[guide.chat] ashort story
- From: "harold kitching" <harold.kitching01@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: "guide chat" <guide.chat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Wed, 24 Oct 2012 21:46:37 +0100
A short story ? the cabin, the drifter, and miss mary.
My name is Hank Rhodes, and I was just drifting. I lost my family during
the war between the states, and I spent the past two years working odd
jobs on
ranches and drifting. Today, I am in Montana, and my horse needed a
blow, and I needed a drink. As I topped, the ridge, I saw a cabin in a
valley, so I
decided to ride in and ask for water.
"Hello the house." I yelled.
A lady came out, carrying a bucket and wearing an apron. Her son had an
older rifle and stood beside his mother.
"Yes, what do you need, stranger?" She asked.
"Mean no harm ma'am. Been riding for some time. My horse needs a drink,
and I would not mind some water if you have some to spare."
"Of course, sir. Excuse our manners. We are alone out here and have to
be careful of Indians, outlaws and brigands." She responded. "Can you
stay for a
bite to eat?"
"Only if I can pay for the meal ma'am."
She turned and went into the house, and the boy grabbed the reins to my
horse. I dismounted and the boy took my horse to the corral to brush and
water
him. I looked around the place... Nice, it needed some fixing up, but it
was nice. I looked over to the wood pile and decided to earn my meal. I
chopped
a six-foot pile of wood and was sweating pretty good when I heard,
"Foods ready. Wash up."
I went to the water basin on the porch and washed my hands and face. It
felt good to work on a farm again. I dusted my shirt and pants and
washed my hands
a second time, then walked into the cabin. The cabin was a two-room
affair with a small loft. The table had a pot of stew that smelled out
of this world.
The three of us sat down at the table. Mary was her name, said grace and
the boy, John, passed the bowl of stew around, and the homemade bread...
Ah, it
smelled to high Heaven. After my third bowl of stew, Mary started the
conversation,
"Pete, my husband died of the fever two winters ago. He was a good man.
John and I decided we would either make it on this place or die trying."
"I admire a woman and man for taking on such a responsibility as that."
I said honestly. "The boy is really a man for taking on such a task."
"Thank you, sir. I fed your horse some grain, watered it and brushed it
down. I feed our stock, do as much repair as I can, and help with the
chores around
here." said John.
"I bet you do, son. But, if you do not mind ma'am, there are some fence
posts that need mending. I will stay in the barn tonight and fix them
today, and
finish them tomorrow, if that is okay. I do charge breakfast and,
perhaps, the noon meal for the job." I said smiling.
"Deal." she rose and shook my hand.
The rest of the day I worked hard, harder than I have for years. I fixed
the corral first, then started on the main fence. By nightfall, I was
exhausted.
Supper, however, restored my soul. I went to the barn, spread my bedroll
and fell into a sound sleep.
The next morning started with breakfast and went pretty much the same.
Work, then more work. As I saw my last fence post finishing up, I felt a
sorrow
I hadn't felt since my family died. Miss Mary had treated me so well,
and John was like a son to me, yet I had known them only for little more
than a day.
It would be improper for me to say or do anything, so I saddled my
horse. Mary met me at the barn. She shook my hand and could not look me
in the eye.
"Hank... If you ever need a place to come home to..."
She handed me some jerky and bread, then turned and ran for the house. I
did not know what to say. John ran with her. I rode out and, at the
ridge, I looked
back with my arm on the saddle horn and with my other arm I waved my hat
at the
cabin. With a heavy heart I rode on.
About 10 miles on, I rode into the little town of Deer Creek, Montana. I
went into the local bank. I had decided to leave most of my money to the
Sutton
family at the cabin. The president of the bank a Mr. McPherson invited
me into his office after hearing about my request.
"You say you wish to leave your money to Mrs. Mary Sutton and her son
Jack Sutton?" said McPherson.
"Yes, sir." I responded.
"Impossible. You see, they died about two years ago. Her husband, little
John's father, died two years before that of the fever. They tried to
make a go
on their land, but were murdered by outlaws."
I stood up. The color drained from my face. I walked out of the bank,
mounted my horse and rode back to the cabin. On the top of the ridge,
the cabin was
a shambles...
No! No! It cannot be. I missed my opportunity. Oh, God! Oh, God! What
have I done? Then I heard "Hank?"
I looked again, and the cabin was restored to its beauty. He-haw! I rode
down there as fast as I could. I dismounted, grabbed Mary in my arms and
crushed
her to me. "Mary I love you."
There are people today, who drive by on the highway and see the
crumbling foundation. They often stop, and if they do, they swear they
hear laughter and
people talking and playing in the valley of where the cabin once was.
Hank was never heard from again...
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