The Diary of Jerrod Bently by J.W. Osborn (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

grateful when we stopped again. I heard a rider coming hard behind me and turned in my saddle to see Doc’s black approaching at top speed. What was he doing out here? I’d thought he’d decided to stay on working for Hinkley. He pulled his black to a skidding halt next to me, the dust cloud so thick I could hardly see him. “Howdy, Bently,” he said as he pulled his horse up next to mine and loosened his reins, then reached into his pocket for a fresh cigar. “Got a light?”
I reached into my jacket pocket for my match case and handed it to him. “I thought you were staying in Grants Creek, Doc.”, I said as I watched him light he cigar and draw in the smoke. “Changed my mind, “ he said as he let out a puff. “I heard a few things about Hinkley and his dealings that I did not like so I sort of “gave my notice”. Say, have you seen Sam Dodge around?”
“At breakfast,” I answered “I haven’t seen him since.”
Doc looked at Mud and then at me. “You’re coming along, Bently,” he said, that cock eyed grin of his on his face. “You don’t look as green as you did when I saw you last.”
I wanted to spit some insult back at the man, but then I realized that may be he had complimented me. “ ”Thanks,” I said. “We’ve been out here for a week and I am still alive.”
“You know what they say, Bently,” Doc replied “Every day above ground is a good one.” At that he rode off to look for Sam. I figured he would be signing up for work. I had no idea that he had come to protect her from danger I had not been made privy too yet. Now knowing Sam as I did, and still not knowing she was really a girl, I had seen a person who could well take care of herself in just about any kind of situation. I’d have to say also that I had learned a lot from Sam since we started working together. I really liked and respected her, or should I say him. No one knew the truth about Sam, and no one suspected that she was not just “one of the boys” at all, but a very determined young woman out to prove a point and prove it she would.
Scrub Pot seemed pleased to see Doc. It was obvious that they knew each other and had for some time. I saw Doc riding along beside the chuck wagon talking to Scrub Pot. I hoped that would put the old man into better humor. The herd moved on in the heat and the dust as we put even more distance between us and Grants Creek. The Indians were there, but usually out of sight. I know I heard that woman talking. At least they weren’t hostile , like the ones I read about in my dime novels. It was such a slow pace today that I thought I would pull my latest one out of my pocket and read the next chapter as Mud walked along. He seemed content and happy to not be pushed so I loosened my reins, like I had seen Doc do and commenced reading. In a while, I became lost in the story, following the characters as it played out. It was a good one too! This J.W. Titus was one fine story teller and each one of his books were better than the last. Then suddenly, I was jolted out of the adventure when I heard Doc hollering my name. He rode up to me, a rifle in a scabbard on his saddle. “We’re going hunting,” he said.
“Hunting?” I replied a little worried. I had never shot a gun in my life, let alone hunted game. “You ever have deer meat?”, Doc asked.
“No”, I answered as I slipped my book back into my pocket. “But I did like that chicken stew Scrub Pot made the other night and that was really good.” Doc burst out laughing and continued to hee haw like a mule until tears were rolling down his face and his horse looked at him as thought he’d lost his mind.
“What is so funny?”, I asked.
“That wasn’t chicken as you know it, Bently,” he said “That was “prairie chicken.”
“So?” I inquired “It was chicken, better than my Ma could make it.”
Doc wiped his streaming eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. “It was rattle snake,” he said.
I glared at him. “People don’t eat rattle snakes,” I stated.
“They do out here,” Doc replied “and the meat tastes just like chicken!”
For a moment I thought I might be sick, but it passed.
“What’s wrong, Bently,” he said “You look a little green.”
“All right, Doc,” I said “The joke is on me and I have to say that it was good. At least now I know what to expect from Scrub Pot.”
He shifted his reins “Come on Bently, “ he said “The scout told me he saw deer up ahead. We will shoot one and then you won’t have to worry about rattle snake for a while.” He was still laughing when he trotted off ahead of me. I did catch up to Doc and we spent a few hours looking around for tracks and signs that deer was close by. We saw a few, but he said they were too scrawny for eating, so we figured we’d give it up for the day. I returned to the herd and Doc went the opposite way saying he was going to take a look around. Later I saw the rabbits being cleaned near the chuck wagon and figured he’s shot them. I was relieved to know that it would be rabbit instead of rattle snake for dinner that night.

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Meanwhile, back in Grants Creek, Roger Hinkley sat across the table from a big man who was wearing muddy boots and cloths covered with trail dirt. They sat in a dark corner of the saloon. Hinkley was not acceptable by the standards of the good people of Grant’s Creek, so whenever he needed help with one of his shady deals, he usually imported a character of low repute to do his dirty work for him. “How much are you willing to pay me for disposing of your “problem,” the man asked as he savored the taste of the whiskey they were drinking. . Hinkley looked back at his some what disheveled drinking companion. This man was a dangerous character, and he knew dealing with him would cost plenty. But he had heard a rumor about silver on his property after he had taken half the payment for The Flying S from Sam Dodge. Now his need for the rest of Sam’s money was not so pressing if there was silver to be had. He had gambled her money away and could not refund it anyhow. The best thing to do was to “dispose” of her as soon as possible and that miserable old Indian who protected her too. Then, he would keep the ranch, the sliver and if anybody was going to get hanged for murder, it would be Ned Travis.. Not him. Now it would seem that there were two brothers by the name of Travis here. They were twins who looked exactly alike. Nathan Travis, a Texas Ranger who was looking for a very dangerous outlaw who would somewhere along the dusty trail to the Oklahoma Territory, turn out to be his long lost twin brother, Ned. Ned was nothing like his brother at all, he had been born bad and stayed that way.

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Rumors of a lost treasure somewhere on the Flying S Ranch were spreading like wild fire and Roger Hinkley had had to run people off his property for the past three days. Where had the rumors started? But Hinkley believed it and that the treasure was on HIS property, and he would find it and to hell with Sam Dodge and that old Indian.
The lantern light flickered as the coal oil was getting lower and lower. “Come on Hinkley. We have been out digging half the night and there is nothing here,” the hired man complained.
“It has got to be here,” Hinkley stated “I heard about it over at Bear Claw. Those Indians know something about a lost treasure buried somewhere along side of a rock shaped like a buffalo. “ The man threw down his shovel. “This ain’t no buffalo,”, he snapped “You dig. I quit!”
“You are done when I say you are done,” Hinkley growled as he drew his gun. “Now dig.. I want that silver. It’s mine and I intend to have it all. “
”Did you forget about the Indian girl and her grandfather,” the man with the shovel taunted, “She paid you half your price. I’d say when she gets back here, that silver, if it exists at all is hers.”
“I am not worried about that girl or the old man,” Hinkley hissed “I sent Travis after them.”
“Ned Travis?”, the man questioned, his eye brow cocked in an expression that said he knew something Roger Hinkly didn’t.
“Yes,” Hinkley replied proudly “He is a hired gun.”
“Yeah,” the man laughed “And an idiot to boot!” Hinkley’s eyes narrowed “What are you talking about,” he inquired suspiciously. “Travis is going to take care of Sam Dodge and the old man.”
“More likely they will get him before he gets the first shot off,” the hired man stated with sneer in his voice. Mr. Hinkley, you’ve been took.. You just ain’t heard about it yet.”
“I rather doubt that,” Hinkley replied “I paid him half