The Long Trail

2

The Long Trail

By

Clay Yuma

Chapter One

Sometimes you win and sometimes the Devil wins. I was in one of those days where the Devil was doing all the

Winning. It seemed like years ago when I left the Dakota's headed to Arizona Territory. I had been on the trail of a man for months and it seemed like every time I got close the trail stopped.

Its odd the path that a man's life takes him, I often wondered what would have happened to me if Bill Tanner had not of come along that day. Me and my folks were headed out from the Midwest to start a new life in California. I heard Pa talk about the land out there; how there were trees that were so big that they were thousands of years old. How the mountains seem to reach into the heavens and disappear into the clouds. Pa talked about the water. Said he had heard that there was a body of water so big that you couldn’t see the other side. That was what I wanted to see cause I didn’t believe that that was real, not that I was calling Pa a liar, but he was just telling us what he had heard since he had never been West of Missouri. The biggest body of water I had ever seen was where the Ohio and Mississippi rivers met in Cairo, Illinois. That was where we had started from and at times those rivers were mighty big but I could still see across them. We were a keeping a look out because we knew that there were Indians in these parts but the Apache is more than an Indian, and the ones that attacked the wagon train that we had joined up with left nothing but the dirt and the dead bodies that lay besides their burned wagons. The children had been taken along with the younger women and everyone else killed. The only thing that saved me was the fact I had disobeyed my ma and wandered off down by the stream where we were camped, trying to catch a frog by the creek bed. When I heard the yells I ran back toward the wagons and while I hid in the brush I saw the Apaches, not knowing then it was Apaches, cause an Indian was just an Indian to me but later I would be taught the difference.

The horror of that day fourteen years ago was just as real to me today as if it had just happened.

How long I lay there hid in the brush I don't know but I heard a horse and the voice of a man, a white man talking to his mount.

"It don't look good big boy. I would say from the looks of things it was Apaches, probably a war party looking for scalps."

I was straining forward trying to hear what he was saying, trying to decide if I should let him know I was here. Even at eight years of age I knew I was in a lot of trouble and I knew the Indians wasn't going to help me so while I tried to make up my mind the choice was made for me. About that time his horse nostrils flared and he began to paw the ground with his right foot.

"Easy boy, I see him". Bill Tanner drew his pistol and looked directly toward me.

"All right you in the brush come on out before I start to shootin".

As I came forward I must have looked like death. I had been crying and lying in the dust and my tears had made the dust into mud on my face but I mustered my strength and looked this man straight in the eye.

"What happened, son?" I explained it all to him and he nodded. As I looked him over I saw a man over six feet tall with steel gray eyes. There was tiredness in his eyes, a tiredness that I could feel.

"Some of these folks your ma and pa?" I pointed to the two bodies at the edge of the clearing.

"Well, you go over there and set down, get you some water from my canteen and jerky from my saddle bags if you're hungry. I will bury your folks but we won't have time to bury everyone, we have to get out of here because this smoke may attract more Indians."

After he had dug the graves and laid my folks to rest we found some sticks and made two simple crosses.

"Son, I never was much good at reading from the Book but I reckon the good Lord has your folks now and has given me the job of your upbringing. It won't be easy for you but I will teach you the things a man has to know to survive in this country, By the way my name’s Bill Tanner."

"Thank you sir. My name is Rothman Lee."

"Well Rothman Lee, you call me Bill and drop the sir."

As Bill helped me up on the back of his horse we started out on our journey a journey that would have good times and bad times. A journey that would take me to many places to see many things but most of all a journey that would help me grow into the kind of man that Pa and Ma would want me to be.

It’s the path that a man takes that determines his destiny.

CHAPTER TWO

Bert Miller lay on the ground checking his jaw to make sure everything still worked. It had started when Bert had asked why the kid needed to get a share of the money. The next thing he knew he was looking up at me.

“I told you when you came in with us that the kid gets his equal share on everything we do but I will not have him involved in the actual jobs".

"I was just asking, Bill, no need to get riled".

But I was riled and I knew that Miller would shoot me in the back if he got half a chance.

It had been fourteen years ago since I had found the kid in the brush and in those years I had done my best to raise him. I haled from south Texas and had served in the War Between the States under the Confederate flag. After the war I had went home only to find that the carpetbaggers had came in and taken everything. My folks had owned a small ranch. Nothing fancy but they had a few head of longhorns and a house where I had grown up. When I returned home I found the ranch had been stolen from my folks. My Pa had tried to fight them off but one night there came six of them and shot Pa down in the yard, after that ma had moved into town but she wernt no good without Pa. She managed to live until I got home. When I walked in I was shocked by the way Ma looked.

"I've been waiting for you, son."

She told me the story of what had happened and that she was glad to see that I made it through the war. I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, she took one more deep breath and that was the last time I saw Ma.

The next morning we buried her on some land that some friends of our owned and we laid her next to Pa, I heard the Sky Pilot say she had given up the Ghost and that she was in the arms of Jesus. I wasn't thinking about heaven at that moment. All I had on my mind was the people I was going to send to hell! Afterwards, everyone gathered around and told me how sorry they were and I nodded and asked them to look after Ma and Pa's grave since I was moving on.

There was only one other thing I had to do before I left south Texas behind me. I stopped by the ranch that my pa and ma had worked so hard to make something of and when I rode into the yard two men came out of the house.

"What do you want, stranger?" the big one asked.

"Are you Walt Dooley I asked?" "My name's Franklin, Bob Franklin. That’s Dooley over there".

I looked and saw the man called Dooley. He was only about five foot five inches tall with beady little eyes that could barley be seen because of his enormous weight and the rolls of fat in his face.

As I turned my attention back to the one who called himself Franklin I calmly said "Well, Franklin, my name is Tanner, Bill Tanner". I looked for their reaction and I got it. Both of them looked shocked, there eyes opened wide and I saw them grow kind of pale. Men like these are always brave when they can come at night in a group and kill an old man and run his wife off their property but I could tell when faced in the daylight that they had no stomach for a fight.

"Look here, Tanner, you better get out of here or we will have you put in jail for trespassing."

"Well I tell you what, Franklin, if I'm going to jail it might as well be for something besides trespassing; with that I pulled out my 44 Russian and shot them both through the heart.

"You wanted this land bad enough to kill for it, now you can be buried on it."

As I rode away that day I made up my mind that the carpetbaggers and everyone associated with them would pay.

I had kept my word and for the last few years I had made them pay. Somehow it had started first with the carpetbaggers and everything they had or were associated with became fair game to me. I began to meet up with other men who had fought for the South who were not ready to surrender, and they looked to me for leadership and that was how the Tanner gang got started.

At first I justified everything by what had happened to Ma and Pa but as time wore on it didn’t matter and I just became an outlaw on the run.

Now, not only an outlaw but an outlaw with a kid to raise. I’d first thought to leave the kid with some people I knew over in Northwest Texas cause the life I was living wasn’t no good for me let alone a eight year old kid but the kid would have nothing to do with that plan. Said he wanted to stay with me so I had promised to keep him out of my dealings but at the same time to help him with his future.

I always told Roth to stay outside of town as we went in, or in the hills as we took the stage coach. Because I had chosen the wrong path I was determined to keep Roth on the right side of the law.

So that's the way it was and after all these years I had kept my word to Roth and kept him out of our dealings.

The Tanner gang had become famous and those that rode with me had become well known, the boy was the only one that the law didn't know about and if I had anything to do with it they would never know.

After everyone else had bedded down for the night I came over to the kid.

"Let's take a walk, Roth. There are some things I want to talk over with you".

We walked for a ways outside of camp and then I turned around and looked at him.

"Son, when I first saw you that day in the brush and saw what had happened to your folks I made a vow to myself to protect you and help you to the best of my abilities. That day brought back the memories of what it is like to lose your folks and be alone and I didn't want you to go down the path that I had chosen".

As I stood there looking at Roth I saw the boy that I had raised who was now a young man, almost 6 foot 3 inches tall and about 220 pounds and not an ounce of fat. His hair had turned completely black and with his complexion being baked by the sun he almost looked like an Indian, and some of the men even thought he was a breed. I had tried to teach the boy right. I got him his first horse, a buckskin that he simply named "Buck". Buck was more than a horse he became Roth's friend. He was someone Roth could talk to and I know it sounds crazy but I think the horse understood what the boy said.

One night on the trail when he had reached thirteen, I reached into my saddle bags and pulled out a holster with a six shooter in it. I handed it to the kid and told him to put it on. As he strapped on the 45 I started teaching him about guns and how never to draw one unless you meant to use it. How only tinhorns carved notches in the handles of their guns. I showed him my Russian 44 and told him about the peacemaker I had given him. I knew the Colt felt good in his hand and he was a natural. I told him how to point the gun and right before he squeezed the trigger to hold his breath to steady his aim. I showed him how to draw.

"Remember, its not always who is the fastest, but who makes the first shot count."

He had spent hours upon hours practicing not only with his right had but also with his left. After one of the days of shooting cactus I was behind him watching. I must have had a funny look on my face for when he turned around he asked me what was wrong.

"Roth you take to that 45 like a mother takes to a child". "I know, Bill, I can't explain it but it's like I raise my hand and the guns there".

I walked over to the cactus and looked at the holes. Under my breath I let out a soft whistle. Six shots right hand, six shots left, each set you could cover with a silver dollar.

Some of the men had seen him shoot and some said that he was faster than Hickok, Holliday and Frank Canton. I don't know about such things and I was a wishin the kid never had to find out.

As we stood there under the stars I walked up to Roth and handed him a leather pouch.

"Take this, Roth; it's your share of the money that I've been holding for you."

"Why are you giving it to me now, Bill?"

"Well, son, this is the way it is, I have one more job planned and me and you will head to the badlands. That is if you want to go with me. I know of some land up there and I will be out of the reach of the law, but I always have been kind of superstitious and this being my last job I don't want it on me in case anything happens".

I asked him if the rest of the gang knew this was the last job.

"No they don't and don't tell anyone. I know Miller would kill me and you too if he had a chance, especially with the stake we're holding. Miller thinks of himself as a leader and he is fast with a gun, maybe even faster than me but he would never have the guts to meet me head on and, Son, he's just plum scared of you. Watch your back, Roth, and head North to the Dakota Territory. We are going to take down a payroll in Comanche and after the split I will get out of Texas and meet you in the Badlands in about a month".

As we sat and discussed our plans for the coming days I gave Roth the location of where we were to meet and the land that I wanted to buy. I told him we would leave him outside of town as always. Once we were out of sight I wanted him to head to the Dakotas. I reached down and pulled out another three thousand dollars out of my share.

"Take this, Roth, and buy the land I have described to you and I will see you in about a month".

Little did I know that I would have a difficult time reaching my promised land?