Chapter Eleven

60 Miles outside of Modesto
1866

Heath had decided to make camp. He knew to be cautious of other travelers. It wasn't beyond a man to kill you for your horse or something as little as a can of beans. Therefore, he made camp where he could hear if anyone entered unannounced. It was known to all in the west to announce coming into a man's camp or expect to be killed.

As Heath knew he would, Cotton was taking excellent care of the Modoc mare. He had even named it Gal. Heath chuckled as Gal slowly was becoming Cotton's best friend. Heath wondered if he could be that easily replaced with humans as he was with the horse.

Scratching Charger behind the ear, Heath thought Charger would be a tougher one to take loyalty from himself. Heath had already figured out this horse was extremely loyal to him and him alone. He had nipped at Cotton when the boy got too near. He threw off any other cowboy, who tried to ride him. Charger was his and Heath liked it that way. He needed something that was his alone. It made him feel a little more important than he realized he was.

"Eat this, Cotton." Heath handed the boy a chunk of fried up squirrel with a side of beans. "Best eat up what you can and get some rest tonight. I plan on heading all the way in tomorrow early."

"Alright." Cotton took the tin plate offered him as he settled against an old tree stump. "It smells good."

"You'd eat anything, Cotton." Heath chuckled knowing the boy was the thinnest person he knew for someone that tucked away the food like Cotton did.

Cotton grinned before stuffing his mouth. He moaned out his appreciation of the fried meat causing Heath to chuckle more. They ate in relative silence. Heath wasn't much of a talker and had never been. Cotton knew this so he kept quiet most of the time when with Heath. After eating, Cotton made himself busy playing with some sticks on the ground as Heath cleaned the dishes.

Heath made Cotton help him set up the bed rolls as well as showed him how to keep the fire going longer. He knew Cotton needed to learn a few things about surviving. Rachel had coddled the boy. Heath understood her doing so. Hannah and his own mama had spoiled Cotton as well. Heath knew the boy needed to help out in the smaller things if he were going to survive out in the wild.

After laying down to sleep, Heath heard a branch crack. He listened longer to make sure it wasn't a wild animal. Again, another twig snapped. It was something large or someone. Heath quietly woke up Cotton. The boy always fell asleep quickly and soundly. Cotton also woke up as easily as he fell asleep.

Heath placed his finger to his lip to alert Cotton to be quiet. He pulled the boy over to a larger rock, which would hide him from any intruder. He handed Cotton the rifle.

"Stay here. Don't make a sound." Heath whispered as he turned to leave.

Heath stood behind a larger tree as he awaited for the camp intruder. Immediately, when a large man stepped from the wooded area, Heath was on him with his knife held to the man's throat.

"State your business." Heath's voice was low and menacing.

"It's me, Hank." The larger boy held up his hands.

"Dang it, Hank." Heath would have cursed but tried not to do so in front of Cotton. "You about got yourself killed. Don't you know you're supposed to announce yourself before entering a man's camp?"

Heath returned his knife to his hidden pocket in his boot. "You can come out, Cotton."

"Sorry, Heath. I'm a miner. Never had to leave Strawberry before." Hank rubbed his neck where the cold metal of Heath's knife once lay.

Heath motioned for Cotton to return to his bed roll as he and Hank settled around the fire. "What are you doing here, Hank?"

"My Ma said I should help you out with finding those men. She said it wasn't right accepting charity without finding a way to pay back." Hank stated as he accepted the cup of coffee Heath offered him.

"Ain't she mad at your pa being killed?" Heath glanced up from his own cup of coffee.

"Naw. Pa rarely came back to the old shack he kept her and my sister in. When he did, it was more misery than when he was gone. She knew he stayed around the saloon when not down in the mines. If it weren't for my bringing them food from my pay, they'd starved. Pa took a lot of my money too. She said she reckoned he deserved what he had coming to him. After she saw the bruising on Johnna, she was sure of it." Hank took a sip of his coffee. "This coffee could peel the skin off a lizard."

"I never was the best coffee maker." Heath agreed. "You don't owe me for the house, Hank. It was going to rot down if no one took it. Besides, it ain't much."

"It is a lot to my mama. The shack she was in was falling down around her. Pa never took care of it and I wasn't very handy with a hammer and nail. I tried but sometimes I made things worse. I want out of that dying place anyhow, Heath." Hank touched his waist, where his dad's gun belt and pistol hung. "I got my own gun and horse. Mr. Barker gave me his horse for Pa's mule. Said it was a good trade as he needed to pack things more than he needed a horse. He ain't as good as yours or Cotton's. But I think he'll do."

Heath nodded towards a sleeping Cotton.. "You have to do as I say, Hank. I ain't much for company but there may be times I need some things taken care of. You're lucky you got a good trade considering your horse is a she not a he."

Hank understood Heath's message. Cotton may need him if Heath were unable to help him. He also got a kick out of Heath's stating the horse was a mare. Indeed, it was.

"Fair enough." Hank breathed out in relief. "Ma and your Aunt Rachel packed more stuff in my saddle bags. Johnna sent you some of her cake. She's a mighty fine cook."

"That she is." Heath agreed as he dumped out his coffee. "I'm heading to bed. I suggest you do as well if you plan on keeping up with me on that old nag of yours."

Soon the three boys were sleeping. Heath had to get used to the muffled sounds of Hank's loud snores. He was sure the man's snoring would drown out the sound of an approaching train. Due to that fact, Heath tried to stay alert in case anyone else, who wasn't so friendly, tried to intrude on camp. The problem was that the fifteen year old was still only a boy, who had not had any sleep with all the events the past days. Heath fell into a fitful sleep.

Unfortunately, Heath woke to hearing a curse coming from Hank rather than a snoring sound. Heath's eyes adjusted to the dark. He lay very still trying to observe the situation. A man towered over Hank with a gun pressed against Hank's temple. Another man was standing holding a rifle on a frightened Cotton.

Heath assumed the men thought taking out the bigger of the two as the threat. They figured Heath was a boy following along with his friends or family. They messed up on that assumption.

"This one here ain't quite right in the head, Manny. His cart is short a few apples." The one holding the rifle on Cotton stated. "He's crying like a baby."

"Don't matter no how. You said we planned to kill 'em and that runt sleeping over there. They got a couple of good horses we could sell." Manny answered as he spit tobacco juice near the fire.

At that Cotton began to sob harder as he rocked his body back and forth. He began to sing the hymn his mother sung when she wanted to escape reality.

"Kill that one off now, Manny. Don't want to hear this one's wailin'. So I'll take care of him." Henry ordered as he cocked his own gun.

At those words, Heath reacted. He knew he wasn't quick with a gun like he needed to be. He'd have to use his knife. He hoped that would get the attention of Henry long enough for Cotton to escape.

Heath's knife sailed through the air in a silent attack. Before Manny could pull the trigger, his hand was grasping the hilt of the knife, which was embedded deep within his chest. Heath had rolled to get up to his knees. He then pulled the pistol from under his bedroll and fired at the unsuspecting Henry. It was obvious Henry hadn't yet registered what was happening. The man hadn't even placed his finger on the trigger to kill Cotton quiet yet. Heath didn't want to chance it so he shot the man.

Cotton had scurried back away from the dead body of Henry. The bullet was placed in the man's upper forehead. The bullet had practically tore off the top of Henry's head at the close proximity of Heath.

Manny was gasping trying to pull the knife from his chest. His eyes were wide with fright as he looked death in the face. Hank was shoved the man over as he got up from his lying position.

"Ya saved me, Heath." Hank said as he watched Manny struggle to breath. "I think this one ain't gonna make it either."

Hank knew the other one had no chance as he saw the shot tear off the upper part of Henry's
head. He glanced back at Manny, who was facing his own death slowly.

"Didn't reckon on the boy being the threat." Manny whispered. "Pa told me that someday hanging with Henry would get me killed. Reckon it did."

At those words, Manny closed his eyes as he accepted his fate. Heath pulled his knife from the dead man's chest. Heath didn't bother looking over the two men he had just killed. He was busy cursing himself for being less alert and for not being fast with a pistol. Would have saved the man from suffering if he had used a pistol.

"Cotton, quit your crying." Heath ordered in a monotone voice. It wasn't laced with anger or pity. Instead the words were stated matter of fact. "If you're going to be riding with me as my squire, you got to be used to slaying dragons that try to get in our lair."

"Yes, sir, Heath." Cotton wiped his snotty nose and wet cheeks on the back of his sleeve. "I'll go check on our horses."

"You do that after you change. Don't want to spook them by the smell of the man's blood on you." Heath poured himself a cup of strong coffee from the pot that sat near the fire. "Reckon we will head towards Modesto a little earlier than thought."

Hank had never seen a man killed that close to him before. He had seen Martha and Matt die but this was different. This man was killed because he was going to kill him. This man was killed by Heath to protect him. Hank couldn't understand why Heath would care. He'd treated the boy badly for as long as he remembered yet Heath had saved him first. Hank knew that Heath could've killed Henry first then killed Manny. Sure, Hank would be dead but the outcome of it would've been the same with the two thieves. Hank knew that his snoring had kept Heath from hearing the approach. Therefore, Hank surmised his death wouldn't have been a huge deal to Heath. Yet, he saved him.

"Is there anything I can do, Boss?" Hank walked over to stand by Heath near the fire.

"Get on a clean shirt. That blood will get us looked at suspiciously in Modesto. Reckon the one called Henry is about your size. He may be a slight bigger. See if he has a change of clothes in his saddle bag. Then pick the best of their two horses. Leave your nag behind. Need a faster horse than what you traded for." Heath sipped at his warm coffee.

"Boss, I reckon she was better than an old mule though." Hank grinned baring his rotted teeth.

"I reckon she was. You just keep trading up, Hank." Heath added as he stood.

"Should we bury them?" Hank raked his boot against the dry dirt.

"No. Let the dead bury the dead." Heath stated as he leaned over the one called Manny. "This is a good gun belt. Don't figure Manny will be needing it. I got to get better with a gun. Can't do that without a gun belt. As Mama always says, God does provide."

Cotton and Hank glanced at each other at Heath's though Cotton was slightly slow in the mind, Hank and he had the same thought. Didn't make sense to them how the boy could think God had anything to do with this.