Gathering Storm
by Angus Shoor Caan
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: Pioneers make the acquaintance of a valuable friend on their way to the Promised Land.
_____________________________________________________________________
Under cover of darkness, they skirted around the ramshackle huddle of cabins in the hope they wouldn't be spotted. Water was their utmost priority and there would be plenty in what was left of the town. Nonetheless, they acted on Walks On Tiptoes' advice and ghosted past in the night.
The Indian had scouted the place out earlier and found it to be occupied by a gang of outlaws. Men who would be more than curious as to what the Kennedy clan were carrying in the false bed of their lead wagon. Moreover, they would be sure to frown upon Walks On Tiptoes' presence within a group of white folks, a group made up of six males and three females.
How the Indian came to be with them was another story entirely. An army scout, he had been left for dead by the same army he served after a fierce battle with renegade Indians. The Kennedy women tended to his wounds and saved his life, a fact he acknowledged by pledging his allegiance to the family and promising to assist them on their journey to the promised land.
His assistance was welcomed, since other members of the wagon train they had been part of for so long had no desire to be seen in the company of a savage and demonstrated this by leaving the Kennedys behind to fend for themselves.
He paid his way by expertly hunting down their daily food and lending his knowledge of the rough terrain. After a week in his company, Jeb, the leader, ordained him an honorary Kennedy. Walks On Tiptoes reciprocated by slicing both his own and Jeb's thumbs open and joining the bleeding wounds together.
Two days later, their lives were changed forever. Walks On Tiptoes returned from a scouting mission with enough prairie fowl slung round his horse's neck to feed the entire family. He didn't dismount but asked one of the boys to pass up the youngest pup of a new litter. No one asked why as he rode into the distance once again. One hour later he was back, complete with pup. He explained there was water up ahead, good water, somehow they knew the pup had been allowed to test it. He then explained his reasons.
A miner had been camped by the water hole and was now stone dead. No sign of a struggle so Walks On Tiptoes suspected the water was unsafe to drink.
The Kennedys approached the water hole, let the animals drink their fill and replenished the barrels on the side of each wagon. The womenfolk set about preparing the evening meal while the men inspected the miner's camp.
He wasn't a particularly old man and they were puzzled as to how he had died. No wounds, no snakebites and as Walks On Tiptoes said, no signs of a struggle.
The Indian picked up the spit holding what was left of the miner's last meal, a bird of some sort. Although the flies had found it, it didn't appear to be diseased in any way. Jeb inspected the miner's mouth as a last resort and found the cause of death, a bone lodged in the poor man's throat.
Using the miner’s own shovel, they buried him good and deep. One of the boys hammered a pick into the ground at the head of the grave to serve as a cross while Jeb said a few words.
Being as the miner had no further use for his belongings, the Kennedy's stripped his dilapidated wagon of what they themselves could use. Some dried food, tools and the wagon's tailboard to replace the broken one on their lead wagon.
What they discovered when they removed the tailboard had them staring in disbelief. Gold, nuggets and dust, bag upon bag of the stuff.
Being an honest, God fearing man, Jeb went through the miner's possessions in search of a name or a next of kin, coming up with neither. A family meeting then followed with the outcome being the gold belonged to the finders. All agreed, although it didn't sit right with one or two.
As head of the family, Jeb pointed out if they declared it to the next authorities they came across, there was no guarantee it would be put to any good use. These were lawless times, they had given the man a Christian burial and the gold was their reward for doing so. As an afterthought, he decided they would keep it as it was for a while, in case anyone might lay proper claim to it. This settled the minds of the doubters, a fair decision.
For the next two weeks, the three wagons kept to themselves and trailed the wagon train which had deserted them. They had land waiting for them at the end of the trip, bought and paid for, no one was about to deny them of their rights.
What water they had left was now being rationed. Walks on Tiptoes handed out small pebbles for each of the party to suck, an old Indian trick which kept the saliva flowing.
The animals were given enough to keep them going but time and supplies were running out. With three days travelling still in front of them, there was enough water for only one day.
Least concerned about their predicament was Walks on Tiptoes, he was almost nonchalant in his demeanour.
They camped only long enough to rest the animals and eat that evening, Walks on Tiptoes insisted on travelling through the night and no one saw fit to argue with him.
They stopped for breakfast and to rest the animals again, then followed the wagon train's tracks once more.
Walks on Tiptoes disappeared and returned with food in abundance, the sun was at it's highest when he advised they should make camp.
A bigger train would have circled the wagons, the Kennedys made a triangle of their three prairie schooners and roped off the gaps to contain the animals at the Indian's insistence. The family were puzzled but again didn't argue, wisely as it turned out. Half an hour later they could see the gathering storm on the horizon. Another half an hour and they were collecting rain water in every receptacle available and drinking their fill.
The storm intensified and they took shelter in the covered wagons, taking turns to check up on the livestock and have a good wash down at the same time.
With around four hours of daylight left when the storm subsided, it was decided to press forward to make up for lost time, Walks on Tiptoes broke camp and rode ahead, only to return soon after. The original wagon train hadn't taken notice of the gathering storm and were caught out by it's ferocity. Wagons had been ripped apart and the animals, half scared out of their wits, had scattered in every direction.
Jeb didn't hesitate. Always ready to help his fellow man he dispatched his eldest son, his two nephews and Walks on Tiptoes to assist with the loose animals. He himself caught up with the stricken wagon train and set about patching up the broken vehicles.
When Walks on Tiptoes rode into camp with the Kennedy boys and a fair number of strays he was made welcome, this time with open arms.
The repairs were finished with a few hours of daylight left. Many wanted to make up for lost time but again Walks on Tiptoes advised against it, he could sense another gathering storm. No one doubted his foresight, the wagons were circled and animals corralled in readiness.
Half an hour later the black clouds rolled in, this time quicker than before. The wind howled and the rain lashed at the camp for over two hours but the preparations they had made saw them in good stead.
At daybreak, Walks on Tiptoes had disappeared. Nothing unusual in that although he usually let Jeb know. They broke camp and set off for the promised land, no more than a day's ride away. The air seemed fresher after the storm and Jeb swore he could smell the ocean.
The train kept moving for an hour after sunset with still no sign of Walks on Tiptoes. The lead wagon came to a stand, the end of the road, the end of almost six months on the trail, at last, the promised land or, according to the brochure, Briscoe settlement.
Jeb could see a fire up ahead in the distance and rode on to investigate. Sitting cross legged in the centre of what was the Kennedy's allotted land was Walks on Tiptoes.
Six months down the line, Briscoe settlement became the town of Kennedy. The Kennedys, having supplied the materials for the handsome church, were honoured by having the town named after them. Furthermore, Jeb, who had established a sawmill to provide employment for his family, was elected to the joint role of Mayor and law officer. Immediately, Walks on Tiptoes was sworn in as his deputy with the full backing of the township. They would trust any man, red or white who could accurately forecast a gathering storm.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Pioneers make the acquaintance of a valuable friend on their way to the Promised Land.
_____________________________________________________________________
Under cover of darkness, they skirted around the ramshackle huddle of cabins in the hope they wouldn't be spotted. Water was their utmost priority and there would be plenty in what was left of the town. Nonetheless, they acted on Walks On Tiptoes' advice and ghosted past in the night.
The Indian had scouted the place out earlier and found it to be occupied by a gang of outlaws. Men who would be more than curious as to what the Kennedy clan were carrying in the false bed of their lead wagon. Moreover, they would be sure to frown upon Walks On Tiptoes' presence within a group of white folks, a group made up of six males and three females.
How the Indian came to be with them was another story entirely. An army scout, he had been left for dead by the same army he served after a fierce battle with renegade Indians. The Kennedy women tended to his wounds and saved his life, a fact he acknowledged by pledging his allegiance to the family and promising to assist them on their journey to the promised land.
His assistance was welcomed, since other members of the wagon train they had been part of for so long had no desire to be seen in the company of a savage and demonstrated this by leaving the Kennedys behind to fend for themselves.
He paid his way by expertly hunting down their daily food and lending his knowledge of the rough terrain. After a week in his company, Jeb, the leader, ordained him an honorary Kennedy. Walks On Tiptoes reciprocated by slicing both his own and Jeb's thumbs open and joining the bleeding wounds together.
Two days later, their lives were changed forever. Walks On Tiptoes returned from a scouting mission with enough prairie fowl slung round his horse's neck to feed the entire family. He didn't dismount but asked one of the boys to pass up the youngest pup of a new litter. No one asked why as he rode into the distance once again. One hour later he was back, complete with pup. He explained there was water up ahead, good water, somehow they knew the pup had been allowed to test it. He then explained his reasons.
A miner had been camped by the water hole and was now stone dead. No sign of a struggle so Walks On Tiptoes suspected the water was unsafe to drink.
The Kennedys approached the water hole, let the animals drink their fill and replenished the barrels on the side of each wagon. The womenfolk set about preparing the evening meal while the men inspected the miner's camp.
He wasn't a particularly old man and they were puzzled as to how he had died. No wounds, no snakebites and as Walks On Tiptoes said, no signs of a struggle.
The Indian picked up the spit holding what was left of the miner's last meal, a bird of some sort. Although the flies had found it, it didn't appear to be diseased in any way. Jeb inspected the miner's mouth as a last resort and found the cause of death, a bone lodged in the poor man's throat.
Using the miner’s own shovel, they buried him good and deep. One of the boys hammered a pick into the ground at the head of the grave to serve as a cross while Jeb said a few words.
Being as the miner had no further use for his belongings, the Kennedy's stripped his dilapidated wagon of what they themselves could use. Some dried food, tools and the wagon's tailboard to replace the broken one on their lead wagon.
What they discovered when they removed the tailboard had them staring in disbelief. Gold, nuggets and dust, bag upon bag of the stuff.
Being an honest, God fearing man, Jeb went through the miner's possessions in search of a name or a next of kin, coming up with neither. A family meeting then followed with the outcome being the gold belonged to the finders. All agreed, although it didn't sit right with one or two.
As head of the family, Jeb pointed out if they declared it to the next authorities they came across, there was no guarantee it would be put to any good use. These were lawless times, they had given the man a Christian burial and the gold was their reward for doing so. As an afterthought, he decided they would keep it as it was for a while, in case anyone might lay proper claim to it. This settled the minds of the doubters, a fair decision.
For the next two weeks, the three wagons kept to themselves and trailed the wagon train which had deserted them. They had land waiting for them at the end of the trip, bought and paid for, no one was about to deny them of their rights.
What water they had left was now being rationed. Walks on Tiptoes handed out small pebbles for each of the party to suck, an old Indian trick which kept the saliva flowing.
The animals were given enough to keep them going but time and supplies were running out. With three days travelling still in front of them, there was enough water for only one day.
Least concerned about their predicament was Walks on Tiptoes, he was almost nonchalant in his demeanour.
They camped only long enough to rest the animals and eat that evening, Walks on Tiptoes insisted on travelling through the night and no one saw fit to argue with him.
They stopped for breakfast and to rest the animals again, then followed the wagon train's tracks once more.
Walks on Tiptoes disappeared and returned with food in abundance, the sun was at it's highest when he advised they should make camp.
A bigger train would have circled the wagons, the Kennedys made a triangle of their three prairie schooners and roped off the gaps to contain the animals at the Indian's insistence. The family were puzzled but again didn't argue, wisely as it turned out. Half an hour later they could see the gathering storm on the horizon. Another half an hour and they were collecting rain water in every receptacle available and drinking their fill.
The storm intensified and they took shelter in the covered wagons, taking turns to check up on the livestock and have a good wash down at the same time.
With around four hours of daylight left when the storm subsided, it was decided to press forward to make up for lost time, Walks on Tiptoes broke camp and rode ahead, only to return soon after. The original wagon train hadn't taken notice of the gathering storm and were caught out by it's ferocity. Wagons had been ripped apart and the animals, half scared out of their wits, had scattered in every direction.
Jeb didn't hesitate. Always ready to help his fellow man he dispatched his eldest son, his two nephews and Walks on Tiptoes to assist with the loose animals. He himself caught up with the stricken wagon train and set about patching up the broken vehicles.
When Walks on Tiptoes rode into camp with the Kennedy boys and a fair number of strays he was made welcome, this time with open arms.
The repairs were finished with a few hours of daylight left. Many wanted to make up for lost time but again Walks on Tiptoes advised against it, he could sense another gathering storm. No one doubted his foresight, the wagons were circled and animals corralled in readiness.
Half an hour later the black clouds rolled in, this time quicker than before. The wind howled and the rain lashed at the camp for over two hours but the preparations they had made saw them in good stead.
At daybreak, Walks on Tiptoes had disappeared. Nothing unusual in that although he usually let Jeb know. They broke camp and set off for the promised land, no more than a day's ride away. The air seemed fresher after the storm and Jeb swore he could smell the ocean.
The train kept moving for an hour after sunset with still no sign of Walks on Tiptoes. The lead wagon came to a stand, the end of the road, the end of almost six months on the trail, at last, the promised land or, according to the brochure, Briscoe settlement.
Jeb could see a fire up ahead in the distance and rode on to investigate. Sitting cross legged in the centre of what was the Kennedy's allotted land was Walks on Tiptoes.
Six months down the line, Briscoe settlement became the town of Kennedy. The Kennedys, having supplied the materials for the handsome church, were honoured by having the town named after them. Furthermore, Jeb, who had established a sawmill to provide employment for his family, was elected to the joint role of Mayor and law officer. Immediately, Walks on Tiptoes was sworn in as his deputy with the full backing of the township. They would trust any man, red or white who could accurately forecast a gathering storm.
About the Author
Angus Shoor Caan is in his 50s, an ex-seaman and rail worker. Born and bred in sunny Saltcoats, he returned to Scotland after many years in England and found the time to begin writing. He is inspired by the Ayrshire coast and likes what he calls "real music". He also enjoys pool, snooker and is a big fan of rugby league side, Wigan Warriors. He has written several novels and one poetry collection and says that writing gives him "endless pleasure". His two ebooks can be viewed by clicking on the images below.
Angus tells us that all his stories on McStorytellers have been inspired by the titles of songs written by Paul Kelly, who is often described as the poet laureate of Australia.
Angus tells us that all his stories on McStorytellers have been inspired by the titles of songs written by Paul Kelly, who is often described as the poet laureate of Australia.