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

from his remarks I did find his advice about the post office interesting. Could she have written to me? I said a little prayer as I walked down the street toward the general store.

Abilene Kansas, was a cow town. Everywhere I looked there was a saloon, accommodations for drovers, Gambling houses and brightly dressed women, their faces painted, strolling along the boardwalks. Even a green horn would have been able to figure out what they were all about. I’d seen women like them before in the more seedy areas of New York City. My Ma told me they were wicked and I was to stay away from them. Other herds had come in around the same time we did and there were drunken cowboys all over the streets. More than enough to take up with those soiled doves. They surely didn’t need me.
The rail road ran right through the middle of the town, and ended at the cattle pens. It was a thriving and very large place. “You there, cowboy!”, a female voice called out. I paused and looked up at a balcony above one of the saloons. There was a painted lady, smiling down at me. “Looking for some company?”, she cooed.
“No thanks,” I replied and started to walk away.
That was when I saw Scrub Pot, wading through the mud in the street toward me. He did not have that sour look on his face like he usually had as he walked up to me.
“Where are you headed?”, he asked.
“I was looking for the post office,” I replied “Just thought I’d check there and see if maybe Sam had written us.”
“It’s inside the general store,” Scrub Pot replied “Of course they were not real happy to see an Indian walk in, but once I talked to them, they understood why I had come.”
“You’ve already been there?”, I asked , a little disappointed.
He grinned as he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a thick brown paper envelope and handed it to me.
“I know my Granddaughter,” he said as he walked away. “We leave bright and early in the morning, so be ready.” he added..
Stunned I looked down at the handwriting on the envelope I was holding in my hand. “How does he do that?, ” I asked to myself. The sound of an out of tune piano playing “Darlin’ Clementine”drifted from the open door of one of the saloons, as I walked by. I was going back to “The Drover House”, where we were staying to read this answer to my prayer. I had missed Sam, and been worried about her for too long. The last time I had seen her, she was lying in the back of her uncle’s wagon, drugged against the pain of her injuries and that was my last memory of her. Until Scrub Pot had handed me that letter, I had no way of knowing if Doc had even made it back to Portersville. But knowing the man as I did, I had consoled myself with the idea that he had. I turned and walked back down the street toward the hotel. I walked in the door, still staring at the envelope in my hand and nearly collided with Floyd Jax.
“Hey Jerrod,” he said “Where you been? Want to go play a hand of poker with me and Ely?”
“Maybe later,” I replied as I walked passed him. That was when he saw the envelope in my hand. “You got a letter?”, he asked excitedly “It is from Miss Sam?”
“Yes,” I replied as I tried to head for my room down the hall.
“You got to tell me if she is all right,” Floyd insisted “You know that I went all the way to Portersville for help when she got hurt.. Come on Jerrod... Tell me what she said.”
“All right, Floyd,” I said, giving in “Go find your brother and start a game. I’ll find you after I read this and then I will tell you all what Sam had to say.”
“I’d be thankful to hear any news ‘bout Sam or Doc.” he said.
I unlocked the door of my hotel room and walked in as Floyd headed off to the nearest saloon. I could hardly wait to sit down and open up that envelope, but my hands were shaking. What if she had taken up with some other fellow and she was writing to tell me she didn’t want to see me? Then I remembered what Scrub Pot told me about how the devil loves to make trouble just when things are going right. So I whispered a little prayer before I tore the envelope open and sat down on the bed. There were three letters inside. One from Sam, one from Doc’s wife and a short scribbled message from Doc. I took up the first page, which was from Sam and began to read.

Dear Jerrod:

I don’t know if this letter will find you or not. But sending it to the post office in Abilene was my only choice. I received all your letters last month and have read every one over and over. I was pleased to know you were all right and the herd was moving on. I am healing very well, but the doctor says I have to keep my arm in the sling for a while longer. My new aunt is wonderful. She is teaching me how to cook and a few other things as well. She and I are keeping a secret too and I can not even tell you what it is. I miss you very much and hope you are well. I intend to hold you to your promise to ride back to Texas with me. Trouble is fine and so is Desert Rose. They seem happy to be together here. Please come back to me safe and give my love to my Grandfather and the boys.

Love,
Samantha Ann

Well, Sam didn’t write a whole lot, but what she has said, was just what I needed to hear. She’d told me that she missed me, to come back safe and signed her letter with the word “love” and that made me happy. I was in love with this girl, and I was going to marry her, no matter what I had to do, and if Ely wanted her, then he was in for the fight of his life, and I was just the man to give it to him. Victoria Stevens has written a pleasant letter, telling me that I was welcome at their home and that Sam was getting better every day. Doc had written also, telling me to keep my head on straight. He had not had any contact from Vickers or heard anything about him since he took Sam back to Portersville. That should have been comforting, but it made me nervous when I thought about it. I had my troubles to deal with, but aside from it all, I had something wonderful to look forward too. Seeing Sam again and being with her. The idea of it made everything feel like it had all been worthwhile and I wished that Mud would grow wings and we could fly back to Portersville.
By the end of the week, everything was settled and the supply wagon packed with the provisions we needed. So we left Abilene, The Jax brothers, me, Scrub Pot , his dog, his wagon and his mules, Wakeeze and John Prince all of us bound Texas. Everyone had a home to go back to. I’d decided that I was going to stay in Texas, no matter what the future held. But at the moment, my thoughts were on getting to back to Portersville and. Sam.


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It was a long ride back from Kansas, but with every mile that fell behind us, we drew closer to Portersville and the border between Texas and the Oklahoma Territory. My mind was made up, I was going to marry Sam and I would not take no for an answer. I hoped Scrub Pot was right when he talked about God bringing people together. He told me that he’d learned that early on when he married Alice Marley, many years before. “My chief sent me to o kill her and her family, to burn her father’s cabins and take his horses. But when I saw her, I knew with every fiber of my being that she was the one woman intended for me to be with. I stopped my braves from attacking and sent them away. I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her and was grateful for all the years we had before she died. I know that Heaven is our final destination, and that when I get there, she will be waiting for me, our son at her side.” He always was sad when he talked about his wife. I wondered what had happened to her and their son, as he never said.
I thought of how quiet and peaceful it was to ride along side Scrub Pot’s wagon and just enjoy the peace that came with the open range in front of us. It seemed odd at first to not be eating dust and pushing cattle, and I got used to it quickly. We passed a few folks heading for California with their Conestoga wagons drawn by teams of mules or oxen. We even spent a night in one of the wagon camps and heard the latest news and warnings about hostile Indians that were roaming the Oklahoma Territory to the South. Scrub Pot grunted and settled back by the fire and just listened to all the chatter going on around him. I had gotten to know him quite well over the time we’d spent on the trail. When I would think I had him all figured him out, he would take a turn, smile and lose me again or leave me in awe over