Iron Shirt. John Collins
a little high. I can go eight dollars at best.”
“John, you know my liquor is the best money can buy. Make it nine dollars, or I will have wasted a trip.”
“Okay, done,” John said.
John and Will unloaded the mare, and Will started the trip home. As soon as he was out of sight of the tavern, he turned into the timber. John Stumbo was a crook and not to be trusted with matters of money. On more than one occasion, a well-healed stranger seemed to disappear, and John seemed to have newfound wealth. Will angled back to the tavern until it was in sight. No sooner had he stopped, he saw John open the door and run to a small cabin at the back and enter it. John and two hard cases came out and saddled up. John went back into the tavern. The riders eased along the road Will had taken, seemingly in no hurry at all.
Will stayed in the timber, parallel to the road, an eighth of a mile ahead. When he came to a pinch point in the road, he dismounted and tied his horses in the timber and walked to a large white oak with a rifle in hand and a pistol in his belt. Shortly, he heard them talking.
“A double eagle each after we kill him and bring back his saddlebags and horses. Good money for a short night’s work.”
As they came into range, Will rested his rifle on the side of the oak and took careful aim at the trailing rider. He knew that at the sound of the shot, the horses would be spooked, and he could take out the lead rider second. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger, and the rider tumbled out of the saddle, dead before he hit the ground. The horses bucked and twisted. His pistol was already in his hand as he leveled on the lead rider who was holding onto the horn for all his life. Will’s third shot from his .44 entered his side and into his lung. He slid out of the saddle to the ground.
Will walked up to the downed man. Bright frothy blood was coming out of his nose and mouth. Will asked him if his life was worth the double eagle. His eyes began to glass over, and he was gone. Will looked at the two and did not know either. He removed their guns, went through the pockets, and found eight dollars on one and three dollars on the other. Next, he checked the horses. Both were good and had good rigs, so he and Isaac were now up two horses.
*****
Isaac had packed all their gear, then he went to his mother’s bedroom. He took his gun and holster. The old gun was a piece of junk, but he stood in front of the mirror and practiced his draw. He had done this since he was twelve years old and had become as fast as lightning. One could not even see his hand move.
After a couple of hours, he went back to the fireplace and lay down to wait for his pa.
*****
Will’s trip back was uneventful. When he got home, he found Isaac asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace. After waking him up, he told him to give the horses hay and grain. “After we eat, they will be ready to go to the bluegrass, loaded and ready to start.” Will gave Isaac one of the outlaw’s saddles and rig for his chestnut mare and one of the .44 Colts he had taken from them. The other rig, he put on his buckskin, and he junked his and Isaac’s older rigs.
Will told Isaac to tie a lead rope on their old milk cow and the two other horses. He said, “We will leave the cow with Mrs. Jones till we return. And if we don’t, she can have her.”
Slowly, they started down the path, looking like Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt. Before leaving the cabin, Will took the money belts his wife Martha had sewn from extra pillow ticking. He divided their money into each of them by giving one to Isaac and keeping one for himself, instructing his son to never let anyone know how much money he was carrying.
Mount Sterling, Kentucky
Will and Isaac camped a half a day’s ride outside Mount Sterling.
“Isaac, we’ve never talked about it, but what do you want to do with your life?”
“Pa, I sure don’t want to be a hillside farmer trying to scratch out a living on rocky ground.”
“I know, son. That was my choice and not a very good one. Maybe if I’d chosen better and took your ma out West, things would have been different.”
“Pa, I would like to get a small farm and raise horses and cattle.”
“Well, son, maybe it’s not too late for you. After we sell some horses, we’ll talk about it again.”
Will had spoken with a farmer the day before and was told that the court days would be starting the next day, on Friday. The circuit judge would come to town to try criminals. People would come from miles around to sell their crops, trade horses and mules, and swap goods and services. Guns and knives were the top items to trade and sell.
Will told Isaac to saddle up and pack up their camp. A short time later, they arrived in town. Isaac was amazed by the number of people. They stabled their horses on Local Street by the stockyards and walked among the mass of humanity that seemed elbow to elbow. After a short walk, he spotted a man selling guns. Isaac had never seen so many of all shapes and sizes. A Henry lever-action rifle caught his eye. He could not take his eyes away from it.
His dad said, “Son, that’s a new gun the Union army is using in the war. I don’t know where this guy came up with it, but it’s useless. You can’t buy shells for it. The only factories are in the North, so it’s just a pretty club.”
They walked to the end of the street where a man was buying horses. They watched for a while.
Will said, “Son, this man is paying top dollar for horseflesh. We will talk to him after his business slows down.”
Later, Will approached him and told him he had two horses to sell. The man said he would look them and that his name was Mike Staley, and he seemed to know good horses. Mike left his colored slave to watch his stock while he, Will, and Isaac walked to the stables. Will showed him the two horses he had taken from the robbers.
The man said they were good, but he was interested in the buckskin and the chestnut mare. Will advised him that those two were not for sale. Mike asked if he had a bill of sales for the two horses. Will lied and told him that he had raised them since colts. Mike said he would buy them but would have to pay less without a bill of sales and would need to have a sworn affidavit of ownership.
All this was confusing to Isaac. He wished he had time to learn to read and write.
Mike offered forty dollars a head. Will said he would need to have fifty. They finally settled on forty-five.
Will told Isaac, “Not bad. All we had in them were four shells.”
Isaac told his dad he wanted to buy some pants. He said that the bib overalls he was wearing were chaffing his bottom, which was something pretty bad. His dad laughed and said they could do that to save his poor ass. Isaac also said he needed a holster for the new .44 Colt. They went to a small dry goods store on Main Street. Isaac found a pair of canvas pants. They were about four inches too short, but with his slim waist, he could not get the right combination of waist to length.
His dad looked at his old brogan half boots and said, “It’s about time for some new boots to go with those pants, and you will need a new shirt too.”
Isaac walked out, feeling like he was ten feet tall, carrying a brown package with his old outfit. His dad said he should keep them, for he might need them sometime down the road. Isaac thought, in all his eighteen years, he never had new clothes.
“Now, son, to get you that holster.”
At a small leather shop, they looked at used holsters. Most were flaps, either the US or CSA, that were cheap. Isaac said either would do. Will said no and picked up a Western holster and cartridge belt. Isaac said the flaps were two dollars. The Western was ten dollars. He told his dad that the flaps were cheaper.
Will took him to the side and said, “Son, those flaps will get us killed. They were taken off from dead soldiers. People will think we are scavengers and kill us for robbing the dead.”
Isaac