Chapter Six
Dear Samantha,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I miss you and the boys very much. I am in a town called Sweetwater as I write this to you, but I am leaving soon for the next town I suppose. I reckon I'll have to find a map and see what the next town is. I look forward to hearing from you, when you get the time. I have to go now, but I will write to you again soon.
Love you always,
Newt
Captian Call took the mail from the young clerk in Miles City and quickly flipped through the letters. Finding one bearing Sam McCrea in Newt's handwriting, he slipped it inside his jacket.
That girl didn't need his letters disrupting the life she was building out on thier ranch.
It had been two years since Newt had left Hat Creek. He had sent Sam a letter, not every week, but almost every week of those two years.
Some were thick and filled with adventures, some were just little notes written on whatever scrap of paper he could find. But all the letters, just as this would be, had been put in Gus's saddle bags, hidden in a trunk out in the barn.
At first Sam had waited. Waited for Newt, or some word from Newt but eventually, she stopped waiting and started living, throwing all she had into running that ranch. She had learned every task from breaking horses to hiring and firing hands.
She was determined to make that ranch a success. That's why he knew he was going to have a fight on his hands when he told she could not go with the men to drive the cattle to market.
She didn't disappoint him.
She fussed and argued until Woodrow, fed up with it, declared that if she didn't hush, he was going to carry her out for much needed trip to the woodshed. She was too young, it was too dangerous and that was that.
That was, also, how she came to be standing in the yard, the day Newt's telegram came.
"This is for Captian Call," the deliver boy said.
"He ain't here," she replied. "I can take it though."
He reluctantly handed her the envelope, then rode off.
"What is it?" Sarah Pickett asked.
"It's from Newt!"
"Well, open it," Sarah urged.
Sam opened it, then read aloud,
"To Captian Woodrow Call, Hat Creek Ranch, Miles City, Montana. STOP.
Getting Hitched. STOP.
Love, Newt and Hannah. STOP."
"Newt's getting married? Oh, that's wonderful," Sarah replied.
Sam held the telegram out to her, then went in the house.
Feeling very childish, she ran into the small room Woodrow had built her, fell on her bed and cried.
It wasn't long before she felt someone sit down beside her. She smelt Augustina's perfume.
"Do not cry, little one. Have faith." She said nothing else, just patted Sam's back and wiped away her tears.
Chapter Seven
Over the next year, Newt wrote consistantly. And consistantly, Woodrow hid the letters.
Then one day the letters stopped coming.
Days passed, a week, a week and half.
Woodrow knew something was wrong. He began to pack up his gear, he was going to Curtis Wells.
Sam caught him in the barn.
"I'm going too."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, Captian, I am. I'm nearly fifteen years old. I can work as hard as any man, and I can take care of myself. You know that." She stood hands on her hips, ready for a battle.
"Okay. Be ready to ride at first light."
She was shocked by his answer.
"Yes..sir."
"I'll take you to Curtis Wells, but, if I tell you to stay there or come back here, you do it. No arguments. I can only look after one of you at a time."
"Yes, sir." She ran inside to get ready to go.
The next morning, they left at first light like the Captian had said. They rode hard, stopping only when the horses needed the rest. But it was worth it when they rode into Curtis Wells, just after dark.
They came to a stop in front of the hotel.
The sign read The Lonesome Dove.
"Well, I'll be damned." Woodrow muttered.
Sam refused to believe anything was wrong until they stepped inside. In one corner of the dining room a group of people were having a conversation about Newt.
A dark-headed young man said, "Listen, Hannah, Newt's probably sitting by a fire, embrassed as hell, trying to figure out how he's gonna get back to town with just one boot."
But Newt was too good a horseman to let the HellBitch throw him. Sam knew this and that knowledge scared her.
"You're probably right," A young lady with the same dark hair laughed nervously.
"Newt wouldn't let the HellBitch throw him." The Captian spoke in a low, almost frightening voice.
An older gentleman stood up.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"I'm Captian Woodrow F. Call. This is Sam McCrea."
The young lady stood and crossed the floor to them.
"I'm Hannah Call. Your daughter in law."
Sam studied her up close.
She was beautiful. And feminine and none of the things Sam was.
During dinner they learned that Newt had been escorting a prisoner up to the territorial prison.
He had been gone almost a week and earlier that day, the HellBitch had come tearing back into town with just Newt's boot hanging from her saddle.
That wasn't good. Sam knew it. She could feel it. Newt was hurt.
The next morning, the Captian was preparing to leave and no amount of Sam's begging, arguing, or pleading was going to make him let her come with him.
She wasn't giving up though. She was standing next to his horse telling him how she could track as well as Deets, if he would just give the chance.
"So can I," he replied. "Now I told you, you were staying here and that's the end of it."
She didn't have time to argue. A body was brought into town. A body wearing Newt's badge. That was all anybody could recognize.
Woodrow studied the body. "That's not my son." Then he returned to his preparing to leave.
"Won't you even stay for the funeral?" Ida Grayson asked.
"Poor fella, but he ain't Newt. Don't know why I should give up daylight for his funeral."
Ida looked at him as if he had horns. "What will I tell your daughter-in- law?" She asked in an icy voice.
"You tell her I'll bring her husband back." He mounted up and rode out of town.
Sam just clung to the Captain's words that that was not his son.
Chapter Eight
Sam didn't go the funeral. She just couldn't make herself. If she didn't have to hear the dirt fall on the casket, then she could go on pretending.
Pretending that Newt was still alive, that her Papa was only away hunting and Deets was just out scouting a good place to cross the river.
Death was the one thing she could not accept.
Hannah was not at all what she had expected or wanted her to be. She just couldn't find any wrong in the woman and as much as she didn't want to, she was starting to like her.
She hoped the Captian would hurry back.
When the rest of the town was going to Newt's funeral, she was headed out to Newt's ranch.
She knew there was work to be done, and she wasn't going to let all his hard work go to ruin while he was laid up somewhere, and Hannah was too distrught to see to it.
She spent two days and nights out there, before Hannah finally came home. Only Hannah wasn't alone. Her brother, Austin was with her.
Sam liked Austin. He was a bit green, but he didn't mind lending her a hand when Hannah was sleeping.
Then that Mosby fellow came by, but Sam didn't like him. She didn't trust him.
Apparently, Austin didn't either. He and Hannah had an argument or something because soon after Mosby showed up Austin left.
Sam stayed in the barn. Out of the way, but helping.
Mosby left again and Hannah came out to the barn to tell Sam she was going back to her father's house for a while and Sam was welcome to join her, but Sam refused, saying there was still work that needed to be done.
"No wonder Newt talked about you all the time," Hannah smiled. "You're just like him."
With that, she left.
Sam was out tending to the horses when Hanah came back the next morning.
She thought Hannah would go on in the house, but she just sat there, staring at the house.
Sam started to go to her, but then that Mr. Mosby came back.
He sat in the wagon talking to Hannah for some time, then jumped down and lifted her from the wagon and carried her into the house.
Niether seemed to notice a set of fourteen year old eyes watching them with keen interest.
After what seemed like an eternity, long enough that Sam grown bored with watching and had started mucking out the stalls, Clay came out of the house.
He got the wagon and put it up, then he headed into the barn with his and Hannah's horse.
"Planning on staying awhile?" Sam asked, leaning lazily on a post.
Clay jumped. "Miss McCrea," he smiled, recovering quickly. "I didn't know you were here."
"So, I can see."
"I thought that your recent absences from town had meant that you had returned to Miles City," he replied, politely.
"Nope."
"Won't Newt's father, your guardian be upset when he returns to town to find you gone?"
"He told me that I couldn't go with him, not that I couldn't go anywhere," Sam replied, coolly.
"Now, answer my question. Are you planning on staying for a while?"
"My dear Samantha, I intended only to help Miz Call out for a while, and wanted to get my horse out of the weather while I did so," he smiled, cursing the young woman standing in front of him. Were all people from Texas as isolent as she and Newt?
"She don't need any help. I have everything taken care of," Sam shot back, not caring for his condensending tone.
"Yes, I can see that you have been doing a nice job for the Calls, but a ranch of this size must have more work than you can handle and wouldn't you feel better having a man around to take care of some of the harder chores?" There was no use in arousing the girl's suspicion.
"Like I said," Sam said. "I can take care of everything, until Newt returns. I think its time you leave."
Clay smiled that undaunted smile of his. He wasn't going to win an argument with this child with words and he could already see that.
He tried the only thing left. Intimadation.
He leaned to her face. So close they were almost touching. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he spoke in a menacing voice. "Listen here, Miss McCrea, I will leave when Hannah tells me to and not a minute before. Do I make myself clear?"
Sam broke his hold on her shoulders and started to saunter out the door. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "Suit yourself, Mr. Mosby, but I'd hate to be you when Newt gets home."
Chapter Nine
Sam stayed away from Clay the rest of the day. She wasn't scared of him, as he hoped. She just didn't like him.
She tended to the animals and repaired a broken porch step.
Anything to keep her out of the house.
Hannah, physically and emontionally exhausted, slept all that day and night, but much to Sam's extreme displeasure, Mosby stayed the night.
In the house.
Newt was going to kill him. Sam didn't think Hannah slept with him. She didn't think Hannah even knew he was there, but she couldn't know for sure, she had opted to sleep in the barn.
What ever Hannah did, Sam didn't want to know. She didn't want to know something that could hurt Newt as much as Hannah's being unfaithful would.
(I'm rewriting a bit of LD history since this originally stopped with a kiss. Hope no one minds.)
Sam had finished every chore she could possibly think to do.
All the work had been caught up on.
Partly because of Mr. Mosby, but Sam didn't like to think about that because she didn't like the fact that Mosby was still there.
Cold forced her inside for a cup of hot coffee. She walked into the house pausing momentarily to remove her jacket and hat then went on into the kitchen, but she would never get that cup of coffee.
Mosby was standing in Hannah's bedroom with Hannah in his arms.
She watched with shocked silence as Mosby lowered his head, then Hannah turned her mouth up to his.
Sam opened her mouth to announce her presence but no words or even sounds would come out. Her feet wouldn't work to carry her away either. She just stood, staring dumbfoundedly as the two kissed, as though they were old lovers. (hehehe)
She stood feet planted, mouth empty, shocked practically senseless until Clay picked Hannah up and carried her to the bed.
A fierce anger began to burn inside her.
At that moment, she could easily understand why the Captian would fight so hard to keep Newt, and her, from being hurt.
Not even really thinking about what she was doing or going to do, she walked out to the barn and pulled her gunbelt and pistol out of her saddle bags.
Settling the belt low on her hips, she strode back in the house.
She stopped just inside the bedroom door, pulled the gun and took aim.
"Well, now, ain't this convient. Guess Newt turned up dead at just the right time for you to, ah.. help out, Mr. Mosby."
Clay and Hannah both stared at her.
"Sam, it's not what you think," Hannah sputtered.
"I sure hope not, because I think you were fixing to commit adultery with this fine, upstanding, or should I say, down-laying, pillar of your community. In Newt's bed, none the less. And if you want to know what else I think, I think this isn't the first time."
Clay started towards her. "Now, you wait just a damn minute!"
She cocked the pistol.
"I wouldn't do that, Mr. Mosby. I have killed men before, and I would kill again, if given a good reason. Like threatening me, touching me, or sleeping with my best friend's wife."
She pointed the gun down at Hannah. "Or being his low-life, cheating, scum of a wife."
"But," Hannah said, futilely. "This isn't what you think."
"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't. I don't know. I just might be wrong. But I do know this. If you hurt MY Newt, I'll kill you."
Easing the hammer back down on her gun, she walked out of the room. She put on her jacket and hat, then went out and saddled her horse. Taking one last look at Newt's ranch, at Newt's dream, she headed back to Curtis Wells.
"She's crazy," Clay said, watching her go. "She's absolutely insane."
"No, she's not," Hannah replied. "She's just in love."
"With who?" Clay scoffed. "Smith and Wesson?"
"Newt."
Dear Samantha,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I miss you and the boys very much. I am in a town called Sweetwater as I write this to you, but I am leaving soon for the next town I suppose. I reckon I'll have to find a map and see what the next town is. I look forward to hearing from you, when you get the time. I have to go now, but I will write to you again soon.
Love you always,
Newt
Captian Call took the mail from the young clerk in Miles City and quickly flipped through the letters. Finding one bearing Sam McCrea in Newt's handwriting, he slipped it inside his jacket.
That girl didn't need his letters disrupting the life she was building out on thier ranch.
It had been two years since Newt had left Hat Creek. He had sent Sam a letter, not every week, but almost every week of those two years.
Some were thick and filled with adventures, some were just little notes written on whatever scrap of paper he could find. But all the letters, just as this would be, had been put in Gus's saddle bags, hidden in a trunk out in the barn.
At first Sam had waited. Waited for Newt, or some word from Newt but eventually, she stopped waiting and started living, throwing all she had into running that ranch. She had learned every task from breaking horses to hiring and firing hands.
She was determined to make that ranch a success. That's why he knew he was going to have a fight on his hands when he told she could not go with the men to drive the cattle to market.
She didn't disappoint him.
She fussed and argued until Woodrow, fed up with it, declared that if she didn't hush, he was going to carry her out for much needed trip to the woodshed. She was too young, it was too dangerous and that was that.
That was, also, how she came to be standing in the yard, the day Newt's telegram came.
"This is for Captian Call," the deliver boy said.
"He ain't here," she replied. "I can take it though."
He reluctantly handed her the envelope, then rode off.
"What is it?" Sarah Pickett asked.
"It's from Newt!"
"Well, open it," Sarah urged.
Sam opened it, then read aloud,
"To Captian Woodrow Call, Hat Creek Ranch, Miles City, Montana. STOP.
Getting Hitched. STOP.
Love, Newt and Hannah. STOP."
"Newt's getting married? Oh, that's wonderful," Sarah replied.
Sam held the telegram out to her, then went in the house.
Feeling very childish, she ran into the small room Woodrow had built her, fell on her bed and cried.
It wasn't long before she felt someone sit down beside her. She smelt Augustina's perfume.
"Do not cry, little one. Have faith." She said nothing else, just patted Sam's back and wiped away her tears.
Chapter Seven
Over the next year, Newt wrote consistantly. And consistantly, Woodrow hid the letters.
Then one day the letters stopped coming.
Days passed, a week, a week and half.
Woodrow knew something was wrong. He began to pack up his gear, he was going to Curtis Wells.
Sam caught him in the barn.
"I'm going too."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, Captian, I am. I'm nearly fifteen years old. I can work as hard as any man, and I can take care of myself. You know that." She stood hands on her hips, ready for a battle.
"Okay. Be ready to ride at first light."
She was shocked by his answer.
"Yes..sir."
"I'll take you to Curtis Wells, but, if I tell you to stay there or come back here, you do it. No arguments. I can only look after one of you at a time."
"Yes, sir." She ran inside to get ready to go.
The next morning, they left at first light like the Captian had said. They rode hard, stopping only when the horses needed the rest. But it was worth it when they rode into Curtis Wells, just after dark.
They came to a stop in front of the hotel.
The sign read The Lonesome Dove.
"Well, I'll be damned." Woodrow muttered.
Sam refused to believe anything was wrong until they stepped inside. In one corner of the dining room a group of people were having a conversation about Newt.
A dark-headed young man said, "Listen, Hannah, Newt's probably sitting by a fire, embrassed as hell, trying to figure out how he's gonna get back to town with just one boot."
But Newt was too good a horseman to let the HellBitch throw him. Sam knew this and that knowledge scared her.
"You're probably right," A young lady with the same dark hair laughed nervously.
"Newt wouldn't let the HellBitch throw him." The Captian spoke in a low, almost frightening voice.
An older gentleman stood up.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"I'm Captian Woodrow F. Call. This is Sam McCrea."
The young lady stood and crossed the floor to them.
"I'm Hannah Call. Your daughter in law."
Sam studied her up close.
She was beautiful. And feminine and none of the things Sam was.
During dinner they learned that Newt had been escorting a prisoner up to the territorial prison.
He had been gone almost a week and earlier that day, the HellBitch had come tearing back into town with just Newt's boot hanging from her saddle.
That wasn't good. Sam knew it. She could feel it. Newt was hurt.
The next morning, the Captian was preparing to leave and no amount of Sam's begging, arguing, or pleading was going to make him let her come with him.
She wasn't giving up though. She was standing next to his horse telling him how she could track as well as Deets, if he would just give the chance.
"So can I," he replied. "Now I told you, you were staying here and that's the end of it."
She didn't have time to argue. A body was brought into town. A body wearing Newt's badge. That was all anybody could recognize.
Woodrow studied the body. "That's not my son." Then he returned to his preparing to leave.
"Won't you even stay for the funeral?" Ida Grayson asked.
"Poor fella, but he ain't Newt. Don't know why I should give up daylight for his funeral."
Ida looked at him as if he had horns. "What will I tell your daughter-in- law?" She asked in an icy voice.
"You tell her I'll bring her husband back." He mounted up and rode out of town.
Sam just clung to the Captain's words that that was not his son.
Chapter Eight
Sam didn't go the funeral. She just couldn't make herself. If she didn't have to hear the dirt fall on the casket, then she could go on pretending.
Pretending that Newt was still alive, that her Papa was only away hunting and Deets was just out scouting a good place to cross the river.
Death was the one thing she could not accept.
Hannah was not at all what she had expected or wanted her to be. She just couldn't find any wrong in the woman and as much as she didn't want to, she was starting to like her.
She hoped the Captian would hurry back.
When the rest of the town was going to Newt's funeral, she was headed out to Newt's ranch.
She knew there was work to be done, and she wasn't going to let all his hard work go to ruin while he was laid up somewhere, and Hannah was too distrught to see to it.
She spent two days and nights out there, before Hannah finally came home. Only Hannah wasn't alone. Her brother, Austin was with her.
Sam liked Austin. He was a bit green, but he didn't mind lending her a hand when Hannah was sleeping.
Then that Mosby fellow came by, but Sam didn't like him. She didn't trust him.
Apparently, Austin didn't either. He and Hannah had an argument or something because soon after Mosby showed up Austin left.
Sam stayed in the barn. Out of the way, but helping.
Mosby left again and Hannah came out to the barn to tell Sam she was going back to her father's house for a while and Sam was welcome to join her, but Sam refused, saying there was still work that needed to be done.
"No wonder Newt talked about you all the time," Hannah smiled. "You're just like him."
With that, she left.
Sam was out tending to the horses when Hanah came back the next morning.
She thought Hannah would go on in the house, but she just sat there, staring at the house.
Sam started to go to her, but then that Mr. Mosby came back.
He sat in the wagon talking to Hannah for some time, then jumped down and lifted her from the wagon and carried her into the house.
Niether seemed to notice a set of fourteen year old eyes watching them with keen interest.
After what seemed like an eternity, long enough that Sam grown bored with watching and had started mucking out the stalls, Clay came out of the house.
He got the wagon and put it up, then he headed into the barn with his and Hannah's horse.
"Planning on staying awhile?" Sam asked, leaning lazily on a post.
Clay jumped. "Miss McCrea," he smiled, recovering quickly. "I didn't know you were here."
"So, I can see."
"I thought that your recent absences from town had meant that you had returned to Miles City," he replied, politely.
"Nope."
"Won't Newt's father, your guardian be upset when he returns to town to find you gone?"
"He told me that I couldn't go with him, not that I couldn't go anywhere," Sam replied, coolly.
"Now, answer my question. Are you planning on staying for a while?"
"My dear Samantha, I intended only to help Miz Call out for a while, and wanted to get my horse out of the weather while I did so," he smiled, cursing the young woman standing in front of him. Were all people from Texas as isolent as she and Newt?
"She don't need any help. I have everything taken care of," Sam shot back, not caring for his condensending tone.
"Yes, I can see that you have been doing a nice job for the Calls, but a ranch of this size must have more work than you can handle and wouldn't you feel better having a man around to take care of some of the harder chores?" There was no use in arousing the girl's suspicion.
"Like I said," Sam said. "I can take care of everything, until Newt returns. I think its time you leave."
Clay smiled that undaunted smile of his. He wasn't going to win an argument with this child with words and he could already see that.
He tried the only thing left. Intimadation.
He leaned to her face. So close they were almost touching. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he spoke in a menacing voice. "Listen here, Miss McCrea, I will leave when Hannah tells me to and not a minute before. Do I make myself clear?"
Sam broke his hold on her shoulders and started to saunter out the door. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "Suit yourself, Mr. Mosby, but I'd hate to be you when Newt gets home."
Chapter Nine
Sam stayed away from Clay the rest of the day. She wasn't scared of him, as he hoped. She just didn't like him.
She tended to the animals and repaired a broken porch step.
Anything to keep her out of the house.
Hannah, physically and emontionally exhausted, slept all that day and night, but much to Sam's extreme displeasure, Mosby stayed the night.
In the house.
Newt was going to kill him. Sam didn't think Hannah slept with him. She didn't think Hannah even knew he was there, but she couldn't know for sure, she had opted to sleep in the barn.
What ever Hannah did, Sam didn't want to know. She didn't want to know something that could hurt Newt as much as Hannah's being unfaithful would.
(I'm rewriting a bit of LD history since this originally stopped with a kiss. Hope no one minds.)
Sam had finished every chore she could possibly think to do.
All the work had been caught up on.
Partly because of Mr. Mosby, but Sam didn't like to think about that because she didn't like the fact that Mosby was still there.
Cold forced her inside for a cup of hot coffee. She walked into the house pausing momentarily to remove her jacket and hat then went on into the kitchen, but she would never get that cup of coffee.
Mosby was standing in Hannah's bedroom with Hannah in his arms.
She watched with shocked silence as Mosby lowered his head, then Hannah turned her mouth up to his.
Sam opened her mouth to announce her presence but no words or even sounds would come out. Her feet wouldn't work to carry her away either. She just stood, staring dumbfoundedly as the two kissed, as though they were old lovers. (hehehe)
She stood feet planted, mouth empty, shocked practically senseless until Clay picked Hannah up and carried her to the bed.
A fierce anger began to burn inside her.
At that moment, she could easily understand why the Captian would fight so hard to keep Newt, and her, from being hurt.
Not even really thinking about what she was doing or going to do, she walked out to the barn and pulled her gunbelt and pistol out of her saddle bags.
Settling the belt low on her hips, she strode back in the house.
She stopped just inside the bedroom door, pulled the gun and took aim.
"Well, now, ain't this convient. Guess Newt turned up dead at just the right time for you to, ah.. help out, Mr. Mosby."
Clay and Hannah both stared at her.
"Sam, it's not what you think," Hannah sputtered.
"I sure hope not, because I think you were fixing to commit adultery with this fine, upstanding, or should I say, down-laying, pillar of your community. In Newt's bed, none the less. And if you want to know what else I think, I think this isn't the first time."
Clay started towards her. "Now, you wait just a damn minute!"
She cocked the pistol.
"I wouldn't do that, Mr. Mosby. I have killed men before, and I would kill again, if given a good reason. Like threatening me, touching me, or sleeping with my best friend's wife."
She pointed the gun down at Hannah. "Or being his low-life, cheating, scum of a wife."
"But," Hannah said, futilely. "This isn't what you think."
"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't. I don't know. I just might be wrong. But I do know this. If you hurt MY Newt, I'll kill you."
Easing the hammer back down on her gun, she walked out of the room. She put on her jacket and hat, then went out and saddled her horse. Taking one last look at Newt's ranch, at Newt's dream, she headed back to Curtis Wells.
"She's crazy," Clay said, watching her go. "She's absolutely insane."
"No, she's not," Hannah replied. "She's just in love."
"With who?" Clay scoffed. "Smith and Wesson?"
"Newt."