A train bound for nowhere
We were twelve in number, the dispossessed, scuttled away behind brick facades an embarrassment to society and the delicate sensitivities of the local gentry. ‘Success has a thousand fathers, failure an orphan’. Leaving Philadelphia and headed to points west, we were excited, a feeling some of us didn’t know existed. In ages seven to seventeen arrangements had been made and financials paid. It felt like we were livestock in a cattle car, branded, tagged, headed for slaughter and served on a rich man’s plate. In truth it was the Pennsylvania Railroad known in 1870 as the ‘Pennsy’ and the first train ride for all of us. There was hope for the younger children, a chance for a loving home and someone to call mother and Father. ‘Life without a father is silence, but life without a mother a graveyard’.
I was the seventeen year old and my sister sixteen. Mr. Beasley who accompanied us was a good man and frank. ‘At your ages someone paid for a slave, he said. Work is why you were taken and for Sis’ he hesitated, ‘sometimes for something more’. Not that there weren’t other inquiries, but I had made it quite clear from the beginning I would not be separated from my sister. We were ages seven and eight when we first came left on the doorstep of the orphanage by a dying syphilitic mother, our Father having died in the first year of the war, forced into a roll she despised, an act of desperation in the seedy side of Philly. We were taught young to be invisible as she plied her trade at night, takin’ in washin’ during the day. Not given to self-pity she carried herself with a regal air of confidence, doin’ whatever she needed to do to protect and provide for her children. She taught us morals and manners often opening the scriptures but never goin’ to church subjected to the judgment and ridicule of the parsimonious parishioners.
Realizin’ her days were numbered she prepared us for the inevitable. With tears gushin’ down her cheeks she held us tight and then spoke firmly. ‘You must never be separated and son, always protect your sister’. Her beauty fading as the debilitating disease ravished her body she left us at the door of the orphanage and digging deep to a place of noble strength she smiled and said, ‘one day the two of you will be renowned doing exploits. I know you will make me proud’. Then she bent and kissed us one more time before turning and walked away weeping, never looking back disappearing into the darkness just before the dawn. We stood there holding each other watching her fade into the morning mist with tears streaming down our faces and a determination and resolve borne from the depth of a mother’s love.
There were multiple stops along the way as our numbers dwindled. Tears were shed as goodbyes were said. They were our friends and for most the only family they knew. At each stop Mr. Beasley would take time evaluating the new adoptees and introducing the children. For most this was a happy circumstance and the opportunity to make something of their life. And finally at the end of the line it was our time. We arrived in May in some scrub town in Nowhere Nebraska waiting on the dock with Mr. Beasley for the late arrivals.
Staring at these apparitions our mouths agape, Emil and Ida Hornbuckle arrived. She was obese with a piggish face and squinting slits for eyes. He was thin almost skeletal with hawkish features, a syrupy tongue and prominent nose and ears, the true odd couple. After consulting with Mr. Beasley, they returned to their wagon and waited. ‘Kids, I don’t like this situation. Maybe I’m presumptuous but I think not. If you have problems find a way to get a message to me so I can extract you from here. If necessary strike out on your own. Right now all I can do is hope and pray. Shaking my hand and giving Sis a hug he looked at me and said, ‘at all costs protect your sister’. Then turning he boarded the train and was gone.
Picking up our bags we walked to the wagon where ‘Hawk’ motioned to us to get in the back. Nothing was provided to cushion the half hour trip to their home on a very rough pothole infested dirt road. No words were spoken until we arrived when he ordered me to take care of the horses and wagon. ‘You can do that can’t you or are you totally worthless’? ‘I can’ I said and taking them by the bridal I walked them to the barn. Thankfully I had spent several summers on a farm, on loan from the orphanage, learning all about animals and farm life even getting to ride and shoot. Sis came as part of the bargain learning sewing and cooking and about family matters. These were great times with good godly people.
Sitting that first night at the dinner table with the original Adams Family, Hawk laid down the law. ‘I will not tolerate any bitchin’, moanin’ or complainin’. You will do exactly as you are told, never questioning my authority. Anything less than your total compliance will be met with my backhand and belt. I paid good money for you and I expect a profitable return. ‘I own’, and then correcting himself ‘you owe me that. You’ve got a roof over your head and I have to pay hard earned money to feed ya. You should be thanking me. Seems no one else wanted to put up with your miserable carcasses’. All the while Miss Piggy sat and only made grunting noises while we were given a meager meal of hog slop. Looking at the two of them we were glad we didn’t have to share table with a passel of prized potbellied piglets. Can’t imagine a greater waste of skin.
Sis was given a small ante room with just enough space to squeeze between the walls to get into bed with a makeshift dresser on one end. Thankfully it had a window. I slept in the barn making the best of a stall that I mucked and then put fresh hay down feeling that I had the best of the accommodations offered, a place and a space away from them. Every day Sis would cook and clean empty slop buckets tend the fire and be at Miss Piggy’s beckon and call. She could talk. Either she was bundled up sitting close by the fire or on the couch with a fan in hand demanding Sis to get her this and that complaining that no one knew how bad she felt, leaving a trail of crumbs on her clothes, her face, and the floor. She never stopped eating or making moans and grunting sounds.
Outside on the porch Hawk would sit gettin’ up only to angrily intercept something I was doing, often with a back hand or catching me by surprise with a blow from his belt, making new demands on my workload. With a syrupy serpent tongue Sis was asked to bring him coffee and food a lap blanket and anything at all, drewelin’ like a dog when she appeared. Dusk to dawn our dreary life never changed except when they went to town. Keeping us separated we had little time to talk without eyes and ears prying. Breakfast consisted of one egg and a small piece of meat and dinner a meager portion of whatever was served. I was forced to steal from the garden ever so cautious not to be observed and Sis would carefully hide morsels on her person to supplement our scant miserable fare. At night at her open window we would talk and share what food we had gathered. ‘It won’t be long Sis’ I told her, ‘I’m gettin’ us out of here’.
Once the sheriff came by at the request of the orphanage I found out later, looked at us but never spoke a word. He probably thought we looked like starving orphan children and hey, we were starving orphan children. Shortly after we arrived Sis said she could hear Hawk walkin’ by her door at night makin’ soft cooing sounds and breathin’ hard. I made her shims to place under the door to prevent it from bein’ opened and gave her my 4” fixed blade knife for protection. At first she was petrified but then set her face with a steely resolve. Between the two of us that bastard would do her no harm. In the morning after a failed forced entry, he would sit at the table sullen and mad. In a peculiar way we got humor and satisfaction at his reaction.
After nigh onto a year I told Sis ‘we’re out of here’. After securin’ our possibles and gatherin’ what food we could I had one last thing to do. Gettin’ Sis through the window I slipped inside and set the shims so the door could be opened sufficient to allow entry without creatin’ suspicion. Once inside he was startled to find me instead of my sister. ‘What are you doin’ here! he exclaimed. ‘I was about to ask you the same thing. This is my sister’s room you’re in’. Offering an excuse, he blindsided me knocking me onto the bed. Only once. I dove into his belly knockin’ the air out of him and when he lowered his head grabbin’ hisself I hit him hard with an upper cut and he folded on the ground. Turning him on his back I hit him over and over again breakin’ teeth, nose, chin, and cheeks.
Standing over him and breathin’ hard I spread the legs of his unconscious body and kicked him as hard as I could in his crotch, not once but three times. ‘This is for my Sister you vile cunning yellow belly snake. When you wake up you won’t be goin’ anywhere for quite a while. By the time you are able to get to town and the sheriff to lodge a complaint we’ll be long gone’. Then Sis and I went to the kitchen to retrieve more food before leaving, MIss Piggy never waking, her grotesque night sounds reverberatin’ off the walls.
Our plan was simple: Initially to put as many miles behind us as we could walking on foot, head in a westerly direction staying off the main roads, and see if we could find some work, possibly on a farm. In the middle of the fifth day we saw a house and barn and headed that direction. An elderly man sat the porch and he rose to greet us. ‘What you youngin’s doin’ out here walkin’ the road so far from anything’? I answered truthfully, just leavin out some of the details. But when I told him about the threatening situation Sis was in, he became angry. ‘That sumbitch needs to be taken out and hung by his cabanges’. I confessed what I had done. ‘Good’ he said.
About this time Ma Hinkle walked out askin’ Pa who he was talkin’ to? We introduced ourselves while she looked intently at us. ‘It’s pretty certain you kids are a little off your feed not eaten much for some time. Look like starvin’ orphans’. We looked at each other and laughingly smiled, ‘we are’! ‘Well, you git in here. I’m gunna put an end to that’.
Ain’t et so much that was so good in all of our life’s. Around the table we asked about work and they were delighted with our inquiry. Pa Hinkle’s rhuematiz had been actin’ up and he couldn’t get to all the chores that needed to be done. Ma was delighted to have Sis in the kitchen helpin’ with housekeepin’ and the garden. Fact is their kids were long gone either dead or moved off, and they were pleased to have our company, and we theirs. We were there about four weeks until I caught up with all of Pa’s work and then some. Reluctantly with hugs and tears Ma said her goodbyes. Pa swiped his eyes sayin’, ‘you kids are the best thing that’s happened to us in a long time. We are surely gunna miss ya’.
Pa insisted I take a Starr Model 1858 double action 6-shot revolver for our protection. ‘I’ve got others’ he said, ‘and I’d feel a lot better knowin’ you were packin’. On our third day out as it was approachin’ evenin’ we smelled smoke and then coffee. ‘Ho the camp’ I said, ‘can we come in’? ‘Just keep your hands where I can see them and walk on in’. A man nigh onto fifty hard to tell with the weatherin’ this country gives ya, sat by the fire with a Winchester rifle sitting his lap and a smile on his face. ‘Unless you kids parked your horses a mile away I’d say you were walkin’. ‘Yes sir’ I replied.
An expert at readin’ faces and cypherin’ folks true intention he relaxed and set the Winchester by his side. ‘Names John Taylor Summerfield’, ‘and we are ‘Sonny and Sammy Hackworth’ we responded. ‘If you got cups, I got coffee’ he said. ‘Sit a spell and tell me your story.’ Speakin’ truthful with a ‘T’ we left little out, nothin’ to loose. He sat quietly askin’ a few questions intent on our narration. ‘I’ll bet you’re hungry, I know I am. I’ve got some meat and beans’, ‘and we’ve got a few potatoes and carrots from the Hinkles’ Sammy said. ‘Well all right’. I volunteered to gather more wood while Sis and JT, as he was known to friends, set to fixin’ a delicious cowboy stew. ‘Noticed your Starr Sonny. Can you use it’? ‘It’s new to me JT only shot it a few times. But I am confident I can use it’. Nodding his head, we cleaned up after dinner and JT told us his story.
Raised on a ranch he left at 21, allured by the adventure of being a Texas Ranger servin’ under John ‘Jack’ Coffee Hays, maybe the most famous Texas Ranger of all. ‘What a ride’, he said. Then you had a stint as a local law dog before being recruited by the US Marshalls. Now on a semi-retired status responding to hard cases in the Colorado territory near your home in the area of Ft. Collins Colorado which was incorporated as a town in 1873. Invitin’ us to share the fire for the night we performed our personals before layin’ out our bedrolls, while JT checked the perimeter and his horse ‘Magnum’, ‘best watch dog I could ever have’ he said. ‘He’ll let me know long before any company shows up. Has a winnie that tells me if he’s concerned’.
Later that night JT shook me awake softly and with a finger to his lips whispered, ‘we’ve got company. Get up and leave your bedroll lookin’ like someone’s in it, and wake Sammy and have her do the same before gettin’ behind a log keepin’ her head down’. Pointin’ he said ‘get behind that tree and I’ll be over here. I think there’s only two of them. You take the right and I’ll get the left. After they fire into the bedrolls shoot to kill’. Stealthily they approached the slumbering fire before unloadin’ on our defenseless bedrolls. Walkin’ up and rippin the covers back I heard a ‘what!’ before JT fired my signal to shoot. In a heart beat it was over, and mine was surely beatin’ hard.
‘First time’? JT asked and I nodded my head. ‘You did good son, just fine,’ tellin’ Sammy we was ok but to wait a minute while we drug the bodies out of camp comfirmin’ they were dead. ‘Come sunup we’ll check their pockets and panniers and gather their horses. Looks like your walkin’ days are over. Now try to get some sleep if you can’.
That mornin’ over tongue blisterin’ six shooter coffee, bacon and Johnnie Cakes we rehearsed the midnight follies, for our sakes not JT’s. He knew we needed to talk it out. While Sammy cleaned the mornin’s mess we checked the bodies for anything valuable and then retrieved the horses picketed a quarter mile away. ‘Got yourself a small reward Sonny, at the generosity of those desperados. Looks like about two hundred dollars’. ‘That’s not all mine’ I said, ‘I reckon half is yours’. ‘Don’t need it’ JT said, ‘It along with the horses and a small armory are all yours. You kids need to feel the wind behind your back not in your face’.
Returnin’ to the fire we made some more coffee and JT said ‘I’ve got a proposition to make. I was married to a fine woman once, taken at the outbreak of Scarlett fever. Been kinda lost ever since, never havin’ children to call my own. Would you consider comin’ to live on the ranch and makin’ it your home? I know you will be a big help, and I will teach you everything I know. I’ve got a hankerin’ on the plans the good Lord has for you. What do you think’? Lookin’ at each other with cow stupid looks and then smilin’, Sammy said ‘can’t think of anything else we would rather do’. With a big smile he shook my hand givin’ Sammy a hug. ‘Then with that settled let’s burn the breeze, we’ve got a few days of hard ridin’ ahead of us before gettin’ home’.
Sore bums and seven days later we topped the ridge leadin’ to the ranch. ‘Thar she blows’ JT proudly said. ‘Prettiest eight thousand acres in the whole territory’. The view flanked by the Rocky Mountains and the meandering Poudre River held us spell bound. ‘You never told us’, Sammy said. ‘Wanted it to be a surprise’ JT responded. Ridin’ in we were met by many happy faces, JT shakin’ hands and givin’ hugs. It was obvious he was well loved. Introduced and received warmly by all, Sammy and I both felt we were finally home.
Over the next five years we learned all about the business of ranchin’ and raisin’ cattle. Seems everyone on the ranch had a part in our educatin’. When it came to shootin’ and fightin’ Sammy was always included. We learned how the criminal mind worked and all the things we needed to know about apprehending outlaws and stayin’ alive. We would go out a week or two at a time with ‘Tadi’ a Omaha Indian found weak and bloodied after the Arapaho attacked his village. He was the only one left living.
Brought to the ranch he recovered and became a valuable asset ridin’ the back range watchin’ for rustlers and other varmints, always with his eyes to the ground. Tadi, who could speak broken English taught us to move stealthily, silent, unseen anticipating our enemy’s next move using the cloak of darkness to stalk our prey, and the Indians unique way of eliminating the enemy. Everything was black. Our clothes, horses, guns, faces, nothing that any light would cast a reflection. Remembering that ‘the light and darkness are alike unto Him’ we became as comfortable in the darkness as most folks are in the light. Recalling our early training and the experiences we had with godly praying people, including JT’s trust and commitment for each day we felt fearless and protected under the shadow of the Almighty. Darkness was an ally, and the angels our constant companions.
For five years we trained developing our other senses becoming acutely aware like those without sight or hearin’, trusting our gut, our second brain. Often other Marshalls would visit the ranch and they would spend time adding to our knowledge based on personal experience, the best of teachers. JT began to take the three of us with him when he was called out, our opportunity to put into action all the time invested in our training. We were ready.
Jake Reedy, JT’s mentor and boss and our friend would come to the ranch observing our progress. After five years we sat table and he set forth the plan and our persona. Known only to a very few we would use alias’s and connect with him using a code that had been established. Using disguises during the day, Sammy and I would appear as husband and wife, farmers coming to town in a wagon, limiting our exposure to the general public without creating any suspicion. ‘Stay away from the local law dogs, you can’t tell whom to trust. Your identity must remain secret’. When necessary an agent that Reedy trusted without hesitation would relieve us of our prey and convey further instructions.
‘You three, an unlikely trio of a man, woman, and Indian will be the most effective deterrent the nation has to eliminating crime in the lawless frontier. Sorry kids’ he said, ‘but you will never get any recognition. You must remain incognito. When the time comes for you to hang up your spurs I don’t want you looking over your shoulder for some miscreant looking for revenge. If you agree you will receive compensation as deputy US Marshalls, specials agents, as well as the bounties on every head you kill or capture. This will be placed in a private account at your disposal. I trust you implicitly and will need only your word of verification for the reward. I will not require any details or explanation of your actions. With no questions asked you will receive full compensations for any expenses and full authority for any actions you deem necessary. There will be no paper trail. You will be independent answering only to me, a unique crime fightin’ force, the first of its kind’.
Our course was set when word came that Ma and Pa Hinkle had been killed by the Dalton Gang operatin’ on the Nebraska Colorado border. Though I was the leader, a decision agreed upon by Sammy and Tadi, we fluidly operated as one. For over twelve years we unleashed Hell on the Devil, hundreds of vile venomous snakes removed from society making it a safer place for the innocents. We would always return to the ranch and JT enjoying the porch and the respite from our adventures.
Known by monikers such as ‘The Night Stalkers’, ‘Phantoms of the Forest’, and ‘The Ghost Riders’ we created so much fear among the criminal element it acted as a deterrent for further crime. No one was outside of our reach including those posing as servants of the people. Our actions were swift and undetectable with only guesses given at our number. Remembering the words of our Mother to protect my sister, Tadi and I would take point while Sammy would cover us from a hidden vantage point effectively evisceratin’ targets that were chucking lead.
Word came that JT had fallen ill and we hurriedly returned to the the ranch. ‘KIds it’s time for me to hang up my spurs and you too’. Reedy and I agree. You have done more to tame the west than all the law dogs, bounty hunters. and the army combined’. Once again our Mother’s words of doin’ exploits reminded us of her sweet presence. ‘It’s time for you to hitch yourself to that special someone and have a family and babies of your own. You two are the children I could only hope to have. I am so proud of you wishin’ I could shout your accomplishments to the high heavens, but heck they already know’.
Then with a big smile he spoke, ‘I’m leavin’ the ranch and everything to you, the vagabond brother and sister who years ago made their way into my camp, and into my heart. You gotta know it brings me great pleasure. I can think of no one more worthy’. Receiving his blessin’ was more important to Sammy and I than the ranch. We felt overwhelmed never imaging that from humble beginnings on the wrong side of the tracks in Philly and left on the steps at an orphanage, the greatest single final act of love from a dyin’ mother, ‘a train bound for Nowhere’ would lead to this.
After some time we returned to pay respects to the Hinkles after ridding the world of the Dalton Gang. While there we inquired about the Hornbuckles. Seems Hawk had visited a neighbor and pretending to leave for home doubled back and hid in the barn waitin’ for his daughter to come and do her nightly chores. Coming up from behind and surprising her, she was able to let out a yelp before bein’ dazed and knocked to the ground. The father being suspicious found Hawk in the barn so intent on removin’ his daughters’ pantaloons with his drawers already down to his ankles, he was unaware of the farmer approaching with a pickaxe. In one fluid motion he swung in an arch skewerin’ Hawk from arse hole to eyeball, never ever gettin’ to fulfill his unrequited passion. Shortly afterwards Miss Piggy was seen leavin’ on a train presumably to return to her family in another scrub town somewhere in Hampshire Heaven. No one seeming to know, and no one seemed to care. A fittin’ epitaph to two lives lived so worthlessly.
Meanwhile back at the ranch Sammy and I found that special someone soon with broods of our own. Sittin’ in the evenin’ on the front porch with friends and family or all alone I remember all the special people that God brought into our lives, even the unsavory ones, teaching us valuable lessons, showing us the way. And Momma more than most. Looking down with a radiant healthy smile, you know we made you proud.
The End