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The Stars Of A Cowboy

My Name Sake, The Outlaw

By Jasper WolfPublished 3 years ago 14 min read
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Every crop, hill, and mountain in my view belongs to Great Grandfather. I dismount my horse and pat him on the shoulder as I walk toward the 200-year-old oak tree. As I calculate the years, I realize my great grandfather carved his name into the broken bark 73 years ago.

I run my coarse fingers across the lettering. I felt the heart shape on my fingertip as I moved slowly around it. It read RG+AN inside of a carved crooked heart. My great grandmother, Anne Noble, was the top student of her small-town school. So it surprised everyone when she fell for an outlaw, my great grandfather.

He would never admit it, but I'm his favorite great-grandson. We have the same color eyes and hair. Not to mention, I was named after him. My name is Reginald Gray, Reggie for short. In my earlier years, we had quite a bit of confusion with the post office mixing up the mail. So we decided to nickname me Reggie.

This morning at dawn, Great grandfather left us for his last ride into the sun. He was 98 years old. He outlived great-grandmother Anne by 12 years. He lived in his own small valley. You walk out the back door and all you see is mother nature's beauty. Everything in your view is owned by the Gray family now.

Great grandfather never told us how he acquired all this land. We just assumed that back in those days, you hand-built your house and the land is yours if you claim it.

As the corn sways in the wind, I think of how many years were spent tilling this land and selling the crops for profit. The old barn has only three horses that reside in it now. It used to be filled from wall to wall with cattle that he would maintain. As the years went on and he got older, he sold them.

I guess it's time to head back to the old house. I grabbed the reins and mounted my 5-year old horse, Tex. Great-Grandfather gave him to me for my 16th birthday. He was just a colt at the time. Great-Grandfather thought his horses were too old to breed, so Tex surprised him when his mother gave birth. When choosing his name, I wanted to name him after my home state of Texas. Don't mess with Texas.

After I sat on the saddle, I clicked my heels against him and he took off toward the house. After I arrived, I tied up Tex on the bar out back of the house and walked inside. My Grandfather Hank had arrived while I was out. He saw me walk in and he patted my shoulder as he walked into the back bedroom where Great Grandfather laid.

The old wooden chair aside from the bed awaited Grandfather. He sat down, and the wood creaked from his weight. He laid his hand on his father's cold hand and kissed him upon the forehead. My mother walked over and rubbed his back as he mourned over his father.

I watched from the doorway as each family member said good-bye to our patriarch. I stepped away and sat by the fireplace. The rocking chair I was sitting in was the same chair great grandfather would tell me bedtime stories in. As I watched the orange flames stretch toward the chimney, I heard my mother call for me. "Reggie, come kiss your great grandfather before we go." I stood up and walked into the cold room. It seemed empty even though my family members stood against the four walls.

I sat in the same creaky chair grandfather did. I looked upon my namesake and touched his forehead. His white hair was a bit frizzy and his skin was white as snow. I kissed his cheek and told him that I hope I can bring honor to our name as he did.

The town doctor came with a couple of men and they wheeled him out of the room on a roll-away bed. They loaded him into their vehicle and left for town.

I was 21-years old at the time and the house was still owned by the family. My grandfather came to me and pat me on my back. "Listen, Reggie, I want you to take up the house and the horses. I know your great grandfather would love you to have it. You're old enough now to live on your own."

I looked at him in shock. "Yes Grandfather, I'd love to, but we need to speak with father." He smiled and said, "Don't you worry, I'll take care of it." He rubbed my hair in his hand and walked toward the car. I followed after him and we headed home.

A couple of days later, my father knocked on my bedroom door. "Reggie, you got a minute for your old dad?" I looked up from my book, "Of course I do, What's going on?"

He walked in and sat on my bed next to me. "Son, your grandfather talked to me and said they want you to inherit Great-Grandfather Reginald's house. I know it will be a lot of work, but I think it's a great idea for you to be out on your own."

I sat back against my pillow, "You do?" He replied, "Of course I do. If you need any help, let us know." I thanked my dad extensively and started to pack.

I started with just a bag of essentials and headed over to my new house. My father's house was only a few miles away, so I'd be able to move everything through the week.

As soon as I got to the house, I cleaned the bedroom and washed the linens. I pulled a fresh pair of linens out while the others were washing. I sat at my empty dinner table and was wondering what you do in your own place.

I stood up and walked into the living room. This house wasn't large at all. In actuality, it was quite small. I sat by the fireplace in the rocking chair and started to rock back and forth. I was off in another place as I was staring at the old black and white pictures on the mantle. I guess I was doing the same as any other human being who lost someone. I was looking at the pictures and imagining Great-Grandfather and Great-Grandmother carving their initials into a heavenly tree. As I smiled, I looked at the bowl of walnuts on the side table. Next to the bowl was a little black book.

As I tilted my head and grabbed the small leather black book, I noticed a gold inscription on the bottom of the cover. I looked closely and it read "RMG" that was short for Reginald Matthew Gray. I turned it over to see if there was anything on the back, but there was only creased leather.

I opened the cover and in pen, it states, "Reginald Gray, 1852." This was written ten years before he met great grandmother. As the fire was blazing and the sun was calling it a night, I flipped to the next page.

"Reginald Gray, Aug 1852, Texas

This morning chilled my bones. Even in August in Western Texas, the desert can get as cold as an icebox. I took my only pot and warmed some water from the nearby stream. I made myself a pot of coffee and a can of beans for breakfast. I don't have much here with me. A few rations of food, a couple of guns, and my horse. If I had a line and pole, I could catch myself some trout. I might pick that up in the next town, but I need money or trade to offer the general store.

I noticed stagecoach wheel marks that go by about 300ft away from my camp. If I get up on the ridge, I can see them, but they can't see me. I wonder what kind of stagecoach it is and if they carry any money or goods that are useful to me. I'll keep an eye out. It beats just sitting the lonely hours away in the dirt. See if I score lucky.

After reading the first entry, I realized he had kept a journal. He was around my age and living in the western desert. The stars were out and the cold drafty house showed me that it was getting late, but I wanted to read on. I turned the page and there was more.

Reginald Gray, Late Aug 1952, Texas

I was awoken this morning by sticks snapping around me. I felt as if an intruder had come into the camp. Arm's length away was my pistol. My old buddy, Billy, had given me the silver companion. I call it my companion because I have it with me at all times. As I stood up, I walked to where I heard the intruder. In front of me was a bush, nearby a tree. There was nobody around to hear, so I shot the bullet at the tree and out escaped a Jack Rabbit. I shot at it a couple more times hoping to get supper, but the dang thing was so fast, it disappeared into the glare of the sun.

I stuck it back in its holster and laid back on the ground. I put my worn cowboy hat over my eyes. It smelt of dirt and clay. I heard horse footing in the distance. Making sure Tuck didn't take off, I jumped up. Tuck is still tied to the tree. I stood up and looked off into the distance from the ridge and saw a Well's Fargo Stagecoach. The stagecoach transfers money from one town to another. I'm not sure which towns are nearby, but all I know is if I get the money, no more beans for breakfast.

So, this morning I stepped down off the ridge and jumped on Tuck. We slowly tracked the stagecoach for a mile or so. As soon as they stopped to water their horses is when I jumped on them. Got out my old trusty rifle, pointed it at the driver, and demanded the money. Two men came out of the coach, but I told them to lay on the ground. One tried to play brave and pull his pistol, but I emptied a round right by his head. They laid on their bellies and I told the driver to fill the sacks on Tuck. He opened the stagecoach and filled both brown sacks in hesitation. I held them at gunpoint and told them to count to 100. I closed up my sacks and Tuck took off.

I knew the law would come looking for me, so I moved camps. I went about ten miles away from my old camp and lit a fire there. I did warm up my last can of beans knowing it would be my last. I'm eating them now and heading to bed. Good night to whoever is reading this, tomorrow has more to come.

I put the hand-sized leather book in my lap. Did great grandfather really rob a bank stagecoach? He must have, I mean, How else did he go from living in the western desert to having land as far as the eye can see? I took the weathered book with me as I sat on the bed. I put the book on the side table near my candle. I slipped off my jeans into my undergarments and pulled the covers over me. In the candlelight, I was imagining what great grandfather saw on those cold desert nights. As I stared at the ceiling, I imagined looking past it and into the billions of stars that covered the dark blue sky. The silhouette of the mountains in the background and the candlelight mimicking the campfire he had next to him.

My mind was running as fast as a horse in an open valley. I needed to read the next entry. My candle was already lit, so I grabbed the book next to me. I opened it to the third entry and began to read with anxiousness.

Reginald Gray, September 1852, Texas

The Western Sun Rose. The rays shined in my eyes through my hat and awoke me. I stretched my arms and stood up. I smelled of horse and campfire. I went to the stream and bathed in the brisk water. I stepped on the dirt to gain my gripping as I dried off. I thought about the robbery the day before and my hard-earned earnings. You may not think they're hard-earned, but I risked my life for them. Any one of those men could have shot me. I pulled up my pants and buttoned them as I was walking to old Tuck. I patted his shoulder as I looked in my sack. Bills were sticking out of the top flap. I went to the other side of Tuck and looked in my saddlebag. I lifted the flap and bundles of money fell out. How much did I get? I took both sacks by the fire and pulled out each bundle one by one. I counted one bill after the other and I counted $50,000. I'm set for life. My children are set for life. Time to move on from this dirt wasteland and get me something more comfortable.

I whistled over Old Tuck. I fastened the saddlebag onto his back and shoved the bills down. I hopped on and clicked my heels onto him. I'd go where ever his feet would take me. I rode Tuck along the river until he got tired. He slowed his gallop and walked into the slow-moving river. I dismounted and looked at my new land. I knew there was a town a few miles away, I'd go there tomorrow and talk to the sheriff about who owns this heaven on earth. I lit my fire and laid on my itchy blanket. My hat fell over my eyes and I slept through the night.

I turned the page and noticed a page missing. Why would a page be torn out? I went to the side table in the living room and looked around, I found no loose page. I just figured great grandfather kept something a secret. Just like this robbery he took to his grave. By this time, it was around midnight, but I couldn't get enough of his adventures. I turned to the next page.

Reginald Gray, October 1852, Cheyenne, Texas

I made it to Cheyenne a month ago. I haven't written due to being so busy buying land and a house. The local reporter was selling a large piece of land due to his mother's death. His mother was a poor woman who built her house out of logs on the land she lived. He charged me $10,000. He had no idea anyone would ever pay that price for it. I handed him cash and he was curious where I got this kind of money. I mentioned to him that my father was some big wig in Washington. He pocketed the money and I started building onto the original house. I built a bigger porch and more rooms. Now that I am living like a civilized person, I'd love to have a civilized family. I'm growing crops to sell and also hunting game for trade at the general store.

I spent a total of $30,000. I'm content in the house and with the fields. I don't need anything else. I want a nice future for my future generations. I peeled back a wall plank and put the $20,000 in the eastern wall of my bedroom. It's there until someone reads this journal and discovers it.

I looked at the clock and it showed a quarter until 1:00 am. My eyes were getting tired, so I had to re-read that sentence. "I peeled back a wall plank and put the $20,000 in the eastern wall of my bedroom." I looked around the room and figured East was to my right.

I grabbed my hammer and knocked on every plank. I knocked until I hear one that sounds more hollow. I take the back part of the handle and pull the plank out of the wall. The hammer slipped and hit my other hand. I knew a nice bruise would be left there. I grabbed the plank with both hands and pulled on it. I found a small brown dusty sack. I pulled it out and coughed from the cloud of ancient dirt that came with it. I opened the sack and found vintage bills from the 1800s. I knew at this time, that this was stolen money, but after 100 years, nobody would believe a kid. I put the money back and nailed the plank back up. I'm going to hold onto it for a while. Start my own family and maybe build onto the life he had started.

As I looked out the window, I see shooting stars over the silhouette mountain tops. The question had been answered on why Great Grandfather had all this land. Over the years, having children and a farm, he used up most of the money. But Great Grandfather left behind $20,000, just like his legacy.

My Great-Grandfather, an outlaw. I took the little black book and shoved it under the mattress. I laid there on my bed with my candle lighting the room like my Great-Grandfather's desert sky. I laid my cowboy hat over my eyes just like he did. And I'm taking his name into history just like he did. I will add to his entries as Reggie Gray. 1935, Texas.

You're a part of the stars now Great Grandfather Reginald. Lift that hat above your eyes and ride into the night.

fiction
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About the Creator

Jasper Wolf

Founder/Owner of Howling Wolf Freelance Writing

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