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The Burning Of An Early Fall

A Western Short Story by Elijah Wells

By Elijah WellsPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 13 min read
Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
2
Fences

I heard men arguing in the distance, their voices muffled by the violence of the weather. The year was late, and the snow was falling heavily. The night was black and cold; the moon and stars hid behind the clouds. I put another piece of wood on a small fire I had attempted to start. I got up and walked over to one of the covered wagons we were traveling with and rummaged through the various items stored in the back until I found the firewood. I grabbed four pieces, walked back to the glowing orange fire, and put them on. I put my hands closer to the heat hoping to warm them. Then, I heard screaming coming from where the men were arguing.

“Just cut it off, if you don’t, he’ll die” said Marshal Grimshaw.

“I’m afraid he will die regardless. Don’t you think we should let him die with dignity?” Obadiah responded.

“If it were me, I know he’d try and help. Give him some of that Brandy and we’ll get started.” The Marshal said with remorse trembling in his voice.

I knew what was about to happen. They had to cut this boy's leg off. Otherwise, he might die of blood poisoning. He also might lose all his blood and die, but Grimshaw is a fair man, and he wants this boy to pull through. Or at least have a chance to pull through. Mikey was attacked by a pack of wild dogs. We’ve already lost five men; we cannot lose another. I got closer to the fire still trying to get warm. My bones were cold and my coat was damp. I was worried about the winter illnesses that could make my life even more miserable than it already was.

I heard more screaming, and then silence. I looked over to see what was happening.

“He’s fainted. Cut the rest of that leg off while he’s unconscious.” The Marshal commanded. “Pablo! Get some blankets and some bandages! This man just lost his leg!” Then he shifted his attention towards me: “Brown, get that fire as warm as you can.”

I got up again and went to the same covered wagon and I pulled out as much wood as I could carry and brought it over to the fire. I threw some more logs on and they slowly began to smoke. Then I went back and got as many blankets as I could carry. I tried to clear a place to make a bed by moving some rocks and digging a body-sized hole in the snow. I had already dug a hole in the snow for the fire, so the surrounding area was already less dense on account of the heat from the burning wood.

“Brown, get your ass over here and help me bring Mikey over to that fire you built.” The Marshal shouted.

I got up and hurried over. The snow was deep, and I hated walking through it. As I approached Grimshaw I saw a bloody scene. There was a young man lying on the ground missing his left leg. He was so pale that I couldn’t recognize him against the snow. The blood contrasted against the snow so dramatically it took my whole self to not focus solely on it. I went for Mikey's legs and Grimshaw went for his arms. We picked him up and carried his unconscious body to the bed I prepared for him. We laid him in the hole and placed blankets on him trying to keep him warm.

After he was settled, I went to the wagon to get the percolator to make some coffee while the rest of the men helped set up camp. I brought it back and saw a few men sitting by the fire.

“I hate this goddammed weather. I don’t believe there is anything on this earth that can kill me besides this here weather. I’ve fought on the plains and I've fought the confederates, but this weather will be the death of me.” Said, James .

“It’s your love of whisky that’s going to be the death of you, cowpoke. Your livers' going fall out and become a popsicle in this snow.” Said Pablo.

Everyone laughed and I sat down by the fire. I got some coffee grounds out and started making the coffee. James pulled out a bottle of whisky and took a generous swig, then he offered the bottle to Pablo who took it gratefully. Then a small man wearing thin glasses came and sat down by the fire. His coat was covered with blood.

“Marshal Grimshaw is taking the boys leg down to the river. He said he wants to send it down the current. It’s an old superstition I guess.” Said Obadiah. He investigated the hole near the fire and looked at Mikey’s face. He was pale and his lips were turning blue. “This boy won’t make it through the night. Anyone willing to sit up with him, so he won’t die alone?” Said Obadiah, addressing the whole group.

“I will if I can keep that Brandy of yours,” I said.

“Fine, you can have what’s left of it.” Said Obadiah.

“Thanks. What are we to do with the herd?” I questioned.

“I reckon they’ll be frozen by tomorrow on account of this blizzard.” Obadiah responded.

“Well, that’s a shame. I guess we’ll talk it over with Grimshaw in the morning. Good night.”

Everyone said good night and went and huddled in a very well-covered wagon. In conditions like these, the only way to stay alive was to huddle together. As Obadiah was leaving, I grabbed the bottle of brandy from his hands, pulled out the quark, and took a modest drink. I once again thanked him, and he patted my shoulders showing that he was grateful to me for sitting with Mikey. I took a few more drinks from the brandy and felt it warm my throat and stomach. I started to feel light and reminiscent. I myself was not more than twenty-three and yet I felt as if my skin was made of leather. I waited up and watched the boy, but I was curious where Marshal Grimshaw was. I wasn’t worried about him though, I knew he could handle himself. He was an old U.S. Marshal who has been living on the trail most of his life. Nothing could scare him. Not death or the worst weather. I had gotten to know him better over the past few weeks. He fell in with us as some extra protection while we traveled through some rougher country.

The hours passed and I drank more of the bottle. I got up and got more wood to throw onto the fire. The wind died down and the snow stopped falling. The clouds seemed to part, and I could see some stars in the sky. I took another big drink of brandy and moved in closer to the heat trying to keep warm. I started to doze off and I closed my eyes for a while until I heard Mikey having trouble breathing. I opened my eyes, looked down into the hole, and grabbed his hand. He was unconscious. He took a few more gasps, then died. I couldn’t help but feel emotional. I didn’t know him well, but seeing a young man die just feels wrong. I sat with him for a while until daybreak. The sky slowly went from deep and black, to a vibrant purple and orange and I watched as the morning stars faded. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to sleep.

I woke up and saw Mikey's body in the hole we dug for him. The fire was smoldering and the snow around it had melted. I reached down and tried to close Mikey's eyes, but he was already so cold it was nearly impossible. I got up and found a shovel on one of the wagons. I walked back to Mikey’s grave and started shoveling snow over his body. A few of the men traveling with us brought some rocks to place over him as well. We hammered some wood together and I made a makeshift headstone for the boy.

Marshal Grimshaw walked back into camp and saw the small funeral happening. He approached the group and looked at everyone intently. “There’s always death on the trail. You can’t avoid it. It’s either you get killed, or you kill someone. Keep your heads about you.” The Marshal said with a serious tone.

A few hours later, I saw the Marshal riding back into camp driving the herd. The spirit amongst the men became much lighter, and we hurriedly finished packing our gear, and we moved out towards a small town a few miles away. It was mid-day, and the sun was high. Puffy, white clouds moved slowly across the sky occasionally casting a great shadow giving rest to the eyes for a moment. The gleam of white coming off the snow was very uncomfortable to look at. I rode ahead so that I could have some time alone. I pulled a bag of tobacco and rolling paper out of my coat and I prepared another cigarette and lit it with a match. The smoke filled my lungs and I felt myself melt into my saddle. I like to smoke when I ride, it helps me to focus on the beauty of the land around me, and it lets my mind run free for a moment. Time began to pass, and I descended the mountain where we encountered the blizzard and the wild dogs that attacked Mikey. The white of the snow gradually began to thin, and the brown and green of the ground became visible. I saw a small bush with blue flowers growing wild and free. In moments like these, the bond between man and nature is tangible and the draw to true open land grows deeper. I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out a worn journal and a pencil. I let the horse ride freely north and I started writing in the journal.

“Life on the trail is rough, and danger is ever-present. Many young men shed their lifeblood and their soul returned to the dust from which we are all made, and all destined for. A young man named Mikey, who joined up with our outfit, was attacked by some wild dogs. Marshal Grimshaw and Obadiah made their best efforts to save the boy, but he died despite everything. In times like these, it is hard to find meaning in life. The line that defines man and animal is grey and easily crossed as we all fight for survival in a land that devours and produces a never-ending cycle of life, death, and the burning of fire. We are embers from a raging fire, fading into a glow to be gone by morning.

November 11th, 1890”

The day was late, and the sky was vibrant with the colors of sunset, the common orange, deep purple, pink and blue that seem to captivate mankind every evening raged on as they will forever. I approached a small town that consisted of simple wooden structures. There was an undertakers shop, a saloon, and a few other stores. At the end of a long road, I saw a livery. I trotted over and asked if I could store my horse for a few nights. The owner was obliged once I gave him his payment. I proceeded to walk down to the saloon, where I hear the syncopations of piano music drawing me into the community watering-hole. From across the bar, I saw a man with a large mustache and a long-sleeved white shirt covered by an apron. I asked for a whisky. I further inquired about renting a room, and the possibility of a bath.

"A room will be two dollars, and a bath is ten cents, twenty-five cents for a bath with hot water." The bartender said to me as he poured me a glass of whisky.

I paid him, and I went and sat down at a table. From across the room, I saw a beautiful woman. Her hair was blond like wheat, and her eyes were a striking blue. They reminded me of the ever-restless ripples of the deep sea, and my attention was like a sinking ship being consumed by the churning brine, simply to return to calm once I was consumed completely.

I finished my drink, and I saw her approaching me slowly. She sat down at my table and signaled to the bartender who brought both of us another drink.

"I heard you order a bath. Would you mind some company?" Said the blond woman.

"No thank you" I responded gently. She just smiled and said, "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be sleeping in old man smith's barn. It's a mile down the road to the south. You'll see an old owl in the window. He sits there almost every night. Then she stood up and kissed me on the cheek. "I would love to see you later, handsome." Then she walked away.

I finished my whisky and stood up. The bartender told me that the bath was ready. I walked up the stairs and walked down a long hallway to the bathroom. I went into the room and closed the door behind me. The steam was rising gently from the still water in the porcelain tub. The room was dimly lit from a few candles around the room. The light was bouncing off of the warm wooden walls. I placed my leg into the water and I felt the hot water sinking deep into my flesh. I washed, got up, got dressed, and went to my room where I fell asleep for a while. I dreamed of the woman. I dreamed that I was walking south on the road under a great sky of stars, twinkling. Over my head, I heard a screech and a sudden rush of wind. The owl she told me about flew towards the window and landed on its perch. The woman was nowhere to be found. I sat down in front of the barn and waited for her. I wanted to be held in her arms just for the night. I laid down on my back and felt as if I was falling into a void. The speed increased greatly until I was startled awake. I looked out the window and the sun had come up. Then, an owl landed on the window seal. I knew It was time for me to move on from this town.

I went out to the livery where I had stored my horse and saw the Marshal. I approached him and told him that I was ready to leave the town, and he agreed. It was time to move on to the next town and keep driving our outfit north. I asked the Marshal where the herd was, and he told me that the cattle were with James and Pablo a day's ride north. I got my horse and set out to meet with them, the whole time thinking about the woman and her barn with the owl in the window.

Adventure
2

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