Chapter Twenty-Two

It was getting gray in the eastern sky when Jug finished off a second pot of double-strength coffee. He had not slept all night, and neither had Mrs. Douglas. She had sat with Jug, keeping his cup full and making sure he stayed awake.

“Mrs. Douglas,” Jug said in a sheepish voice. “I’ve drunk all the coffee I can stand. Please, may I go lie down? I’m completely sober.”

“You don’t have to drink more coffee, but you can’t sleep—we have work to do.”

“But, Mrs. Douglas, I feel terrible. I have a bad headache, and my stomach feels like I could throw up any minute. Can’t I take a short nap? I’ll be fine afterward.”

“It’s your own fault you have a hangover and feel this way. I don’t have any sympathy for you. Anyone who drinks themselves into a stupor like you did yesterday afternoon should feel terrible.”

“I was only celebrating the ranch deal. Wasn’t it a great idea I had, Mrs. Douglas? I know you’ll be happy once you get settled.”

“Don’t try to soften me up, Jug. I know what you’re trying to do. Now get down to the stream and wash up. I’ll have breakfast ready when you return, and then we’ll get to work.”

Douglas had observed the entire dialogue between Jug and his wife. He smiled as he watched Jug leave and then whispered to himself, “You don’t have a chance, Jug. Once Alice Douglas sets her mind on something, she doesn’t give up until the task is finished, and she has her mind set on keeping you sober. No, sir, you don’t have a chance.”

The Douglas camp was coming to life with folks sitting around the fire eating breakfast and drinking coffee. Jug sat by himself at the outer edge of the firelight. “Why don’t you join us, Jug?” Douglas asked. “The pancakes are delicious, and coffee clears the cobwebs.” Douglas winked at his wife. She returned the gesture with a smile.

“Mr. Douglas, my stomach is churning, if I attempted to eat anything, I’d lose it all. As far as coffee goes, I don’t care if I ever have another cup.”

Douglas laid out the day’s agenda. Bart and Stu would ride out to the Vincent place with him and start the renovation process. Liz, Alice, and Jug would help Mrs. Kaiser get settled into Jenny’s place and deliver her rig to the Vincent’s.

Jug looked miserable but came to a sloppy attention when Mrs. Douglas walked up to him and asked, “What’s your name?”

“You know what it is, ma’am, my name is Jug.”

“I’ll not refer to you as Jug any longer. It’s not fit. Now, what’s your Christian name? The name your mother gave you?”

“My name is… is Tom Albright, ma’am,” Jug said in an uncomfortable tone.

“Is it Tom or Thomas?”

“It’s Thomas, Mrs. Douglas.”

“That’s a good name, Thomas. Now let’s get to work.” As she turned, she saw Stu sneaking around the wagon. “Come back here, young man,” she called in a firm voice.

Stu stood before Mrs. Douglas, and without waiting for her to ask his name, he said, “M-m-m-my real n-n-n-name is J-J-J-Jacob B-B-Barns, b-b-b-but Ma c-c-called me J-J-J-Jake.”

As Mrs. Douglas looked into Stu’s sad, dark brown eyes, she asked, “What would you like to be called?” Stu thought for several seconds before answering. “I-I-I’d l-l-l-like to an-an-an-answer to what-what-what my ma cal-cal-called me, M-M-M-Mrs. Douglas, if-if-if that-that-that’s al-al-all right w-w-with you?”

“I think it’s an excellent choice. From now on, you’ll answer to Jake Barns.” Jake smiled and thanked her. Mrs. Douglas asked him about his parents. What happened to them and who was taking care of him now?

It took several minutes for Jake to tell his story. He said his ma and pa came to Flat Peaks twelve years ago, two years before he was born. His father left when he was four, never to be heard from again, according to his ma. After he left, his ma had to work hard at odd jobs around town, earning a modest amount of money. Their livelihood mostly came from handouts from town folks. Their house had been sold, and they lived in a shack at the south end of town. His mother died three years ago from colic, according to the town folks, but Jake thought it was mostly from heartbreak—he thought she had given up on life. Since her death, Eli had more or less taken him in. Letting him sleep in the hayloft or by the livery’s pot-bellied stove in the winter. Stu got food from a few people around town, but his big meal each day came from Jenny’s Place. Every night, after hours, he’d go to her back door and receive the daily leftovers.

»»•««

It was midmorning when Mr. Douglas and the two boys came to the Indian trail. They stepped down and looked at the tracks. Some prints lay on top of the wagon tracks made by the Douglas wagon, but their main concern was tracks that appeared to have been made by several horses within the last hour. They mounted back up, Bart on Maude, Douglas and Jake on draft horses. “We need to be very alert,” Douglas said. “The Indians could be watching our every move and planning an attack. If they do, head for town as fast as you can. Don’t wait on me. I’ll be along. Bart, is your rifle loaded?”

“Yes, sir, it is.”

When they arrived at the homestead, Mr. Douglas outlined the day’s chores. First, they would repair the corral for the animals and then start cutting winter hay for the livestock. He calculated the hay needs for four horses, two cows, and a mule would be substantial.

During their last trip, Douglas had noticed several tools in the barn, so the three went to investigate. Among the tools were two shovels and several coils of wire that could be used to repair the corral. There were two hand scythes for cutting hay.

The corral was quickly put back in shape, and their horses placed securely within. Mr. Douglas demonstrated to the boys how to use a scythe. He took long steady pulls in a slight circle from right to left with the blade close to the ground. He said the cuttings would be left in the field for a few days to dry and then taken to the barn. The boys mastered the hay cutting technique within minutes, and then the three took alternating turns with the scythe while the idle person kept watch for Indians.

It was after dark when they returned to Flat Peaks. The boys were worn out with aching arms and shoulders, but they managed to help Mr. Douglas hobble their horses before going to the wagon. Douglas noticed a worried look on Alice’s face when she handed him coffee and a plate of food.

“Did you have a busy day and get everything done? I see Mrs. Kaiser’s rig is gone,” he said.

“Yes, I believe we finished everything,” she said. “Thomas drove Mrs. Kaiser’s rig behind Jenny’s restaurant and unloaded most of her things in Jenny’s barn. The bed and her personal things were taken on to the house.”

Liz butted in, “Thomas let me drive the empty wagon to the Vincent place in town, Papa. It was lots of fun.”

“Are you feeling better, Jug…I mean, Thomas?” asked Douglas.

“Yes, sir, I feel a lot better. Haven’t had a drink all day but can’t say I’m not craving one right now. Your Missus has kept an eye on me all day, keeping me busy most of the time.” Everyone laughed except Mrs. Douglas, who only smiled.

“How was your day, Mr. Douglas? Did you have any trouble?” Thomas asked in return.

“W-w-we saw f-f-f-fresh tracks on-on-on the Indian t-t-t-trail,” stammered out Jake, who shouldn’t have mentioned the Indians in front of the ladies.

Douglas smoothed out the situation as much as he could by saying no actual Indians were seen. He then gave a detailed outline of their day’s accomplishments.

Later, after dishes were put away, Thomas said, “Vincent borrowed some coops from the livery today, so he can have his chickens and stock ready whenever we want them.”

“When do you think we’ll be ready, Thomas?” Douglas asked.

“I told him we’d take everything off his hands within three days.” A little time passed before Thomas continued. “He offered you his buggy and two saddles for twenty dollars and said he wouldn’t need them. I think he gave you a good deal because of what Bart offered for his stock. I told him you’d come by with the money.”

“Thanks, Thomas. We really appreciate all you’ve done, and while I’m handing out thanks, I’d like to shake your hand and tell you how grateful we are to you for getting us our ranch. It wouldn’t have happened without you.”

They shook hands, and Thomas said, “Mr. Douglas, for the last eight years, people in these parts have treated me like a mangy, stray dog and that’s about all I deserved. Then you and your family came along and treated me good, like a fellow human being. I don’t have words to tell you how it makes me feel. For the first time in years, I believe I can be useful and become like other men again, leading a productive life. It’s a blessing you’ve given me.” He tried to continue but was unable to speak.

The sky was full of stars and bright moonbeams reflected off the snow-capped mountains in the far distance. A breeze had come up, accenting the chill of the night air, making people anticipate their warm beds.

“What time will you be heading out in the morning, Mr. Douglas?” Thomas asked.

“We’ll leave at first light. And, Thomas, friends should call one another by their first names. Call me Herb.”

“I’ll be going with you, Mr. Douglas—I mean, Herb.”

Douglas simply smiled and gave a favorable nod.