Chapter Ten

Strawberry, California

1866

Before the sun had risen in the Eastern sky, Heath had made his way to the small graves beside of the place he once called home. In two days, the place would be a home to Hank's sister and mother. Heath had no problem letting them live there as long as the graves were left in peace.

Hank had met Heath the night before in the hotel lobby to ask the favor of him. Heath left Johnna briefly to see what Hank wanted. It was a simple request followed up by a simple answer of yes. After all, Heath had killed the father/husband of the family. At least that is what most thought even if it were not the truth.

Rachel had taken that opportunity to treat Heath's head wound. He needed only three stitches as the gash was small but deeper than Heath realized. Never having the money for a doctor, Hannah had always been their healer. She had vast knowledge of herbs and plants to help in medicinal purposes. Hannah was the daughter of a slave woman who took care of wounds of other slaves. Her mother had taught her at an early age about treating sickness from lashes on the back to running a fever. In turn, Hannah had taught Leah, Rachel, and Heath about her knowledge. Therefore, Rachel knew how to stitch Heath up and add some paste to keep down infection. She had mixed him up some of the paste for him to take with him as well as clean bandages.

Knowing he'd need a fast horse, Heath decided to take Charger and leave his little Modoc mare behind. He had asked Cotton to take care of her for him. Heath knew the boy would do his best with the horse. She'd be one spoiled horse by the time Cotton had her a week's time. Heath smiled at that thought. The horse had been loyal to him. Now she'd make a good horse for the boy. Heath acknowledged that Cotton was three years older than he was. Having the mental capacity of a six year old caused Heath to always think as Cotton as a younger sibling.

Heath knew he was leaving Strawberry at first light to head towards Modesto. He hoped he'd find answers to where the men went from that town. He hoped even more that they were in Modesto. It would make his days a lot easier if they were.

Heath never cried as he plucked the graves of the small weeds that grew on them. Rachel kept the graves very well kept. He figured she would continue to do so. The boy never spoke to either packed mounds of dirt. Heath believed in his mama's teachings. Therefore, he knew in his heart his mama wasn't there and neither was Hannah. It felt good to be there in silence despite the fact he felt both were in heaven. Heath longed to hold his mama again. He wished he'd never left for that war as a boy. There was no changing that. Besides, according to Rachel, his army pay did get them through some rough times.

A slight breeze kissed Heath's face. Heath smiled lightly when he smelled the scent of honeysuckle. He knew it wasn't the honeysuckle vines on the cabin. He knew it was Johnna checking on him. Her skin still lingered with the scent from Rachel's adding the soap to Johnna's bath. Heath glanced over his shoulder at the girl.

Silently, she walked up to him. She offered her hand to him. Taking her hand, Heath knew that words weren't going to be spoken between them. Johnna led him to the old wooden swing on the back porch. There, the two teens said goodbye with actions of unbridled passion.

When day broke, Heath had taken a small amount of money from the hotel safe. He left most of the money for Rachel and Johnna to get some new items for the hotel as well as keep them for a while. Rachel helped pack him some dry tack, biscuits, and a jar of blackberry jam. He had purchased bullets for both his pistol and his rifle. However, he didn't want to splurge on a new holster at Barker's General Store. He'd have to try and get one later.

He wasn't that fast with a gun anyway. He'd have to practice to get better. He had heard from a few local miners that Roy Hutchins and a few of the other men had goofed off with their guns with target practice and so on. According to a those miners, Roy Hutchins was a very quick draw and shot straight. Some of the others were good as well but not so much as the leader was.

Heath's provisions would last a good week in an emergency. He could hunt with his rifle and the gun would be used for killing the men in his wake of wrath. Heath had been taught to play poker by one of the prisoners in Carterson. The older man had hidden his cards well so he got to keep them. Heath wasn't as good as the old timer but he was rather good with the cards. He figured he was good enough to win some earnings to help him on his way towards vengeance.

Heath started to mount Charger but halted when he spotted Cotton riding up on Heath's Modoc mare. He glanced confused at Rachel.

"Aunt Rachel, he can't go with me." Heath could see the look on Rachel's face. That was exactly what she was planning.

"Listen to me, Heath. Cotton is as honest as they come. When the sheriff comes to town and starts questioning him, he will tell who shot who. My boy will hang." Rachel felt tears brimming her eyes. "I know my mind drifts now, Heath. Sometimes I feel like I'm wading in a pool of mud that will pull me down to never get back up again. I don't know if I can keep from drowning in it. If my boy hangs, I'll have no reason to want to come back. He's my world, Heath. Just like you were your mama's. I'm askin' you to look after him where I can't."

"Aunt Rachel, I'm hunting down men. It ain't going to be a pretty life I'm heading toward." Heath watched as Cotton fidgeted in his saddle.

"I know. I know." Rachel breathed out slowly. "Cotton will have a life though. If he gets killed out there, it is better than hanging here. Besides, he knows what they look like. He can help you."

"Are you going to do everything I tell you, Cotton?" Heath couldn't believe he was even thinking about taking the boy along.

"I sure will, Heath." Cotton's mouth broke out into a large grin. "You're my best friend. We're going on an adventure like in the story books ma reads me. She done tole me."

Heath closed his eyes to keep from causing the boy to think otherwise. Adventure was a nice way of putting it. "That's right, Cotton. We're going to slay some evil dragons."

"Thank you, Heath." Rachel embraced Heath before dashing away into the hotel. She had already hugged and kissed her son more times than able to count.

Heath swung up on Charger. He knew that Johnna was inside the hotel peering out. He wouldn't say goodbye to her. They had already said their goodbyes earlier.

As the blonde cowboy and white haired boy rode out of Strawberry, some town people were staring out at them. Whispers and murmurs could be heard of the bastard and the half wit leaving town.

Cotton leaned over to whisper to Heath. "Heath, am I a bastard?"

"No." Heath arched his eyebrow as he stared at the white haired boy.

"I must be the half wit." Cotton smiled widely.

Heath chuckled lightly as he kicked Charger into a quicker gallop.

"Heath?" The boy kept up a steady pace with Heath's horse on his own mount.

"Yeah, Cotton." Heath couldn't help but be happy the boy was with him. It would lighten the load of the journey ahead. Or add to it.

"You're the bastard. What's a bastard?" Cotton asked curiously as the town of Strawberry loomed in the background.

"A mighty knight." Heath winked as he looked at Cotton for a reaction.

"What's a half wit?" Cotton shook his head in agreement to what a bastard was. Heath was like a mighty knight to him.

"The knight's squire." Heath bit his lip to keep from chuckling.

Cotton's eyes lit up with glee. He sighed out happily as he kept his mare going at an equal pace to Charger. "I'll be the best squire ever! Do you think I'll be a knight someday?"

Heath glanced at the boy. He was glad Cotton had no clue of the reality in the situation. He'd hate the boy to be afraid of going along. But Rachel was right. Coton was as honest as they came. He'd end up telling he killed Fred Garland and Johnna killed Ma Red. Both Cotton and Johnna would hang or be put in prison. Johnna may could survive prison but it would be a death sentence for the innocent Cotton.

Cotton loved the stories of kingdoms and knights slaying dragons. Heath remembered his Aunt Rachel reading the books to both of them at bedtime when they were small boys. Therefore, Heath had used that to keep Cotton from hurting at the scornful words. The boy didn't deserve to be treated badly. He was the sweetest person, besides his own Mama, who Heath had ever known.

"Boy howdy, Heath. This is some adventure."

"It sure is, Cotton. It sure is."