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

“Good night, Jerrod,” she replied “I forgot to tell you, that there is a friend who stays in the barn sometimes.”
“A friend?”, I asked “You mean Trouble, don’t you.”
“No,” she said “it’s a dog. I have been feeding him out there. Doc and Victoria don’t know about him yet, so don’t tell.”
“Sam,” I said, “This dog isn’t going to bite me is it.”
“No silly,” she replied “He’s very friendly. I named him Goldy.”
I pulled her into my arms and just held her. She was such a blessing and seemed almost child like in some ways. “All right. I’ll make friends with your Goldy dog,” I promised. She kissed me gently on the cheek and then slipped into her room and closed the door. Doc met me half way to the back door a coal oil lantern glowing in his hand. “She’s tired and will sleep well tonight ,” he said quietly “But she’ll be up at the crack of dawn and looking for you.”
Doc showed me to the barn. He’d made a sort of a day room out of one of the empty box stalls , there was a bunk on the wall, an a small table with a lamp on it next to it. As weary as I was, it looked like the best suite in the most exclusive hotel in New York to me. The bed was even made up with crisp looking white sheets and a quilt. Doc lit the lamp. “You can put you saddle on that stand over there, and don’t worry about the critters, they are all bedded down for the night. I could hear the sound of three contented horses eating hay in the stalls beyond.
“Thanks, Doc,” I said with a yawn. He grinned at me. “Glad you made it back alive, Bently,” he said “Victoria will be expecting you for breakfast and she is always up and cooking by six.”
“I wouldn’t want to miss that, “ I replied “Your wife is a good cook.”
“Even I would seem to be a good cook after all these months of eating Scrub Pot’s cooking,” he said. “Good night, Jerrod. “
”I thanked him for his hospitality , then went out to the paddock to get my saddle. I had left it perched on the top rail of the fence. When I returned, anticipating a comfortable night in that bunk, I found a big gold and white collie curled up in the middle of it. He looked up at me, daring me to tell him to get down. So this was Goldy.
I stood there waiting for the big dog to make a move, but he didn’t he just lay there, curled up in the middle of the bed, looking up at me with those soft brown eyes. Then I remembered, in my saddle bag, there was a stick of jerky. Yes, that would persuade the dog that I was a friend and he should get off the bunk and lay down in the straw on the floor if he was going to stay.
“Now you be a good dog,” I said cautiously as I set my saddle down and rummaged through the saddle bag for the jerky. There it was, and the dog seemed to know it too. His ears perked up and he began to sniff. Oh, this would be easy. I handed him the first piece and he took it gently from my hand. I had expected to get snapped, but was pleasantly surprised. Obviously, Sam had been working with this stray and he looked pretty good, like he’d been brushed often. He sniffed my fingers for more, and then I knew I had him. I offered the next taste and he hopped down onto the floor. I was too tired to argue with anyone over a bed, even Sam’s dog. I sat down, pulled off my boots and lay down. I looked over at the collie and saw that he’d made himself a bed in the straw and was already closing his eyes. “Goldy.” I said to myself “Guess you will be going back to Texas with us too.”
I closed my eyes, whispered a prayer of thanks and fell asleep. It seemed like it was only for a few minutes , when the sound of the barn door creaking open caused me to awaken with a start and reach for my gun. “Jerrod?” It was Sam. “Are you up?”
I holstered my gun and rubbed my eyes. “Yes,” I answered. Was that bacon I was smelling?” “You will have to open the door,” she said “I have brought breakfast for us.” Goldy was up and at the stall door, his tail wagging. Realizing I ‘d slept in my dungarees, I got up, dusted off and slid the door open. There she was, my Sam. Her long dark hair free and falling down her shoulders, and her brown eyes sparkling as she smiled up at me. “I cooked it myself,” she said proudly. That worried me a little, considering she was Scrub Pot’s granddaughter, but I smiled back at her as she walked in and set the tray down. I was soon very pleased to discover that her cooking was pretty darn good. Not like Victoria’s the night before, but this breakfast of coffee, biscuits, bacon and eggs was delicious. I forgot all about her grandfather’s cooking as soon as I took my first bite.
I noticed as she held her coffee cup in her hands that she was no longer wearing the sling. She was also wearing the same dungarees and linen shirt she’d worn on the trail. “You going to ride today?”, I asked worriedly.
“Yes,” she said “And you are too.”
“Mud is plumb wore out Sam,” I said “I think we should wait a day or two.”
She looked back at me and shook her head. “Mud can rest,” she replied. “You can ride Rose.”
“Sam, are you sure you are ready to do this?” I asked , hoping to get her to change her mind.
“Every day I come out here and I watch Trouble pace in his paddock and he calls out to me because he wants to go home and so do I. “ she said . I slid my arm around her as she sat next to me on the edge of the bunk. “All right Sam,” I said. “Let’s go get him.” She looked up at me. “He doesn’t worry you anymore, Jerrod?”
“No,” I answered “He and I had a good talk before he left with you and Doc.” She giggled and rose to her feet. “Well, no time like the present,” she said.
Trouble nickered at me from his stall as I slid the door open. He sniffed my hand and nosed at it. Sam smiled as she watched from the other side of the stall door. “He likes you,’ she said.
“I was hoping he might,” I replied as I reached for his bridle. The big stud stood still, then lowered his head. I slid the bit into his mouth. Sam never heard my sigh of relief. She just watched as I fastened the bridle straps and put the reins over Trouble’s big head. I put the saddle blanket on his broad back and he stood like a stone and received the weight of Sam’s saddle. That was when she stopped me. “I’ll cinch him up,”she said “Trouble can be mighty touchy about that sometimes.” A horse as big and powerful as he was, “touchy” could get a man killed . She cinched that saddle on just as I had seen her to a thousand times. Trouble grunted then lifted his tail. If a horse could smile, I know he would have as Sam and I left the stall to let the foul air clear out. She was laughing. “No gas colic,” she said.
“Or showing his contempt,” I replied in disgust.
We led Trouble out to the paddock. I said a silent prayer as watched her grab that saddle horn and put her foot in the stirrup . Sam stood there for a moment, not moving as I watched the stud turn his head to look at her. She said something to him in her native language and slowly he lowered himself down onto his front knees. Sam climbed into the saddle, touched him on the shoulder and he rose up. I was amazed as I stood at the fence watching her. She was where she belonged now, and Trouble seemed to know it too. He started to paw at the ground, telling her he wanted to go somewhere. A shrill and loud whinny came from the other paddock. “Go get her, Jerrod,” Sam said as she walked the stud around in a circle. He wants her with him. Now to say I wasn’t a little nervous about riding Desert Rose for the first time would be a lie, because I was. She was an Indian pony and I had no idea what she would do when I saddled her. She hollered and carried on the whole time I was brushing her and getting her saddled. Trouble kept answering her too and I heard Sam laughing out there while she rode him around and around in the paddock. “Goldy!!” I heard her call and suddenly the big collie shot passed me and rushed to meet Sam. Guess he was going along for the ride too. Rose stood still for me, but fidgeted while I put the saddle on her and then led her out of the barn. Once she saw Trouble she was fine. “You all right Sam”. I asked as I shaded my eyes and looked up at her. “Never better ,” she replied as she petted the stud’s neck. “You think you can keep up?” she asked with a smile that just dared me to mount up and try.
“I saw this mare run,” I said as I swung into the saddle “Do you think you can keep up?” She laughed as she gathered the reins. She trotted the stud around the corral about