stand for it; do you understand me?" he barked, waving the folded belt at the boy.
Duke took two hitched breaths and used his arm to scrub his wet face again, hoping that his shirt tail kept him covered. "Yes sir, I'm sorry that I went behind you back and bought the gun. And, I'm sorry I lied to everyone. I won't do it again!"
"Very well, then turn back around and let's finish this."
Duke wobbled and hobbled back into position.
"I am very disappointed that you lied to your mother and me," he raised the belt and brought it down again; delivering five more licks before speaking. "Alright son, you can pull you britches up," said his father re-threading his belt. "Give me the gun son, I will be locking it up. Then I want you to march in there and apologise to your mother for worrying her."
Flashback Ended
"Wow...Duke I don't know which would be worse; the lickin', or having to stand there and be lectured with your pants down," said Barney looking wide eyed at Duke.
"You're telling me, Barney. You weren't the one caught with your pants down: When he got through with me, I didn't think I would ever want to sit down again. My backside was so sore, I stood to eat and walked to school for a good week. I even volunteered to clean the black boards so I wouldn't have to sit. But honestly, Barney, as bad as it was, what I remember most is how disappointed my pa looked after it was all over. He stood there in the kitchen telling my mother what I had done. I think that the worse part was that Pa took a long time before he would trust me again."
"Did the Remington, shoot good?" asked Barney.
I wouldn't know, I never got to shoot it. After Pa locked it up; I didn't set eyes on it for a whole year. Pa wouldn't even let me shoot his gun until my seventeenth birthday. For my seventeenth birthday, Pa wrapped it up and gave it back to me. I couldn't wait to trade it for a gun he would approve of; this Colt Frontier…" said Duke, holding up the gun he had in his hand. "And, my Pa was right; it has served me well."
Meanwhile back at the Trails End Ranch….
Mary sat on the back porch sipping a cup of tea. It was nice to sit for a few minutes in the quiet. Matt and Luke had ridden into town and Samantha was taking a nap. Luke had promised to keep Mary's secret and so far Samantha had not spilled the beans, either. Everyone at the ranch was working overtime to get everything ready for the barbecue. Mary hoped that Flint and Mark would get home before Saturday's barbecue, not just because she would feel so much better knowing everyone was safe and sound, and have the chance to say their goodbyes to Matt, but also because she was dying to tell someone her news.
Everyone was invited to their homecoming barbecue, but they only had three more days to get organized. Mary had to admit that she was glad to be busy; it kept her mind off of Matt's leaving Monday. As a tear slid down her cheek, she sent up a silent prayer for her family.
"Excuse me ma'am, but I was a wondering if you can do me a favor?" asked Ty, stepping up onto the back porch and removing his hat.
"Certainly Ty, I'd be glad to help," answered Mary giving Ty a bright smile.
"Well ma'am, you know that I've got Gary and Kenny in the new bunkhouse full is they're hard on clothes and neither of them, or I for that matter can sew a lick. I was hoping you might do a little mending for them," explained Ty.
"I'd be glad to; just have them bring it up anytime," offered Mary.
"Thanks Mrs. McCullough; that will be a big help."
Ty put on his hat to leave, Mary spoke again. "While we are on the subject, what are you doing about the boy's laundry?" she asked.
"We're managing rotating it between the three of us," Ty answered.
"How about you having the boys rotate filling and emptying the laundry tubs on Monday's, and I'll add theirs with ours; it will save me lifting and totin' and free them for more important ranch work," suggested Mary.
"You sure that wouldn't add too much extra work for you ma'am?" asked Ty with a grin.
"I'm positive. And besides, I take pride in knowing that all the young Cowboys at the Trails End Ranch will be looking their best," enthused Mary.
"I'll tell the boys tonight and I'll have one of them bring that mending right away," said Ty tipping his hat and heading back across the yard.
Meanwhile on the way Home, with Flint…
"Okay boy's, it's getting late; time for you to turn in. We have to get up early in the morning. I'm going for a walk," explained Flint as he came out of the tent where he laid the baby next to Brook.
"But dad, it's only eight-thirty, you're treating us like babies," groaned Mark.
"Running Fox, no need sleep, I watch fire, clean rabbit skin."
"Boys, I am in no mood for argument, now off to bed," ordered Flint glaring at both boys.
"Come on, Running Fox, he won't be so nice if he has to say it again," sighed Mark, tossing his head toward the tent.
Flint watched as the two boys climbed into the tent before walking down to the saloon, for a drink or two. He needed to unwind just a bit before he boarded that stage again in the morning. As much as he loved his children, he was ready to get back to running a horse ranch. He was more than ready to get back to Mary also; to hold her close and wrap his arms around her while he smothered her with kisses. Grinning from ear to ear at that thought, Flint stepped through the swinging doors of the saloon.
"Beer please," he said casually slapping his money down on the bar. He took a long drink as he stepped out onto the front porch of the saloon. Sitting down, he propped up his feet and took another swig and stared up at the moon. One of the saloon girls came outside and offered to bring Flint another beer. As he was finishing the second beer, he began to hear a loud voice coming from inside. He had heard that voice before. It was becoming loud and disruptive as someone was demanding to be served. Then Flint heard the bartender saying something about the cowboy having had enough, and for someone to get the sheriff.
When suddenly two shots rang out, Flint drew his gun and headed inside. "Alright, cowboy, that'ill be enough out of you for tonight...Drop that gun," ordered Flint recognizing the cowboy as the one from the stage.
"Well if it ain't the Indian lover from the stage. Why don't you just go back to your little tribe an mind your own business," said the drunk cowboy waving his gun.
"Drop the gun boy, before someone gets hurt," repeated Flint stepping a little closer.
All the commotion had drawn Sheriff Tucker's attention as he was doing his rounds. "Alright everybody put your guns away, we don't want innocent people hurt," he commanded, barging through the door.
Startled, the drunk cowboy swung his attention toward the door and unconsciously fired. Flint seized the moment and grabbed the gun, wrestling it out of the boys hand. He then grabbed the cowboy's arm and twisted it behind his back.
Sheriff Tucker yelled and dropped into a chair holding his right leg. "Mr. McCullough, could you take him over and lock him up, while I get someone to help me over to have the doc look at this leg?"
"Sure can," answered Flint, pushing the drunk forward.
"Keys are on my desk. Be sure you check his pockets and boots before you lock him up. I'll be along as soon as the doc gets me patched up," grimaced Sheriff Tucker, as Flint dragged the prisoner passed him.
Meanwhile back at camp…
Running Fox sat up. It didn't take him long to see that Flint had not returned. Mark and the others were fast asleep. What could it hurt if he took a little walk down by the creek, he wouldn't go far...he thought.
~oOo~
"Mark, Mark, wake up;" called Flint in a low voice as he shook him.
"Huh, what...is it morning already?" asked Mark sleepily rubbing his eyes.
"No son; it's a little after midnight. Running Fox is not here, do you know where he is?"
"No dad, we both went to bed before you left. Maybe he's using the privy," suggested Mark.
"I've already looked. Now listen, I'm going to look for him. If I am not back by sun up take your brother and sister and go to the sheriff's office. Have him tell you how to get to Mrs., Witherton's give her this note and then wait with her until I get back," explained Flint.
"I can stay here. I can look after the children; we don't have to bother anyone else," offered Mark as he sat up.
"Mark, please just do as I ask. I would feel better knowing that the baby was with Mrs. Witherton. Now scoot over here in front of the door; that way Brook won't wake up before you and wander off. Maybe I will find your brother quick and we will still be in time to catch the stage," said Flint tapping Mark's leg as he rose from his knees.
~oOo~
Running Fox crouched low and watched the deer cross the creek and start up the other side, walking right toward him. He wished he had a bow and some arrows. But, it was getting late and he had wandered quite a ways down the creek. He decided that he better get back before his New Father returned. Standing he skimmed a rock across the water and watched the startled deer run off.
Figuring that Running Fox would not go toward town, Flint started looking down stream. It didn't take long to pick up the trail. It had been a long day and Flint was tired. It had been a long day for Running Fox as well, but the boy had seemed fine when Flint left, so why had he taken off?" Thought Flint as he followed the tracks down by the creek bank.
Suddenly Flint caught sight of the boy. "Out for a walk, Son!" growled Flint.
"White Father!" Running Fox looked up startled, then took on a look of guilt and shame.
'So he knew he was out of bounds,' Flint thought to himself. "I told you to stay put! When I came back and you were gone, I was worried," said Flint sternly, as he watched Running Fox cross the creek and come towards him.
"I tell you; I not tired. I go for walk," answered Running Fox as he stopped in front of Flint.
Flint growled, as he turned and walked a few feet away. He removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair, before turning and walking back to Running Fox. "Sit down son," said Flint fighting to keep his voice calm. "I understand that our worlds are different, but you heard me tell you to stay at camp," said Flint.
"Yes, but Running Fox no sleep, I go for walk," argued Running Fox.
"Do you understand that you worried me; that you could have gotten lost or hurt?" questioned Flint looking deep into the boy's eyes.
"Running Fox, no get lost. Running Fox stay close to creek. White Father no need worry," retorted Running Fox sharply.
"Hold it right there, young man. You may as well learn right now that you do not raise your voice to me!" growled Flint. "I'm very disappointed that you disobeyed me." Flint continued to lecture as he reached and forced Running Fox to look him in the eye.
"Running Fox have no fear. Running Fox can protect self," he declared with a spark of pride.
"Running Fox, you may be able to protect yourself from the dangers of the woods, but the dangers I speak of are the dangers caused by fear and hatred. I am talking about the dangers of white man's world. I told you to stay in camp, because the men that posted the signs in town live somewhere outside our camp. I know that our worlds are different and things may seem strange or even harsh at times. But, you need to also understand that at times, as your father, I will make choices and decisions that you might not agree with. And, some you will just plain not like. As my son, I expect you to obey me. If you choose to disobey me there will be consequences. Do you understand what I am saying?" admonished Flint.
"Running Fox, sorry. Not think of white man's danger! I have brought shame to White Father. White Father must punish Running Fox?" he asked looking to the ground.
"Look at me Son," said Flint turning and looking at his new son as he waited for him to respond. "Your right Son, normally this type of disobedience, would earn you a tanning..."said Flint in a stern tone of voice.
"Running Fox, should fetch 'mother's hairbrush' when we get back to camp?" he said looking right at Flint.
Flint could tell that the boy now understood the seriousness of the situation. "No son, not this time. I think we can let it go with just this warning. From now on, though, if I say stay put… you… stay… put! Understood!" admonished Flint raising one eyebrow before pulling Running Fox into a hug.
"Running Fox, understand. Running Fox will obey," he answered.
Flint laughed as he stepped out of the hug. "Hmm, good, but I also think it's time for you first grammar lesson," smiled Flint.
"You don't say; Running Fox understand. You should say; I understand; I will obey."
"I...I understand, this is correct?" asked Running Fox." I" Running Fox," said the boy as he pointed to himself, "Running Fox is I?" he asked nervously.
"That's right when you're talking about yourself you should say; I, or sometimes me..."I am going back to camp. I want you to come with me," said Flint to explain further.
"I will come. I am sorry I disobeyed you, White Father," said Running Fox.
Flint ruffled the boys shoulder length hair. "Good job. Now let's get back before Mark gets worried. I've been gone almost two hours.
TBC Surprises All Around