__
_ A short while after Shorty left the only girl he had ever loved,
(which is another story for another time), and having had a good deal of
brown ale at a nearby saloon in the middle of Nowhere, just a couple of
hundred miles west of the boondocks, he headed out of Nowhere to go to
somewhere. Somewhere, to Shorty that night, was anywhere that was not
Nowhere. He needed to get away, and he didn’t care where. He spent the
night driving down seemingly endless back roads, in his trusty Model T
Ford, and as first light came he found himself in need of some gas.
There was a farm ahead, on the left, and Shorty pulled into the road leading up to the farmhouse. As he neared the farmhouse, a middle-aged man in coveralls stepped out of the barn, shotgun in hand, and looked suspiciously at Shorty in his Model T. Shorty braked to a stop and slowly climbed out of his Model T, careful to keep his hands in plain view at all times. He gave a little wave to the farmer, flashed a smile, and said, “Mornin’ to you ,sir.”
“Mornin’” the farmer answered, staring alternately at Shorty and the back of his Model T roadster.
“I was hoping I could buy a little gasoline off you.” began Shorty. “I left Nowhere some time last night, after drinking a few too many brown ales. I’m headed to somewhere that isn’t Nowhere, ‘cause I couldn’t stand to be in Nowhere any longer. Well, I’ve been drivin’ all night, you see, and I don’t know where I am, and I need some gasoline. I’ll pay you what you want for the gasoline, since I’m about out.”
“Where you from, stranger? I can tell you’re not from around these parts, since you talk funny, and you want to get somewhere that isn’t nowhere. Seems like folks are always tryin’ to get to somewhere. Never satisfied, they aren’t. Nope. What’s that in the back of your car, in the rumble seat. Looks like a plant.”
“Yep. It’s a Liberty Tree. I plant them wherever I go. It’s my last one. Guess I’ll have to pick up some more.” Shorty held out his hand. “My name’s Shorty Dawkins and I come from Upton’s Corners, New Hampshire.”
The farmer tilted his head to one side and looked at Shorty with a curious expression.
“I’ve heard folks down at the coffee shop tell about you. Zeke Mathis was over in Windy Valley the day you came into town and planted one of your Liberty Trees on Doc Curley’s front lawn.”
“Yep, that was me.” Shorty said with a grin. “I remember Zeke. He’s a damn good shot.”
“The way folks tell it, you’re a better shot than Zeke.”
“That day I was, anyway. Of course I had a good teacher.” Shorty said, modestly.
“Who’s that? Your teacher, I mean.”
“My sister, Edna Mae. Never seen a better marksman than her.”
The farmer gave Shorty that same curious expression, again, then scratched the stubble on his chin.
“Tell you what, Mr. Dawkins. I don’t have but half a gallon of gas in my cans, right now. I was planning on going to Windy Valley this afternoon to get some. Windy Valley’s more than twenty miles from here, though, but Ezra Lyons over in Hardyville always has plenty of gasoline on hand, I know, and he’d be willing to sell you some, for the right price. His place is only five or six miles from here.”
“That sounds fine with me, sir. I’ll pay what I have to pay. It’s my own fault I’m in this predicament. I’ve got enough gas left to go that far. How do I get there?”
The farmer smiled, at Shorty and looked over at the Liberty Tree in Shorty’s rumble seat.
“One thing about getting’ to Hardyville, young feller, is that no one can give you directions. You either know how to get there, or you don’t. You’ve been plantin’ your Liberty Trees all over the place, so I figure you can find your way. I’ll give you a hint to get you started, though. Just keep driving down this road, here, and when you feel the pull of Hardyville, well, you’ll know where to go. Just stop in at the Hog Trough Grill and Feed. Ezra’s there most mornings.”
With those few directions, the farmer went back to work and Shorty continued driving down the road. As he drove, Shorty thought to himself that Hardyville sounded a lot like Upton’s Corners, in that you had to know how to get there because no one would give you directions. I think I’m going to like Hardyville, he decided.
Shorty found his way through the Lonelyheart Pass, (though it was only instinct that showed him the way, much as folks arrived in Upton’s Corners), driving past sagebrush bushes too numerous to count, and just when he figured he would run out of gas, he found Hardyville and the Hog Trough Grill and Feed. Upon entering the Hog Trough, Shorty had the feeling he was stepping into Millie’s General Store, back home in Upton’s Corners. It wasn’t that the two places looked alike, because they didn’t, but rather the feeling was the same. The Hog Trough, like Millie’s General Store, was a place where good folk gathered to chat, maybe exchange some news, much as many small town gathering places, but at the Hog Trough, as with Millie’s, no one told anyone else how to live their lives, at least no one with a lick of common sense.
Looking about the Hog Trough, Shorty saw two fellows at a table having some coffee and what some might call breakfast, though it didn’t look too appetizing. He chalked that up as one of the differences between the Hog Trough and Millie’s. Millie could cook, no doubt about it, and her coffee was great. He chose a stool at one end of the counter and sat himself down. The old fellow behind the counter shuffled over to Shorty and looked at him with a sidelong glance.
“What can I get you, stranger?”
“Well,” Shorty began, “I could use a cup of good strong coffee, for starters. I had a few too many brown ales last night and my tongue is as dry as my Daddy’s sense of humor.”
“Coffee, huh? Black?”
“Yup, and strong.”
The old fellow shuffled off to get him a cup.
“Hey Bud, when you get a moment, Ezra and I could use some more coffee.” One of the two men at the table called.
“Hold your horses, Brendan, I’m busy right now.” The old man, Bud, told him.
“Damn, Bud, this is as busy as you’ve been in a week. Three customers at once. I don’t know how you stand the pace.” The second man, Ezra, said with a chuckle.
“It’s brutal, Ezra, just brutal. Heck, I might even have to make another pot of coffee.”
Shorty turned to look at the fellow named Ezra. “You wouldn’t happen to be Ezra Lyons would you?”
“Might be. Why do you ask, stranger?”
“Well, a fellow who lives in a farm out on Highway 16, I’m afraid I never did get his name, but he came out of his barn with a shotgun, and he wore an old leather hat tilted sideways, as I recall, told me to come see you. You see, Mr. Lyons, I need to buy some gasoline. My tank is darn near empty. That fellow with the shotgun figured you might have some I could buy.”
The other fellow with Ezra had wandered over to the window, as Shorty spoke, and was looking towards where Shorty’s car was parked.
“You’re not from these parts, I see.” Ezra said, looking at Shorty real close. “Have I seen you before?”
“I can’t say that I’ve seen you before, Mr. Lyons. I was over in Windy Valley last week, maybe you saw me there.”
“Hey Ezra.” the other fellow called. “This is the feller that out shot Zeke Mathis.”
“Now how’d you know that, Brendan McCarty? Just cause he was over to Windy Valley doesn’t mean he’s the one shot better’n old Zeke.” Ezra told him, after using a nearby spittoon. Shorty thought of his friend Mad Mountain Jack when Ezra did that. Mad Mountain liked his chew, no doubt about it.
“Don’t you remember Zeke sayin’ the guy had a Model T with tree saplings in the rumble seat?” Brendan squawked back. “Just look outside here a minute, Ezra. There it is, a Model T with a tree sapling in the rumble seat.”
Ezra took a look and had to admit that Brendan was right. Damn, he hated to admit Brendan was right about anything.
“Guess you’re right, for once, Brendan.” Ezra turned back to Shorty to avoid Brendan’s triumphant smile. “So, Mr. Dawkins, you’re the one who out shot old Zeke, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I’m the one.” Shorty admitted.
“And you need some gas?”
“Yes, sir. I’m about empty, as I said.”
“You ever do any long shooting?” Ezra asked, looking sideways at Brendan who couldn’t suppress a smirk.
“Depends on what you call long shooting.”
“Say 700, maybe 800 yards?” Ezra said, looking closely at Shorty, again.
“I call that sorta long range, myself. Now long range, to me at least, is in the 1000 yard range. But, to answer your question, yes, I’ve done some sorta long range shooting.” Shorty could guess where this was headed, but he didn’t mind.
“Tell you what I’ll do, Shorty. You don’t mind me callin’ you Shorty do you?”
“No sir, Ezra. I prefer folks to call me Shorty.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking’, Shorty. I like to think I’m a pretty good shot, and you need my gasoline. So, how about we set up a little match. Long shots, 800 yards. Brendan here can be the judge. Don’t worry about him bein’ fair. He loves it when folks beat me at anything I suggest, so he’s in your corner, not mine. What do you say, Shorty? Are you game? If you beat me, I’ll give you the gas for free. If I beat you, the gas will be 25 cents a gallon.”
“Why not 900 yards? If I lose, I’ll pay you 40 cents a gallon.” Shorty countered.
“All right, Shorty. It’s a deal.” Ezra extended his hand which Shorty took firmly in his.
“Lead on, Ezra. I’ll follow you in my car. Whoops, wait a minute, I‘ll need a little gas. Like I said, it‘s darn near empty.”
“I’ve got a gallon can in the back of my truck.” Brendan told him. “I’ll give it to you. I wouldn’t miss this for anything..”
Brendan put the gas in Shorty’s Model T and off to Ezra’s place they drove. Ezra lived a few miles outside of Hardyville center, but the way Ezra drove it seemed like twenty miles. Shorty decided Ezra was playing games with his psyche, so he didn’t complain. They pulled up beside Ezra’s barn and Shorty went to the rumble seat where he had his guns carefully wrapped in burlap. To get at his guns he had to remove his Liberty tree, which gave him an idea. He looked at the pasture behind the barn and saw there were no animals grazing in it. The pasture sloped up just a little from the barn, and out at what Shorty judged to be about 850-900 yards there was a big old oak tree.
“Ezra, how far would you say it is from here to that oak tree over there.” Shorty asked, pointing to it.
“Ah, well, I’d guess it was close to 900 yards, Shorty.” Ezra said scratching his chin. “”Do you want to set some kind of target on the tree, Shorty?”
“No, Ezra. I was just using the tree for judging distance. How’s this for an idea? Suppose we place my Liberty Tree on that little rise to the left of the oak tree and tie two bandanas to it. One on either side. One side for you, one side for me. The first one to cause his bandana to fall to the ground wins. I’ll even let you shoot first.” Shorty could almost see Ezra squirm as he realized the difficulty of the contest. Ezra was apparently unwilling to back away from the challenge, though.
“So be it.” Ezra managed to say without showing his nervousness. He was no doubt beginning to wonder what he was getting himself in for.
“I’ll take the tree out to the rise.” Brendan offered, grinning broadly. “Tie your bandanas to the tree, gentlemen.”
With the bandanas attached, Brendan put the tree in the back of Ezra’s truck and drove out to the agreed on spot. He placed the Liberty tree carefully, allowing each of the bandanas to be clearly visible. Shorty’s was on the right, Ezra’s on the left. Meanwhile, Ezra stepped into the house to get his rifle. Shorty grabbed his favorite long rifle, the one he nicknamed “Effie”, after Calvin Pratt’s wife. Shorty liked to joke that his rifle, a .45-70 Allin-Springfield Model 1873 Army rifle, could shoot almost as far as Effie could shout. (Effie had quite a temper on her, it was well known in Upton’s Corners, and surrounding towns.)
“What are you shootin’, Shorty?” Ezra asked as he returned, rifle in hand.
“An Allin-Springfield .45-70 army rifle.” Shorty said, offering it for Ezra to inspect. “Old Effie and me have grown used to each other. What are you shooting?”
“I’m using my old standby, a .30-40 Krag rifle. My Daddy brought it home from the Spanish-American War.”
“Nice rifle.” Shorty said, nodding in agreement. “Mind if we use the fence post for support?”
“Sure, go ahead. I plan on using it.”
“All right then. Anytime you’re ready, Ezra.” Shorty whistled to Brendan to get out of the way.
Ezra grabbed a hand full of fine sand and tossed it in the air, trying to gauge the wind. There was little. Then he stepped up to the fence post, resting his elbow on the top of it. He carefully sighted, held his breath, and squeezed off his first shot, which landed short and wide of the Liberty Tree by about five feet. Ezra grunted in anger at missing so wide.
Shorty stepped up to take his first shot and put it into the burlap bag wrapped around the roots. He made a mental note to himself to adjust his aim a little higher. Ezra’s second shot was closer, but still wide of the mark. Shorty took his time on the next shot, giving him some time to think. He knew he could beat Ezra, probably with the next shot, but something told him he should give Ezra a face saving way out of his predicament. Stealing a glance at Ezra, Shorty saw he was perturbed.
“Hey Ezra.” Shorty heard Brendan call. “I’m sure gonna like it when this young feller beats you.”
“It ain’t over yet, Brendan McCarty.” Ezra spat on the ground and looked at Shorty. “He’s a good shot. If he beats me, he beats me.”
Shorty didn’t want to give Brendan a reason to crow over poor Ezra. He decided he liked Ezra, though he didn’t dislike Brendan. A thought occurred to Shorty, and he decided to see if he could save face for Ezra while at the same time giving Brendan something to talk about to the folks in Hardyville. If his plan succeeded they would both have something to talk about. Shorty remembered the difficulty Brendan had encountered while trying to make the Liberty Tree stand upright. It kept wanting to fall over backwards. He decided to use that knowledge for his own benefit. He just hoped his aim was good.
As he stepped up to the post, Shorty looked at Ezra and gave him a little wink. He could tell Ezra was confused by the wink, but, no mind, Shorty knew Ezra would see the light in a moment. Resting his elbow on the top of the post, Shorty took careful aim, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out and, to everyone’s surprise, except Shorty’s, the Liberty Tree fell over backwards. The look of surprise on Brendan’s face was priceless. Poor Brendan didn’t know what to think. He ran over to the Liberty Tree and looked at it. There was a hole shot right through the thin trunk of the tree, dead center. The impact of the bullet had been enough to send the Liberty Tree toppling backwards. Brendan scratched his head a moment, then bent over to pick up the tree, planning on setting it upright again, so the match could continue.
“Damn,” Shorty said. “A tie. Don’t you just hate it when it ends in a tie, Ezra?”
Ezra looked at Shorty, then out at Brendan trying to set the Liberty Tree back up. A look of confusion was followed by a dawning of what had just happened. Ezra realized that Shorty had purposely tried to create a tie. Since the Tree fell over, both bandanas hit the ground at the same time, therefore a tie. A wry smile creased Ezra’s face. He spit on the ground, then replied, “Yep, I sure do hate for it to end in a tie, Shorty, but sometimes stuff happens. What can you do?” He gave Shorty a knowing wink and the two shook hands.
The two of them walked out to inspect the Liberty Tree, and there it was, a hole in the trunk.
“What are you doin’?” Brendan asked, indignantly. “Let’s go on with the match.
“The match is over, Brendan. It was a tie.” Shorty told him.
Brendan didn’t understand, until Shorty explained it to him. At first he looked disappointed, until it dawned on him the match ending in a tie, the way it did, would make a good story to tell the folks in Hardyville. Of course he wouldn’t be able to crow over Ezra, as he had expected, but no matter, it still made a good story.
“What do you want me to do with the Liberty Tree, Shorty?” Brendan asked, still holding it upright. “I imagine it will probably die, what with a hole shot in it. Maybe not, though.”
“Well, if Ezra doesn’t mind, I think it would be kind of fittin’ to plant it right here. Is that all right with you, Ezra?”
“I think that’s a fine idea, Shorty. I’ll keep it watered and tended myself. Be good to have it around as a sort of keepsake. You know, a remembrance of today.”
After the shooting match, Ezra and Brendan talked Shorty into sticking around Hardyville. He decided he liked Hardyville, and when Ezra offered him a job at his ranch, Shorty agreed to stay on, at least for a few weeks. Shorty spent the next few weeks helping Ezra fix fences, of which there were many, for Ezra had cattle, as well as horses, on his ranch. The work was hard, but enjoyable to Shorty. Early morning visits to the Hog Trough were enjoyable, also, though the food was not particularly appetizing. It was always overdone, as Shorty learned, because Bud was slow in his movements, though quick of wit. “Never, ever, order anything well done“, Brendan had warned him. “If you order it rare, it will come out well-done anyway. Don’t ever expect to get anything rare from Bud. It ain’t gonna happen.”
In the evenings, after a hard day’s work, Ezra and Shorty, and the rest of Ezra’s family, (his wife, Rosie, and his two boys, Billy, who was 4, and Nat, who was just 14 months), would sit on the porch and watch the sunset, telling stories. Baby Nat took an immediate liking to Shorty, and would insist on sitting on his lap, which pleased Shorty, as he really liked children. Little Billy always pulled his stool up next to Shorty, and Shorty would keep them entertained, telling them stories of his home town, Upton’s Corners, or of his travels across the country. Story-telling came naturally to Shorty, after all, his father, Lester, was one of the best story-tellers in the county, and interesting folk always surrounded him, it seems, though, perhaps, it was that Shorty found folks interesting. Anyway, he would entertain the Lyons family, while drinking some of Ezra’s home-made hootch, though he longed for some of his friend, Caleb Johnson’s, Good Brown Ale. The boys also loved it when Shorty sang his songs, particularly the one about the bear that got in the pantry.
One evening, when the McCarty family had come over for dinner and some socializing, Shorty asked if anyone had heard of his Uncle Too-Tall Dawkins. Too-Tall was his father’s kid brother, and he had come west in search of taller mountains than the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Too-Tall was an immense man, measuring 6 feet 9 inches in height, who decided he was too tall for civilization. He wanted to live in an area of really big mountains, out in the woods, where folks wouldn’t always be asking him how tall he was.
“Funny you should mention Too-Tall.” Brendan said with a chuckle. “My cousin, Bertrand, was over to my place a couple of weeks ago. Seems he had gone up to the Big River area for some hunting and fishing. He stopped to buy supplies in a little village, and was asking the owner of the store for some advice on where to find some good fishing. The store-keeper looked at him real close for a minute, then said, “The best fishing is up near Hidden Valley, but I wouldn’t advise you to go there. No, Too-Tall Dawkins lives up there, and he doesn’t take to strangers very well. I doubt he’d shoot you, but he’ll make your stay a miserable one. He likes his privacy, you see, and folks around these parts respect it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not mean, just likes to be left alone. He lives with his wife, Annie, and his two boys and a girl, and they’re nice folk, come into town two or three times a year for supplies, spend a few days visitin’ her cousins, Ned and Frank Conklin, then go back to their valley.”
Bertrand heard lots of stories about Too-Tall while he was up there. One story a fella told was about being out in the woods one day and hearin’ some music. It was really nice music, played on a flute, or some such instrument, and after a while someone started singin’ in a rich baritone voice. He followed the sound of the singin’, being real quiet and careful, and came within sight of an immense man, which he knew must be Too-Tall Dawkins, and a woman he figured was Annie. She was playin’ a homemade flute, and Too-Tall was singin’. He decided he’d better make himself scarce, but the experience really stuck in his mind.”
“My Dad mentioned that Too-Tall could sing really well.” Shorty said. “He asked me to look up his brother while I was out here. He gets letters from him, now and again, always full of news about his family, and Dad writes back, sending the mail to a Dry Goods Store, where Too-Tall picks it up. Maybe it’s the same store your Cousin Bertrand stopped in at.”
“Could be. I’ll ask him when he comes over tomorrow. He’s buyin’ one of my hogs.”
“Ya know, Brendan,” Ezra began, scratching his beard. “We haven’t had ourselves an adventure in quite a while.”
“That’s true, Ezra. We haven’t. If you’re thinking’ what I’m thinking’, then heck, why not?” Brendan replied with a wink. “Shorty might need a little bit of help finding his Uncle, seems to me.”
“Yep, that’s what I was thinking. What do you say to a little help in your search for your Uncle, Shorty? Too-Tall sounds like the kind of fellow I might like to meet.”
Shorty looked at the two of them and busted out laughing.
“I knew I liked you two fellers for a reason. Hot damn! Looks like we’re gonna have ourselves an adventure.”
Chapter Two
It was decided they would leave the following week. Arrangements were made with neighbors to look after the farm animals in the absence of Ezra and Brendan, and gear was prepared and packed in Shorty’s Model T. He had made a luggage rack that attached to the rear bumper, but with the three of them, and their gear, things would be close quarters. They didn’t mind, though, going on an adventure sometimes had its discomforts.
The night before they were to leave, Shorty spoke privately with Rosie.
“I’m sorry for the imposition my adventure is putting on you, Rosie. I sincerely hope you don’t hold it against me.”
“Shorty, don’t you say another word about it.” Rosie said with a grin. “You know, just as men like to go off on their own occasionally, we women like a little respite, too. It’s been a while since Ezra has had a nice adventure. It’ll do him good. It’ll give him something to talk about. And, Shorty, it’ll do me good, too.”
“Fair enough, Rosie.” Shorty said with a wink. “I kind of thought you’d feel that way. Just wanted to hear it from you.”
“Bring us back some interesting stories, Shorty. That’s all I ask of you.”
“I sure will, Rosie. You can count on it.”
The trip to Cobb’s Crossing, the little village with the Dry Goods Store was basically uneventful, though they did take a wrong turn once, and had to backtrack. The fourteen hours it took was passed in telling stories, though Shorty did sing a few of his songs. They took turns driving and Ezra almost hit a deer, ‘round about dusk. Brendan was dozing in the rumble seat, and when Ezra slammed on the brakes, Brendan was pretty near catapulted out. Since they arrived at the Dry Goods Store late at night, it was, of course, closed, so they pitched a tent down by the river which ran through the village.
Come morning, they packed up the tent and walked up to the Dry Goods Store. There was a bell on the door which tinkled as they entered and a gray-haired man came out of the back room to greet them.
“Good morning. What can I get you gentleman?” He asked, with a friendly smile.
“I’d like some of that coffee I can smell brewing, if it’s for sale, that is?” Shorty asked.
“Sure enough.” The man told him. “I’ll bring the pot out real quick, there’s plenty, and it’s fresh.”
As they fixed and drank their coffees, they chatted with the man, who said his name was Fred.
“Where are you headed?” Fred asked them.
“My Uncle lives up this way,” Shorty told him. “Somewhere up around Hidden Valley, from what I gather. I’ve never met him before, but my Dad thought I should look him up while I was in the neighborhood.”
“It’s not likely he lives in Hidden Valley, friend. No one lives there but Too-Tall Dawkins and his family.”
“That’s my Uncle.” Shorty said with a grin.. “My name’s Shorty Dawkins, from Upton’s Corners, New Hampshire. Too-Tall is my Father‘s younger brother.”
“Well I’ll be…. So you’re Too-Tall’s nephew! Pleasure to meet you.” Fred wasn’t too sure how to take the knowledge that a relative of Too-Tall’s was standing before him. “I get a couple of letters a year from your Father, which I hold for Too-Tall. He only comes down from his place twice a year, for supplies and all. I buy pelts and skins from him, and he uses that money for supplies. Never says much. Polite as can be, though. Real quiet, for such a big man, if you know what I mean.”
“Dad would call him either ‘Stone Face’ or ‘The Gentle Giant’ when he spoke of him.” Shorty said with a fond smile.
“Yep, that pretty much says it all. Old Too-Tall never says much, but he treats folks kindly, except when they invade his territory, that is. He likes his privacy, that’s for sure. Lots of folks have stories about being chased out of Hidden Valley by Too-Tall. Never heard tell of anyone getting hurt by him, though. The folks around Cobb’s Crossing just leave him and his family be. Heck, we sometimes tell tall tales about him, just to keep visitors from venturing up into Hidden Valley.”
“My Cousin Bertrand heard a few of those stories a few weeks back.” Brendan told the old man. “That’s why Ezra and I came along with Shorty, here. Thought we might like to meet Too-Tall.”
“We would appreciate any directions you could give us.” Shorty said. “I was looking at a map on my way up here and didn’t find Hidden Valley on it.”
“It’s not big enough to be labeled on a map. Here, let me point it out on the map I keep hanging on the wall.” Fred showed them a spot on the map and gave them markers for finding it. “Follow the North Stream for about six miles, and when you get to the first set of rapids, turn west. The valley is maybe eight miles further. I don’t suppose you have horses with you. It’s quite a hike on foot. All told, it’s about twenty-four miles from here, and rugged uphill terrain.”
“Twenty-four miles isn’t too bad.” Brendan said with a shrug. “Two days, maybe. What do you think, Ezra?” Sean Brendan saw that Ezra wasn’t listening. He was looking at something on Fred’s shelf. “What’s that you’re looking’ at, Ezra?”
“It looks like a hand carved flute.” Ezra replied, holding it out for them to see. “Really nice. This doesn’t look like it was carved by Indians, though. Did one of the locals carve it, Fred?”
“It’s funny you should notice that flute. Annie, Too-Tall’s wife carved it. She carves them and brings them here to sell. I sell them regularly. They have a really unique tone to them, too.”
“Mind if I try it, Fred?” Shorty asked.
“Go right ahead, Shorty.”
Shorty took the flute from Ezra, and, after a little bit of practicing, played a beautiful, peaceful song.
“That’s a beautiful song, Shorty.” Ezra said. “I never heard it before.”
“I call it ‘A Winter’s Snow’.” Shorty told him.
“You call it? Do you mean you wrote it?” Brendan asked, surprised.
“Yes, I wrote it.” Shorty admitted modestly. “I’ll write down the words for you, if you want. I’d sing it, but I can’t sing and play the flute at the same time.”
“Could you sing it without playing? I sure like to hear you sing.” Ezra said.
“Wait a minute, Shorty. Let me get the Mrs. out here. She’ll enjoy this, I’m sure.” Fred said, as he went into the back room. The bell on the door tinkled, signifying new customers. A man and woman entered, followed by a young man, maybe 17 years old. Fred and his wife returned, greeting the new arrivals by name. “Morning Joshua, Mabel, and you, too, young Josh. If you’re not in a hurry, Shorty Dawkins, here, is going to sing us a beautiful song he wrote. Shorty, come to find out, is Too-Tall’s nephew. Shorty, this is Joshua and Mabel Owens, and their son, Josh. Oh, and these two friends of Shorty are Brendan and Ezra.”
Everyone shook hands with each other, and Shorty asked Fred to introduce his wife, who was called Hattie. Mabel told Fred they were in no rush, and, yes, they would love to here Shorty sing his song. What with all the introductions and hand-shaking, another couple had time to enter with the tinkling bell, and of course the introductions and the greetings began again. The newcomers were Jake and Edna MacDonald, it was learned, and they wanted to hear Shorty’s song, also. Shorty never minded singing his songs, (in fact he really liked it), so with everyone settled and ready, Shorty began.
A Winter’s Snow
The snow it is falling, so quiet and still,
It falls on the branches, each bough for to fill.
I watch in amazement, as each flake falls free,
The beauty of nature, a joy for to see.
The night it is peaceful, the temperature's mild,
As I watch without shivering, with awe like a child.
My tracks are soon covered, my presence annulled,
The snow is still falling, my soul it is lulled.
My cares fall before me, as I watch and I wait,
I care not what the time is, it may be quite late.
The peace in the forest, the beauty around,
I stand and I wonder, and don't make a sound.
The storm it is ending, the stars reappear,
It's time to hurry home now, my time's in arrears.
But I shall remember, this snow and this night,
The peace and the comfort, a beautiful sight.
As Shorty sang, everyone seemed to drift off into their own thoughts, perhaps remembering a time when they, too, had spent time enjoying a peaceful snowfall. There was silence when he finished, much like the silence of the snow.
“Thank you, Shorty. That was very nice.” Fred said quietly, not wishing to destroy the moment.
“Yes”, agreed Mabel Owens. “It brings back wonderful memories.”
“Could you play it on the flute, again, Shorty?” Brendan asked. “Some of the folks here didn’t hear it the first time.”
With a nod, Shorty picked up the flute and began playing. Again, everyone’s thoughts became their own, and unconscious smiles appeared on several faces.
The tinkle of the doorbell startled them out of their reverie, as another customer entered. Fred looked up to see who had entered.
“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Ned Conklin. Funny that you should come in this morning, Ned. Come and meet Shorty and his friends, Ezra and Brendan. Shorty, here, is Too-Tall’s nephew. I guess that makes him a relative of yours, sort of.”
“Shorty? Shorty Dawkins? I’ve heard Too-Tall mention your name, now and again.” Ned said, offering his hand to Shorty. “Pleased to meet you, Shorty.“ Shorty took the proffered hand in his.
“Same here, Ned. I’ve come to find my Uncle Too-Tall. I promised Dad I’d look in on him while I’m out in this part of the country.”
“Shorty was just playing a song he wrote, on one of Annie’s flutes, Ned. Too bad you missed it.” Fred said with a shrug.
“I heard it from outside. I waited till it was ‘bout done before I came in. Annie‘s flutes have a distinctive sound, don‘t they?” Ned said. “Real nice song, Shorty.”
“Hey Ned, any chance you could help Shorty and his friends out by taking them up to see Too-Tall and Annie?” Fred inquired.
“Heck, Shorty is family. Of course I’ll help.” Ned said. “Tell you what, Shorty. I’ve got some things I need to do today, and if you and your friends could give me a hand, I’ll take you up to see Annie and Too-Tall tomorrow. Is that all right with you?”
Shorty looked at Ezra and Brendan, who gave their nods of assent. “Looks like it’s unanimous, Ned. Just the way it should be. Lead on.”
“Mr. Conklin,” young Josh called as the men started to leave. “I’d like to go with you, if I could.”
Ned turned to look at him and couldn’t resist the eager anticipation he saw in Josh’s face. “If your Dad says it’s all right, Josh, then you are welcome to join us.”
“Dad? Can I go?” Josh asked, almost pleading.
Joshua nodded yes at his son, and was rewarded with a smile of thanks.
“Tell you what, Josh.” Ned began. “Since we’ll be leaving bright and early tomorrow, why don’t you plan on staying at my place tonight. Gather your gear together and come over for supper. After supper, no doubt, we’ll sit and tell stories for a while. No reason you shouldn’t join in.”
“Thanks, Mr. Conklin. I’d better get home and get my chores done and my gear ready.”
After Josh and his folks left, Ned explained why Josh was so eager to join them.
“Young Josh is sweet on Polly, Too-Tall and Annie’s eldest.” He told Shorty, Ezra and Brendan. “She likes him, too. He’s a good boy.”
“Ah. That explains it.” Ezra said. “He’s welcome of course. Brendan can tell him some of his goofy stories.” He said, giving Brendan a nudge.
“And he can listen to you snore.” Brendan retorted.
Young Josh arrived at Ned and Dot’s place in time for supper, with his gear packed and excitement blazing from his eyes. Not only was he going to see the girl he was ‘sweet’ on, Polly, but he was going with a group of adults. Dot thought it was cute that Josh was going to see his sweetheart and doted on him like a mother hen.
Ned told them of his plan to go up to Hidden Valley on horseback, rather than hiking.
“Now, before anyone starts objecting, I’ve got plenty of horses for everyone, and I was planning on taking a couple of mules with supplies for Annie and Too-Tall, in a couple of weeks, so it‘s no big deal. They won’t be expecting us, that’s true, but I know how to deal with that.” Ned looked at the newcomers to see if there were any objections, which there weren’t.
After supper, Shorty insisted on helping to clear the table and wash the dishes. He even managed to cajole Ezra and Brendan into helping. In fact, everyone joined in, helping some, getting in the way some, and generally having a good time. Of course the stories began, and they continued until it was time for bed. Josh liked hearing the stories, and Dot laughed so hard at Shorty’s stories about his friends from Upton’s Corners, that she had tears running down her face.
“Bless you, Shorty. You sure can tell a good story.” she told him.
“I’m just telling what happened, Dot.” Shorty insisted. “Folks can do mighty funny things, at times. Especially my friends back home. They’re a crazy lot, and mighty goofy at times. Let me sing you a song about Mad Mountain Jack courtin‘ his Molly.” Ned had a guitar sitting by the sofa, and Shorty picked it up, with Ned’s permission, and began to play, and sing the song.
A Courtin’ He Will Go
There was a young man, name of Mad Mountain Jack,
He decided a gal of his own he did lack.
Pretty Molly appealed to him, pretty and bold,
It was Molly he yearned for and wanted to hold.
Now Jack he was simple and kind of naive,
He called on dear Molly, ‘twas on Christmas Eve.
When she answered the door, he knew not what to say,
Molly closed shut the door, "Jack be gone on your way."
Young Jack he was stubborn and did not give up,
So he sent her some flowers and asked her to sup.
I'll cook you a meal that will please you and more,
Not the kind of a meal that you buy at the store.
Molly sent him her answer, I'll be there at eight,
For a man who can cook, it is rare, it is great.
But one thing I must ask you. please never to do,
In the house will you never your tobacco chew.
Jack decided his ardor which burned like a torch,
Was worth it to him to take chew on the porch.
As you well might imagine the dinner went well,
From the Chapel soon came sounds of their wedding bells.
Now all you young fellers who yearn for a gal,
And you want her to love you and be your best pal,
If your ardor should flame, if it burns like a torch,
Just remember to take your chew out on the porch.
They all had a good laugh at the song, and young Josh, being new at the idea of courting a gal, paid particular attention. He asked Shorty for some advice concerning his desire to please Polly.
“Well, Josh, I’ll tell you something my sister, Edna Mae, told me once, that has always worked well for me. Now I don’t mean just for courting a gal, but for life in general. She said, ‘Don't try to be anyone but yourself. Some folks will like you, and some folks won't. That's how it should be. Being yourself is being free, and that's worth more than any amount of friends.’ I always thought that was darned good advice, Josh."
“Edna Mae is right, Josh.” Dot piped up to say. “Most girls just want you to be yourself. If the sparks ignite, well that’s great. If they don’t, well, it just wasn’t meant to be. Just don’t be afraid to say what’s on your mind.”
Josh thought about this as they prepared for bed. They would have an early start in the morning, Ned informed the group.
At first light, the group was packed and ready to depart. Ned led the way, followed by Ezra and Brendan, each leading a mule, then Shorty, with young Josh behind. The going was easy, at first, as the trail was well traveled. Shorty was enjoying the scenery , and Ezra and Brendan were busy handling the mules, so had little time to argue with each other. Ned had a harmonica with him and played a song now and again. Young Josh asked Shorty to tell him about women, but, after Shorty’s recent bust-up with the girl he loved, he demurred, telling Josh he was the wrong person to ask.
About noon, they reached the first rapids on the North Stream.
“The going gets more difficult from here on.” Ned told them. “Let’s have our lunch, now.”
After a quick lunch, Ned and Shorty took charge of the mules and young Josh led the way. Ezra and Brendan brought up the rear. As Ned warned them, the going got tougher. The trail was scant, and the way led up steep hills. There was no chance for Shorty to sing or tell stories, but he kept a smile on his face, imagining he were back in Upton’s Corners with Mad Mountain Jack howling like a chicken with a sore throat. After a couple of hours, the hills became too steep to stay on horseback, so they dismounted and led the horses on foot. It wasn’t a particularly warm day, yet they were all bathed in sweat. Finally, they reached a spot where everything began to level out. Ned called a halt.
“We stop here.” he told them. Too-Tall’s place is a mile or so further into the valley.” He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out an old battered bugle. With a wink to Shorty, he blew the bugle in a sort of reveille, loud and long. When he was done he told the newcomers, “It’s not advisable to ride up to Too-Tall’s place. They don’t like surprises. Hell, I made the mistake of riding in on him, one time, and he never said a word to me. Just stared at me. He, or Annie, will hear my bugle call and will ride down to meet us.”
“So we wait?” Shorty asked.
“We wait.” Ned replied. “Might as well tether the horses and relax. It usually takes a half hour or so for someone to get here.”
After the horses were tethered, Shorty pulled the flute that Annie had made out of his saddlebag. It had cost a pretty penny, but he didn’t mind. He liked the sound of it, and it was made by Too-Tall’s wife. Shorty knew his Mom and Dad would want to see it. Edna Mae, too.
He practiced a bit then played a new song for everyone to hear.
I Come From Upton's Corners
Now gather round and hear me,
I'll tell you all a story
'Bout a town I really know well.
The town where I was born,
On a warm September morn,
So my Daddy always did tell.
The town is Upton's Corners,
It's in New Hampshire's borders,
Not too far from Whitefield that is true.
The folks in town are neat,
And they really can't be beat,
Take your stock and give you what's due.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
There's farms along the hillsides,
The sawmill on the bank side,
Of the River Quick that runs strong.
There's Millie's General Store,
With the sign upon the door,
Letting folks know that they belong.
Now if you have a hank'rin,
For good Brown Ale it's waitin',
Over at old Caleb Johnson's Bar.
A bank is right next door,
Across the street's a Hardware store,
Never do you have to go far.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners,
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
The Farmer's Hall sits waiting,
For any kind of meeting,
Dances every Saturday night.
Mad Mountain Jack can play,
On his fiddle any way,
Molly's dancing really takes flight.
While Edna Mae and Charlie
Are laughing loud and hearty,
At a story Shorty loves to tell.
The Hall is really big,
Room enough to dance a jig,
Millie dances pretty darn well.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners,
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
We have a little saying,
It says, "Only the willing",
That we always try to live by.
We do not force our way,
We let folks go 'bout their day,
Never need a reason or why.
If you and I should differ,
It really doesn't matter,
Neighbors have a right to what they think.
Just go to Caleb's Bar,
It is not so very far,
Settle matters over a drink.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners,
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
“Hey, Shorty. That’s a catchy tune.” Ned said with a smile. “Can you sing it for us?”
Shorty sang it for them and they quickly picked up on the chorus, singing along with him. Josh wanted to learn all the words, as did the others, so Shorty went over them and soon, they were singing away, as Shorty played the flute. Josh, who had a surprisingly good voice, kept insisting they sing it again, and around about half-way through the third time, Shorty saw a horse and rider coming slowly towards them.
The sun was at the rider’s back, but Shorty knew instantly it was Too-Tall. He was a very big man, much bigger than Shorty, though Shorty stood 6’ 4” tall. Where Shorty was slender, Too-Tall was stocky. Shorty guessed Too-Tall must weigh over three hundred pounds, but that poundage was all muscle. The rider approached at a walk, and as he came closer, his features became clearer. He was dressed in buckskin, and had a full, white beard. His hair was snow white, also, kept long, and tied in a pony tail. Horse and rider stopped in front of Shorty and Too-Tall looked at him without saying a word for the longest time.
“Too-Tall, this is …” Ned began, only to be cut off by Too-Tall.
“I can guess who he is, Ned. He’s my nephew, Shorty. Looks just like my brother, Lester, did at his age.” Too-Tall continued to look at Shorty for a moment more. “How is Lester?”
“He’s fine.” Shorty assured him. “Still the best woodsman in the county. He talks of you sometimes.”
Too-Tall looked at the ground for a while, lost in his own thoughts. “Always wished he’d come with me.” He said quietly. He looked at the flute in Shorty’s hand. “That one of Annie’s?”
“Yep. Bought it at the Dry Goods Store in Cobb’s Crossing.”
“Wasted your money. Annie would have given you one.”
“I’d rather she got paid for her efforts.” Shorty told him, firmly. Too-Tall didn’t say anything, just nodded.
“Come meet the family.” He said, turning his horse around and heading back.
They quickly mounted their horses and headed off to catch up with Too-Tall.
“He doesn’t talk much, does he, Ned?” Ezra pointed out.
Ned smiled, “That’s more than he usually says around strangers. Once he gets to know you he loosens up though. You’ll see.”
“How tall is he?” Brendan asked. “He’s enormous.”
“He’s 6’ 9”. Or there about.” Ned informed Brendan. “And, yes, he is big. If he weren’t so big, I probably wouldn’t be here today.”
“How so?” Brendan wanted to know.
“I’ll tell you the story, later, when Too-Tall’s not in earshot. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Shorty pulled up next to Too-Tall and they rode in silence. He could feel Too-Tall looking over at him, now and then, but he never said anything. His father had warned him that Too-Tall was a quiet man, kind of shy around strangers, so he waited for Too-Tall to say something.
Soon they came in view of their cabin. It was made of logs, much as the pioneers had made, but even from a distance, Shorty could tell the care and craftsmanship that had gone into it. The roof, Shorty noticed as they came closer, was made of hand split shingles, and there were enormous stone chimneys at either end of the cabin.
“Nice cabin.” Shorty said approvingly.
“It’s our home.” Too-Tall replied. “Annie deserves a nice place.”
From out of the cabin came a pretty girl with flaming red hair, who must be Polly, Shorty decided. She was followed by an older woman, also with red hair, who must be Annie, and two younger boys. They had come to greet Ned and looked at the strangers with curiosity.
“Hi, Ned!” Annie said with a smile. “What brings you out here?”
“I brought some visitors, Annie.” The riders dismounted and Ned introduced everyone, saving Shorty for last. “And this fellow, here, is Shorty Dawkins, Too-Tall’s nephew.”
“Oh, my! Isn’t that nice!” Annie exclaimed with glee. “A relative of Bear’s! Welcome Shorty!” She gave Shorty a big hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Thanks, Annie.” Shorty said, slightly abashed. He looked over at Too-Tall with a quizzical look, and saw the corners of his mouth curl upwards into a slight grin. “Bear?”
“That’s what Annie calls me. Don’t get it into your head that you can call me that, though. Annie can call me what she wants, but you, and everyone else had better call me Too-Tall.”
“He’s my big Teddy Bear.” Annie said, poking Too-Tall in the ribs, playfully. “He’s not too tall for me.”
“Why don’t we get the supplies inside and the horses taken care of.” Ned suggested. “Shorty tells me he likes good brown ale, and I have a powerful thirst. Have you got any of your special brew, Too-Tall?”
“You know I always have plenty, Ned.” Too-Tall said with a wink.
“Well, let’s get to it, then.” Shorty said. “I can’t see standing around here talking, with special brew waiting.”
The supplies were quickly taken into the house and Ned grabbed Ezra and Brendan to help him with the horses. “Shorty, you go inside and start gettin‘ acquainted with your relatives.” he insisted. Shorty wanted to help, but Ned, Ezra and Brendan wouldn’t hear of it.
“I’ll help them, Mr. Dawkins.” Josh stepped forward to say.
“I’ll help, too.” Polly said eagerly.
Too-Tall and Annie exchanged a quick look, and Annie gave him a little nod. Too-Tall returned her nod with a wink.
“The bunch of you can handle things, it looks like to me. Come inside, Shorty. I’ll give you a taste of my special brew ale.”
Polly and young Josh definitely had a thing for each other, Ezra saw by watching them. They didn’t neglect their chores, but, he noticed, they were always looking at each other and smiling. Ned saw Ezra watching them.
“Young love.” he said with a smile. “Sure is nice isn’t it?”
“Yep.” Ezra replied. “That Josh is a nice young feller. I suspect Polly is much the same.”
“She reminds me of Annie when she was that age. Full of life. Always spreadin’ warmth wherever she goes. Josh couldn’t find a better girl to go soft on.”
Ezra watched them some more, then finally asked Ned what happened when he said if it weren’t for Too-Tall he might not be here today.
“He saved your life, did he?”
“Yep. Mine and Annie’s both. Since he’s not around, I’ll tell you the story.
My family was over visiting Annie’s family one day, when I was just seventeen, which would make Annie sixteen, since she is a year younger. Her folks asked her to go down to Cobb’s Crossing to get a few things, and I volunteered to go with her. It wasn’t far, so we walked. She and I liked to go on walks together. You see, Annie has always been like my kid sister.
Anyway, on our way home, all of a sudden, there was a group of strangers comin’ down the road. Young ruffians is what they were. Well, they thought Annie was pretty, and were making all kinds of comments. Not nice ones, either. Rude and vulgar. I spoke up and told them to mind their manners. They jumped me, then, while one of them held Annie, to keep her from running for help. They beat the livin’ bejeesus out of me, kicking me in the ribs and head when they got me on the ground. They would have killed me, of that I’m sure, and I heard them say ‘Let’s have our way with her.’, just before I passed out. Annie told me the rest.
The punks grabbed Annie, and yanked her blouse open, and were ready to rape her, when, from out of nowhere, a giant of a man came to our aid. He grabbed one of them and threw him into the nearby bushes, and when the other three went after him he went wild and slammed two of their heads together. Annie said the crack of the two skulls was loud and sickening. The last guy started running, but the giant caught up to him and beat him unconscious. He then dragged the first guy out of the bushes and threw him on top of the two lying, bleeding, their skulls cracked open.
“That’s no way to treat a lady.” The giant said to the pile of ruffians. “Make one move and I’ll kill you, plain as I’m standing here.
He took off his shirt and gave it to Annie to wear, then picked me up in his arms and told Annie, “Lead on, Miss. We need to get your friend, here, some doctoring.”
I’m not a small man, but he carried me in his arms for over a mile, without stopping, to Doc Weedon’s place. When I woke up, later on that night, I looked around, and there, sitting in a chair was Too-Tall. When he saw I was awake, he said, ‘Doc tells me you have four cracked ribs and a concussion. Annie is resting quietly in the next room. No real harm came to her. Just rest yourself, Ned. My name’s Too-Tall, least wise that’s what most folks call me. Too-Tall Dawkins.’
And that is how I first met Too-Tall.”
They were interrupted by the sound of music emanating from the cabin. More specifically, the sound of a harp.
Brendan and Ezra looked at Ned, who smiled with delight.
“Oh, good!” Polly exclaimed. “Mother’s playing her harp.”
“That’s the Skye Boat Song.” Ned said. “She’ll be singing it, most likely.”
Sure enough, Annie began singing in a beautiful soprano voice.
Skye Boat Song
Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing
Onward, the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.
Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar
Thunder clouds rend the air
Baffled our foes stand on the shore
Follow they will not dare.
Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.
Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore could wield
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field.
Burned are our homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men
Yet, e'er the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.
They listened in silence to Annie singing the beautiful Scottish folk ballad. On the second verse, she was joined by a tenor voice, which was Shorty’s, singing in harmony with her. To everyone’s delight, a third verse began, a rich bass voice, which was Too-Tall’s joined in, making it three parts of moving and beautiful harmony.
“Damn,” Ned said at last, “I love to hear Annie and Too-Tall sing together. Shorty just makes it that much nicer.”
“Let’s hurry up and finish. I want to hear more.” Brendan said, and they all agreed.
They arrived at the cabin as Shorty was pulling the flute Annie made out of his knapsack. While everyone settled in and was given some refreshment, Shorty warmed up.
“How about if I play your flute, Annie, along with the harp. I think they will sound very good together. Let’s have everyone sing. Does everyone know the song?” They all nodded, yes, so Shorty gave a nod to Annie to begin. The flute added a lot to the sound of the harp, and when all voices joined in, it was a very pleasant sound. Even Brendan and Ezra sounded good.
After a pause for more refreshment, Too-Tall asked Annie to play The Riddle Song.
“Will you sing it for us, Bear?”
“Yes.”
The Riddle Song
I gave my love a cherry
That had no stone
I gave my love a chicken
That had no bone
I told my love a story
That had no end
I gave my love a baby
With no crying.
How can there be a cherry
That has no stone?
And how can there be a chicken
That has no bone?
And how can there be a story
That has no end?
And how can there be a baby
With no crying?
A cherry when it's blooming
It has no stone
A chicken when it's piping
It has no bone
The story that I love you
It has no end
A baby when it's sleeping
It's no crying.
The sound of Too-Tall’s voice was quiet and mellow as he sang the old ballad of love. Annie noticed that Josh and Polly were holding hands, which made her smile, but mostly she looked into the eyes of her giant, gentle man. No one could have ever denied the love which passed between them. Shorty felt a pang of emptiness for his lost love, but smiled bravely.
When the song was over, Too-Tall took a sip of his special brew, then looked towards Shorty.
“I’d like for Shorty and his friends to sing that song I heard as I rode up to them. It was about Upton’s Corners, I believe.”
“I’d be glad to sing it for you, Uncle Too-Tall. Of course, I’ll expect Ezra, Brendan, Josh and Ned to sing along.” He grabbed a guitar that was sitting near the harp, and began to play.
The tune, being lively, made Annie want to slap her hands in time to the music, and soon everyone was beating time, either with their hands or feet. Too-Tall enjoyed the song immensely, being about his home town, and asked everyone to sing it again.
The evening was spent in singing and story-telling, sandwiched with a meal and more of Too-Tall’s Special Brew. Shorty talked about Upton’s Corners, and his Mom and Dad, and his sister, Edna Mae, which pleased Too-Tall. Ned didn’t talk very much, as he preferred to sit back and watch and listen. He hadn’t seen Too-Tall this out-going and gregarious in a long time, and was savoring each moment. Finally it was time for bed, and bed-rolls were spread out throughout the living area. Just as everyone began to settle in to a good night’s sleep, Too-Tall took Shorty aside.
“If you’re not too tired, Shorty, I’d like to speak with you, privately.”
“Sure, Uncle Too-Tall.” Shorty replied. “Something on your mind?”
“Let’s step outside.” He signaled to Annie they would be outside. “I like to take a little walk, at night, before I retire.”
The moon was near full, as Too-Tall led Shorty down the path towards the barn. Shorty waited patiently for Too-Tall to gather his thoughts, enjoying the night air, and the moonlight, which made it almost as bright as day, only more shadowy and mysterious.
“Did your Father ever tell you why I left Upton’s Corners?”
“Only that you wanted to find some open spaces where you could live your life as you please.”
“Fair enough. Says it all in a nutshell. Lester was always good at condensing things down to the basics.” Too-Tall paused a while before continuing. “How long do you think Upton’s Corners can stay free, Shorty? There are powerful forces at work in this country. Forces aimed at subjugating individual will.”
“Chautauqua?” Shorty slipped in.
“You’ve studied it?” Shorty nodded yes. “Have you ever considered that Chautauqua is only the tip of the iceberg? The highly visible part?”
“Yes, I have. And you’re right, I agree it is only the tip of the iceberg. That‘s why I‘m going around the Country planting my Liberty trees, and talking to folks about Freedom.”
“Your time is wasted.”
“Maybe, but I want to try. At the very least I’m meeting folks who still care, like Ezra and Brendan, and the rest of the folks in Hardyville.”
“I’ll grant you that, Shorty, but they’re few and far between, aren’t they?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Shorty looked at Too-Tall for a moment. “You don’t think Upton’s Corners can survive, do you? “
“No, Shorty, I don’t. Who knows how long it will be, but the good folks in Upton’s Corners will be crushed. Maybe not in my lifetime, or yours, but it will happen. That’s why I tried to convince Lester to come with me.”
“Do you think they won’t crush you here?” Shorty asked.
“Let’s just say the chances are less. This valley is more remote than Upton’s Corners. Bigger, too. And another thing, I’m preparing for it. Are the folks in Upton’s Corners preparing, Shorty?”
“No, I can’t say they are. At least no more than usual. They’re just living their lives as free men and women.”
“As they should, Shorty. But, it’s not enough.” Too-Tall walked in silence for a while, obviously thinking. “If you’re planning on staying a while, Shorty, there are some things I’d like to show you.”
“I’d like to spend a week or two with you, Uncle Too-Tall, if it’s not an imposition. Ezra and Brendan can take my car back to Hardyville when they’re ready to go. I’ll find my way back to get it, somehow.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Shorty. You’re kin.” Too-Tall smiled and added. “And I like your songs.”
They walked a while longer, and came upon a stream.
“See this stream, Shorty? It’s fed from an underground spring part way up on that ridge, about a half mile away. Never runs dry. We even have ourselves a little waterfall. I’ll show it to you in daylight. It’s kind of nice, actually.”
“Nice. I like waterfalls.” Shorty knew Too-Tall had brought him here for a reason. He would let Too-Tall make his point in his own way, Shorty decided.
Too-Tall scootched down on his haunches and picked up a twig, lost in thought as he twirled the twig in his massive fingers. Shorty scootched down, also, grabbing a blade of grass, sticking it in his mouth. Time passed, as they kept their own thoughts to themselves.
“What do the folks in Upton’s Corners think of the new Federal Reserve, and the Income Tax, Shorty?” Too-Tall asked, finally, throwing the twig in the stream.
“I’m sure you know the answer to that. They don’t like either. Not one bit. I don’t know anyone in Upton’s Corners who pays the income tax, and no one has any use for that new Federal Reserve, either. Bob Billington, at the Bank told everyone to stop using the fiat money the Fed was now in charge of, and suggested they use only gold and silver.
Nothing good is going to come from either the Federal Reserve or the Income Tax, but I’m sure you already know that Uncle. You’re trying, in your round about way, to tell me something, I can tell, so what is it?”
“All right, Shorty. You say you have studied Chautauqua. Well, what was Chautauqua, but a search for Utopia? And if you listen to the language of Chautauqua, it is all about “we”, as in the masses. It is never about “I”, as in the individual. The drive for Chautauqua is the drive for Utopia, where the individual is of no consequence, even a menace, to be crushed. There is no room for us, Shorty, as long as the leadership is hell-bent on the lust for Utopia. The Income Tax, and the Federal Reserve System are tools they will use to crush us, the individuals, Shorty. Mark my words.”
Shorty had to admit to himself that Too-Tall was right. The evil of Chautauqua continued to this day, under different banners and labels, true, but it was as powerful as ever.
“So, Hidden Valley is your answer, Uncle?”
“It is my refuge, Shorty. I don’t have an answer. I am creating a refuge for me, and mine. A place my friends can retreat to when the world will not let them be themselves.” Shorty saw a look of pain on Too-Tall’s face, sharpened by the glare of the lantern he carried. “We will defend it, Shorty. All of us, together.”
“Who is ‘We’?”
“There’s me and Annie, and the kids; Ned, and Dot, his wife, whom you have met already. They’ve got a boy and a girl, seven and five, if I’m not mistaken. Then there’s Ned’s brother, Frank, and his wife, Lucy. They have two boys and a girl, Tim, Tom, and Lizzie. The boys are eighteen and fifteen. The Owens family, Josh’s family, is a big one, there being 4 girls and 3 boys, besides Josh. Annie’s Dad, of course, and her brother, Kent, and his wife, Abbie, along with their son, Bobby. Of course I can’t forget Fred and Hattie, down at the Dry Goods Store. They have two grown children, with children of their own. Doc Weedon and his wife, Sally have two children, as do George and Sally Wool, whom you haven’t met, yet. And I can’t fail to mention Mr. Murphy, who lives up the valley a ways. You’ll meet him tomorrow when I show you the valley. Yeh, Mr. Murphy is a piece of work, he is. Kind of a crazy old coot, but harmless. Likes his moonshine, and plays his banjo. Damn good man with animals, though. Better than any vet I ever knew. He claims he can talk to the animals. I don’t know, maybe he can. He cures their ills real fast. Has a lot of remedies for people, too.”
“Mr. Murphy sounds like a combination of Mad Mountain Jack and Molly, his wife. They live on Bald Mountain. You probably knew Jack’s father, Andre Rioux.”
“Sure, I remember Andre. Crazy as can be. Played a fiddle, as I remember.” Too-Tall smiled, thinking of the man from his past.
“That was Andre. He died about twelve years ago. Jack took up the fiddle after his Dad died. Jack’s the best fiddle player around. Molly is half Abenaki, half Scotch. Boy can that girl dance! Most folks get tired just watching her. She learned herbal remedies from her Mom.”
“It’s getting late, Shorty. We can continue this in the morning. Annie will be wondering what’s keeping us.”
They turned back to the cabin and turned in. Shorty stayed awake awhile, thinking about what Too-Tall had said. He looked forward to seeing more of Hidden Valley. He chuckled to himself, thinking about Mr. Murphy, figuring he’d probably like the old coot.
Chapter Three
The next morning was a beauty, as everyone hurried to get the chores done so they could all take a ride around the valley. Shorty and Ezra helped Ned saddle the horses, while Too-Tall and Brendan fed and milked the cows. Polly and Josh fed the chickens and collected the eggs, while the two boys, Lester and Angus, took the slops out to the pigpen as they always did, but this particular morning something a little out of the ordinary occurred.
In the pigpen were six sows, one boar, and a bunch of piglets. The piglets could get under the fence, being so small, but never strayed far from momma, so there was no worry. Now, it’s not that the boar was mean, but he could be cantankerous. Angus and Lester had learned from past experience to never turn their backs on the boar, but Lester was in a rush, and failed observe the cardinal rule, much to his chagrin. The boar, just to be spiteful, snuck up behind Lester and gave him a nudge with his snout. It wasn’t a mean, nudge, more of a “I got you, this time” nudge. The nudge was enough to cause Lester to pitch forward, head first into the slops and the mud, which startled the sows, and they all made a beeline for the partially opened gate. Adding to the confusion were Lester’s howls of indignation and fury, at being so treated by the “Damned fool boar”. Ezra saw what was happening and started to laugh, uproariously. You see, Ezra had experience, of a similar nature with hogs, and when he saw it happening to Lester, he found it highly amusing.
Too-Tall heard the commotion and came running from the barn. One look at the scattering hogs and Lester covered with mud and slop told him everything he needed to know.
“Don’t worry about it, Lester. It happens, sometimes.” He said, trying to hide a grin. “Go get yourself cleaned up. We’ll see if we can round up the hogs.” He looked over towards Ned. “Ned, is my horse saddled up, yet?”
“Yep. So’s mine.” Ned told him. “Let’s see if we can get those critters back.”
Shorty quickly finished saddling his horse and joined them.
“Angus, keep the piglets from wandering off.” Too-Tall called. “Once the Mamas come to their senses, they’ll come back to where their piglets are. It’s Goliath that will be tough to get back.”
“We’ll help Angus, Papa.” said Polly, as she and Josh came running from the hen-house. Some of the piglets were already scampering to find their Mamas and the chase was on.
Herding pigs and piglets is a lot like herding cats. If you’ve ever tried either, you know. Watching the young folks chasing the piglets around was amusing, but Too-Tall couldn’t stick around to watch, as the boar was still running, heading East, and would soon be in the forest. He urged his horse forward in an attempt to reach the boar before he made it. Ned and Shorty were in hot pursuit behind him. Too-Tall reached the boar in time, forcing him to turn away from the woods. Ned and Shorty blocked his path into the woods, momentarily, but the boar was not to be denied, and at the first opportunity scampered, (if a boar can be said to scamper), into and through a row of bushes.
“Nice try.” Too-Tall said, reining in his horse. “We’ll never get him, now. We’ll leave him be and see if he comes back of his own accord. If he doesn‘t, Mr. Murphy can talk him back.”
They returned to find Ezra and Brendan encouraging one of the sows to go back into the pen. Ezra had an ear of corn which he held in front of the sow, urging it forward, and Brendan was walking beside it, his hand on the sow, gently pushing it forward. With one sow back in the pen, it wasn’t long before the others returned. The squeeling of the piglets drew them back more than human intervention. Lester volunteered to stay with the hogs, should the boar return, but Too-Tall said he didn’t think the boar would be back soon, anyway, so there was no sense in waiting for him.
“Don’t punish yourself, Lester.” Too-Tall said to his son. “It happens to the best of us. Heck, I remember, before you were born, chasing a boar that had gotten loose for three days. The damn fool boar was a slippery one. Always stayed out of reach of my lasso. Anyway, when he got lonely for his sows, he came home.
Let’s finish saddling the horses and be on our way.”
When everyone was just about ready, Too-Tall called Ned over to him and whispered something in his ear, which made Ned laugh. He nodded yes, and, climbing on his horse said, “I’ll catch up with you at the mill.”. Without another word, he steered his horse towards the far end of the valley. Shorty saw the twinkle in Too-Tall’s eye, and he knew something was up. No doubt, for his, and Ezra’s, and Brendan’s benefit. He said nothing, though he caught Brendan’s eye and gave him a wink.
Too-Tall and Annie led them off in the direction of the ridge where Too-Tall had said they would see the waterfall. They followed the stream as it meandered through fields which were planted in corn and oats. The land began to rise towards the ridge, and the field turned into, what appeared to Shorty to be, a thinned forest. As they came around a bend, Shorty could see two buildings, one on either side of the stream. Spread out around the far building, were stacks of lumber. Hmm,… Shorty thought to himself, a sawmill. He’d been around a sawmill all his life, in Upton’s Corners. He’d spent many hours helping out at the Upton Sawmill. He was curious to see the equipment. He was also curious about the other building, which looked to him like a grist mill. Strange to have a sawmill and a grist mill together like this, he thought.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Ezra exclaimed. “A sawmill and a grist mill, with only one water wheel. What, do you power them both with the single wheel, Too-Tall?”
“Yes and no, Ezra. The wheel powers both, but not at the same time. They are not both used all the time, nor do I suspect they ever will need to be. We’ve made it easy to disengage one and engage the other.” They had reached the grist mill, and Too-Tall dismounted. “Come on inside and I’ll show you.”
The mill was not a large one, capable of large scale output, but sufficient for a small community. Shorty began to realize what Too-Tall was creating in Hidden Valley. He could see, from the intricacy of the gearing, how much work and care had been put into the mill. Such a mill would not be necessary for Too-Tall and his family, Shorty realized, nor would the amount of lumber he saw stacked outside the sawmill be necessary for only Too-Tall’s family needs. Obviously, from his use of the word “we” in discussing the building of the mill, Too-Tall had enlisted others in developing his retreat. No doubt the “others” were planned to be a part of it. He would let Too-Tall tell the story of Hidden Valley at his own pace, he decided.
“Hey, Shorty! Check this out!” Brendan hollered. He had climbed down to see the gearing mechanism. “Whoever designed and built this, knew a lot about gear ratios.”
Shorty climbed down with Brendan, to take a look. Sure, enough, it was as Brendan said, careful gearing to increase the power from the waterwheel to the stones. Not that Shorty knew much about gear ratios, but he could see the care and thought involved. Nothing was slip-shod or thrown together. Everything was built to last.
“Nice, Uncle!” Shorty called up to Too-Tall. “This thing is built to last. You’d think this was going to be the last grist mill ever made.”
“We hope it won’t be, Shorty.”
“Did you build this yourself?” Shorty asked.
“Ned designed it.” Too-Tall told him. “He and Frank did most of the work.”
Shorty climbed back up, thinking about Ned and Too-Tall, seeing more in them than he had seen before. Whereas he had seen Ned as the outsider, being welcomed into Hidden Valley because he was kin, he realized now that Ned was a partner, and a good one. He also saw a different side to Too-Tall. He saw a man who quite matter-of-factly would give credit where credit was due.
“How do I get over to the sawmill?” Shorty asked. “I don’t know much about grist mills, but I know sawmills.”
“Through that door over there, Shorty. We built a little bridge over the stream.” Too-Tall pointed to the door behind Ezra.
The bridge offered a good look at the waterwheel, which impressed Ezra very much.
“Did you make this wheel here? Or did you make it in pieces and erect it here?” He wanted to know.
“Joshua Owens and his sons, Nathaniel and Matthew, did the blacksmithing work, and a bunch of folks worked on the wooden parts. It’s all based on a plan drawn up by Mr. Murphy.” Too-Tall explained.
The Sawmill was very similar to the Upton Sawmill, only on a smaller scale, Shorty realized. Too-Tall admitted they tried to copy it as he remembered it. They’d made a few minor improvements, which Shorty made note of to pass on to Charlie Upton.
“You know, Uncle, this looks familiar enough that I could start it up in my sleep.”
“Next week we’re planning to cut some more lumber. If you’re up to it, we could use a good hand.”
Shorty smiled at the invitation. “I’d like that, Uncle. I really would like that.”
Too-Tall smiled his crooked smile and gave Shorty a wink. “Any time, Shorty, any time. Let’s get back to the horses, there’s lots more to show you folks.”
They mounted their horses again, and Too-Tall led them down the ridge, crossing the stream on a bridge he had made. As they were about to enter into the open, Shorty heard a strange, incongruous noise. Ezra and Brendan noticed it, too.
“That can’t be a banjo, can it?” Ezra exclaimed in disbelief.
Shorty saw that Annie and Too-Tall were exchanging a grin.
“You are about to meet Mr. Murphy.” Annie laughed. ”I couldn’t begin to describe him, if I tried. See for yourselves.” She pointed to two horses in the middle of the valley. On second look, however, it became clear that it was only one horse, which Ned was riding. The other was a donkey, ridden by a tiny little man wearing a derby hat, playing a banjo. Walking behind the donkey was the missing boar.
As they approached, Mr. Murphy tipped his hat, saying, “Top-o‘-the-mornin’ to ye, lads and lassies. And a special good-mornin’ to ye beautiful lassies, dear Annie and pretty Polly. Tis a fine mornin’. I bring you a song in my heart, and a wayward boar. I beg you to pardon him his transgressions, as he was startled when poor Lester fell in the mud.
Aye, and who be these rustic looking strangers I see with ye. Will I be gettin’ an introduction from ye, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins.”
“Mr. Murphy, if you’ll let me get a word in edgewise, I’ll introduce you to my rustic friends, as you call them. These two fellows on the left, here, are from Hardyville, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty.”
“Tis a pleasure and an honor to be meetin’ you both.” Mr. Murphy exclaimed, tipping his hat to them. “If memory serves me, I believe I passed through Hardyville in ‘98. Does that old coot, Bud, still serve bad food at the diner?”
Ezra and Brendan had to laugh at that one. “Yes, sir, Mr. Murphy. If you can wait long enough. Old Bud doesn’t move too fast, as you might recall.” Ezra said, giving a nod of welcome to Mr. Murphy.
“He’s probably selling the same food he was trying to peddle when you visited Hardyville.” Brendan said, with a wink and a smile.
“Aye laddies, there be some good folk in this land who, if I’m not being too harsh on them, have little or no speed in their movements. No, the Leprechauns must have cursed them, poor fellows.” Mr. Murphy looked at Shorty, then. “And who is this large man, I’m askin’ ye, who resembles our friend Too-Tall Dawkins. Might he be a relative, mayhaps?”
“This is my nephew, Shorty Dawkins. He’s my brother Lester’s boy.”
“I’ll be tellin’ ye, Shorty Dawkins, it is a real pleasure to be meetin’ a relative of Too-Tall Dawkins, no matter how tall ye are.”
“And I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Murphy.” Shorty leaned down from his horse to take Mr. Murphy’s hand in his. “They tell me you can talk to the animals. That’s not surprising, seeing you’re Irish. It must be the blarney. Either that, or you have help from the Leprechauns.”
“Aye, lad, most likely a bit of both, though ye left out the good Irish Whiskey. There be times when the critters make more sense than people ever do.” Mr. Murphy gave him a wink, then turned to Too-Tall. “So, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins, are ye showin’ the Valley to these folks? And can we get on with it now? Delilah is wanting some exercise.”
“What about Goliath?” Too-Tall asked, looking at the boar.
“He can come along with us, if there be none who object. He’s promised to be good.”
“All right, then. If you’ll play a tune on that banjo, we can be on our way.
They headed up the valley, eight on horseback, one little man on a donkey, playing a banjo, followed by an obedient boar. Mr. Murphy played and sang, and those who knew the songs joined in. Annie had brought one of her flutes, and joined in on some of the songs, whenever the going was easy and she could let go of the reins. In the distance, Shorty could see a small herd of sheep grazing peacefully. He guessed there were about a dozen sheep in the herd. They headed for the herd, or so Shorty thought, but suddenly veered off towards a low, forested rise. The reason became clear as they drew closer, for, hidden from easy view was a cabin, sitting quietly on a flat spot, part way up the rise. Just beyond the cabin was a barn.
“Is this your place, Mr. Murphy?” Ezra asked.
“No, laddie. I’m near the end of this green valley.” Mr. Murphy replied.
“It’s my place.” Ned said, matter-of-factly. “I’ll be moving up here soon with my family.”
“Aye, Ned. And won’t it be a joy, havin’ some more wee ones in the valley?”
“So you won’t be the littlest one any more, Mr. Murphy?” Too-Tall said with a wink and a laugh.
“Well, now, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins, you wouldn’t be pickin’ on me, now, would ye? Tis true you have the height that I lack, but I have my banjo and Delilah, and the creatures are my friends. For such as I have, I am grateful. Could I be askin’ for more?”
“What you need, Mr. Murphy, is a good woman.” Annie said, only half in jest.
“Aye, lass, tis a great sorrow in my life, not to have found a bonnie mate. Ye see, the best lassies choose the tall stallions. Yet, I am not so old that the little folk might yet spin some magic, and send a wee lass in my direction.”
The caravan reached the cabin and Ned encouraged the visitors to look around. “I just need to check on some things.”
“Come inside. There are some things you might find interesting in there.” Too-Tall said, encouraging Shorty, Brendan and Ezra.
They all went inside to have a look, and, sure enough, they weren’t disappointed. The first thing to catch Shorty’s eye, as he came through the front door, was a spinning wheel, set near a beautiful stone fireplace. Behind the spinning wheel, hanging on the wall next to the fireplace, was a large tapestry, maybe six foot wide and five foot tall. The tapestry, Shorty could see, depicted Hidden Valley, as seen looking out the front door. Looking closely, he saw a tall man on a horse, and beside him was a tiny man on a donkey, with a banjo hung around his neck. Riding towards the two was a girl with red hair flowing behind her. The tapestry was beautiful, and serene. Shorty smiled at it.
“Whose tapestry is this?” he asked.
“Dot made it.” Too-Tall told him. “She is a very talented weaver. Her loom is back there.” He pointed to a sunroom extending from the rear of the house. Shorty went back to look at it, while Ezra and Brendan continued to be fascinated by the tapestry. The loom, Shorty realized was hand made, with lots of care taken in its construction.
“Who made the loom?” Shorty asked, looking to Annie and Too-Tall.
“George and Sally Wool.” Annie answered. “They made the spinning wheel, also. They love making furniture and tools, anything made of wood. A lot of the furniture in this house, and ours, for that matter, was made by them, or their daughter and son, Ted and Maggie. Ted’s only thirteen, but he has become quite the craftsman. Maggie is making a piano. She’s working on the parts, now, and will assemble it here, in the valley.”
“It’s nice to see young folk taking up the old crafts.” Shorty nodded in approval.
“Back to basics and self-reliance is what this valley is all about, Shorty.” Too-Tall told him. “There is a lot more I want to show you, so if Ned is ready, let’s be on our way.”
“Where to next, laddie?” Mr. Murphy asked. “I’m thinking Goliath might be wantin’ to get back to his friends. I’ll be takin’ him home, if ye won’t be missin’ me, and I’ll find you along the way.”
“I think Frank’s place, then over to the Owens’.” Too-Tall said. “If you should have a thirst, you know where it is.”
“I’ll be thankin’ ye lad.” Mr. Murphy said with a wink. “I’ll bring a little something back with me, for those who have a mind to take a bit. Come along, now, Goliath, the ladies will be waitin’ on ye.” With a tip of his hat, he began playing his banjo once more, and Delilah gave a little wiggle of her head and off they went, Mr. Murphy, his donkey, and Goliath, the wayward boar.
The next stop was Frank’s house, which was a comfortable home, simple, yet functional. What was of interest was in the backyard. Looking out a window, Ezra saw a most incongruous sight, at least in Hidden Valley. Sitting next to a large shed was a tractor. Now, Ezra had seen plenty of tractors in his day, but here in Hidden Valley? There was no road to get it here, he thought, shaking his head.
“Hey, Brendan! Check this out.” he called, pointing out the window.
Brendan looked for a moment, then looked at Ezra, wondering if he was seeing things. “A tractor? How’d you get a tractor up here?”
“It wasn’t easy.” Ned told them. “It took a while. We winched it up that steep hill we came up, if you remember.”
“Yep, the tractor was a tough one, but the truck was even tougher.” Too-Tall added.
“You’ve got a truck up here?” Shorty asked, astounded.
“Yep.” Too-Tall said. “We’ll be bringin’ a couple more tractors and trucks up here, eventually. Need ‘em for the farms and the sawmill. The truck‘s on the other side of the shed.”
“How do you get fuel up here? By pack horse?” Ezra asked.
“No. We don’t need to bring it up here. We make it ourselves.” Ned told them. “Come along, I’ll show you Frank’s Fuel Factory.”
Ned led them into the shed, and, there, much to the newcomer’s surprise, sat a large still. Alcohol! Shorty hadn’t considered it. Yes, of course, if engines could run on gasoline, they could run on alcohol. Self-sufficiency, Too-Tall had said. Why depend on outside sources for things you could supply yourself?
“Fred and Hattie, from down at the Dry Goods Store, are building a big freezer to store meats and vegetables in.” Annie said, excited at the thought. “It’s for the whole valley. It’s as big as this shed. We won’t have to worry about each of us having our own refrigerators for bulk storage. We just need ice-chests for short term storage this way. At harvest time, everything can be frozen, rather than canned, if we want. And at slaughtering time, the meat will be brought here. Fred and Hattie will take seven percent of the product for their efforts, and they will keep track of who brings what. We will still own our goods, but they will store it for us.”
“We brought up a diesel refrigerant system that can run on vegetable oil.” Josh chipped in. “ I’ll be planting a field of sunflowers to make the oil from, when we move up here next spring.”
“Another thing Frank’s got in the works is a methane digester, which will take manure and turn it into methane gas. If he can make enough of it, it could power well pumps and we could have methane refrigerators instead of ice boxes.” Ned added.
Shorty looked over at Too-Tall, who gave him a little wink. “You’re really serious about making this valley self-sufficient, aren’t you? What about metals? Or do you have iron ore, and copper, and bauxite mines scattered throughout the valley?”
“No. The next best thing, though.” Too-Tall said, grinning. In anticipation, perhaps? Shorty wondered. “Follow me. The Owens place will answer your questions.”
The Owens family, being a large one, with Josh being the next to the youngest, has an assortment of in-laws, grandparents, nieces and nephews. The “family” also included Joshua’s brother, John, with his family, and Mabel Owen’s brother, Theo Jefferson, a bachelor. As the caravan approached their homestead, Shorty saw three cabins which appeared to be complete, nestled in a pine grove. There were two other cabins under construction and a number of sheds and barns, both complete and incomplete. At their approach, several people came out of the houses and sheds to greet them.
“Mornin’, Too-Tall, Annie, and Ned. Yes, and you, Polly and Josh. What brings you over here? We saw Mr. Murphy ridin‘ across the valley. Goliath get loose, again?” The man looked to be in his seventies, but still in good health.
“Mornin’, Mr. Jefferson. It’s a fine one. Yep, Goliath got loose, again. We’re just lucky to have Mr. Murphy around, I guess. We’re out showin’ the valley to my nephew, here, Shorty Dawkins, and his two friends, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty.” He indicated each in their turn. “This is Amos Jefferson, Mabel’s father. The feller next to him is his son, Theo. That’s Ida, Mrs. Jefferson, with the apron on. And I see, John Owens, Joshua’s brother has come out to say hello. Good morning’ John. We didn’t mean to take you from your work.”
“You wouldn’t be takin’ me from it, if I didn’t want to be taken, Too-Tall. You know that right well.” John answered, a smile upon his face.
“Come over to the porch and have some of my fruit punch.” Ida Jefferson insisted. “You must be bone dry.”
“Why, thank you, Ida. I am a bit parched, myself.” Annie replied. “And I do love your fruit punch.”
They dismounted, tying their horses at a hitching rail that was a scene from the Old West, Shorty decided. It didn’t take long before several other folks joined in greeting them. Josh’s older brother, Jacob, and his wife, Molly arrived with their two youngsters, Jake and Agnes. Soon after, Josh’s older sister Mandy came over with her husband, Eldon Parker, along with their baby, Zoe. Introductions were made, and chairs were brought onto the porch for folks to sit on, while Polly and Josh helped to pass out the fruit punch. Shorty realized the fruit in the punch was more of the “aged” variety, than the fresh, which he was thankful for. He really did like the punch, and made a note to ask Ida for the recipe.
“So, you’ve been showing the valley to Shorty and his friends, have you?” Amos said, as he settled in a chair next to Too-Tall. He noticed his wife flitting about. “Ida, set yourself down, won’t you? The young folk can take care of our visitors needs. No need for you to go flitting about like a mother hen.”
“Now, Amos Jefferson, I’ll sit when I’ve a mind to sit. Not before.” Shorty could see them bantering their way through a long and loving marriage.
“This sure is a beautiful valley.” Shorty interjected, to draw Amos’ attention away from his flitting wife.
“Yes, it is, Shorty. Real pretty. Too-Tall picked a good one.” Amos agreed, giving a nod to Too-Tall. “So, have you come to see what interesting things our Clan, here, is up to?”
“That’s it, Amos. If you folks don’t mind, I’d like to show Shorty, and his friends, what is inside your sheds. I think they’ll be a bit surprised by what they see.”
“No doubt, Too-Tall, no doubt. Lots of folks would be surprised. They find it a bit difficult to imagine what free minds and bodies can do, if given the opportunity.” He looked over at John. “John, would you mind showin’ these folks around? I’d do it, but my leg’s actin’ up again.”
“Sure, Amos. You just rest here in the shade. I’ll give them the tour.” John agreed.
John led the way, and Too-Tall, Shorty, Ezra and Brendan followed. Ned, Annie. Polly and Josh decided to spend their time visiting, as they were familiar with the Owens’ place. He opened wide the door to the first shed and let them in.
“This is our blacksmith shop. It’s not in use today, but services many needs. I would guess you have all seen a basic blacksmith shop before, so no surprises for you here.”
“Too-Tall said Joshua, Nathaniel and Matthew did the blacksmithing on the water wheel. Are they the regular blacksmiths?” Ezra asked, looking about with interest.
“You could say that.” John replied. “There are others who help here, sometimes, when we’re not busy elsewhere, or when some work needs to be done and they are not in the valley. Until everyone is settled in the valley, things are in flux. We all help out where needed.”
Brendan was looking at a rack of hunting knives he had found. “These are nice knives. Any chance I could buy one?”
“Well, …” John looked to Too-Tall to explain.
“They aren’t usually sold to folks from outside the valley, but if you fellers want one, I’ll buy them and give them to you. You’ve helped out some, at my place, and I’ll put you to work at the sawmill, so just consider it advance payment.”
Shorty saw the look Too-Tall and John exchanged, quickly, and figured the knives would cost Too-Tall a pretty penny. He also figured Too-Tall had a reason for making the offer, and thought it would be rude to decline. Besides, he really did like the knives, after looking at them. His Dad would appreciate the quality, he knew. Shorty selected one, as did Ezra and Brendan.
“I figure we owe you several hard days work for this, Uncle. They’re top quality knives, and you’ll get top quality work out of me. I am Lester Dawkins’ son, after all.”
Too-Tall smiled, thinking of his older brother, realizing that Shorty was a chip off the old block. He nodded his agreement. “Sounds fair, Shorty. Lester would have demanded a fair exchange, too.”
“Sounds fair to me, too.” Brendan added. “Same to you Ezra?”
“Yep. Good, fair trade.” Ezra agreed. “So what’s in the other sheds?”
“Let’s take a look.” John led them to the next shed and slid the big barn door open. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but after a short period of adjustment they all stepped in to the shed to have a look around. What they found was metal. All kinds of it; cast iron, steel, copper, aluminum and brass, all of it was scrap, and it was neatly stacked in separate shelves and bins, each labeled carefully.
“Ah!” Shorty exclaimed, with a chuckle. “Your next best thing to a mine!”
“What’s it all for?” Brendan asked. “What do you do with it?”
“Self-sufficiency, Brendan. Right, Uncle?”
“That’s it, Shorty.” He looked at Brendan for a minute, formulating his thoughts. “Suppose I break an axle on one of the tractors, or someone needs a new ax, or a shovel. Then suppose that no one can, or will, sell us what we need outside the valley. Well, we can make it ourselves. We have the raw material right here. And we have the knowledge and the expertise, also. Right, John?”
“More than enough expertise and knowledge, Too-Tall. And, we have the equipment that utilizes the knowledge.”
“And next in store for us is the equipment, correct?” Shorty said, knowing the answer.
“That’s the plan, Shorty.” John admitted with a grin. “Shall we continue?” He said, indicating for them to follow.
The other sheds contained the tools, machinery and equipment necessary to melt down the scrap metal and to rework those metals as needed. A complete metal working shop and fabrication plant. They could make an ax or an axle, a shovel, or a cast iron frying pan, a rifle barrel or a cast iron kitchen stove. Be it cast iron, steel, copper or brass, they had the knowledge and the equipment necessary to create their needs, just as they were capable of growing their own food, and making their housing and clothing. Shorty was amazed at the care the folks of Hidden Valley, the present and future residents, were taking to establish their self-sufficiency. Too-Tall, and John told them much about the preparations being made throughout the valley. What they didn’t know, they were learning, and sharing with their compatriots. Among the future residents were glass makers, potters, gunsmiths, brick makers, even people who could make paper.
Doc Weedon was training his two children to replace him someday, and he and his wife had spent many years learning about natural and herbal cures and preventative medicine. Polly was learning from them, also, and spent much of her time collecting herbs, roots, and plants which grew in the valley.
The gunsmith, George Wool, made guns, and the ammunition to use in them. His two sons were being trained in the trade, and had made trips with him to the hot springs at Yellowstone to collect sulphur for use in the gun powder. Sulphur was used in medicine, too, and was shared with Doc Weedon.
Shorty wanted to talk privately with Too-Tall, but decided to wait for a more auspicious moment. He could see what the folks of Hidden Valley were up to, but he wanted to find out precisely why they were making their preparations. What did they know that he didn’t, he wondered? He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of a triangle, the type that was used to call the family to dinner.
“We’d better get back to Ida’s house.” John said, at hearing the sound. “When Ida calls folks to a meal, she expects folks to come running.”
“We don’t want to keep Ida waiting.” Too-Tall agreed. “Besides, I’m hungry.”
When they got back to Ida’s house two picnic tables were covered with lots of delicious looking food. The children, of which there were many, were being fed first, under the direction of Ida and Molly. Ned and Annie were cooking steaks on the outdoor grille with the help of Mr. Murphy, who had arrived while Shorty and his friends were being shown around the ‘compound’. He saw Mandy sitting in a chair, nursing her baby and quietly talking with Eldon, her husband. He gave them a wave, and smiled.
“Hey, Shorty!” Angus called. “Try some of Molly’s three bean salad. It’s the best!”
“I’ll do that, Angus. I love a good three bean salad.”
“Do you like dandelion greens, Shorty?” Polly asked, holding up a bowl of them.
“I wouldn’t be Erma Dawkins’ son if I didn’t.” Shorty replied. “You’ve got some cider vinegar, I hope.”
“Right here, Shorty.” Lester told him, holding up the bottle for Shorty to see.”
“Just look at that spread of food!” Ezra exclaimed. “Looks like the Harvest Fair in Hardyville.”
“Is that where you’re from, Ezra? Hardyville?” Amos asked.
“Yep. Me and Brendan, both. That’s where we met Shorty.” Ezra told him.
“Tell him about the shootin’ match you and Shorty had, Ezra.” Brendan said with a grin.
“Let me get a plate full of this good food in me and I’ll be glad to tell the story. It’s a good one.” Ezra said, grabbing a plate from the stack and beginning to fill it.
“The steaks are ready. Come grab one Ezra. You too, Brendan and Shorty.” Ned called. “We don’t stand on ceremony, here. Just bring your plate over and pick one out. This is some of Too-Tall’s good beef.”
“Raised right here in Hidden Valley.” Annie told them with pride. “Best in the West.”
“Ezra, when you get your plate filled, come over and set down by me, if you would. I’ve been to Hardyville a few times, a number of years ago, it’s true. Perhaps we know some of the same folks.” Amos said, patting a chair next to him. “You, too, Brendan.”
“Sure thing, Amos.” Ezra replied. “There are lots of folks that have been around Hardyville for a long time.”
Everyone filled their plates and sat down wherever they found a spot. Shorty chose a spot under a tree, in the shade, and Too-Tall joined him. They chatted some, but mostly enjoyed the good food. Josh was kind enough to bring them some of Ida’s punch, and Shorty invited him to sit with them. Polly, too.
“You know, this reminds me of summer days in Upton’s Corners. Folks would just decide on the spur of the moment to get together, have some good food, watch the short folk play, or whatever. Just good folk doing what comes naturally.”
“Yep, I remember, Shorty.” Too-Tall said with a sigh. “I miss Lester and Erma. We had some good times, back then. How are Halifax and Millie Stebbins, these days? I always liked to go into their store. It had such a warm and friendly feeling about it.”
“Millie’s just fine, but Halifax passed away last year. His heart gave out on him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Shorty. Let Millie know I’m thinking of her.”
“I will, Uncle.”
As Shorty thought about Halifax and Millie, his gaze went to Polly and Josh. Here are two young folks, he thought to himself, starting down the road Halifax and Millie traveled many years ago. He wished them as much love and happiness as the older couple had enjoyed.
“So, Polly, and Josh. Have you two decided to get yourself hitched together, yet?”
The young folk blushed at the bold question.
“We have, sir. I’ve spoken with Too-Tall and Annie, and they have given us their blessings.” Josh said, so seriously, that Shorty was wondering if he was about to pop the question once more.
“Well! Congratulations!” Shorty told them, excitedly. “I suppose everyone in the Valley already knows about this?”
“Yes, sir.” Josh continued in his serious vein. “Mr. Jefferson has agreed to lead a wedding ceremony, for us. He’s not a minister, or anything, but we want to speak our vows, here in the Valley. We figure we don’t need a law, or religion to enter into it.”
Shorty nodded his understanding. “My friends Mad Mountain Jack and Molly felt the same way. They figured they were making their vows to each other, not to God, or the State.”
“We wish you would come to our wedding, Shorty.” Polly told him. Shorty could see she really meant it.
“When is the wedding?”
“Next June, on the Sixteenth.”
Shorty didn’t want to make a commitment he couldn’t keep, but knew in his heart he wanted to come. He considered the possibility for a moment.
“I would really like to come, Polly. I just don’t know if I can. I’ll be heading back to Upton’s Corners in a few weeks. I’ll have to think more on it.”
“Could I ask a favor of you, Shorty?” Too-Tall asked.
“Sure, Uncle Too-Tall.”
“I’m planning on sending a special invitation to the wedding to Lester and Erma, and, also, to Edna Mae and Charlie. Could you take them with you please? And tell them about Hidden Valley. I’d like them to know what we are doing here.”
“Of course, Uncle. I’ll do that. Mom and Dad speak of you, now and again, and Dad misses you, I know. They’ll be very interested in hearing about Hidden Valley, you can bet on it.”
A satisfied look came across Too-Tall’s face and he nodded in thanks.
“Daddy?” Polly called. “Will you sing your special song for us?”
“The one about the Valley?”
“Yes. That one. We love to hear you sing it.”
“I’ll tell you what, Polly, if you and Mr. Murphy and Josh will play for us, and if your Mother will sing with me, then I will. And you and Josh and Lester and Angus can join in on the second stanza, and then everyone must join in on the last stanza. Is it a deal?
“It’s a deal, Daddy. I’ll get Mr. Murphy. I’m sure he’ll be willing. Come on, Josh, we need to find a couple of guitars, too.”
“I have one in Gramma‘s house, and Mandy has one.” Josh said as they hurried off to find Mr. Murphy.
“Let’s go find Annie, Shorty. I think you might like this song.” Too-Tall said.
“Well, Polly and Josh sure like it. It can’t be that bad.” Shorty answered with a wink.
They found Annie talking with Ida and Molly. Polly and Josh hadn’t wasted any time, telling folks, “Daddy’s going to sing the Valley song.” Annie was agreeable, as was Mr. Murphy. “Ye know I’d be happy to play, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins, just for the chance to be hearin’ ye sing, lad. And it‘s a fine tune ye‘ve written, it is.”
“And ye be joinin’ me on the third phrase, now, Mr. Murphy, now won’t ye.” Too-Tall said with a laugh, doing his best to imitate his brogue.
“Aye, laddie. And your brogue is still like an Englishman, but I’ll not be holdin’ it agin’ ye. Ye have a kind heart and a nice family, so I‘m thinking the Leprechauns are smilin‘ on ye.”
Polly and Josh returned with the guitars, and Mr. Murphy helped them tune them. They divided up the parts and played a bit, then Mr. Murphy declared they were ready. All the folks had gathered round in anticipation, and Lester and Angus had been told to join in on the second stanza. The song began, and instantly smiles of satisfaction came onto the residents’ faces. They knew the song, and loved it as much as Polly and Josh.
“Now, the agreement is, that everyone joins in on the third stanza, including you, Amos Jefferson.” Too-Tall announced.
“I will, Too-Tall. I can’t sing worth a damn, but I do love your song.” Amos told him.
“Pshaw, Amos. You can sing as well, or better, than my Daddy did.”
Too-Tall and Annie sang together:
As It Was Meant To Be
Here, in this valley wide,
With those I love beside.
Here, with my family,
Living a life that's free.
Here with the friends we love.
Mountains that rise above.
Sharing a life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
Lester, Angus, Polly and Josh joined in and sang with them:
Tending our fields each day.
Raising what crops we may.
Watching the children play.
No words can ever say,
Thoughts that I hold inside,
Seeing this valley wide,
Knowing this life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
Everyone , except Shorty, Ezra and Brendan, joined in on the third phrase
Don't think you can command
Any who work this land.
Free men, both strong and brave.
Never to be a slave.
Here will we make our stand.
Here on our own sweet land.
Living a life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
Living a life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
“That’s nice, Uncle. That’s real nice.” Shorty told him.
“Do you think Lester would like it, Shorty?”
“I think you know the answer to that, Uncle Too-Tall.”
“We need a song from Shorty, next.” Ned called. “How about A Winter’s Snow?”
“Ezra, here, was tellin’ me how good your songs are, Shorty. We sure would like to hear ’em.” Amos encouraged Shorty, and others joined the chorus of those wanting Shorty to sing.
“All right, then, if you want me to sing, well, who am I to say no. If I could borrow your guitar, Polly, I think I’ll start with a song about the Autumn. I’ve always had a special fondness for Autumn in Upton’s Corners.” He took the guitar and practiced a bit, to get the feel of it. “I call this one, ‘On A Bright September Day’, because I wrote it after taking a walk on a bright September day.”
On A Bright September Day
Walking along on a country way,
Nothing to do or to say.
Not a care on my mind,
All my worries left behind,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The leaves on the trees with their colors bright,
Each Autumn they make such a sight,
As I stand and I pause,
No concerns about the cause,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The breeze on my face is so fresh and clear,
The smells of the Autumn are dear.
There's no place that I know,
Nowhere else that I would go,
For a walk on a bright September day.
The harvest is in, and the wood is dry,
Can't make Autumn stay though I try,
It's the time of the year,
I love best and hold most dear,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The folks in the cities can't understand,
The feelings I get from my Land.
How a field with some fences,
Can fill all of my senses,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The Winter will come, but the Fall is nigh,
I know it will leave and I sigh.
Now's the time of the year,
I love best, and hold so dear,
Let me walk on this bright September day.
The rustle of leaves in the breeze that blows,
It stirs in my heart, makes it glow,
There's no place that I know,
Nowhere else that I would go,
For a walk on a bright September day.
There's no place that I know,
Nowhere else that I would go,
For a walk on a bright September day.
“Damn, but that’s a good one, Shorty.” Amos exclaimed, clapping his hands together in joy. “Ezra was right, that’s for sure.”
“I can picture walking along the country roads in Upton’s Corners.” Too-Tall said. “It brings back some good memories.”
“Next, I’d like to sing a little song my sister wrote for me. You see, Edna Mae was the one who taught me how to shoot a gun. And she taught me well. She’s one heck of a marksman. The best in the county, and maybe the State. Anyway, this song is about the time she was first teaching me how to shoot. I was 9 at the time, and she was 14.”
Edna Mae Teaches Shorty To Shoot
Little brother it is time for you to learn to shoot a gun.
I'll teach you what you need to learn, and yes it's really fun.
If you can learn to shoot this thing you'll never have to run.
So listen close I'll teach you first the parts to this here gun.
Now this thing here is the handle for to hold it in your hand.
I hope that's not to hard for you to grasp and understand.
Now take the gun into your mitt, that's right, your doing grand.
Don't pay attention to those guys, just tell them to pound sand.
Keep the barrel out in front of you but do not point at me.
Now face the target over their, a standing by that tree.
And line the sights upon the target, aiming carefully.
Keep practicing and soon a marksman Shorty you will be.
Oh the next part is the hardest, it's the trigger that you squeeze.
Just think of it as some nice girl that you would like to please.
But not the type of girl who simply gives the boys a tease.
For goodness sake don't shoot the thing your aiming at the trees.
Please remember Shorty all that I have told you up to now.
The handle and the barrel and the squeeze I told you how.
Keep all these things in mind, ignore the sweat upon your brow.
The next time we will load the gun, that's good enough for now.
Brendan and Ezra laughed so hard they cried, having seen Shorty shoot. The young folk got a laugh out of it, which pleased Shorty very much. When Brendan brought himself under control, again, he insisted on telling everyone about the shooting match Shorty and Ezra had, over in Hardyville. On hearing the story, Amos decided they needed to have a shooting match in Hidden Valley.
“Let’s see how good Shorty really is. We’ve got some good shots in our little valley, here. There’s Ned, Annie and Too-Tall, and Joshua’s good, too. And of course John, old dead-eye, as we call him. Kent, too. Some of the young folk are gettin’ pretty darn good, also. Some of the folks from Cobb’s Corner will be up here tomorrow or the next day, working at the sawmill, or building their places. What do you say to havin’ a get together on Sunday. We’ll make a picnic out of it, and we can have competitions for different skill levels.”
Everyone liked the idea, and the match day was set. Shorty leaned over to Too-Tall, “Are you as good as Dad?”
“Better, Shorty. Always was.” Too-Tall told him with a wink. Shorty wasn’t sure if he was being serious, but figured he’d find out.
It was decided that Amos and Ida would make the Rules for the Match. With the date settled, everyone went back to work, and Too-Tall’s caravan mounted up and headed back home, and Mr. Murphy headed off to his corner of the Valley. They hadn’t ridden very far when Too-Tall indicated to Annie to continue, while he dropped back to ride next to Shorty.
“Are you tired, Shorty? Or are you up to seeing something special?”
“I’m game, Uncle. What have you got?”
“Follow me.” Too-Tall spurred his horse and headed off in the general direction of the Sawmill. Shorty quickly caught up with him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Too-Tall, as they rode along, until they reached the Dam with the Mills on either side.
“It’s above the dam. By the waterfall.” Too-Tall said simply, keeping his secret. “I told you I’d show you the waterfall, but there is something more.”
Shorty looked at the water backed up behind the dam and saw several fish jump. He suspected the little pond had been well stocked with trout. Again, self-sufficiency was evident. A short distance past the pond, Too-Tall pulled his horse to a stop and Shorty pulled up beside him.
“We could ride up, but the effect is better if we take the walking path over there.” Too-Tall told him, pointing to a narrow path with some steps heading up a hill. Shorty nodded in understanding and dismounted, as did his Uncle.
“Lead on, Uncle.” Shorty said, quietly. Shorty wasn’t sure what to expect, but he was getting excited, much as he suspected Too-Tall was getting excited, and nervous. What was it, he wondered that was making Too-Tall so nervous? He would find out soon enough.
As they climbed the path, higher and higher, Shorty could sense the tension of excitement growing in Too-Tall, and his excitement grew with it. Shorty paused momentarily, realizing he could hear the waterfall, and knowing they were drawing close. Rounding a bend, Shorty suddenly saw a wrought-iron gate blocking their way. Too-Tall stopped at the gate, a warm smile on his face, and reached into his pocket and pulled out a large skeleton key.
“I’ll explain in a moment, Shorty, but would you do the honors and unlock the gate?”
Shorty still didn’t know what was happening, or why a wrought-iron gate should be here, but he nodded at his Uncle and took the key from him. One look told him the lock was well oiled and he turned the key with ease. The gate swung open with equal ease and Too-Tall indicated Shorty should go first. As Shorty stepped through the gate, he could hear the waterfall clearly off to his left. The path, which, from the gate onward, was carefully groomed, opened onto a meadow. As they rounded a large clump of bushes, a pool of water came into view, and a few steps beyond, the waterfall became visible. It was not a large waterfall, falling perhaps fifteen feet, falling into a pool which drained off into a gorge over which a small, wooden bridge had been built, for pedestrian traffic.
Shorty stood looking at the waterfall for quite a while, lost in thought. Waterfalls and rapids always had that effect on him. His Dad, likewise, had a strange attraction to the moving water, Shorty knew, and he was sure Too-Tall knew this, also. The evergreen trees which surrounded the area gave it a feeling of seclusion and peace.
“Look in the trees on the other side of the pool.” Too-Tall encouraged him, quietly.
Shorty drew his eyes away from the waterfall and did as Too-Tall encouraged him to do. There, nestled in the trees, Shorty saw a cabin, quaint as could be, with a front porch that offered a view of the waterfall, and the pool. He turned to look at Too-Tall, who had a look he had seen at Christmas time, when the long awaited opening of the cherished gift was now complete, and giver and receiver of the gift were aware of it’s nature at last. Seeing the look on his Uncle’s face, Shorty had a flash of understanding.
“You built it, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“For Dad?”
“For my brother and his family.” Too-Tall corrected him.
“You want him to …… you want us to move here, don’t you?”
“Yes. Ever since I found this Valley, and this waterfall.”
“What does Dad think?”
“About moving here?” Too-Tall paused a moment, looking off into space. “He’s not ready, yet. Someday, maybe.” Too-Tall picked up a twig and looked at it a moment. “Do you want to see the cabin?”
“Yes.”
They walked to the cabin, and as Shorty stepped onto the front porch and turned to look back at the waterfall, which was clearly visible. The sun was shining, and, to Shorty’s delight and amazement, the sunlight shining through the mist from the waterfall created a small rainbow.
“A rainbow!” he said, pointing to it.
“Yes, I’ve noticed them before. Nice, isn’t it?”
“Mom would like that.” Shorty admitted. Too-Tall just smiled.
The cabin was simple, but well constructed, with a fieldstone fireplace in the center. On the back side was a Dutch oven and a flue for the kitchen woodstove. Shorty couldn’t put his finger on the reason why, but felt a strong friendly feeling about the cabin. Was it the balance of wood and stone? Or perhaps it was the simple design of the furnishings. Maybe it was the small tapestry hanging on the wall of the parlor room, with the scene of sheep grazing beside the waterfall. He didn’t know why, but he liked this cabin very much.
“What goes in the room at the back?” he asked, seeing a room extending out behind the main house that had no furniture, as yet.
“The piano Maggie Wool is making. I gave her the commission to make it. I know Erma loves to play.”
Shorty could picture his Mother sitting at her piano at home. Too-Tall was right, she loved to play. The family had spent many happy hours listening to her play. He could picture his Dad, sitting before the fire, smoking his pipe, listening quietly, his eyes staring off into space.
“What if they never come?” Shorty asked him, wondering if he had considered the possibility.
Too-Tall took his time answering. He looked around the cabin slowly, then walked to a window looking out on the waterfall. He stared out the window for a long time before turning back to face Shorty.
“If they don’t come, they don’t come. It’s that simple, Shorty. I’ve built this place for them in hopes they will come. The choice is theirs to make, Shorty. It is not to me to make it for them. After all, I am the one who left our home in Upton’s Corners. It is I who struck off for greener pastures, so to speak. I sensed that something was lacking in Upton’s Corners, something which I have found, here, in Hidden Valley.
This cabin, and the land around it, I have worked for one purpose, to bring my brother, and his family, here, to be with me, and mine. It will always be his, in my mind. That gate, which I insisted you unlock, has been left locked since I first put it up, except to oil it occasionally. No one else has touched it. I wanted a member of Lester’s family to be the first. You were the first. If Lester never comes, the cabin will not be in vain. It has been, and will continue to be, used on occasion. If Lester and Erma come for Polly’s wedding, they can stay here. If not, then it is planned for Polly and Josh to honeymoon here. Others will be invited to spend time here, but no one will live here, other than Lester and Erma, or their family.
I have freely chosen to create this home, with my own hands, and the help of Annie, the children, and some of the others who choose to live in this valley. I will look after it, protect it, in hopes that one day my dream, my hope, will come true. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”
Shorty was silent. His mind was racing in every direction at once, with thoughts of his parents, and Edna Mae, and of Upton’s Corners and all the folks who lived there. He thought of his friends, Caleb, Mad Mountain Jack and Molly, and how much they meant to him. He didn’t even notice it when he went out the door and walked to the edge of the pool, watching the waterfall for who knows how long. He was aware that Too-Tall was nearby, but couldn’t gather his thoughts enough to place them into words.
“Would you like to spend the night here, Shorty? By yourself? There is food in the pantry, and linens are in the bedroom.” Too-Tall said quietly. “The barn is behind the cabin.”
Shorty nodded yes, without really thinking about it. He didn’t notice when Too-Tall left.
Chapter Four
Several hours passed, while Shorty sat at the edge of the pool, watching the waterfall, and thinking. He thought of his parents, and the Valley, and this place that was waiting for them. He thought of self-sufficiency, and Upton’s Corners, but most of all, he thought of living a free life. And he thought of Maggie, the woman he had left behind. The woman he loved. She would not move to Upton’s Corners, he knew, and they had fought. His pride, and his love of Upton’s Corners, had destroyed their special relationship, their love for each other. Or had it? Would she come to Hidden Valley? Would her Mother come? As sick as Mrs. Jefferson was, could she make the trip here?
Caleb would be open to the idea of coming to Hidden Valley, he knew. He was less sure of Mad Mountain Jack and Molly. Edna Mae and Charlie had just married three years previous. She would not come without Charlie, of course. So, why would Charlie leave Upton’s Corners, knowing he had the Sawmill to support him? He’d have to think about that one, and maybe talk to Too-Tall.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of his horse neighing and pawing the ground.
“Well, what’s all the commotion about, fella? Are you wondering what’s the matter with ole Shorty? You must be getting hungry. Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”
He lead the horse to the barn, unsaddled him and gave him a good brushing. There was a grain bin, well stocked, and hay in the hayloft. After he had taken care of the horse, Shorty decided he would now take care of himself. He found some pickled eggs, canned three bean salad, a couple of whole potatoes. An onion and some crackers, along with a wedge of cheddar cheese. That should do me, he thought to himself. He started a fire in the cook stove and cut up the potatoes for frying with some onion.
As he busied himself in the kitchen, his mind was still racing with thoughts of Hidden Valley. After supper I’ll look around some more outside, he decided, and see what the area around the pool is like. When the potatoes were ready he put them on a plate from the cupboard, along with several eggs and some of the three bean salad, the cheese and some crackers. In his rummaging through the cupboards he had found a bottle of blackberry wine. He poured himself a glass and took his meal out onto the front porch. As he ate, the sound of the waterfall was his company. Mom and Dad would like this, he thought to himself.
Shorty began his explorations behind the cabin. Just beyond the barn, he saw, was a small field where the horses could get some fresh pasture, or some exercise. On the far side of the field was a stand of good pine and spruce waiting to be harvested. He was tempted to climb up to the top of the waterfall to see what was up there, but decided it could wait till morning.
The far side of the pool proved to be quite interesting. As he went a short distance into the woods bordering the small grass area around the pool, Shorty came across a small hand-painted sign, somewhat weathered, that read, “Shorty’s Cabin?”. He looked at it a moment, and a wry smile crossed his face. Too-Tall certainly was consistent about wanting his family with him in the Valley. Peering through the trees, he could make out the waterfall. If he took down a few trees, his view would be unobstructed, he realized. Not a bad spot for his cabin, he decided. His curiosity was piqued and he searched the forest and eventually found another sign, much like the first. “Edna Mae’s Cabin?” it said, with “and Charlie” added with more recent paint. It didn’t pass Shorty’s notice that “Edna Mae’s cabin” was closest to the road leading to the sawmill. Was this a sign that Too-Tall expected Charlie to take over the operation of the sawmill? Or was he reaching unwarranted conclusions. Again, he thought, I need to talk with Too-Tall some more.
The sun was getting low and Shorty went back to the cabin. Grabbing a lantern, and the rest of the bottle of blackberry wine, Shorty settled himself onto the porch to watch the sunset. He had plans to make, he told himself. He stayed on the porch until late, lighting the lantern when darkness came. The sound of the waterfall comforted him, and there was an owl which hooted at him, perhaps complaining of this intrusion by a mere human. With great reluctance, he found his way to the comfort of a bed which awaited him. Sleep came fast and easy for Shorty, that night. His decision was made.
“Good morning, Shorty!” a voice called from behind him. He turned from chopping wood and saw Josh and Polly approaching on horseback.
“Good morning to you, Josh, and Polly.” He smiled and put the maul down, taking the time to mop his brow with his bandana. “What brings you up here so early?”
“Mom and Dad wanted us to check in on you.” Polly replied. “Mom sent this for you.” She handed him a cloth bag. “Some fresh eggs and a slab of ham for your breakfast.”
“Well, thank you. All of you. That’s very nice. Would you care for some coffee? I’ve got a pot brewing. It should be done now.”
“Sounds good to me.” Josh said.
Shorty ushered them inside the cabin and poured them each a cup, refilling his cup in the process.
“So, Shorty, what do you think of this place?” Polly asked him.
“It’s nice, Polly. To be truthful, it’s more than nice, it’s perfect. When I came downstairs this morning I half-expected my Mom and Dad to be sitting at the kitchen table, sipping their coffee and chatting, as they usually do.”
Polly smiled an understanding smile. “Is that a Dawkins thing? Chatting over coffee in the morning? I know Mom and Dad do it. Maybe it’s just something parents do.”
“I suspect so, Polly. It’s their quiet time, before the little ones wake up.”
They sipped their coffee in silence for a few moments.
“Dad has told us stories of Uncle Lester and Aunt Erma. He really hopes they’ll come live with us, here, in the Valley. Do you think they ever will, Shorty?” Polly asked, finally.
“I don’t know, Polly. Your Dad told me how much he wants them to join him. Join all of you. I spent some time last night thinking of Hidden Valley, and the cabin here. I hope they decide to come here, Polly. I’ll let you be the first to know, I’ve decided this will be my home.”
“Really? Oh, Shorty! That’s terrific! Dad will be so pleased. We all like you, you know. You will be most welcome.” Polly gave Shorty a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, she was so excited.
“I’m glad too, Shorty.” Josh agreed, extending his hand in welcome. “You’ll fit in real well here.”
“Thank you. Both of you.” Shorty said, meaning it sincerely. “I’ll need to talk to Uncle Too-Tall and Aunt Annie, of course. I would like to ask a few friends of mine from Upton’s Corners to join me here. If it’s all right with everyone.”
“I think Too-Tall would be more than happy to have you bring a few of your friends, Shorty. It’s a big valley, with lots of room for folks who want to live free.” Josh said.
“I can’t wait to see the look on Daddy’s face when he hears the news.” Polly gushed with excitement.
“Well why don’t you and Josh go tell him, then.” Shorty said with a grin. “As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t a secret. There’s no reason not to tell him.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all, Polly. Like I said, as far as I’m concerned, it’s not a secret.”
“Come on, Josh. Let’s go tell him.” Polly grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out the door. “Bye, Shorty! Enjoy your breakfast.”
“I’ll be down after I have my breakfast.” Shorty called after them as they raced to their horses. He watched them go, then turned to face the waterfall. “If it weren’t for you, I would be spending my life in Upton’s Corners.” He knew that wasn’t entirely true, there was more to why he had decided to live his life in Hidden Valley, but he was definitely drawn to the waterfall, and the pool, and the mountains around him. Too-Tall was right, he knew, now. Hidden Valley, and the folks here, had something Upton’s Corners lacked, self-sufficiency.
Too-Tall saw Shorty coming towards his cabin and walked out to meet him. Approaching Too-Tall, Shorty reigned his horse to a stop, and looked at his Uncle with an intense look. In his hand was the sign Shorty found in the forest by the pool, the one that said, “Shorty’s Cabin?” He threw it on the ground, pointed at it, and said, “How much do you want for the land I found that on?”
Too-Tall looked down at the sign, then up at Shorty. “It’s not mine to sell. I can only sell what I own. That land up there, and throughout the Valley, what hasn’t been claimed already, is land available for homesteaders. Are you saying you want to homestead that land? If so, stake your claim and start building.”
“All right. I’m staking my claim.”
Too-Tall bent over and picked up the sign. He held it out for Shorty to take. “You might want this back. It might come in handy.”
They looked at each other a moment, then both faces broadened into wide grins. Shorty climbed off his horse and the two shook hands, warmly.
“Welcome to Hidden Valley, Shorty.”
“Thanks, Uncle Too-Tall. I never thought I’d want to live anywhere but Upton’s Corners, but this valley is now my home.”
“What do you plan to do on your land? Or haven’t you thought about it?”
“Oh, I’ve definitely thought about it. I think I’ll raise sheep, and graze them by the pool, like the tapestry in Mom and Dad’s cabin shows. I’ll raise some fruits, too, and grow useful herbs. Blueberries, apples, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries. I figure I can freeze some, can some, and make wine out of some, too. Eventually, I will build a greenhouse, I’ve decided, so I can grow tomatoes, and other vegetables year round.”
Too-Tall nodded as Shorty spoke. “I’ve been hoping someone would think of growing fruits. Good idea, Shorty. I’ll give you a hand on your cabin, of course. We all will. We can cut off some of the mature timber on your land, swap it for some of the dry stuff at the mill.”
“Speaking of the Mill,” Shorty began, “have you considered who will run it? Long term, I mean.”
“Originally I had hoped Lester would be interested in owning it. I own it, and the Grist Mill, right now, but I don’t want to continue owning it. I’d rather concentrate on my cattle. That, and a another project I have in mind. But ever since Edna Mae got herself hitched to Charlie Upton, I’ve thought maybe Lester and Charlie might be interested in a joint venture.”
Shorty shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, Uncle, you think four steps ahead of everyone. I thought I had a great idea about Dad and Charlie going in together on the Mill, and you’ve been planning it all along.”
“This Valley, Shorty is about three things. The first is freedom, or living a free life. You know about that from Upton’s Corners. The second thing is self-sufficiency, which you have witnessed, to an extent, since you arrived here. The third is family. I’m not talking about blood relations, when I talk of family, though blood relations are very important in the scheme of things. Family, as I see it, is what most people would call community, but, in my mind it goes a step beyond that description. Clan might be a better word for it. Clans are caring communities of people. They look after each other, protect each other. And each clan expects you to pull your own weight. No slackers allowed. Contribute. Get along. But also, live and let live, at the same time.
You’ve decided to grow fruit. No one forced you to make that decision. Fruit will be welcome in our little clan. You are contributing something of value to the clan. You are pulling your weight by supporting yourself in the process. We’ll be buying some of your fruit. However, no one will force us to buy your fruit. Mutual exchange, on a voluntary basis, within a self-supporting community.
Once you get to know the other folks who live here, or are planning to live here, better, you’ll find each of them has value. They willingly contribute. Beyond that, they will not force anything on you. Nor will they be forced. They make no demands, nor submit to demands. And they recognize the need to get along, not in a submissive way, but in a positive way. The “clan” benefits, and they benefit, from the simple action of getting along. It’s surprising how easy it is to get along with other folks when force is not used.
Outside this Valley, Shorty, force is used regularly. Laws are passed, and regulations, for the purpose of forcing folks to get along. They’ll never understand that force won’t work. Each law they pass will take more freedom away, requiring still more laws to deal with those folks who object to the loss of freedoms they once had. It’s an endless cycle, ending in complete subservience, or revolution. History is rife with examples, yet still they repeat themselves.
Hidden Valley is an oasis from all that ridiculousness. We will look after our own, protect our own. Any attempt from the outside world to force us to experience their madness will be resisted.”
“I understand, Uncle. That is why I choose to live here.”
“I’m sorry if I got a bit wound up. I should know you understand.” Too-Tall said, in apology. “Let’s go in and let the others welcome you to the Valley.”
Before they reached the house, however, the sound of a bugle interrupted them.
“Must be Fred and Hattie Cobb.” Too-Tall surmised. “Or Annie’s brother, Kent. Whoever it is, they’ve brought a visitor.”
“How do you know they’ve brought a visitor?” Shorty wondered.
“If they were coming alone, they would just blow three long notes, spaced out, so we knew they were coming in. If they play anything else, such as Ned’s reveille, we know they have visitors with them and go out to meet them.”
Ned had stepped out the door at the sound of the bugle.
“I’ll go out to meet them, Too-Tall. Unless you want to go.”
“I can go, Ned. Do you want to go with me, Shorty?”
“Sure. Might as well do my part.” Shorty said agreeably.
“You can come if you want to, Ned. The more the merrier.” Too-Tall kidded.
“Heck, I might as well.” Ned decided. “Who knows, it might turn out to be interesting.”
Truer words were never spoken. Ned and Too-Tall saddled up, and the three of them headed off to greet the arrivals, rifles visible. As they neared the point of rendezvous, Shorty noticed Too-Tall change his countenance from one of friendliness, to one of suspicion. A look at Ned told him he was doing the same. Shorty did his best to match them. Ahead, they finally saw the group milling about. From the midst of the group, a tiny woman, who couldn’t have been more than four and a half feet tall, stepped out. For all the world, she reminded Shorty of a miniaturized edition of Annie Oakley, with her cowgirl skirt and blouse, a cowboy hat, a tiny little rawhide vest, and a pair of six-shooters holstered on her hips.
“Aye mun, and ‘ave you bin keepin’ us waitin’ ‘ere so ye can luke us oover? And are ye satisfied with us?” She demanded in an impatient, Scottish accented voice.
Too-Tall looked at Ned, who looked at Shorty, who looked back at Too-Tall. They all suppressed a grin, as best they could.
“Allow me to introduce Clarissa MacPherson.” Hattie hurried to interject.
“From Glasgow. And if ye don’t know where it is, I suggest ye stoodie yer geography.” Clarissa interrupted, before the introductions could be completed.
“Ah! Clarissa MacPherson, from Glasgow, you say. And what does Clarissa MacPherson, from Glasgow, want with the folks of our Valley?”
“If ye must know, I am luking for a mun goes by the name of Shorty Dawkins. I ‘ave heard he is the best shot with a gun in this part of the country, and I ‘ave a great desire to proove I am better than ‘im. Are you this Shorty Dawkins?”
“No ma’am, I’m not Shorty Dawkins. Who told you he is the best shot in this part of the country?” Too-Tall asked, making a sign to Shorty to be still.
“An old mun from a place they call Hardyville. He has an eating place there, tho’ the food is horrible. The mun doesn’t move any faster than a turtle.”
“That would be Bud.” Shorty told them.
“Aye, that was the name he gave.”
“How did you happen to be in Hardyville?” Shorty asked her.
“Ach mun, ‘Tis a strange tale to tell. On good King Jamie’s name, I say this is true. I was drivin’ down the rood, mindin’ me own business, when a wee voice in me head says, “Turn down this road.”. Well, as me dear departed Mum always said to me, “Listen to the wee voice in yer head, my lass, and mind yer manners.” So, without a care in me heart, I turns down the rood and it takes me to a little village of strange, but delightful folk. ‘Twas there I heard of this Shorty Dawkins, who shoots holes in trees, so I‘m told.”
“Did someone from Hardyville send you to Cobb’s Crossing?” Too-Tall asked.
“Indeed she did. It was a woman named Rosie, Rosie McCarty, who sent me to Cobb’s Crossing. Hattie and Fred, good folk that they are, were the ones that brooght me up in the woods. Now, I’ve told me tale, and I’d like to know where I would be finding this mun Shorty Dawkins.”
“Excuse me, Clarissa, but I’d like to have a word with Too-Tall, in private, if you don‘t mind. We won‘t be but a moment.” Fred said. Too-Tall got down from his horse and he and Fred walked a ways, that Clarissa wouldn’t hear them. “You know, Too-Tall, from the time we set eyes on her, the Mrs. and I haven’t gotten it out of our heads that she and Mr. Murphy belong together. What a pair they would make. Can’t you just see it?”
“I think we all are thinking the same thing, Fred.” Too-Tall agreed. “You haven’t heard yet, but we’re planning a Shooting Match for Sunday. Everyone who wants to shoot is welcome. All ages. This could work out real well. Clarissa can test her skill against all of us, not just Shorty. Meanwhile, there is time for her and Mr. Murphy to get to know each other, a bit.”
Fred smiled a devilish smile and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a good time. “This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to see the look on Mr. Murphy’s face.”
“Same here, Fred. She’s a feisty one, isn’t she?”
“That she is, my friend. Just what Mr. Murphy needs.” Fred said with glee. They went back to the others.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Miss MacPherson. We’re having a little Shooting Match here, in the Valley, on Sunday. You are welcome to try your hand at beating us at our own game. Shorty Dawkins will be joining the competition, so you’ll be facing him as well. You are welcome to stay at my place till then. Does that sound good to you?”
“If Shorty Dawkins is shooting in yoor competition, then it satisfies me. And I thank ye for yoor kind hospitality.”
“That’s settled, then. My name is Too-Tall Dawkins. I’m Shorty’s Uncle. This fellow over here is Ned Conklin, my wife’s cousin. The other fellow with the silly grin on his face is Shorty Dawkins.”
“Pleased to meet you Clarissa.” Shorty said, grinning broadly.
Too-Tall was already in the saddle. “Let’s get back to the cabin.” He couldn’t help but laugh as they rode off.
Chapter Five
Clarissa proved to be a strong-willed, out-spoken woman with a heart of gold. She feared nothing, and found joy in lots of things. When she was invited into the Dawkins’ home, she quickly spied the harp sitting near the fireplace.
“Ach! A harp! ‘Tis good to see ye have good taste. Me Grandmum had one, such as this, she did. Taught me to play it, too, though I could never be as good as her. Would ye mind if I played it?”
“Be my guest.” Annie insisted.
And play, she did. She was just a little rusty, at first, but quickly warmed up. She played some songs from her native Scotland which were unknown to any of them, and some were familiar. They were all beautiful.
Too-Tall had sent Josh to fetch Mr. Murphy, warning him to keep the secret of Clarissa. “Just tell him there is someone visiting us I think he should meet.”
“I understand.” Josh said with a sly grin on his face.
After Clarissa had finished playing, they sat around talking, with some of Too-Tall’s Special Brew for everyone. Clarissa was telling them of her boat trip from Scotland to Boston when a banjo was heard playing, faint at first, but slowly getting louder. Those who knew of Mr. Murphy’s approach looked at each other surreptitiously, trying to hide their smiles from Clarissa.
“Now I know I’m not daft, and I know ye can hear as well as I can hear, so why are ye pretending ye don’t hear a banjo playing, and why are ye hiding yoor smiles?” Clarissa demanded.
“Oh, we can hear the banjo playing, Clarissa, and we know who the fellow is who plays it. We smile because we think you are going to find him interesting.” Annie deftly managed to say.
“Interesting, ye say? I sit here with a giant of a man ye call Too-Tall, and another one who ye call Shorty, in a cabin in a valley ye call Hidden Valley, and I just played a delightful harp. This fellow with the banjo must be very different for you to call him interesting.” Clarissa said, shaking her head.
“Oh, yes. He is very interesting indeed.” Annie insisted. “Let’s go greet him.”
Clarissa allowed herself to be pulled outside where she looked upon a little man, riding a donkey, and playing a banjo. Mr. Murphy noticed Clarissa and stopped his playing.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to y’all.” Mr. Murphy said, tipping his hat. “And who is this delightful looking lady with the six shooters on her hip? Will ye give me an introduction, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins? Or perhaps yer charmin’ wife will do me the honor of introducing me to the lovely lady.”
“Clarissa MacPherson, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy, meet Clarissa MacPherson. From Glasgow.” Annie said, with great formality.
“A Scottish lass ye be! ‘Tis a pleasure to meet ye ma’am.” Mr. Murphy said, bowing low.
“Aye, and you be Irish, and what of it? But, I suppose I’m pleased to meet ye, too, since ye be a man of my height in this sea of giants. And what be yer Christian name, sir?”
“My Christian name, ye ask?” Mr. Murphy scratched his head a moment, trying to remember his Christian name. “To be tellin’ the truth, ma’am, I’ve forgotten my Christian name.”
“Aye, ye must be Irish, then. I’ll have to choose a name for ye, since I won’t be botherin’ to call you Mr. Murphy all the time.” She looked him up and down, carefully as she decided upon his name. “And what have you got on your feet. Is that a pair of argyle socks, mun?”
“Aye, lass, for I’m partial to them, I am.”
“Then I’ll call ye Argyle, sir, and not another word from ye about it. ‘Tis a good Scottish name. I hope ye can do it proud, though I have me doubts.” She looked him over once more. “Now, Argyle, tell me what makes ye so interestin’ that folks call you that.”
“Call me what, ma’am?” Mr. Murphy asked, perplexed.
“Interestin’! Can’t ye hear me, mun? Are ye deaf, too? Annie told me you were interestin’. What makes ye interestin’?”
Shorty could see Mr. Murphy was getting totally confused and needed help. “He talks to the animals. I’d call that interesting, wouldn’t you, Clarissa?”
“Ye talk to the animals, Argyle?” Clarissa wasn’t sure she believed it. “And what do they say?”
“Whatever they want to say.” Mr. Murphy was finally beginning to understand what was going on.
“He convinced Goliath, our boar, to come back home.” Too-Tall offered.
“That he did.” Ned agreed. “It was quite a sight watching Goliath following Mr. Murphy on his donkey as he played his banjo.”
“Ye talked a boar into coming back home, did ye, mun? I can’t deny, Argyle, it is interesting indeed.”
“It is blessed warm out here in the sun.” Mr. Murphy said. “Perhaps we should go inside and have a little refreshment, if it suits you, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins.”
“Ah! You do look a might bit pale, Mr. Murphy. No doubt your throat is a bit parched. I know mine is. How about you, Shorty?” Too-Tall asked with a wink.
“I’m thinking some more of your Special Brew would be the thing to cure what ails us.” Shorty agreed.
They went inside for some liquid refreshment, and a chance for Mr. Murphy and Clarissa to become acquainted. It wasn’t long before Mr. Murphy was playing his banjo and Clarissa was dancing. Shorty decided the pair reminded him of Mad Mountain Jack and Molly, only smaller.
When Too-Tall, Shorty, and Ned stepped outside for some fresh air, Shorty mentioned that since Clarissa was here, he thought he would go back to the waterfall cabin for the night, and bring Ezra and Brendan with him.
“It’s getting a might bit crowded, and the cabin is sitting there waiting to be used. Besides, I’d like for Ezra and Brendan to see the place before they leave. We’ll be down at the Sawmill bright and early tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.”
When they went back inside Shorty took Brendan and Ezra aside, telling them of his plan. They said they were looking forward to seeing both the waterfall and the cabin. The three of them helped out with some chores until about three o’clock, then packed their stuff and headed out. Annie packed some ham steaks and some more eggs, along with a loaf of fresh bread for them. Shorty noticed how well Mr. Murphy and Clarissa were getting along, and he even called him Argyle as they were leaving. Mr. Murphy didn’t seem to mind at all.
An hour before sunset, Shorty was sitting on the front porch of his “parents’ place”, with Brendan and Ezra, having some more blackberry wine, and chatting.
“I really like this place, Shorty.” Brendan said. He was rocking back and forth, watching the waterfall. “It’s peaceful and it’s beautiful.”
“Yeh, Too-Tall picked a good spot to entice my Mom and Dad with.” Shorty was watching the fish jumping. It’s feeding time, he thought to himself. “This whole valley is great, and so are the people.”
“So, Shorty, what’s your time frame for movin’ here?” Ezra asked. “I was kinda hopin’ you’d decide to settle in Hardyville, but hell, you’re not so far away we can’t visit you now and agin.”
“You’re welcome to visit any time, Ezra. You too, Brendan. Bring your families, too.” Shorty had been thinking of when he would move to Hidden Valley permanently. “I’ve been thinking I’ll stick around here another couple of weeks, then I have a stop to make before I head back to Upton’s Corners. I’ll probably winter there, then move out here come springtime.” Shorty didn’t say anything, but the stop he needed to make was back in Nowhere. He’d made a big mistake, and he knew it now. He hoped it was still possible to make amends for it.
They watched the sunset in peace. Each man had thoughts of his own, and no one broke the silence. Only the sound of the waterfall and the owl Shorty had heard the night before broke the calm and peace of the approaching night. Brendan and Ezra went to bed as darkness approached, but Shorty stayed up a while longer, thinking of Nowhere, and a girl with golden hair. What if she pushed him away? Maybe he had hurt her too much. What would his life be like without her? He grabbed the guitar from inside the cabin, along with some paper and a pencil, and he wrote a song.
I Will Love That Girl Forever
From the day I first met that girl,
Saw her smile, and heard her laughing.
With her golden hair blowing in the air,
And her eyes, so kind and inviting,
I knew I would ever love her.
In my dreams, I still see her face,
And I hold her hand in my hand.
Take her in my arms,
Keep her from all harm.
Hear her voice,
That still makes me quiver.
I will love that girl forever.
How could I ever turn away?
Turn my back and leave her standing.
As I sit alone, in my empty home,
While my life goes by as I'm dreaming.
I will love that girl forever.
Days go by, and the years they pass,
Only memories are left me.
Of a girl I knew,
With her eyes of blue,
Telling me she'd love me forever.
Yes, I'll love that girl forever.
All the dreams we once shared are gone,
Left behind, abandoned, undone.
Yet I hear her voice, and I still rejoice,
For the love we had, though it's over.
I will love that girl forever.
Hope she's well, and she's found someone,
Had those children that we talked of.
Still I sit alone, dream of only one,
I could never love any other,
For I'll love that girl forever.
When he was done, he wiped the tears from his eyes, bid the waterfall good-night, and went to bed.
Soon after dawn, Shorty, Ezra and Brendan walked down to the sawmill. It was a pleasant walk, and they were eager to do some work.
“I heard you singing a song last night, Shorty. I didn’t recognize it. Did you write it?” Brendan asked him, trying to keep from sounding too curious.
“I hope I didn’t keep you up, Brendan. I had something I had to work out, and wrote the song to help me.”
“Did you get it worked out?”
“I think so, Brendan. We’ll see.” Shorty wasn’t surprised to hear noise at the sawmill as they neared it. He was a little surprised to see Clarissa stepping out of the mill, though. She was in jeans, and was minus her six-shooters. “Good morning, Clarissa.” He called to her.
“And a fine good mornin’ to you, Shorty Dawkins. And to you, Brendan McCarty and Ezra Lyons.” She gave them a wave of hello. “If ye can get yourself up in the mornin‘, then Too-Tall and Argyle won’t be needin’ to do all the work by themselves.”
“Well, we’re here to work, Clarissa, and work we will.” Shorty answered her. “Give us our jobs.”
Too-Tall stepped out of the mill with several peaveys in his hands. “Good morning, gents.”
“Good morning.” They replied in unison.
“Argyle is ready to go, now.” He couldn’t help but smile at the name. “He’ll be running the controls. Ned, Josh, Polly and I will be stacking the lumber when it comes out. You fellas will be feeding him with fresh logs. We’ll start with this pile closest to the carriage.”
“You heard the man, Shorty. Let’s get busy. We don’t want to keep Argyle waiting.” Ezra said, grabbing a peavey.
They worked hard in the sun, using the peaveys to roll the logs onto the carriage, then, as Argyle needed them, onto the conveyor. The logs were pine and spruce, and were intended for 2” framing lumber and 1” sheathing lumber. Argyle took a look at the log, as it was placed on the conveyor, and quickly decided it’s best use. The saw blade was sharp, and sliced through the logs with ease. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the day became warmer, but no one complained. Occasionally someone would wipe their brow with a bandana, but otherwise the work continued unabated. It felt good to Shorty to see the lumber stacks getting higher. When the lumber was dry it would be used to make a home, or a barn, for someone, here, in the Valley.
About nine o’clock, Too-Tall called for a break.
“Annie made up some of her special herbal iced tea for us.” He said, grabbing a large earthen jug from the shade of a tree. “You fellows are going to like this, I think. It tastes real good, and it quenches the thirst like nothing I’ve ever had before.”
Josh handed out cups for them all and Too-Tall poured. Shorty took a sip of the tea and was surprised at how tasty it was. Mint was the dominant flavor, Shorty noticed, but he could also taste some cinnamon, and he thought there was a hint of raspberry in there, as well.
“This is good, Too-Tall. Very refreshing.” Brendan said, obviously impressed.
“I don’t know what she puts in it, but I’m sure she’ll give you the recipe, if you ask.” Too-Tall told them.
Work continued at a steady pace. The logs closest to the carriage were used up and the next pile to be cut was mostly white oak. The white oak was cut into beams, though some was cut into 1” boards. The hardwood was more difficult to handle, being heavier, and Shorty, Ezra and Brendan had to help with the stacking of the beams. As they stopped for lunch, George Wool, Joshua Owens and Josh’s older brother, Nathaniel, arrived to lend a hand. Introductions were made and the group set to work, again. George helped Shorty’s crew, and Joshua and Nathaniel lent a hand with the stacking.
Shorty learned that George, who was a stocky, barrel-chested bear of a man, was both funny and intelligent. They talked a bit about guns, of course, since George was the gunsmith in the group, but also about wood, and trees. When George learned that Shorty was planning on growing fruits, George laughed and said, “Well, now I won’t be the only fruit around here.”
George wasn’t just a gunsmith, or a woodworker, though Too-Tall praised both of his talents. He was also a man who spent a good deal of his free time reading. He read history and philosophy, as well as anything related to guns and woodworking. He knew how to make gunpowder, and had developed the necessary equipment to produce brass casings for ammunition.
“What guns do you fellows have?” George asked them. When he learned Shorty had a .45-70 Allin-Springfield Model 1873 Army rifle, he got all enthused. “You can do some serious long range shooting with one of those, Shorty.”
“Tell me about it.” Ezra said with a wry grin. “That thing can shoot a hole in a sapling from 900 yards.”
Brendan, of course, insisted that the story of the shooting match be told, which it was. George got a good laugh from it.
“I’m looking forward to the shooting match on Sunday.” He decided. “Lots of new talent. I hear Clarissa is looking to beat the pants off of Shorty.”
“That she is, George.” Shorty agreed, taking a look at the diminutive gal. “It should prove to be interesting. If she’s as good as she thinks she is, and if Too-Tall is better than my father, as he says he is, then the match should be interesting, indeed.”
“Don’t forget about Ned and Kent.” George warned. “And when it comes to six-shooters, Mr. Murphy can give anyone a run for their money.”
“Argyle?” Ezra said with astonishment. “Well, I’ll be hog tied. Do you mean to tell me he’s a good shot with a six-shooter?’
“Yep. He’s not very good with a rifle, but, damn can he shoot with a revolver.”
“Hmmm…. Things are getting interesting.” Shorty decided, grinning an evil grin. “It kinda makes me wish my Dad and my sister, Edna Mae, were here.”
When the work day was done, Shorty and his friends headed back to the cabin, tired, but satisfied. They had put in a good days work, they knew, and now it was time to make a meal, have some wine, and watch the sunset. Tomorrow they would go with Too-Tall to the far end of the valley, where the cattle were grazing. Too-Tall wanted to check on them.
“There’s a narrow off-shoot of the valley, not really a canyon, but similar, and we fenced the end of it. It has water and good pasture for them. We’ve been having a bit of a problem with wolves, though.” Too-Tall explained. “We lost three calves this year to the wolves. A bunch of us went out hunting them. We killed four of them. Since then we haven’t lost any more stock, but you can’t be too sure.”
It was an early night for them all, as Too-Tall had said he would come for them at dawn.
Shorty had a dream that night, which was so real, he felt he could reach out and touch it. Maggie, (the girl with the golden hair), was by his side, while two children played by the pool; a girl and a boy. The boy was older than the girl, and he was teaching his little sister something. He knew the children were his children. His and Maggie’s children.
At dawn, the horses were saddled and ready, when Too-Tall arrived.
“Have you had your coffee and some breakfast?” Too-Tall asked.
“Yep. We’re ready to go. Just waiting on you.” Shorty replied.
“Good. Let’s be on our way, then.”
Too-Tall led the way, pointing out interesting facts of the valley.
“Over in the trees over there, on that slight rise, is George and Sally Wool’s place.” He said, pointing across the valley. “When you move here, George will be happy to sell you ammunition or guns. He’ll make one to your specifications, too. Or maybe you want a bureau, or a kitchen table. You can make your own, or buy one from George. He and Sally are planning on moving here in a couple of months.”
A little further down the valley, they could hear some pounding.
“That would be Doc Weedon’s place. He and his children came up last night to work on it. They should have it finished by autumn. Polly and young Josh went over to help them. Joshua and Phil should be there, too. We can stop in on the way back. I‘m sure you‘ll want to meet them.”
“Definitely. I want to meet all my neighbors.” Shorty answered.
They rode in silence for several minutes and Shorty enjoyed the opportunity of just looking around. This valley was to be his new home. Get to know it. See what it had to offer, he told himself.
“Ducks.” Shorty said, not realizing he said it aloud.
“Ducks?” Ezra asked. “Where?”
“No, I was just thinking that ducks, and maybe some geese, would be a good thing to have up at the pool.”
“What about the sheep? Won’t the geese bother them?” Brendan asked.
“Not for long, I bet.” Ezra said with a laugh.
“Yep, the geese will soon learn to leave the sheep alone.” Shorty agreed. He could picture the first few times the ganders tried to mess with the ewes.
They fell into silence once more and Shorty returned to his close observation of the valley. He happened to look up and saw a hawk flying above them, which made him wonder about game birds.
“Are there many pheasant or wild turkeys around here, Uncle?
“Lots of pheasant, Shorty. Some wild turkey, and we have a lot of migratory geese and ducks come through here.”
Just then, Shorty looked to his right, towards a ridge that was perhaps a quarter mile away, and there, standing as proud as can be, was a magnificent ten point buck.
“Looks like you have deer, as well.” Shorty said, pointing towards the buck.
“Yes, and an occasional elk, too. If we can keep the wolves under control, perhaps we’ll see even more of them. If we don‘t take more than the land can sustain, we should be all right.”
Shorty had heard his Dad say the same thing in regards to trees. He knew it was a basic tenet of the good farmer, hunter, or woodsman to take only as much as the land could provide on a sustainable yield.
“Over there is Argyle’s place.” Too-Tall said, pointing across the valley. “Just above where the stream takes a sharp bend to the right.”
“Is that a gazebo down by the stream?” Brendan asked.
“Yes, it is, Brendan. He likes to sit down by the stream, watching the water flowing, and playing his banjo. Sometimes he plays the harmonica.”
“I see something moving over there. Is that goats I see?” Ezra asked, straining to see.
“Indeed, Ezra. He keeps goats. So if you want some goats milk, Shorty, go see Mr. Murphy.” He paused, realizing he had called him Mr. Murphy. “It’s going to take a while to get used to calling him Argyle, I guess, but in a way, it sort of suits him, I think. He seems to like it, don’t you think?”
“But is it the name, or the fact that Clarissa chose the name, that he likes?” Shorty said with a grin.
Too-Tall laughed. “You’ve got a point, there, Shorty. They seem to have hit it off pretty well. Who knows, maybe Hattie’s match-making efforts will bear fruit. Of course the shooting match should tell us a lot. Argyle doesn’t say anything about shooting, but I suspect he’s looking forward to trying his luck against Clarissa. He’s damn good with a revolver.”
“So George was telling us.” Shorty said. “It should prove to be interesting.”
“We’ll see what happens, tomorrow.” Too-Tall said, a sly look crossing his face.
They reached the stream and Too-Tall turned right. Ahead, Shorty saw the opening into the little valley off-shoot where the cattle were grazing. Stretched across the opening of the little valley was a post and rail fence, with a gate which allowed them access. Spread out in the little valley were about fifty head of cattle, grazing peacefully. The closest ones raised their heads in curiosity, wanting to see who it was entering their space, seeing no danger, they went back to business at hand.
“That’s a fine looking herd, Too-Tall.” Ezra said in appreciation. “Healthy looking.”
“Thank you, Ezra. I took some time choosing my initial stock. I could of gotten some cheaper, but I wanted good stock. I started with a bull and three heifers and built the herd from there.”
“I did much the same myself. It takes a while. Yep, it surely does, but it’s worth it. Sort of like a family. Give it love and attention, put in the necessary work, and soon you have a nice healthy, happy bunch of kids, or cattle, as the case may be.”
“Good point, Ezra.” Too-Tall agreed.
“Do you plan on growing the herd bigger?” Shorty asked.
“Some. This end of the valley can handle maybe a hundred head. It depends on the needs of the valley folk. If we grow as big as I want the Valley to grow, then I’ll increase the size.”
“What about dairy cows? Is anyone planning on them?” Shorty asked.
“Ned and his brother, Frank, have plans for a dairy. They’ll be fencing off some of the valley floor in front of their places for the cows to pasture. The lumber we milled yesterday will be used for their barn. This fall, once the crops are in, we’ll all help with the fencing, then in the spring we’ll have a big barn-raising party.”
“I hope to be back in time for that barn-raising.” Shorty said, looking at Too-Tall. “Maybe with some more help.” Too-Tall understood what Shorty meant by “other help”.
“Let‘s hope so, Shorty.” Too-Tall said seriously.
The herd was doing well, and so they headed back. As promised, they stopped to visit Doc Weedon, and his family. Josh and Polly saw them coming and waved in greeting. When they dismounted, a middle aged man with a healthy beard stepped out of the house carrying an armful of scrap lumber.
“Welcome to the homestead.” he said in greeting.
“We were checking on the herd and thought we’d stop in, so the fellows could meet you and your family.” Too-Tall said, offering his hand, which Doc shook warmly. “I’d like you to meet Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty. They live over in Hardyville. This is Doc Weedon.”
“A pleasure to meet you fellas.” Doc said, shaking each of their hands. “I was in Hardyville, several years ago. Nice folk over there.”
“This fellow here is my nephew, Shorty Dawkins, Lester’s boy.” Too-Tall interrupted.
“Well, it is indeed a pleasure, sir. I heard you were up here visiting.” Doc turned back towards the house. “Sally come meet these nice folks. You. Too, Ethan and Julia.” he called.
Sally Weedon came out of the house with a smile as big as tomorrow. “Oh, goodie!” she cried with delight. “I love to see new folks in the Valley. Introduce me, Matthew. Don’t just stand there smiling at me. Ethan and Julia, come meet these new folks.”
“Sally this is Too-Tall’s nephew, Shorty Dawkins, and his two friends are Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty. This is my wife, Sally, gents.” Her husband said in introduction.
Sally looked up at Shorty, then over at Too-Tall. “Oh, yes. I can see the resemblance. Welcome, Shorty. Now let me see if I’ve got this straight, you’re Brendan, and you’re Ezra, right?”
“No dear, you’ve got it backwards.” Doc told her, gently.
“Oh, my! I’m sorry. I’ll get it straight, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sally. We came barging in on you, and maybe flustered you a little. Thank you for your warm welcome.” Ezra told her, tipping his hat.
“Ezra’s right ma’am. No harm done. Glad to make your acquaintance.” Brendan added, tipping his hat to her, also.
Suddenly, Ethan and Julia came running out of the house, or rather, Julia chased Ethan out of the house.
“Ethan! You know I’m ticklish. Stop it!” she cried and laughed.
“All right, Sis. I’ll stop.” Ethan promised. “For now, at least. But you need to quit swatting me in the backside. Is it a deal?”
“Oh, all right. It’s a deal.” Julia held her hand out and Ethan shook it. They both giggled.
“What are we going to do with you two? How can you get any work done when you’re always swatting and tickling each other?” Sally said, shaking her head, but failing to hide her grin. “Come over here, now, and meet some nice men who have come to say hello.” She took each by a hand, placing one on each side of her. “These are our children, Shorty. Ethan is seventeen, and Julia is fifteen. They are good kids, when they’re not squabbling. This is Shorty Dawkins. He’s Too-Tall’s nephew. And these are his friends, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty. Did I get it right this time?”
“Indeed you did ma’am.” Brendan spoke up. The two youngsters stepped forward to shake the hands of the visitors.
“You have two fine looking children, Doc and Sally. You should be proud.” Shorty said sincerely. “There’s nothing wrong with silliness. I’ve been known to be silly myself, on occasion.”
“We are proud of them.” Doc said, obviously pleased. “They may be silly, but they are smart as whips, and hard workers, too.”
“How is the house coming?” Too-Tall asked.
“Very well.” Doc replied. “George Wool is bringing over the doors, today. The chimney is done and we’re about ready to start the trim work. It looks like we’ll be ready to move in by the end of September.”
“Well, we’ll leave you to your work, now. You’re coming to the shooting match, aren’t you?” Too-Tall asked.
“Oh, yes. We wouldn’t want to miss it.”
“We’ll see you there.” Too-Tall replied, mounting his horse. The others did the same. “Tell Polly not to worry about her chores, today. We’ll take care of them for her so she can help you longer.”
“I’ll do that, Too-Tall. Thank you. She’s a big help. Josh, too.” Doc gave them a wave as they turned their horses to depart.
“Stop in any time. You’re always welcome here.” Sally called after them.
Annie’s brother, Kent, and his family had arrived in their absence. Kent, and his son, Bobby, were sitting on the front porch cleaning their rifles. Kent looked up at Too-Tall as he dismounted.
“Everything all right with the herd?” he asked.
“Yep. Nothing amiss. Looks like the wolf problem is gone for now.”
“Good. Thought we’d get ready for the shooting match, tomorrow.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Think you’ll win?”
“That’s my thought.”
“My nephew, Shorty, here, is a good shot, so Brendan and Ezra say.”
“Is he as good as you?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t faced him yet.”
“Uncle says he’s better than my father. It will be interesting to see how much better.” Shorty piped in.
Kent looked at Shorty for a minute. “If you’re anyway near as good as Too-Tall, I’ll be pleased to compete with you, Shorty. My names Kent. I’m Annie’s older brother. This is my son, Bobby.”
“I’m called Shorty. My father is Too-Tall’s older brother, Lester. These are my friends, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty, from Hardyville.”
“We’ve got stuff all over our hands, so we won’t be shakin’ yours, but welcome to the Valley, Shorty. You, too, Ezra and Brendan. Annie tells me you’re plannin’ on movin’ here. Good. I know Too-Tall‘s been wantin‘ some of his family to move here. If your half the man Too-Tall is, then you‘ll fit in real well.”
Shorty looked him in the eye. “I’m a Dawkins, born of the same lineage as Too-Tall. My Dad always thought well of his brother, and misses him. I don’t aim to be like any other man than myself. I’m no better, or worse than any man. So I figure I should be judged on my own merits, and faults. If that works for you, I’d be happy to shake your hand, dirty or no.”
Kent looked into Shorty’s eyes. Shorty did not flinch.
“I like your style, Shorty.” He reached his hand out, and Shorty grasped it, firmly.
“You remind me a bit of my Grampa Dawkins, Kent. He always liked to test a man’s mettle before he’d warm to him.”
“Too-Tall said the same thing to me.”
“And I would have whooped you if I hadn’t grown up with someone like you.” Too-Tall said, giving Kent a wink.
“Yep. You could do that, but you would have known you were in a fight.” Kent replied. “You know something Too-Tall? What with Shorty, here, planning on moving to the Valley, and Clarissa and Argyle getting along as well as they are, this place is getting really interesting.”
“I can’t argue with you, Kent. It is getting interesting.” Too-Tall agreed.
“And if I can convince my friends to move here, it could get even more interesting. My friend Caleb Johnson makes brown ale, as good as Uncle’s Special Brew, and his wife, Celia, is a darn good potter. Then there is Mad Mountain Jack, the best fiddler in the county, and his wife, Molly can dance like you’ve never seen before.” Shorty tossed in.
“If you can get Lester and Erma to join you, well, this Valley will be a beehive of good, self-sufficient folk.” Too-Tall added. “There’s no better woodsman anywhere, Kent, then my brother Lester. And Erma bakes bread that is so damn good, I can still taste it.”
“I heard that, Bear.” Annie said, as she opened the door. “Are you saying I don’t bake bread as good as Erma’s?
Too-Tall looked at her with an, “Oh-oh, I’m in trouble” look.
“Oh boy!” Kent exclaimed. “You are in BIG trouble, now. Hey, Shorty, why don’t we all let these two lovebirds fight it out by themselves. We can take care of the horses and chat some more.”
“Sounds good to me, Kent.” Shorty agreed.
“Hey! Where are you going, Kent Conklin?” Annie called after them. “You must have had a hand in this. You love to rile me up. Come back here.”
“I can’t, Annie. I’ve got to help Shorty look after the horses.” Kent gave her a wave and an innocent smile.
“Why is she blaming you, Kent? You didn’t do anything?” Shorty asked him, as they grabbed the horses reins to lead them to the barn
“Oh, I usually deserve it, Shorty. I’m an instigator. With Annie, that is. I love getting her riled, and she loves getting me riled. It’s a brother/sister thing. She’s not really mad at Too-Tall, or at me. It’s a game we play, that’s all. I saw that Too-Tall had dug himself a hole, which he’d stumble his way out of, eventually, and thought I’d give him a hand by distracting Annie. She’ll fume at me a bit, then plot some way to get back at me. And I wanted a chance to talk to you without Too-Tall around.”
“Oh, I get it. Sort of like the way Edna Mae, my sister, and I are always picking on each other. Sibling rivalry carried over into adulthood.” Shorty nodded in understanding. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I’m not one to beat around the bush, so I’ll just jump right in.” He began, as they fed and groomed the horses, together. “Too-Tall saved my sister’s and Ned’s lives. He won’t let me say it in front of him, but I owe him a lot. Not just for Annie, but for Ned, too. He’s been a good friend, my best friend, since we were kids together. It’s also true that I agree with him about creating our own life, here, in Hidden Valley. Freedom’s dying, Shorty, as you well know. I figure this is as good a spot to make a stand when the time comes, as any. What you might not be aware of, is the amount of time and effort Too-Tall has put into this Valley. He’s worked hard, Shorty. Real hard. Most men would have buckled by now, but not him. He’s driven, you see. He wants to live a free life with his family and friends, for as long as he can. He’ll never leave this Valley alive, Shorty, except for his visits to Cobbs Corner. He will make his stand here, and Ned, and Annie and I will make the stand with him. All the folks here will make that stand with him, at least the adults will. Too-Tall desperately wants his brother, Lester to join him. That house, up at the pool, is a testament to his love for his brother, and his brother’s family. He’d never seen you until you showed up here the other day, but from Lester’s letters to him, he knew you. You were a part of his family before he ever set eyes on you. The same goes for your sister, Edna Mae. I’m not talking about mere blood relations. Family, for Too-Tall, is more than blood, Shorty. Family is love, pure and simple. He would lay down his life for those he loves.
The reason I’m saying all this, Shorty, is to give you an idea of just how much he wants you, and his brother, all of you, to join him, join us, here. I hope you can convey some of that yearning, that desire, if you will, to your family in Upton’s Corners.”
Shorty took his time answering Kent. “Everything you have said about Too-Tall, and this Valley, and about his love for his family and friends, I have sensed, since being here, Kent. If I hadn’t sensed it, I might not have decided to move here, myself. Can I convey that to Mom and Dad, and Edna Mae and Charlie? I don’t know, Kent, I honestly don’t know. I’m going to try, of that you can be sure. Personally, I think Dad and Too-Tall have been separated for far too long. And I can think of nothing better than to bring them here, along with several of my good friends from Upton’s Corners.”
“That’s all any of us can ask, Shorty. That you try.” He patted the horse he was grooming. “Wouldn’t you like some more friends, Dusty?” He grabbed an apple from his pocket and gave it to Dusty. “Thanks for hearing me out, Shorty. I think I’m going to like having you around.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re the type of guy I would want with me in a tight spot?” Shorty laughed at something he was thinking. “You’re an instigator.”
“Yep. One of the best. Let’s get back to the house.”
Thank you for taking the time to read the first few chapters of The Legend of Shorty Dawkins This book may be purchased at:
http://www.amazon.com/Legend-Shorty-Dawkins-1/dp/1468036572/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342554961&sr=1-1&keywords=%22The+Legend+of+Shorty+Dawkins%22
There was a farm ahead, on the left, and Shorty pulled into the road leading up to the farmhouse. As he neared the farmhouse, a middle-aged man in coveralls stepped out of the barn, shotgun in hand, and looked suspiciously at Shorty in his Model T. Shorty braked to a stop and slowly climbed out of his Model T, careful to keep his hands in plain view at all times. He gave a little wave to the farmer, flashed a smile, and said, “Mornin’ to you ,sir.”
“Mornin’” the farmer answered, staring alternately at Shorty and the back of his Model T roadster.
“I was hoping I could buy a little gasoline off you.” began Shorty. “I left Nowhere some time last night, after drinking a few too many brown ales. I’m headed to somewhere that isn’t Nowhere, ‘cause I couldn’t stand to be in Nowhere any longer. Well, I’ve been drivin’ all night, you see, and I don’t know where I am, and I need some gasoline. I’ll pay you what you want for the gasoline, since I’m about out.”
“Where you from, stranger? I can tell you’re not from around these parts, since you talk funny, and you want to get somewhere that isn’t nowhere. Seems like folks are always tryin’ to get to somewhere. Never satisfied, they aren’t. Nope. What’s that in the back of your car, in the rumble seat. Looks like a plant.”
“Yep. It’s a Liberty Tree. I plant them wherever I go. It’s my last one. Guess I’ll have to pick up some more.” Shorty held out his hand. “My name’s Shorty Dawkins and I come from Upton’s Corners, New Hampshire.”
The farmer tilted his head to one side and looked at Shorty with a curious expression.
“I’ve heard folks down at the coffee shop tell about you. Zeke Mathis was over in Windy Valley the day you came into town and planted one of your Liberty Trees on Doc Curley’s front lawn.”
“Yep, that was me.” Shorty said with a grin. “I remember Zeke. He’s a damn good shot.”
“The way folks tell it, you’re a better shot than Zeke.”
“That day I was, anyway. Of course I had a good teacher.” Shorty said, modestly.
“Who’s that? Your teacher, I mean.”
“My sister, Edna Mae. Never seen a better marksman than her.”
The farmer gave Shorty that same curious expression, again, then scratched the stubble on his chin.
“Tell you what, Mr. Dawkins. I don’t have but half a gallon of gas in my cans, right now. I was planning on going to Windy Valley this afternoon to get some. Windy Valley’s more than twenty miles from here, though, but Ezra Lyons over in Hardyville always has plenty of gasoline on hand, I know, and he’d be willing to sell you some, for the right price. His place is only five or six miles from here.”
“That sounds fine with me, sir. I’ll pay what I have to pay. It’s my own fault I’m in this predicament. I’ve got enough gas left to go that far. How do I get there?”
The farmer smiled, at Shorty and looked over at the Liberty Tree in Shorty’s rumble seat.
“One thing about getting’ to Hardyville, young feller, is that no one can give you directions. You either know how to get there, or you don’t. You’ve been plantin’ your Liberty Trees all over the place, so I figure you can find your way. I’ll give you a hint to get you started, though. Just keep driving down this road, here, and when you feel the pull of Hardyville, well, you’ll know where to go. Just stop in at the Hog Trough Grill and Feed. Ezra’s there most mornings.”
With those few directions, the farmer went back to work and Shorty continued driving down the road. As he drove, Shorty thought to himself that Hardyville sounded a lot like Upton’s Corners, in that you had to know how to get there because no one would give you directions. I think I’m going to like Hardyville, he decided.
Shorty found his way through the Lonelyheart Pass, (though it was only instinct that showed him the way, much as folks arrived in Upton’s Corners), driving past sagebrush bushes too numerous to count, and just when he figured he would run out of gas, he found Hardyville and the Hog Trough Grill and Feed. Upon entering the Hog Trough, Shorty had the feeling he was stepping into Millie’s General Store, back home in Upton’s Corners. It wasn’t that the two places looked alike, because they didn’t, but rather the feeling was the same. The Hog Trough, like Millie’s General Store, was a place where good folk gathered to chat, maybe exchange some news, much as many small town gathering places, but at the Hog Trough, as with Millie’s, no one told anyone else how to live their lives, at least no one with a lick of common sense.
Looking about the Hog Trough, Shorty saw two fellows at a table having some coffee and what some might call breakfast, though it didn’t look too appetizing. He chalked that up as one of the differences between the Hog Trough and Millie’s. Millie could cook, no doubt about it, and her coffee was great. He chose a stool at one end of the counter and sat himself down. The old fellow behind the counter shuffled over to Shorty and looked at him with a sidelong glance.
“What can I get you, stranger?”
“Well,” Shorty began, “I could use a cup of good strong coffee, for starters. I had a few too many brown ales last night and my tongue is as dry as my Daddy’s sense of humor.”
“Coffee, huh? Black?”
“Yup, and strong.”
The old fellow shuffled off to get him a cup.
“Hey Bud, when you get a moment, Ezra and I could use some more coffee.” One of the two men at the table called.
“Hold your horses, Brendan, I’m busy right now.” The old man, Bud, told him.
“Damn, Bud, this is as busy as you’ve been in a week. Three customers at once. I don’t know how you stand the pace.” The second man, Ezra, said with a chuckle.
“It’s brutal, Ezra, just brutal. Heck, I might even have to make another pot of coffee.”
Shorty turned to look at the fellow named Ezra. “You wouldn’t happen to be Ezra Lyons would you?”
“Might be. Why do you ask, stranger?”
“Well, a fellow who lives in a farm out on Highway 16, I’m afraid I never did get his name, but he came out of his barn with a shotgun, and he wore an old leather hat tilted sideways, as I recall, told me to come see you. You see, Mr. Lyons, I need to buy some gasoline. My tank is darn near empty. That fellow with the shotgun figured you might have some I could buy.”
The other fellow with Ezra had wandered over to the window, as Shorty spoke, and was looking towards where Shorty’s car was parked.
“You’re not from these parts, I see.” Ezra said, looking at Shorty real close. “Have I seen you before?”
“I can’t say that I’ve seen you before, Mr. Lyons. I was over in Windy Valley last week, maybe you saw me there.”
“Hey Ezra.” the other fellow called. “This is the feller that out shot Zeke Mathis.”
“Now how’d you know that, Brendan McCarty? Just cause he was over to Windy Valley doesn’t mean he’s the one shot better’n old Zeke.” Ezra told him, after using a nearby spittoon. Shorty thought of his friend Mad Mountain Jack when Ezra did that. Mad Mountain liked his chew, no doubt about it.
“Don’t you remember Zeke sayin’ the guy had a Model T with tree saplings in the rumble seat?” Brendan squawked back. “Just look outside here a minute, Ezra. There it is, a Model T with a tree sapling in the rumble seat.”
Ezra took a look and had to admit that Brendan was right. Damn, he hated to admit Brendan was right about anything.
“Guess you’re right, for once, Brendan.” Ezra turned back to Shorty to avoid Brendan’s triumphant smile. “So, Mr. Dawkins, you’re the one who out shot old Zeke, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I’m the one.” Shorty admitted.
“And you need some gas?”
“Yes, sir. I’m about empty, as I said.”
“You ever do any long shooting?” Ezra asked, looking sideways at Brendan who couldn’t suppress a smirk.
“Depends on what you call long shooting.”
“Say 700, maybe 800 yards?” Ezra said, looking closely at Shorty, again.
“I call that sorta long range, myself. Now long range, to me at least, is in the 1000 yard range. But, to answer your question, yes, I’ve done some sorta long range shooting.” Shorty could guess where this was headed, but he didn’t mind.
“Tell you what I’ll do, Shorty. You don’t mind me callin’ you Shorty do you?”
“No sir, Ezra. I prefer folks to call me Shorty.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking’, Shorty. I like to think I’m a pretty good shot, and you need my gasoline. So, how about we set up a little match. Long shots, 800 yards. Brendan here can be the judge. Don’t worry about him bein’ fair. He loves it when folks beat me at anything I suggest, so he’s in your corner, not mine. What do you say, Shorty? Are you game? If you beat me, I’ll give you the gas for free. If I beat you, the gas will be 25 cents a gallon.”
“Why not 900 yards? If I lose, I’ll pay you 40 cents a gallon.” Shorty countered.
“All right, Shorty. It’s a deal.” Ezra extended his hand which Shorty took firmly in his.
“Lead on, Ezra. I’ll follow you in my car. Whoops, wait a minute, I‘ll need a little gas. Like I said, it‘s darn near empty.”
“I’ve got a gallon can in the back of my truck.” Brendan told him. “I’ll give it to you. I wouldn’t miss this for anything..”
Brendan put the gas in Shorty’s Model T and off to Ezra’s place they drove. Ezra lived a few miles outside of Hardyville center, but the way Ezra drove it seemed like twenty miles. Shorty decided Ezra was playing games with his psyche, so he didn’t complain. They pulled up beside Ezra’s barn and Shorty went to the rumble seat where he had his guns carefully wrapped in burlap. To get at his guns he had to remove his Liberty tree, which gave him an idea. He looked at the pasture behind the barn and saw there were no animals grazing in it. The pasture sloped up just a little from the barn, and out at what Shorty judged to be about 850-900 yards there was a big old oak tree.
“Ezra, how far would you say it is from here to that oak tree over there.” Shorty asked, pointing to it.
“Ah, well, I’d guess it was close to 900 yards, Shorty.” Ezra said scratching his chin. “”Do you want to set some kind of target on the tree, Shorty?”
“No, Ezra. I was just using the tree for judging distance. How’s this for an idea? Suppose we place my Liberty Tree on that little rise to the left of the oak tree and tie two bandanas to it. One on either side. One side for you, one side for me. The first one to cause his bandana to fall to the ground wins. I’ll even let you shoot first.” Shorty could almost see Ezra squirm as he realized the difficulty of the contest. Ezra was apparently unwilling to back away from the challenge, though.
“So be it.” Ezra managed to say without showing his nervousness. He was no doubt beginning to wonder what he was getting himself in for.
“I’ll take the tree out to the rise.” Brendan offered, grinning broadly. “Tie your bandanas to the tree, gentlemen.”
With the bandanas attached, Brendan put the tree in the back of Ezra’s truck and drove out to the agreed on spot. He placed the Liberty tree carefully, allowing each of the bandanas to be clearly visible. Shorty’s was on the right, Ezra’s on the left. Meanwhile, Ezra stepped into the house to get his rifle. Shorty grabbed his favorite long rifle, the one he nicknamed “Effie”, after Calvin Pratt’s wife. Shorty liked to joke that his rifle, a .45-70 Allin-Springfield Model 1873 Army rifle, could shoot almost as far as Effie could shout. (Effie had quite a temper on her, it was well known in Upton’s Corners, and surrounding towns.)
“What are you shootin’, Shorty?” Ezra asked as he returned, rifle in hand.
“An Allin-Springfield .45-70 army rifle.” Shorty said, offering it for Ezra to inspect. “Old Effie and me have grown used to each other. What are you shooting?”
“I’m using my old standby, a .30-40 Krag rifle. My Daddy brought it home from the Spanish-American War.”
“Nice rifle.” Shorty said, nodding in agreement. “Mind if we use the fence post for support?”
“Sure, go ahead. I plan on using it.”
“All right then. Anytime you’re ready, Ezra.” Shorty whistled to Brendan to get out of the way.
Ezra grabbed a hand full of fine sand and tossed it in the air, trying to gauge the wind. There was little. Then he stepped up to the fence post, resting his elbow on the top of it. He carefully sighted, held his breath, and squeezed off his first shot, which landed short and wide of the Liberty Tree by about five feet. Ezra grunted in anger at missing so wide.
Shorty stepped up to take his first shot and put it into the burlap bag wrapped around the roots. He made a mental note to himself to adjust his aim a little higher. Ezra’s second shot was closer, but still wide of the mark. Shorty took his time on the next shot, giving him some time to think. He knew he could beat Ezra, probably with the next shot, but something told him he should give Ezra a face saving way out of his predicament. Stealing a glance at Ezra, Shorty saw he was perturbed.
“Hey Ezra.” Shorty heard Brendan call. “I’m sure gonna like it when this young feller beats you.”
“It ain’t over yet, Brendan McCarty.” Ezra spat on the ground and looked at Shorty. “He’s a good shot. If he beats me, he beats me.”
Shorty didn’t want to give Brendan a reason to crow over poor Ezra. He decided he liked Ezra, though he didn’t dislike Brendan. A thought occurred to Shorty, and he decided to see if he could save face for Ezra while at the same time giving Brendan something to talk about to the folks in Hardyville. If his plan succeeded they would both have something to talk about. Shorty remembered the difficulty Brendan had encountered while trying to make the Liberty Tree stand upright. It kept wanting to fall over backwards. He decided to use that knowledge for his own benefit. He just hoped his aim was good.
As he stepped up to the post, Shorty looked at Ezra and gave him a little wink. He could tell Ezra was confused by the wink, but, no mind, Shorty knew Ezra would see the light in a moment. Resting his elbow on the top of the post, Shorty took careful aim, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out and, to everyone’s surprise, except Shorty’s, the Liberty Tree fell over backwards. The look of surprise on Brendan’s face was priceless. Poor Brendan didn’t know what to think. He ran over to the Liberty Tree and looked at it. There was a hole shot right through the thin trunk of the tree, dead center. The impact of the bullet had been enough to send the Liberty Tree toppling backwards. Brendan scratched his head a moment, then bent over to pick up the tree, planning on setting it upright again, so the match could continue.
“Damn,” Shorty said. “A tie. Don’t you just hate it when it ends in a tie, Ezra?”
Ezra looked at Shorty, then out at Brendan trying to set the Liberty Tree back up. A look of confusion was followed by a dawning of what had just happened. Ezra realized that Shorty had purposely tried to create a tie. Since the Tree fell over, both bandanas hit the ground at the same time, therefore a tie. A wry smile creased Ezra’s face. He spit on the ground, then replied, “Yep, I sure do hate for it to end in a tie, Shorty, but sometimes stuff happens. What can you do?” He gave Shorty a knowing wink and the two shook hands.
The two of them walked out to inspect the Liberty Tree, and there it was, a hole in the trunk.
“What are you doin’?” Brendan asked, indignantly. “Let’s go on with the match.
“The match is over, Brendan. It was a tie.” Shorty told him.
Brendan didn’t understand, until Shorty explained it to him. At first he looked disappointed, until it dawned on him the match ending in a tie, the way it did, would make a good story to tell the folks in Hardyville. Of course he wouldn’t be able to crow over Ezra, as he had expected, but no matter, it still made a good story.
“What do you want me to do with the Liberty Tree, Shorty?” Brendan asked, still holding it upright. “I imagine it will probably die, what with a hole shot in it. Maybe not, though.”
“Well, if Ezra doesn’t mind, I think it would be kind of fittin’ to plant it right here. Is that all right with you, Ezra?”
“I think that’s a fine idea, Shorty. I’ll keep it watered and tended myself. Be good to have it around as a sort of keepsake. You know, a remembrance of today.”
After the shooting match, Ezra and Brendan talked Shorty into sticking around Hardyville. He decided he liked Hardyville, and when Ezra offered him a job at his ranch, Shorty agreed to stay on, at least for a few weeks. Shorty spent the next few weeks helping Ezra fix fences, of which there were many, for Ezra had cattle, as well as horses, on his ranch. The work was hard, but enjoyable to Shorty. Early morning visits to the Hog Trough were enjoyable, also, though the food was not particularly appetizing. It was always overdone, as Shorty learned, because Bud was slow in his movements, though quick of wit. “Never, ever, order anything well done“, Brendan had warned him. “If you order it rare, it will come out well-done anyway. Don’t ever expect to get anything rare from Bud. It ain’t gonna happen.”
In the evenings, after a hard day’s work, Ezra and Shorty, and the rest of Ezra’s family, (his wife, Rosie, and his two boys, Billy, who was 4, and Nat, who was just 14 months), would sit on the porch and watch the sunset, telling stories. Baby Nat took an immediate liking to Shorty, and would insist on sitting on his lap, which pleased Shorty, as he really liked children. Little Billy always pulled his stool up next to Shorty, and Shorty would keep them entertained, telling them stories of his home town, Upton’s Corners, or of his travels across the country. Story-telling came naturally to Shorty, after all, his father, Lester, was one of the best story-tellers in the county, and interesting folk always surrounded him, it seems, though, perhaps, it was that Shorty found folks interesting. Anyway, he would entertain the Lyons family, while drinking some of Ezra’s home-made hootch, though he longed for some of his friend, Caleb Johnson’s, Good Brown Ale. The boys also loved it when Shorty sang his songs, particularly the one about the bear that got in the pantry.
One evening, when the McCarty family had come over for dinner and some socializing, Shorty asked if anyone had heard of his Uncle Too-Tall Dawkins. Too-Tall was his father’s kid brother, and he had come west in search of taller mountains than the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Too-Tall was an immense man, measuring 6 feet 9 inches in height, who decided he was too tall for civilization. He wanted to live in an area of really big mountains, out in the woods, where folks wouldn’t always be asking him how tall he was.
“Funny you should mention Too-Tall.” Brendan said with a chuckle. “My cousin, Bertrand, was over to my place a couple of weeks ago. Seems he had gone up to the Big River area for some hunting and fishing. He stopped to buy supplies in a little village, and was asking the owner of the store for some advice on where to find some good fishing. The store-keeper looked at him real close for a minute, then said, “The best fishing is up near Hidden Valley, but I wouldn’t advise you to go there. No, Too-Tall Dawkins lives up there, and he doesn’t take to strangers very well. I doubt he’d shoot you, but he’ll make your stay a miserable one. He likes his privacy, you see, and folks around these parts respect it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not mean, just likes to be left alone. He lives with his wife, Annie, and his two boys and a girl, and they’re nice folk, come into town two or three times a year for supplies, spend a few days visitin’ her cousins, Ned and Frank Conklin, then go back to their valley.”
Bertrand heard lots of stories about Too-Tall while he was up there. One story a fella told was about being out in the woods one day and hearin’ some music. It was really nice music, played on a flute, or some such instrument, and after a while someone started singin’ in a rich baritone voice. He followed the sound of the singin’, being real quiet and careful, and came within sight of an immense man, which he knew must be Too-Tall Dawkins, and a woman he figured was Annie. She was playin’ a homemade flute, and Too-Tall was singin’. He decided he’d better make himself scarce, but the experience really stuck in his mind.”
“My Dad mentioned that Too-Tall could sing really well.” Shorty said. “He asked me to look up his brother while I was out here. He gets letters from him, now and again, always full of news about his family, and Dad writes back, sending the mail to a Dry Goods Store, where Too-Tall picks it up. Maybe it’s the same store your Cousin Bertrand stopped in at.”
“Could be. I’ll ask him when he comes over tomorrow. He’s buyin’ one of my hogs.”
“Ya know, Brendan,” Ezra began, scratching his beard. “We haven’t had ourselves an adventure in quite a while.”
“That’s true, Ezra. We haven’t. If you’re thinking’ what I’m thinking’, then heck, why not?” Brendan replied with a wink. “Shorty might need a little bit of help finding his Uncle, seems to me.”
“Yep, that’s what I was thinking. What do you say to a little help in your search for your Uncle, Shorty? Too-Tall sounds like the kind of fellow I might like to meet.”
Shorty looked at the two of them and busted out laughing.
“I knew I liked you two fellers for a reason. Hot damn! Looks like we’re gonna have ourselves an adventure.”
Chapter Two
It was decided they would leave the following week. Arrangements were made with neighbors to look after the farm animals in the absence of Ezra and Brendan, and gear was prepared and packed in Shorty’s Model T. He had made a luggage rack that attached to the rear bumper, but with the three of them, and their gear, things would be close quarters. They didn’t mind, though, going on an adventure sometimes had its discomforts.
The night before they were to leave, Shorty spoke privately with Rosie.
“I’m sorry for the imposition my adventure is putting on you, Rosie. I sincerely hope you don’t hold it against me.”
“Shorty, don’t you say another word about it.” Rosie said with a grin. “You know, just as men like to go off on their own occasionally, we women like a little respite, too. It’s been a while since Ezra has had a nice adventure. It’ll do him good. It’ll give him something to talk about. And, Shorty, it’ll do me good, too.”
“Fair enough, Rosie.” Shorty said with a wink. “I kind of thought you’d feel that way. Just wanted to hear it from you.”
“Bring us back some interesting stories, Shorty. That’s all I ask of you.”
“I sure will, Rosie. You can count on it.”
The trip to Cobb’s Crossing, the little village with the Dry Goods Store was basically uneventful, though they did take a wrong turn once, and had to backtrack. The fourteen hours it took was passed in telling stories, though Shorty did sing a few of his songs. They took turns driving and Ezra almost hit a deer, ‘round about dusk. Brendan was dozing in the rumble seat, and when Ezra slammed on the brakes, Brendan was pretty near catapulted out. Since they arrived at the Dry Goods Store late at night, it was, of course, closed, so they pitched a tent down by the river which ran through the village.
Come morning, they packed up the tent and walked up to the Dry Goods Store. There was a bell on the door which tinkled as they entered and a gray-haired man came out of the back room to greet them.
“Good morning. What can I get you gentleman?” He asked, with a friendly smile.
“I’d like some of that coffee I can smell brewing, if it’s for sale, that is?” Shorty asked.
“Sure enough.” The man told him. “I’ll bring the pot out real quick, there’s plenty, and it’s fresh.”
As they fixed and drank their coffees, they chatted with the man, who said his name was Fred.
“Where are you headed?” Fred asked them.
“My Uncle lives up this way,” Shorty told him. “Somewhere up around Hidden Valley, from what I gather. I’ve never met him before, but my Dad thought I should look him up while I was in the neighborhood.”
“It’s not likely he lives in Hidden Valley, friend. No one lives there but Too-Tall Dawkins and his family.”
“That’s my Uncle.” Shorty said with a grin.. “My name’s Shorty Dawkins, from Upton’s Corners, New Hampshire. Too-Tall is my Father‘s younger brother.”
“Well I’ll be…. So you’re Too-Tall’s nephew! Pleasure to meet you.” Fred wasn’t too sure how to take the knowledge that a relative of Too-Tall’s was standing before him. “I get a couple of letters a year from your Father, which I hold for Too-Tall. He only comes down from his place twice a year, for supplies and all. I buy pelts and skins from him, and he uses that money for supplies. Never says much. Polite as can be, though. Real quiet, for such a big man, if you know what I mean.”
“Dad would call him either ‘Stone Face’ or ‘The Gentle Giant’ when he spoke of him.” Shorty said with a fond smile.
“Yep, that pretty much says it all. Old Too-Tall never says much, but he treats folks kindly, except when they invade his territory, that is. He likes his privacy, that’s for sure. Lots of folks have stories about being chased out of Hidden Valley by Too-Tall. Never heard tell of anyone getting hurt by him, though. The folks around Cobb’s Crossing just leave him and his family be. Heck, we sometimes tell tall tales about him, just to keep visitors from venturing up into Hidden Valley.”
“My Cousin Bertrand heard a few of those stories a few weeks back.” Brendan told the old man. “That’s why Ezra and I came along with Shorty, here. Thought we might like to meet Too-Tall.”
“We would appreciate any directions you could give us.” Shorty said. “I was looking at a map on my way up here and didn’t find Hidden Valley on it.”
“It’s not big enough to be labeled on a map. Here, let me point it out on the map I keep hanging on the wall.” Fred showed them a spot on the map and gave them markers for finding it. “Follow the North Stream for about six miles, and when you get to the first set of rapids, turn west. The valley is maybe eight miles further. I don’t suppose you have horses with you. It’s quite a hike on foot. All told, it’s about twenty-four miles from here, and rugged uphill terrain.”
“Twenty-four miles isn’t too bad.” Brendan said with a shrug. “Two days, maybe. What do you think, Ezra?” Sean Brendan saw that Ezra wasn’t listening. He was looking at something on Fred’s shelf. “What’s that you’re looking’ at, Ezra?”
“It looks like a hand carved flute.” Ezra replied, holding it out for them to see. “Really nice. This doesn’t look like it was carved by Indians, though. Did one of the locals carve it, Fred?”
“It’s funny you should notice that flute. Annie, Too-Tall’s wife carved it. She carves them and brings them here to sell. I sell them regularly. They have a really unique tone to them, too.”
“Mind if I try it, Fred?” Shorty asked.
“Go right ahead, Shorty.”
Shorty took the flute from Ezra, and, after a little bit of practicing, played a beautiful, peaceful song.
“That’s a beautiful song, Shorty.” Ezra said. “I never heard it before.”
“I call it ‘A Winter’s Snow’.” Shorty told him.
“You call it? Do you mean you wrote it?” Brendan asked, surprised.
“Yes, I wrote it.” Shorty admitted modestly. “I’ll write down the words for you, if you want. I’d sing it, but I can’t sing and play the flute at the same time.”
“Could you sing it without playing? I sure like to hear you sing.” Ezra said.
“Wait a minute, Shorty. Let me get the Mrs. out here. She’ll enjoy this, I’m sure.” Fred said, as he went into the back room. The bell on the door tinkled, signifying new customers. A man and woman entered, followed by a young man, maybe 17 years old. Fred and his wife returned, greeting the new arrivals by name. “Morning Joshua, Mabel, and you, too, young Josh. If you’re not in a hurry, Shorty Dawkins, here, is going to sing us a beautiful song he wrote. Shorty, come to find out, is Too-Tall’s nephew. Shorty, this is Joshua and Mabel Owens, and their son, Josh. Oh, and these two friends of Shorty are Brendan and Ezra.”
Everyone shook hands with each other, and Shorty asked Fred to introduce his wife, who was called Hattie. Mabel told Fred they were in no rush, and, yes, they would love to here Shorty sing his song. What with all the introductions and hand-shaking, another couple had time to enter with the tinkling bell, and of course the introductions and the greetings began again. The newcomers were Jake and Edna MacDonald, it was learned, and they wanted to hear Shorty’s song, also. Shorty never minded singing his songs, (in fact he really liked it), so with everyone settled and ready, Shorty began.
A Winter’s Snow
The snow it is falling, so quiet and still,
It falls on the branches, each bough for to fill.
I watch in amazement, as each flake falls free,
The beauty of nature, a joy for to see.
The night it is peaceful, the temperature's mild,
As I watch without shivering, with awe like a child.
My tracks are soon covered, my presence annulled,
The snow is still falling, my soul it is lulled.
My cares fall before me, as I watch and I wait,
I care not what the time is, it may be quite late.
The peace in the forest, the beauty around,
I stand and I wonder, and don't make a sound.
The storm it is ending, the stars reappear,
It's time to hurry home now, my time's in arrears.
But I shall remember, this snow and this night,
The peace and the comfort, a beautiful sight.
As Shorty sang, everyone seemed to drift off into their own thoughts, perhaps remembering a time when they, too, had spent time enjoying a peaceful snowfall. There was silence when he finished, much like the silence of the snow.
“Thank you, Shorty. That was very nice.” Fred said quietly, not wishing to destroy the moment.
“Yes”, agreed Mabel Owens. “It brings back wonderful memories.”
“Could you play it on the flute, again, Shorty?” Brendan asked. “Some of the folks here didn’t hear it the first time.”
With a nod, Shorty picked up the flute and began playing. Again, everyone’s thoughts became their own, and unconscious smiles appeared on several faces.
The tinkle of the doorbell startled them out of their reverie, as another customer entered. Fred looked up to see who had entered.
“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Ned Conklin. Funny that you should come in this morning, Ned. Come and meet Shorty and his friends, Ezra and Brendan. Shorty, here, is Too-Tall’s nephew. I guess that makes him a relative of yours, sort of.”
“Shorty? Shorty Dawkins? I’ve heard Too-Tall mention your name, now and again.” Ned said, offering his hand to Shorty. “Pleased to meet you, Shorty.“ Shorty took the proffered hand in his.
“Same here, Ned. I’ve come to find my Uncle Too-Tall. I promised Dad I’d look in on him while I’m out in this part of the country.”
“Shorty was just playing a song he wrote, on one of Annie’s flutes, Ned. Too bad you missed it.” Fred said with a shrug.
“I heard it from outside. I waited till it was ‘bout done before I came in. Annie‘s flutes have a distinctive sound, don‘t they?” Ned said. “Real nice song, Shorty.”
“Hey Ned, any chance you could help Shorty and his friends out by taking them up to see Too-Tall and Annie?” Fred inquired.
“Heck, Shorty is family. Of course I’ll help.” Ned said. “Tell you what, Shorty. I’ve got some things I need to do today, and if you and your friends could give me a hand, I’ll take you up to see Annie and Too-Tall tomorrow. Is that all right with you?”
Shorty looked at Ezra and Brendan, who gave their nods of assent. “Looks like it’s unanimous, Ned. Just the way it should be. Lead on.”
“Mr. Conklin,” young Josh called as the men started to leave. “I’d like to go with you, if I could.”
Ned turned to look at him and couldn’t resist the eager anticipation he saw in Josh’s face. “If your Dad says it’s all right, Josh, then you are welcome to join us.”
“Dad? Can I go?” Josh asked, almost pleading.
Joshua nodded yes at his son, and was rewarded with a smile of thanks.
“Tell you what, Josh.” Ned began. “Since we’ll be leaving bright and early tomorrow, why don’t you plan on staying at my place tonight. Gather your gear together and come over for supper. After supper, no doubt, we’ll sit and tell stories for a while. No reason you shouldn’t join in.”
“Thanks, Mr. Conklin. I’d better get home and get my chores done and my gear ready.”
After Josh and his folks left, Ned explained why Josh was so eager to join them.
“Young Josh is sweet on Polly, Too-Tall and Annie’s eldest.” He told Shorty, Ezra and Brendan. “She likes him, too. He’s a good boy.”
“Ah. That explains it.” Ezra said. “He’s welcome of course. Brendan can tell him some of his goofy stories.” He said, giving Brendan a nudge.
“And he can listen to you snore.” Brendan retorted.
Young Josh arrived at Ned and Dot’s place in time for supper, with his gear packed and excitement blazing from his eyes. Not only was he going to see the girl he was ‘sweet’ on, Polly, but he was going with a group of adults. Dot thought it was cute that Josh was going to see his sweetheart and doted on him like a mother hen.
Ned told them of his plan to go up to Hidden Valley on horseback, rather than hiking.
“Now, before anyone starts objecting, I’ve got plenty of horses for everyone, and I was planning on taking a couple of mules with supplies for Annie and Too-Tall, in a couple of weeks, so it‘s no big deal. They won’t be expecting us, that’s true, but I know how to deal with that.” Ned looked at the newcomers to see if there were any objections, which there weren’t.
After supper, Shorty insisted on helping to clear the table and wash the dishes. He even managed to cajole Ezra and Brendan into helping. In fact, everyone joined in, helping some, getting in the way some, and generally having a good time. Of course the stories began, and they continued until it was time for bed. Josh liked hearing the stories, and Dot laughed so hard at Shorty’s stories about his friends from Upton’s Corners, that she had tears running down her face.
“Bless you, Shorty. You sure can tell a good story.” she told him.
“I’m just telling what happened, Dot.” Shorty insisted. “Folks can do mighty funny things, at times. Especially my friends back home. They’re a crazy lot, and mighty goofy at times. Let me sing you a song about Mad Mountain Jack courtin‘ his Molly.” Ned had a guitar sitting by the sofa, and Shorty picked it up, with Ned’s permission, and began to play, and sing the song.
A Courtin’ He Will Go
There was a young man, name of Mad Mountain Jack,
He decided a gal of his own he did lack.
Pretty Molly appealed to him, pretty and bold,
It was Molly he yearned for and wanted to hold.
Now Jack he was simple and kind of naive,
He called on dear Molly, ‘twas on Christmas Eve.
When she answered the door, he knew not what to say,
Molly closed shut the door, "Jack be gone on your way."
Young Jack he was stubborn and did not give up,
So he sent her some flowers and asked her to sup.
I'll cook you a meal that will please you and more,
Not the kind of a meal that you buy at the store.
Molly sent him her answer, I'll be there at eight,
For a man who can cook, it is rare, it is great.
But one thing I must ask you. please never to do,
In the house will you never your tobacco chew.
Jack decided his ardor which burned like a torch,
Was worth it to him to take chew on the porch.
As you well might imagine the dinner went well,
From the Chapel soon came sounds of their wedding bells.
Now all you young fellers who yearn for a gal,
And you want her to love you and be your best pal,
If your ardor should flame, if it burns like a torch,
Just remember to take your chew out on the porch.
They all had a good laugh at the song, and young Josh, being new at the idea of courting a gal, paid particular attention. He asked Shorty for some advice concerning his desire to please Polly.
“Well, Josh, I’ll tell you something my sister, Edna Mae, told me once, that has always worked well for me. Now I don’t mean just for courting a gal, but for life in general. She said, ‘Don't try to be anyone but yourself. Some folks will like you, and some folks won't. That's how it should be. Being yourself is being free, and that's worth more than any amount of friends.’ I always thought that was darned good advice, Josh."
“Edna Mae is right, Josh.” Dot piped up to say. “Most girls just want you to be yourself. If the sparks ignite, well that’s great. If they don’t, well, it just wasn’t meant to be. Just don’t be afraid to say what’s on your mind.”
Josh thought about this as they prepared for bed. They would have an early start in the morning, Ned informed the group.
At first light, the group was packed and ready to depart. Ned led the way, followed by Ezra and Brendan, each leading a mule, then Shorty, with young Josh behind. The going was easy, at first, as the trail was well traveled. Shorty was enjoying the scenery , and Ezra and Brendan were busy handling the mules, so had little time to argue with each other. Ned had a harmonica with him and played a song now and again. Young Josh asked Shorty to tell him about women, but, after Shorty’s recent bust-up with the girl he loved, he demurred, telling Josh he was the wrong person to ask.
About noon, they reached the first rapids on the North Stream.
“The going gets more difficult from here on.” Ned told them. “Let’s have our lunch, now.”
After a quick lunch, Ned and Shorty took charge of the mules and young Josh led the way. Ezra and Brendan brought up the rear. As Ned warned them, the going got tougher. The trail was scant, and the way led up steep hills. There was no chance for Shorty to sing or tell stories, but he kept a smile on his face, imagining he were back in Upton’s Corners with Mad Mountain Jack howling like a chicken with a sore throat. After a couple of hours, the hills became too steep to stay on horseback, so they dismounted and led the horses on foot. It wasn’t a particularly warm day, yet they were all bathed in sweat. Finally, they reached a spot where everything began to level out. Ned called a halt.
“We stop here.” he told them. Too-Tall’s place is a mile or so further into the valley.” He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out an old battered bugle. With a wink to Shorty, he blew the bugle in a sort of reveille, loud and long. When he was done he told the newcomers, “It’s not advisable to ride up to Too-Tall’s place. They don’t like surprises. Hell, I made the mistake of riding in on him, one time, and he never said a word to me. Just stared at me. He, or Annie, will hear my bugle call and will ride down to meet us.”
“So we wait?” Shorty asked.
“We wait.” Ned replied. “Might as well tether the horses and relax. It usually takes a half hour or so for someone to get here.”
After the horses were tethered, Shorty pulled the flute that Annie had made out of his saddlebag. It had cost a pretty penny, but he didn’t mind. He liked the sound of it, and it was made by Too-Tall’s wife. Shorty knew his Mom and Dad would want to see it. Edna Mae, too.
He practiced a bit then played a new song for everyone to hear.
I Come From Upton's Corners
Now gather round and hear me,
I'll tell you all a story
'Bout a town I really know well.
The town where I was born,
On a warm September morn,
So my Daddy always did tell.
The town is Upton's Corners,
It's in New Hampshire's borders,
Not too far from Whitefield that is true.
The folks in town are neat,
And they really can't be beat,
Take your stock and give you what's due.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
There's farms along the hillsides,
The sawmill on the bank side,
Of the River Quick that runs strong.
There's Millie's General Store,
With the sign upon the door,
Letting folks know that they belong.
Now if you have a hank'rin,
For good Brown Ale it's waitin',
Over at old Caleb Johnson's Bar.
A bank is right next door,
Across the street's a Hardware store,
Never do you have to go far.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners,
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
The Farmer's Hall sits waiting,
For any kind of meeting,
Dances every Saturday night.
Mad Mountain Jack can play,
On his fiddle any way,
Molly's dancing really takes flight.
While Edna Mae and Charlie
Are laughing loud and hearty,
At a story Shorty loves to tell.
The Hall is really big,
Room enough to dance a jig,
Millie dances pretty darn well.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners,
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
We have a little saying,
It says, "Only the willing",
That we always try to live by.
We do not force our way,
We let folks go 'bout their day,
Never need a reason or why.
If you and I should differ,
It really doesn't matter,
Neighbors have a right to what they think.
Just go to Caleb's Bar,
It is not so very far,
Settle matters over a drink.
Yes I come from Upton's Corners,
The place I know so well,
Make my home in Upton's Corners,
If you should ever visit give me a yell.
“Hey, Shorty. That’s a catchy tune.” Ned said with a smile. “Can you sing it for us?”
Shorty sang it for them and they quickly picked up on the chorus, singing along with him. Josh wanted to learn all the words, as did the others, so Shorty went over them and soon, they were singing away, as Shorty played the flute. Josh, who had a surprisingly good voice, kept insisting they sing it again, and around about half-way through the third time, Shorty saw a horse and rider coming slowly towards them.
The sun was at the rider’s back, but Shorty knew instantly it was Too-Tall. He was a very big man, much bigger than Shorty, though Shorty stood 6’ 4” tall. Where Shorty was slender, Too-Tall was stocky. Shorty guessed Too-Tall must weigh over three hundred pounds, but that poundage was all muscle. The rider approached at a walk, and as he came closer, his features became clearer. He was dressed in buckskin, and had a full, white beard. His hair was snow white, also, kept long, and tied in a pony tail. Horse and rider stopped in front of Shorty and Too-Tall looked at him without saying a word for the longest time.
“Too-Tall, this is …” Ned began, only to be cut off by Too-Tall.
“I can guess who he is, Ned. He’s my nephew, Shorty. Looks just like my brother, Lester, did at his age.” Too-Tall continued to look at Shorty for a moment more. “How is Lester?”
“He’s fine.” Shorty assured him. “Still the best woodsman in the county. He talks of you sometimes.”
Too-Tall looked at the ground for a while, lost in his own thoughts. “Always wished he’d come with me.” He said quietly. He looked at the flute in Shorty’s hand. “That one of Annie’s?”
“Yep. Bought it at the Dry Goods Store in Cobb’s Crossing.”
“Wasted your money. Annie would have given you one.”
“I’d rather she got paid for her efforts.” Shorty told him, firmly. Too-Tall didn’t say anything, just nodded.
“Come meet the family.” He said, turning his horse around and heading back.
They quickly mounted their horses and headed off to catch up with Too-Tall.
“He doesn’t talk much, does he, Ned?” Ezra pointed out.
Ned smiled, “That’s more than he usually says around strangers. Once he gets to know you he loosens up though. You’ll see.”
“How tall is he?” Brendan asked. “He’s enormous.”
“He’s 6’ 9”. Or there about.” Ned informed Brendan. “And, yes, he is big. If he weren’t so big, I probably wouldn’t be here today.”
“How so?” Brendan wanted to know.
“I’ll tell you the story, later, when Too-Tall’s not in earshot. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Shorty pulled up next to Too-Tall and they rode in silence. He could feel Too-Tall looking over at him, now and then, but he never said anything. His father had warned him that Too-Tall was a quiet man, kind of shy around strangers, so he waited for Too-Tall to say something.
Soon they came in view of their cabin. It was made of logs, much as the pioneers had made, but even from a distance, Shorty could tell the care and craftsmanship that had gone into it. The roof, Shorty noticed as they came closer, was made of hand split shingles, and there were enormous stone chimneys at either end of the cabin.
“Nice cabin.” Shorty said approvingly.
“It’s our home.” Too-Tall replied. “Annie deserves a nice place.”
From out of the cabin came a pretty girl with flaming red hair, who must be Polly, Shorty decided. She was followed by an older woman, also with red hair, who must be Annie, and two younger boys. They had come to greet Ned and looked at the strangers with curiosity.
“Hi, Ned!” Annie said with a smile. “What brings you out here?”
“I brought some visitors, Annie.” The riders dismounted and Ned introduced everyone, saving Shorty for last. “And this fellow, here, is Shorty Dawkins, Too-Tall’s nephew.”
“Oh, my! Isn’t that nice!” Annie exclaimed with glee. “A relative of Bear’s! Welcome Shorty!” She gave Shorty a big hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Thanks, Annie.” Shorty said, slightly abashed. He looked over at Too-Tall with a quizzical look, and saw the corners of his mouth curl upwards into a slight grin. “Bear?”
“That’s what Annie calls me. Don’t get it into your head that you can call me that, though. Annie can call me what she wants, but you, and everyone else had better call me Too-Tall.”
“He’s my big Teddy Bear.” Annie said, poking Too-Tall in the ribs, playfully. “He’s not too tall for me.”
“Why don’t we get the supplies inside and the horses taken care of.” Ned suggested. “Shorty tells me he likes good brown ale, and I have a powerful thirst. Have you got any of your special brew, Too-Tall?”
“You know I always have plenty, Ned.” Too-Tall said with a wink.
“Well, let’s get to it, then.” Shorty said. “I can’t see standing around here talking, with special brew waiting.”
The supplies were quickly taken into the house and Ned grabbed Ezra and Brendan to help him with the horses. “Shorty, you go inside and start gettin‘ acquainted with your relatives.” he insisted. Shorty wanted to help, but Ned, Ezra and Brendan wouldn’t hear of it.
“I’ll help them, Mr. Dawkins.” Josh stepped forward to say.
“I’ll help, too.” Polly said eagerly.
Too-Tall and Annie exchanged a quick look, and Annie gave him a little nod. Too-Tall returned her nod with a wink.
“The bunch of you can handle things, it looks like to me. Come inside, Shorty. I’ll give you a taste of my special brew ale.”
Polly and young Josh definitely had a thing for each other, Ezra saw by watching them. They didn’t neglect their chores, but, he noticed, they were always looking at each other and smiling. Ned saw Ezra watching them.
“Young love.” he said with a smile. “Sure is nice isn’t it?”
“Yep.” Ezra replied. “That Josh is a nice young feller. I suspect Polly is much the same.”
“She reminds me of Annie when she was that age. Full of life. Always spreadin’ warmth wherever she goes. Josh couldn’t find a better girl to go soft on.”
Ezra watched them some more, then finally asked Ned what happened when he said if it weren’t for Too-Tall he might not be here today.
“He saved your life, did he?”
“Yep. Mine and Annie’s both. Since he’s not around, I’ll tell you the story.
My family was over visiting Annie’s family one day, when I was just seventeen, which would make Annie sixteen, since she is a year younger. Her folks asked her to go down to Cobb’s Crossing to get a few things, and I volunteered to go with her. It wasn’t far, so we walked. She and I liked to go on walks together. You see, Annie has always been like my kid sister.
Anyway, on our way home, all of a sudden, there was a group of strangers comin’ down the road. Young ruffians is what they were. Well, they thought Annie was pretty, and were making all kinds of comments. Not nice ones, either. Rude and vulgar. I spoke up and told them to mind their manners. They jumped me, then, while one of them held Annie, to keep her from running for help. They beat the livin’ bejeesus out of me, kicking me in the ribs and head when they got me on the ground. They would have killed me, of that I’m sure, and I heard them say ‘Let’s have our way with her.’, just before I passed out. Annie told me the rest.
The punks grabbed Annie, and yanked her blouse open, and were ready to rape her, when, from out of nowhere, a giant of a man came to our aid. He grabbed one of them and threw him into the nearby bushes, and when the other three went after him he went wild and slammed two of their heads together. Annie said the crack of the two skulls was loud and sickening. The last guy started running, but the giant caught up to him and beat him unconscious. He then dragged the first guy out of the bushes and threw him on top of the two lying, bleeding, their skulls cracked open.
“That’s no way to treat a lady.” The giant said to the pile of ruffians. “Make one move and I’ll kill you, plain as I’m standing here.
He took off his shirt and gave it to Annie to wear, then picked me up in his arms and told Annie, “Lead on, Miss. We need to get your friend, here, some doctoring.”
I’m not a small man, but he carried me in his arms for over a mile, without stopping, to Doc Weedon’s place. When I woke up, later on that night, I looked around, and there, sitting in a chair was Too-Tall. When he saw I was awake, he said, ‘Doc tells me you have four cracked ribs and a concussion. Annie is resting quietly in the next room. No real harm came to her. Just rest yourself, Ned. My name’s Too-Tall, least wise that’s what most folks call me. Too-Tall Dawkins.’
And that is how I first met Too-Tall.”
They were interrupted by the sound of music emanating from the cabin. More specifically, the sound of a harp.
Brendan and Ezra looked at Ned, who smiled with delight.
“Oh, good!” Polly exclaimed. “Mother’s playing her harp.”
“That’s the Skye Boat Song.” Ned said. “She’ll be singing it, most likely.”
Sure enough, Annie began singing in a beautiful soprano voice.
Skye Boat Song
Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing
Onward, the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.
Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar
Thunder clouds rend the air
Baffled our foes stand on the shore
Follow they will not dare.
Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.
Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore could wield
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field.
Burned are our homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men
Yet, e'er the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.
They listened in silence to Annie singing the beautiful Scottish folk ballad. On the second verse, she was joined by a tenor voice, which was Shorty’s, singing in harmony with her. To everyone’s delight, a third verse began, a rich bass voice, which was Too-Tall’s joined in, making it three parts of moving and beautiful harmony.
“Damn,” Ned said at last, “I love to hear Annie and Too-Tall sing together. Shorty just makes it that much nicer.”
“Let’s hurry up and finish. I want to hear more.” Brendan said, and they all agreed.
They arrived at the cabin as Shorty was pulling the flute Annie made out of his knapsack. While everyone settled in and was given some refreshment, Shorty warmed up.
“How about if I play your flute, Annie, along with the harp. I think they will sound very good together. Let’s have everyone sing. Does everyone know the song?” They all nodded, yes, so Shorty gave a nod to Annie to begin. The flute added a lot to the sound of the harp, and when all voices joined in, it was a very pleasant sound. Even Brendan and Ezra sounded good.
After a pause for more refreshment, Too-Tall asked Annie to play The Riddle Song.
“Will you sing it for us, Bear?”
“Yes.”
The Riddle Song
I gave my love a cherry
That had no stone
I gave my love a chicken
That had no bone
I told my love a story
That had no end
I gave my love a baby
With no crying.
How can there be a cherry
That has no stone?
And how can there be a chicken
That has no bone?
And how can there be a story
That has no end?
And how can there be a baby
With no crying?
A cherry when it's blooming
It has no stone
A chicken when it's piping
It has no bone
The story that I love you
It has no end
A baby when it's sleeping
It's no crying.
The sound of Too-Tall’s voice was quiet and mellow as he sang the old ballad of love. Annie noticed that Josh and Polly were holding hands, which made her smile, but mostly she looked into the eyes of her giant, gentle man. No one could have ever denied the love which passed between them. Shorty felt a pang of emptiness for his lost love, but smiled bravely.
When the song was over, Too-Tall took a sip of his special brew, then looked towards Shorty.
“I’d like for Shorty and his friends to sing that song I heard as I rode up to them. It was about Upton’s Corners, I believe.”
“I’d be glad to sing it for you, Uncle Too-Tall. Of course, I’ll expect Ezra, Brendan, Josh and Ned to sing along.” He grabbed a guitar that was sitting near the harp, and began to play.
The tune, being lively, made Annie want to slap her hands in time to the music, and soon everyone was beating time, either with their hands or feet. Too-Tall enjoyed the song immensely, being about his home town, and asked everyone to sing it again.
The evening was spent in singing and story-telling, sandwiched with a meal and more of Too-Tall’s Special Brew. Shorty talked about Upton’s Corners, and his Mom and Dad, and his sister, Edna Mae, which pleased Too-Tall. Ned didn’t talk very much, as he preferred to sit back and watch and listen. He hadn’t seen Too-Tall this out-going and gregarious in a long time, and was savoring each moment. Finally it was time for bed, and bed-rolls were spread out throughout the living area. Just as everyone began to settle in to a good night’s sleep, Too-Tall took Shorty aside.
“If you’re not too tired, Shorty, I’d like to speak with you, privately.”
“Sure, Uncle Too-Tall.” Shorty replied. “Something on your mind?”
“Let’s step outside.” He signaled to Annie they would be outside. “I like to take a little walk, at night, before I retire.”
The moon was near full, as Too-Tall led Shorty down the path towards the barn. Shorty waited patiently for Too-Tall to gather his thoughts, enjoying the night air, and the moonlight, which made it almost as bright as day, only more shadowy and mysterious.
“Did your Father ever tell you why I left Upton’s Corners?”
“Only that you wanted to find some open spaces where you could live your life as you please.”
“Fair enough. Says it all in a nutshell. Lester was always good at condensing things down to the basics.” Too-Tall paused a while before continuing. “How long do you think Upton’s Corners can stay free, Shorty? There are powerful forces at work in this country. Forces aimed at subjugating individual will.”
“Chautauqua?” Shorty slipped in.
“You’ve studied it?” Shorty nodded yes. “Have you ever considered that Chautauqua is only the tip of the iceberg? The highly visible part?”
“Yes, I have. And you’re right, I agree it is only the tip of the iceberg. That‘s why I‘m going around the Country planting my Liberty trees, and talking to folks about Freedom.”
“Your time is wasted.”
“Maybe, but I want to try. At the very least I’m meeting folks who still care, like Ezra and Brendan, and the rest of the folks in Hardyville.”
“I’ll grant you that, Shorty, but they’re few and far between, aren’t they?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Shorty looked at Too-Tall for a moment. “You don’t think Upton’s Corners can survive, do you? “
“No, Shorty, I don’t. Who knows how long it will be, but the good folks in Upton’s Corners will be crushed. Maybe not in my lifetime, or yours, but it will happen. That’s why I tried to convince Lester to come with me.”
“Do you think they won’t crush you here?” Shorty asked.
“Let’s just say the chances are less. This valley is more remote than Upton’s Corners. Bigger, too. And another thing, I’m preparing for it. Are the folks in Upton’s Corners preparing, Shorty?”
“No, I can’t say they are. At least no more than usual. They’re just living their lives as free men and women.”
“As they should, Shorty. But, it’s not enough.” Too-Tall walked in silence for a while, obviously thinking. “If you’re planning on staying a while, Shorty, there are some things I’d like to show you.”
“I’d like to spend a week or two with you, Uncle Too-Tall, if it’s not an imposition. Ezra and Brendan can take my car back to Hardyville when they’re ready to go. I’ll find my way back to get it, somehow.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Shorty. You’re kin.” Too-Tall smiled and added. “And I like your songs.”
They walked a while longer, and came upon a stream.
“See this stream, Shorty? It’s fed from an underground spring part way up on that ridge, about a half mile away. Never runs dry. We even have ourselves a little waterfall. I’ll show it to you in daylight. It’s kind of nice, actually.”
“Nice. I like waterfalls.” Shorty knew Too-Tall had brought him here for a reason. He would let Too-Tall make his point in his own way, Shorty decided.
Too-Tall scootched down on his haunches and picked up a twig, lost in thought as he twirled the twig in his massive fingers. Shorty scootched down, also, grabbing a blade of grass, sticking it in his mouth. Time passed, as they kept their own thoughts to themselves.
“What do the folks in Upton’s Corners think of the new Federal Reserve, and the Income Tax, Shorty?” Too-Tall asked, finally, throwing the twig in the stream.
“I’m sure you know the answer to that. They don’t like either. Not one bit. I don’t know anyone in Upton’s Corners who pays the income tax, and no one has any use for that new Federal Reserve, either. Bob Billington, at the Bank told everyone to stop using the fiat money the Fed was now in charge of, and suggested they use only gold and silver.
Nothing good is going to come from either the Federal Reserve or the Income Tax, but I’m sure you already know that Uncle. You’re trying, in your round about way, to tell me something, I can tell, so what is it?”
“All right, Shorty. You say you have studied Chautauqua. Well, what was Chautauqua, but a search for Utopia? And if you listen to the language of Chautauqua, it is all about “we”, as in the masses. It is never about “I”, as in the individual. The drive for Chautauqua is the drive for Utopia, where the individual is of no consequence, even a menace, to be crushed. There is no room for us, Shorty, as long as the leadership is hell-bent on the lust for Utopia. The Income Tax, and the Federal Reserve System are tools they will use to crush us, the individuals, Shorty. Mark my words.”
Shorty had to admit to himself that Too-Tall was right. The evil of Chautauqua continued to this day, under different banners and labels, true, but it was as powerful as ever.
“So, Hidden Valley is your answer, Uncle?”
“It is my refuge, Shorty. I don’t have an answer. I am creating a refuge for me, and mine. A place my friends can retreat to when the world will not let them be themselves.” Shorty saw a look of pain on Too-Tall’s face, sharpened by the glare of the lantern he carried. “We will defend it, Shorty. All of us, together.”
“Who is ‘We’?”
“There’s me and Annie, and the kids; Ned, and Dot, his wife, whom you have met already. They’ve got a boy and a girl, seven and five, if I’m not mistaken. Then there’s Ned’s brother, Frank, and his wife, Lucy. They have two boys and a girl, Tim, Tom, and Lizzie. The boys are eighteen and fifteen. The Owens family, Josh’s family, is a big one, there being 4 girls and 3 boys, besides Josh. Annie’s Dad, of course, and her brother, Kent, and his wife, Abbie, along with their son, Bobby. Of course I can’t forget Fred and Hattie, down at the Dry Goods Store. They have two grown children, with children of their own. Doc Weedon and his wife, Sally have two children, as do George and Sally Wool, whom you haven’t met, yet. And I can’t fail to mention Mr. Murphy, who lives up the valley a ways. You’ll meet him tomorrow when I show you the valley. Yeh, Mr. Murphy is a piece of work, he is. Kind of a crazy old coot, but harmless. Likes his moonshine, and plays his banjo. Damn good man with animals, though. Better than any vet I ever knew. He claims he can talk to the animals. I don’t know, maybe he can. He cures their ills real fast. Has a lot of remedies for people, too.”
“Mr. Murphy sounds like a combination of Mad Mountain Jack and Molly, his wife. They live on Bald Mountain. You probably knew Jack’s father, Andre Rioux.”
“Sure, I remember Andre. Crazy as can be. Played a fiddle, as I remember.” Too-Tall smiled, thinking of the man from his past.
“That was Andre. He died about twelve years ago. Jack took up the fiddle after his Dad died. Jack’s the best fiddle player around. Molly is half Abenaki, half Scotch. Boy can that girl dance! Most folks get tired just watching her. She learned herbal remedies from her Mom.”
“It’s getting late, Shorty. We can continue this in the morning. Annie will be wondering what’s keeping us.”
They turned back to the cabin and turned in. Shorty stayed awake awhile, thinking about what Too-Tall had said. He looked forward to seeing more of Hidden Valley. He chuckled to himself, thinking about Mr. Murphy, figuring he’d probably like the old coot.
Chapter Three
The next morning was a beauty, as everyone hurried to get the chores done so they could all take a ride around the valley. Shorty and Ezra helped Ned saddle the horses, while Too-Tall and Brendan fed and milked the cows. Polly and Josh fed the chickens and collected the eggs, while the two boys, Lester and Angus, took the slops out to the pigpen as they always did, but this particular morning something a little out of the ordinary occurred.
In the pigpen were six sows, one boar, and a bunch of piglets. The piglets could get under the fence, being so small, but never strayed far from momma, so there was no worry. Now, it’s not that the boar was mean, but he could be cantankerous. Angus and Lester had learned from past experience to never turn their backs on the boar, but Lester was in a rush, and failed observe the cardinal rule, much to his chagrin. The boar, just to be spiteful, snuck up behind Lester and gave him a nudge with his snout. It wasn’t a mean, nudge, more of a “I got you, this time” nudge. The nudge was enough to cause Lester to pitch forward, head first into the slops and the mud, which startled the sows, and they all made a beeline for the partially opened gate. Adding to the confusion were Lester’s howls of indignation and fury, at being so treated by the “Damned fool boar”. Ezra saw what was happening and started to laugh, uproariously. You see, Ezra had experience, of a similar nature with hogs, and when he saw it happening to Lester, he found it highly amusing.
Too-Tall heard the commotion and came running from the barn. One look at the scattering hogs and Lester covered with mud and slop told him everything he needed to know.
“Don’t worry about it, Lester. It happens, sometimes.” He said, trying to hide a grin. “Go get yourself cleaned up. We’ll see if we can round up the hogs.” He looked over towards Ned. “Ned, is my horse saddled up, yet?”
“Yep. So’s mine.” Ned told him. “Let’s see if we can get those critters back.”
Shorty quickly finished saddling his horse and joined them.
“Angus, keep the piglets from wandering off.” Too-Tall called. “Once the Mamas come to their senses, they’ll come back to where their piglets are. It’s Goliath that will be tough to get back.”
“We’ll help Angus, Papa.” said Polly, as she and Josh came running from the hen-house. Some of the piglets were already scampering to find their Mamas and the chase was on.
Herding pigs and piglets is a lot like herding cats. If you’ve ever tried either, you know. Watching the young folks chasing the piglets around was amusing, but Too-Tall couldn’t stick around to watch, as the boar was still running, heading East, and would soon be in the forest. He urged his horse forward in an attempt to reach the boar before he made it. Ned and Shorty were in hot pursuit behind him. Too-Tall reached the boar in time, forcing him to turn away from the woods. Ned and Shorty blocked his path into the woods, momentarily, but the boar was not to be denied, and at the first opportunity scampered, (if a boar can be said to scamper), into and through a row of bushes.
“Nice try.” Too-Tall said, reining in his horse. “We’ll never get him, now. We’ll leave him be and see if he comes back of his own accord. If he doesn‘t, Mr. Murphy can talk him back.”
They returned to find Ezra and Brendan encouraging one of the sows to go back into the pen. Ezra had an ear of corn which he held in front of the sow, urging it forward, and Brendan was walking beside it, his hand on the sow, gently pushing it forward. With one sow back in the pen, it wasn’t long before the others returned. The squeeling of the piglets drew them back more than human intervention. Lester volunteered to stay with the hogs, should the boar return, but Too-Tall said he didn’t think the boar would be back soon, anyway, so there was no sense in waiting for him.
“Don’t punish yourself, Lester.” Too-Tall said to his son. “It happens to the best of us. Heck, I remember, before you were born, chasing a boar that had gotten loose for three days. The damn fool boar was a slippery one. Always stayed out of reach of my lasso. Anyway, when he got lonely for his sows, he came home.
Let’s finish saddling the horses and be on our way.”
When everyone was just about ready, Too-Tall called Ned over to him and whispered something in his ear, which made Ned laugh. He nodded yes, and, climbing on his horse said, “I’ll catch up with you at the mill.”. Without another word, he steered his horse towards the far end of the valley. Shorty saw the twinkle in Too-Tall’s eye, and he knew something was up. No doubt, for his, and Ezra’s, and Brendan’s benefit. He said nothing, though he caught Brendan’s eye and gave him a wink.
Too-Tall and Annie led them off in the direction of the ridge where Too-Tall had said they would see the waterfall. They followed the stream as it meandered through fields which were planted in corn and oats. The land began to rise towards the ridge, and the field turned into, what appeared to Shorty to be, a thinned forest. As they came around a bend, Shorty could see two buildings, one on either side of the stream. Spread out around the far building, were stacks of lumber. Hmm,… Shorty thought to himself, a sawmill. He’d been around a sawmill all his life, in Upton’s Corners. He’d spent many hours helping out at the Upton Sawmill. He was curious to see the equipment. He was also curious about the other building, which looked to him like a grist mill. Strange to have a sawmill and a grist mill together like this, he thought.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Ezra exclaimed. “A sawmill and a grist mill, with only one water wheel. What, do you power them both with the single wheel, Too-Tall?”
“Yes and no, Ezra. The wheel powers both, but not at the same time. They are not both used all the time, nor do I suspect they ever will need to be. We’ve made it easy to disengage one and engage the other.” They had reached the grist mill, and Too-Tall dismounted. “Come on inside and I’ll show you.”
The mill was not a large one, capable of large scale output, but sufficient for a small community. Shorty began to realize what Too-Tall was creating in Hidden Valley. He could see, from the intricacy of the gearing, how much work and care had been put into the mill. Such a mill would not be necessary for Too-Tall and his family, Shorty realized, nor would the amount of lumber he saw stacked outside the sawmill be necessary for only Too-Tall’s family needs. Obviously, from his use of the word “we” in discussing the building of the mill, Too-Tall had enlisted others in developing his retreat. No doubt the “others” were planned to be a part of it. He would let Too-Tall tell the story of Hidden Valley at his own pace, he decided.
“Hey, Shorty! Check this out!” Brendan hollered. He had climbed down to see the gearing mechanism. “Whoever designed and built this, knew a lot about gear ratios.”
Shorty climbed down with Brendan, to take a look. Sure, enough, it was as Brendan said, careful gearing to increase the power from the waterwheel to the stones. Not that Shorty knew much about gear ratios, but he could see the care and thought involved. Nothing was slip-shod or thrown together. Everything was built to last.
“Nice, Uncle!” Shorty called up to Too-Tall. “This thing is built to last. You’d think this was going to be the last grist mill ever made.”
“We hope it won’t be, Shorty.”
“Did you build this yourself?” Shorty asked.
“Ned designed it.” Too-Tall told him. “He and Frank did most of the work.”
Shorty climbed back up, thinking about Ned and Too-Tall, seeing more in them than he had seen before. Whereas he had seen Ned as the outsider, being welcomed into Hidden Valley because he was kin, he realized now that Ned was a partner, and a good one. He also saw a different side to Too-Tall. He saw a man who quite matter-of-factly would give credit where credit was due.
“How do I get over to the sawmill?” Shorty asked. “I don’t know much about grist mills, but I know sawmills.”
“Through that door over there, Shorty. We built a little bridge over the stream.” Too-Tall pointed to the door behind Ezra.
The bridge offered a good look at the waterwheel, which impressed Ezra very much.
“Did you make this wheel here? Or did you make it in pieces and erect it here?” He wanted to know.
“Joshua Owens and his sons, Nathaniel and Matthew, did the blacksmithing work, and a bunch of folks worked on the wooden parts. It’s all based on a plan drawn up by Mr. Murphy.” Too-Tall explained.
The Sawmill was very similar to the Upton Sawmill, only on a smaller scale, Shorty realized. Too-Tall admitted they tried to copy it as he remembered it. They’d made a few minor improvements, which Shorty made note of to pass on to Charlie Upton.
“You know, Uncle, this looks familiar enough that I could start it up in my sleep.”
“Next week we’re planning to cut some more lumber. If you’re up to it, we could use a good hand.”
Shorty smiled at the invitation. “I’d like that, Uncle. I really would like that.”
Too-Tall smiled his crooked smile and gave Shorty a wink. “Any time, Shorty, any time. Let’s get back to the horses, there’s lots more to show you folks.”
They mounted their horses again, and Too-Tall led them down the ridge, crossing the stream on a bridge he had made. As they were about to enter into the open, Shorty heard a strange, incongruous noise. Ezra and Brendan noticed it, too.
“That can’t be a banjo, can it?” Ezra exclaimed in disbelief.
Shorty saw that Annie and Too-Tall were exchanging a grin.
“You are about to meet Mr. Murphy.” Annie laughed. ”I couldn’t begin to describe him, if I tried. See for yourselves.” She pointed to two horses in the middle of the valley. On second look, however, it became clear that it was only one horse, which Ned was riding. The other was a donkey, ridden by a tiny little man wearing a derby hat, playing a banjo. Walking behind the donkey was the missing boar.
As they approached, Mr. Murphy tipped his hat, saying, “Top-o‘-the-mornin’ to ye, lads and lassies. And a special good-mornin’ to ye beautiful lassies, dear Annie and pretty Polly. Tis a fine mornin’. I bring you a song in my heart, and a wayward boar. I beg you to pardon him his transgressions, as he was startled when poor Lester fell in the mud.
Aye, and who be these rustic looking strangers I see with ye. Will I be gettin’ an introduction from ye, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins.”
“Mr. Murphy, if you’ll let me get a word in edgewise, I’ll introduce you to my rustic friends, as you call them. These two fellows on the left, here, are from Hardyville, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty.”
“Tis a pleasure and an honor to be meetin’ you both.” Mr. Murphy exclaimed, tipping his hat to them. “If memory serves me, I believe I passed through Hardyville in ‘98. Does that old coot, Bud, still serve bad food at the diner?”
Ezra and Brendan had to laugh at that one. “Yes, sir, Mr. Murphy. If you can wait long enough. Old Bud doesn’t move too fast, as you might recall.” Ezra said, giving a nod of welcome to Mr. Murphy.
“He’s probably selling the same food he was trying to peddle when you visited Hardyville.” Brendan said, with a wink and a smile.
“Aye laddies, there be some good folk in this land who, if I’m not being too harsh on them, have little or no speed in their movements. No, the Leprechauns must have cursed them, poor fellows.” Mr. Murphy looked at Shorty, then. “And who is this large man, I’m askin’ ye, who resembles our friend Too-Tall Dawkins. Might he be a relative, mayhaps?”
“This is my nephew, Shorty Dawkins. He’s my brother Lester’s boy.”
“I’ll be tellin’ ye, Shorty Dawkins, it is a real pleasure to be meetin’ a relative of Too-Tall Dawkins, no matter how tall ye are.”
“And I’m glad to finally meet you, Mr. Murphy.” Shorty leaned down from his horse to take Mr. Murphy’s hand in his. “They tell me you can talk to the animals. That’s not surprising, seeing you’re Irish. It must be the blarney. Either that, or you have help from the Leprechauns.”
“Aye, lad, most likely a bit of both, though ye left out the good Irish Whiskey. There be times when the critters make more sense than people ever do.” Mr. Murphy gave him a wink, then turned to Too-Tall. “So, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins, are ye showin’ the Valley to these folks? And can we get on with it now? Delilah is wanting some exercise.”
“What about Goliath?” Too-Tall asked, looking at the boar.
“He can come along with us, if there be none who object. He’s promised to be good.”
“All right, then. If you’ll play a tune on that banjo, we can be on our way.
They headed up the valley, eight on horseback, one little man on a donkey, playing a banjo, followed by an obedient boar. Mr. Murphy played and sang, and those who knew the songs joined in. Annie had brought one of her flutes, and joined in on some of the songs, whenever the going was easy and she could let go of the reins. In the distance, Shorty could see a small herd of sheep grazing peacefully. He guessed there were about a dozen sheep in the herd. They headed for the herd, or so Shorty thought, but suddenly veered off towards a low, forested rise. The reason became clear as they drew closer, for, hidden from easy view was a cabin, sitting quietly on a flat spot, part way up the rise. Just beyond the cabin was a barn.
“Is this your place, Mr. Murphy?” Ezra asked.
“No, laddie. I’m near the end of this green valley.” Mr. Murphy replied.
“It’s my place.” Ned said, matter-of-factly. “I’ll be moving up here soon with my family.”
“Aye, Ned. And won’t it be a joy, havin’ some more wee ones in the valley?”
“So you won’t be the littlest one any more, Mr. Murphy?” Too-Tall said with a wink and a laugh.
“Well, now, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins, you wouldn’t be pickin’ on me, now, would ye? Tis true you have the height that I lack, but I have my banjo and Delilah, and the creatures are my friends. For such as I have, I am grateful. Could I be askin’ for more?”
“What you need, Mr. Murphy, is a good woman.” Annie said, only half in jest.
“Aye, lass, tis a great sorrow in my life, not to have found a bonnie mate. Ye see, the best lassies choose the tall stallions. Yet, I am not so old that the little folk might yet spin some magic, and send a wee lass in my direction.”
The caravan reached the cabin and Ned encouraged the visitors to look around. “I just need to check on some things.”
“Come inside. There are some things you might find interesting in there.” Too-Tall said, encouraging Shorty, Brendan and Ezra.
They all went inside to have a look, and, sure enough, they weren’t disappointed. The first thing to catch Shorty’s eye, as he came through the front door, was a spinning wheel, set near a beautiful stone fireplace. Behind the spinning wheel, hanging on the wall next to the fireplace, was a large tapestry, maybe six foot wide and five foot tall. The tapestry, Shorty could see, depicted Hidden Valley, as seen looking out the front door. Looking closely, he saw a tall man on a horse, and beside him was a tiny man on a donkey, with a banjo hung around his neck. Riding towards the two was a girl with red hair flowing behind her. The tapestry was beautiful, and serene. Shorty smiled at it.
“Whose tapestry is this?” he asked.
“Dot made it.” Too-Tall told him. “She is a very talented weaver. Her loom is back there.” He pointed to a sunroom extending from the rear of the house. Shorty went back to look at it, while Ezra and Brendan continued to be fascinated by the tapestry. The loom, Shorty realized was hand made, with lots of care taken in its construction.
“Who made the loom?” Shorty asked, looking to Annie and Too-Tall.
“George and Sally Wool.” Annie answered. “They made the spinning wheel, also. They love making furniture and tools, anything made of wood. A lot of the furniture in this house, and ours, for that matter, was made by them, or their daughter and son, Ted and Maggie. Ted’s only thirteen, but he has become quite the craftsman. Maggie is making a piano. She’s working on the parts, now, and will assemble it here, in the valley.”
“It’s nice to see young folk taking up the old crafts.” Shorty nodded in approval.
“Back to basics and self-reliance is what this valley is all about, Shorty.” Too-Tall told him. “There is a lot more I want to show you, so if Ned is ready, let’s be on our way.”
“Where to next, laddie?” Mr. Murphy asked. “I’m thinking Goliath might be wantin’ to get back to his friends. I’ll be takin’ him home, if ye won’t be missin’ me, and I’ll find you along the way.”
“I think Frank’s place, then over to the Owens’.” Too-Tall said. “If you should have a thirst, you know where it is.”
“I’ll be thankin’ ye lad.” Mr. Murphy said with a wink. “I’ll bring a little something back with me, for those who have a mind to take a bit. Come along, now, Goliath, the ladies will be waitin’ on ye.” With a tip of his hat, he began playing his banjo once more, and Delilah gave a little wiggle of her head and off they went, Mr. Murphy, his donkey, and Goliath, the wayward boar.
The next stop was Frank’s house, which was a comfortable home, simple, yet functional. What was of interest was in the backyard. Looking out a window, Ezra saw a most incongruous sight, at least in Hidden Valley. Sitting next to a large shed was a tractor. Now, Ezra had seen plenty of tractors in his day, but here in Hidden Valley? There was no road to get it here, he thought, shaking his head.
“Hey, Brendan! Check this out.” he called, pointing out the window.
Brendan looked for a moment, then looked at Ezra, wondering if he was seeing things. “A tractor? How’d you get a tractor up here?”
“It wasn’t easy.” Ned told them. “It took a while. We winched it up that steep hill we came up, if you remember.”
“Yep, the tractor was a tough one, but the truck was even tougher.” Too-Tall added.
“You’ve got a truck up here?” Shorty asked, astounded.
“Yep.” Too-Tall said. “We’ll be bringin’ a couple more tractors and trucks up here, eventually. Need ‘em for the farms and the sawmill. The truck‘s on the other side of the shed.”
“How do you get fuel up here? By pack horse?” Ezra asked.
“No. We don’t need to bring it up here. We make it ourselves.” Ned told them. “Come along, I’ll show you Frank’s Fuel Factory.”
Ned led them into the shed, and, there, much to the newcomer’s surprise, sat a large still. Alcohol! Shorty hadn’t considered it. Yes, of course, if engines could run on gasoline, they could run on alcohol. Self-sufficiency, Too-Tall had said. Why depend on outside sources for things you could supply yourself?
“Fred and Hattie, from down at the Dry Goods Store, are building a big freezer to store meats and vegetables in.” Annie said, excited at the thought. “It’s for the whole valley. It’s as big as this shed. We won’t have to worry about each of us having our own refrigerators for bulk storage. We just need ice-chests for short term storage this way. At harvest time, everything can be frozen, rather than canned, if we want. And at slaughtering time, the meat will be brought here. Fred and Hattie will take seven percent of the product for their efforts, and they will keep track of who brings what. We will still own our goods, but they will store it for us.”
“We brought up a diesel refrigerant system that can run on vegetable oil.” Josh chipped in. “ I’ll be planting a field of sunflowers to make the oil from, when we move up here next spring.”
“Another thing Frank’s got in the works is a methane digester, which will take manure and turn it into methane gas. If he can make enough of it, it could power well pumps and we could have methane refrigerators instead of ice boxes.” Ned added.
Shorty looked over at Too-Tall, who gave him a little wink. “You’re really serious about making this valley self-sufficient, aren’t you? What about metals? Or do you have iron ore, and copper, and bauxite mines scattered throughout the valley?”
“No. The next best thing, though.” Too-Tall said, grinning. In anticipation, perhaps? Shorty wondered. “Follow me. The Owens place will answer your questions.”
The Owens family, being a large one, with Josh being the next to the youngest, has an assortment of in-laws, grandparents, nieces and nephews. The “family” also included Joshua’s brother, John, with his family, and Mabel Owen’s brother, Theo Jefferson, a bachelor. As the caravan approached their homestead, Shorty saw three cabins which appeared to be complete, nestled in a pine grove. There were two other cabins under construction and a number of sheds and barns, both complete and incomplete. At their approach, several people came out of the houses and sheds to greet them.
“Mornin’, Too-Tall, Annie, and Ned. Yes, and you, Polly and Josh. What brings you over here? We saw Mr. Murphy ridin‘ across the valley. Goliath get loose, again?” The man looked to be in his seventies, but still in good health.
“Mornin’, Mr. Jefferson. It’s a fine one. Yep, Goliath got loose, again. We’re just lucky to have Mr. Murphy around, I guess. We’re out showin’ the valley to my nephew, here, Shorty Dawkins, and his two friends, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty.” He indicated each in their turn. “This is Amos Jefferson, Mabel’s father. The feller next to him is his son, Theo. That’s Ida, Mrs. Jefferson, with the apron on. And I see, John Owens, Joshua’s brother has come out to say hello. Good morning’ John. We didn’t mean to take you from your work.”
“You wouldn’t be takin’ me from it, if I didn’t want to be taken, Too-Tall. You know that right well.” John answered, a smile upon his face.
“Come over to the porch and have some of my fruit punch.” Ida Jefferson insisted. “You must be bone dry.”
“Why, thank you, Ida. I am a bit parched, myself.” Annie replied. “And I do love your fruit punch.”
They dismounted, tying their horses at a hitching rail that was a scene from the Old West, Shorty decided. It didn’t take long before several other folks joined in greeting them. Josh’s older brother, Jacob, and his wife, Molly arrived with their two youngsters, Jake and Agnes. Soon after, Josh’s older sister Mandy came over with her husband, Eldon Parker, along with their baby, Zoe. Introductions were made, and chairs were brought onto the porch for folks to sit on, while Polly and Josh helped to pass out the fruit punch. Shorty realized the fruit in the punch was more of the “aged” variety, than the fresh, which he was thankful for. He really did like the punch, and made a note to ask Ida for the recipe.
“So, you’ve been showing the valley to Shorty and his friends, have you?” Amos said, as he settled in a chair next to Too-Tall. He noticed his wife flitting about. “Ida, set yourself down, won’t you? The young folk can take care of our visitors needs. No need for you to go flitting about like a mother hen.”
“Now, Amos Jefferson, I’ll sit when I’ve a mind to sit. Not before.” Shorty could see them bantering their way through a long and loving marriage.
“This sure is a beautiful valley.” Shorty interjected, to draw Amos’ attention away from his flitting wife.
“Yes, it is, Shorty. Real pretty. Too-Tall picked a good one.” Amos agreed, giving a nod to Too-Tall. “So, have you come to see what interesting things our Clan, here, is up to?”
“That’s it, Amos. If you folks don’t mind, I’d like to show Shorty, and his friends, what is inside your sheds. I think they’ll be a bit surprised by what they see.”
“No doubt, Too-Tall, no doubt. Lots of folks would be surprised. They find it a bit difficult to imagine what free minds and bodies can do, if given the opportunity.” He looked over at John. “John, would you mind showin’ these folks around? I’d do it, but my leg’s actin’ up again.”
“Sure, Amos. You just rest here in the shade. I’ll give them the tour.” John agreed.
John led the way, and Too-Tall, Shorty, Ezra and Brendan followed. Ned, Annie. Polly and Josh decided to spend their time visiting, as they were familiar with the Owens’ place. He opened wide the door to the first shed and let them in.
“This is our blacksmith shop. It’s not in use today, but services many needs. I would guess you have all seen a basic blacksmith shop before, so no surprises for you here.”
“Too-Tall said Joshua, Nathaniel and Matthew did the blacksmithing on the water wheel. Are they the regular blacksmiths?” Ezra asked, looking about with interest.
“You could say that.” John replied. “There are others who help here, sometimes, when we’re not busy elsewhere, or when some work needs to be done and they are not in the valley. Until everyone is settled in the valley, things are in flux. We all help out where needed.”
Brendan was looking at a rack of hunting knives he had found. “These are nice knives. Any chance I could buy one?”
“Well, …” John looked to Too-Tall to explain.
“They aren’t usually sold to folks from outside the valley, but if you fellers want one, I’ll buy them and give them to you. You’ve helped out some, at my place, and I’ll put you to work at the sawmill, so just consider it advance payment.”
Shorty saw the look Too-Tall and John exchanged, quickly, and figured the knives would cost Too-Tall a pretty penny. He also figured Too-Tall had a reason for making the offer, and thought it would be rude to decline. Besides, he really did like the knives, after looking at them. His Dad would appreciate the quality, he knew. Shorty selected one, as did Ezra and Brendan.
“I figure we owe you several hard days work for this, Uncle. They’re top quality knives, and you’ll get top quality work out of me. I am Lester Dawkins’ son, after all.”
Too-Tall smiled, thinking of his older brother, realizing that Shorty was a chip off the old block. He nodded his agreement. “Sounds fair, Shorty. Lester would have demanded a fair exchange, too.”
“Sounds fair to me, too.” Brendan added. “Same to you Ezra?”
“Yep. Good, fair trade.” Ezra agreed. “So what’s in the other sheds?”
“Let’s take a look.” John led them to the next shed and slid the big barn door open. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but after a short period of adjustment they all stepped in to the shed to have a look around. What they found was metal. All kinds of it; cast iron, steel, copper, aluminum and brass, all of it was scrap, and it was neatly stacked in separate shelves and bins, each labeled carefully.
“Ah!” Shorty exclaimed, with a chuckle. “Your next best thing to a mine!”
“What’s it all for?” Brendan asked. “What do you do with it?”
“Self-sufficiency, Brendan. Right, Uncle?”
“That’s it, Shorty.” He looked at Brendan for a minute, formulating his thoughts. “Suppose I break an axle on one of the tractors, or someone needs a new ax, or a shovel. Then suppose that no one can, or will, sell us what we need outside the valley. Well, we can make it ourselves. We have the raw material right here. And we have the knowledge and the expertise, also. Right, John?”
“More than enough expertise and knowledge, Too-Tall. And, we have the equipment that utilizes the knowledge.”
“And next in store for us is the equipment, correct?” Shorty said, knowing the answer.
“That’s the plan, Shorty.” John admitted with a grin. “Shall we continue?” He said, indicating for them to follow.
The other sheds contained the tools, machinery and equipment necessary to melt down the scrap metal and to rework those metals as needed. A complete metal working shop and fabrication plant. They could make an ax or an axle, a shovel, or a cast iron frying pan, a rifle barrel or a cast iron kitchen stove. Be it cast iron, steel, copper or brass, they had the knowledge and the equipment necessary to create their needs, just as they were capable of growing their own food, and making their housing and clothing. Shorty was amazed at the care the folks of Hidden Valley, the present and future residents, were taking to establish their self-sufficiency. Too-Tall, and John told them much about the preparations being made throughout the valley. What they didn’t know, they were learning, and sharing with their compatriots. Among the future residents were glass makers, potters, gunsmiths, brick makers, even people who could make paper.
Doc Weedon was training his two children to replace him someday, and he and his wife had spent many years learning about natural and herbal cures and preventative medicine. Polly was learning from them, also, and spent much of her time collecting herbs, roots, and plants which grew in the valley.
The gunsmith, George Wool, made guns, and the ammunition to use in them. His two sons were being trained in the trade, and had made trips with him to the hot springs at Yellowstone to collect sulphur for use in the gun powder. Sulphur was used in medicine, too, and was shared with Doc Weedon.
Shorty wanted to talk privately with Too-Tall, but decided to wait for a more auspicious moment. He could see what the folks of Hidden Valley were up to, but he wanted to find out precisely why they were making their preparations. What did they know that he didn’t, he wondered? He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of a triangle, the type that was used to call the family to dinner.
“We’d better get back to Ida’s house.” John said, at hearing the sound. “When Ida calls folks to a meal, she expects folks to come running.”
“We don’t want to keep Ida waiting.” Too-Tall agreed. “Besides, I’m hungry.”
When they got back to Ida’s house two picnic tables were covered with lots of delicious looking food. The children, of which there were many, were being fed first, under the direction of Ida and Molly. Ned and Annie were cooking steaks on the outdoor grille with the help of Mr. Murphy, who had arrived while Shorty and his friends were being shown around the ‘compound’. He saw Mandy sitting in a chair, nursing her baby and quietly talking with Eldon, her husband. He gave them a wave, and smiled.
“Hey, Shorty!” Angus called. “Try some of Molly’s three bean salad. It’s the best!”
“I’ll do that, Angus. I love a good three bean salad.”
“Do you like dandelion greens, Shorty?” Polly asked, holding up a bowl of them.
“I wouldn’t be Erma Dawkins’ son if I didn’t.” Shorty replied. “You’ve got some cider vinegar, I hope.”
“Right here, Shorty.” Lester told him, holding up the bottle for Shorty to see.”
“Just look at that spread of food!” Ezra exclaimed. “Looks like the Harvest Fair in Hardyville.”
“Is that where you’re from, Ezra? Hardyville?” Amos asked.
“Yep. Me and Brendan, both. That’s where we met Shorty.” Ezra told him.
“Tell him about the shootin’ match you and Shorty had, Ezra.” Brendan said with a grin.
“Let me get a plate full of this good food in me and I’ll be glad to tell the story. It’s a good one.” Ezra said, grabbing a plate from the stack and beginning to fill it.
“The steaks are ready. Come grab one Ezra. You too, Brendan and Shorty.” Ned called. “We don’t stand on ceremony, here. Just bring your plate over and pick one out. This is some of Too-Tall’s good beef.”
“Raised right here in Hidden Valley.” Annie told them with pride. “Best in the West.”
“Ezra, when you get your plate filled, come over and set down by me, if you would. I’ve been to Hardyville a few times, a number of years ago, it’s true. Perhaps we know some of the same folks.” Amos said, patting a chair next to him. “You, too, Brendan.”
“Sure thing, Amos.” Ezra replied. “There are lots of folks that have been around Hardyville for a long time.”
Everyone filled their plates and sat down wherever they found a spot. Shorty chose a spot under a tree, in the shade, and Too-Tall joined him. They chatted some, but mostly enjoyed the good food. Josh was kind enough to bring them some of Ida’s punch, and Shorty invited him to sit with them. Polly, too.
“You know, this reminds me of summer days in Upton’s Corners. Folks would just decide on the spur of the moment to get together, have some good food, watch the short folk play, or whatever. Just good folk doing what comes naturally.”
“Yep, I remember, Shorty.” Too-Tall said with a sigh. “I miss Lester and Erma. We had some good times, back then. How are Halifax and Millie Stebbins, these days? I always liked to go into their store. It had such a warm and friendly feeling about it.”
“Millie’s just fine, but Halifax passed away last year. His heart gave out on him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Shorty. Let Millie know I’m thinking of her.”
“I will, Uncle.”
As Shorty thought about Halifax and Millie, his gaze went to Polly and Josh. Here are two young folks, he thought to himself, starting down the road Halifax and Millie traveled many years ago. He wished them as much love and happiness as the older couple had enjoyed.
“So, Polly, and Josh. Have you two decided to get yourself hitched together, yet?”
The young folk blushed at the bold question.
“We have, sir. I’ve spoken with Too-Tall and Annie, and they have given us their blessings.” Josh said, so seriously, that Shorty was wondering if he was about to pop the question once more.
“Well! Congratulations!” Shorty told them, excitedly. “I suppose everyone in the Valley already knows about this?”
“Yes, sir.” Josh continued in his serious vein. “Mr. Jefferson has agreed to lead a wedding ceremony, for us. He’s not a minister, or anything, but we want to speak our vows, here in the Valley. We figure we don’t need a law, or religion to enter into it.”
Shorty nodded his understanding. “My friends Mad Mountain Jack and Molly felt the same way. They figured they were making their vows to each other, not to God, or the State.”
“We wish you would come to our wedding, Shorty.” Polly told him. Shorty could see she really meant it.
“When is the wedding?”
“Next June, on the Sixteenth.”
Shorty didn’t want to make a commitment he couldn’t keep, but knew in his heart he wanted to come. He considered the possibility for a moment.
“I would really like to come, Polly. I just don’t know if I can. I’ll be heading back to Upton’s Corners in a few weeks. I’ll have to think more on it.”
“Could I ask a favor of you, Shorty?” Too-Tall asked.
“Sure, Uncle Too-Tall.”
“I’m planning on sending a special invitation to the wedding to Lester and Erma, and, also, to Edna Mae and Charlie. Could you take them with you please? And tell them about Hidden Valley. I’d like them to know what we are doing here.”
“Of course, Uncle. I’ll do that. Mom and Dad speak of you, now and again, and Dad misses you, I know. They’ll be very interested in hearing about Hidden Valley, you can bet on it.”
A satisfied look came across Too-Tall’s face and he nodded in thanks.
“Daddy?” Polly called. “Will you sing your special song for us?”
“The one about the Valley?”
“Yes. That one. We love to hear you sing it.”
“I’ll tell you what, Polly, if you and Mr. Murphy and Josh will play for us, and if your Mother will sing with me, then I will. And you and Josh and Lester and Angus can join in on the second stanza, and then everyone must join in on the last stanza. Is it a deal?
“It’s a deal, Daddy. I’ll get Mr. Murphy. I’m sure he’ll be willing. Come on, Josh, we need to find a couple of guitars, too.”
“I have one in Gramma‘s house, and Mandy has one.” Josh said as they hurried off to find Mr. Murphy.
“Let’s go find Annie, Shorty. I think you might like this song.” Too-Tall said.
“Well, Polly and Josh sure like it. It can’t be that bad.” Shorty answered with a wink.
They found Annie talking with Ida and Molly. Polly and Josh hadn’t wasted any time, telling folks, “Daddy’s going to sing the Valley song.” Annie was agreeable, as was Mr. Murphy. “Ye know I’d be happy to play, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins, just for the chance to be hearin’ ye sing, lad. And it‘s a fine tune ye‘ve written, it is.”
“And ye be joinin’ me on the third phrase, now, Mr. Murphy, now won’t ye.” Too-Tall said with a laugh, doing his best to imitate his brogue.
“Aye, laddie. And your brogue is still like an Englishman, but I’ll not be holdin’ it agin’ ye. Ye have a kind heart and a nice family, so I‘m thinking the Leprechauns are smilin‘ on ye.”
Polly and Josh returned with the guitars, and Mr. Murphy helped them tune them. They divided up the parts and played a bit, then Mr. Murphy declared they were ready. All the folks had gathered round in anticipation, and Lester and Angus had been told to join in on the second stanza. The song began, and instantly smiles of satisfaction came onto the residents’ faces. They knew the song, and loved it as much as Polly and Josh.
“Now, the agreement is, that everyone joins in on the third stanza, including you, Amos Jefferson.” Too-Tall announced.
“I will, Too-Tall. I can’t sing worth a damn, but I do love your song.” Amos told him.
“Pshaw, Amos. You can sing as well, or better, than my Daddy did.”
Too-Tall and Annie sang together:
As It Was Meant To Be
Here, in this valley wide,
With those I love beside.
Here, with my family,
Living a life that's free.
Here with the friends we love.
Mountains that rise above.
Sharing a life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
Lester, Angus, Polly and Josh joined in and sang with them:
Tending our fields each day.
Raising what crops we may.
Watching the children play.
No words can ever say,
Thoughts that I hold inside,
Seeing this valley wide,
Knowing this life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
Everyone , except Shorty, Ezra and Brendan, joined in on the third phrase
Don't think you can command
Any who work this land.
Free men, both strong and brave.
Never to be a slave.
Here will we make our stand.
Here on our own sweet land.
Living a life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
Living a life that's free.
As it was meant to be.
“That’s nice, Uncle. That’s real nice.” Shorty told him.
“Do you think Lester would like it, Shorty?”
“I think you know the answer to that, Uncle Too-Tall.”
“We need a song from Shorty, next.” Ned called. “How about A Winter’s Snow?”
“Ezra, here, was tellin’ me how good your songs are, Shorty. We sure would like to hear ’em.” Amos encouraged Shorty, and others joined the chorus of those wanting Shorty to sing.
“All right, then, if you want me to sing, well, who am I to say no. If I could borrow your guitar, Polly, I think I’ll start with a song about the Autumn. I’ve always had a special fondness for Autumn in Upton’s Corners.” He took the guitar and practiced a bit, to get the feel of it. “I call this one, ‘On A Bright September Day’, because I wrote it after taking a walk on a bright September day.”
On A Bright September Day
Walking along on a country way,
Nothing to do or to say.
Not a care on my mind,
All my worries left behind,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The leaves on the trees with their colors bright,
Each Autumn they make such a sight,
As I stand and I pause,
No concerns about the cause,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The breeze on my face is so fresh and clear,
The smells of the Autumn are dear.
There's no place that I know,
Nowhere else that I would go,
For a walk on a bright September day.
The harvest is in, and the wood is dry,
Can't make Autumn stay though I try,
It's the time of the year,
I love best and hold most dear,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The folks in the cities can't understand,
The feelings I get from my Land.
How a field with some fences,
Can fill all of my senses,
As I walk on a bright September day.
The Winter will come, but the Fall is nigh,
I know it will leave and I sigh.
Now's the time of the year,
I love best, and hold so dear,
Let me walk on this bright September day.
The rustle of leaves in the breeze that blows,
It stirs in my heart, makes it glow,
There's no place that I know,
Nowhere else that I would go,
For a walk on a bright September day.
There's no place that I know,
Nowhere else that I would go,
For a walk on a bright September day.
“Damn, but that’s a good one, Shorty.” Amos exclaimed, clapping his hands together in joy. “Ezra was right, that’s for sure.”
“I can picture walking along the country roads in Upton’s Corners.” Too-Tall said. “It brings back some good memories.”
“Next, I’d like to sing a little song my sister wrote for me. You see, Edna Mae was the one who taught me how to shoot a gun. And she taught me well. She’s one heck of a marksman. The best in the county, and maybe the State. Anyway, this song is about the time she was first teaching me how to shoot. I was 9 at the time, and she was 14.”
Edna Mae Teaches Shorty To Shoot
Little brother it is time for you to learn to shoot a gun.
I'll teach you what you need to learn, and yes it's really fun.
If you can learn to shoot this thing you'll never have to run.
So listen close I'll teach you first the parts to this here gun.
Now this thing here is the handle for to hold it in your hand.
I hope that's not to hard for you to grasp and understand.
Now take the gun into your mitt, that's right, your doing grand.
Don't pay attention to those guys, just tell them to pound sand.
Keep the barrel out in front of you but do not point at me.
Now face the target over their, a standing by that tree.
And line the sights upon the target, aiming carefully.
Keep practicing and soon a marksman Shorty you will be.
Oh the next part is the hardest, it's the trigger that you squeeze.
Just think of it as some nice girl that you would like to please.
But not the type of girl who simply gives the boys a tease.
For goodness sake don't shoot the thing your aiming at the trees.
Please remember Shorty all that I have told you up to now.
The handle and the barrel and the squeeze I told you how.
Keep all these things in mind, ignore the sweat upon your brow.
The next time we will load the gun, that's good enough for now.
Brendan and Ezra laughed so hard they cried, having seen Shorty shoot. The young folk got a laugh out of it, which pleased Shorty very much. When Brendan brought himself under control, again, he insisted on telling everyone about the shooting match Shorty and Ezra had, over in Hardyville. On hearing the story, Amos decided they needed to have a shooting match in Hidden Valley.
“Let’s see how good Shorty really is. We’ve got some good shots in our little valley, here. There’s Ned, Annie and Too-Tall, and Joshua’s good, too. And of course John, old dead-eye, as we call him. Kent, too. Some of the young folk are gettin’ pretty darn good, also. Some of the folks from Cobb’s Corner will be up here tomorrow or the next day, working at the sawmill, or building their places. What do you say to havin’ a get together on Sunday. We’ll make a picnic out of it, and we can have competitions for different skill levels.”
Everyone liked the idea, and the match day was set. Shorty leaned over to Too-Tall, “Are you as good as Dad?”
“Better, Shorty. Always was.” Too-Tall told him with a wink. Shorty wasn’t sure if he was being serious, but figured he’d find out.
It was decided that Amos and Ida would make the Rules for the Match. With the date settled, everyone went back to work, and Too-Tall’s caravan mounted up and headed back home, and Mr. Murphy headed off to his corner of the Valley. They hadn’t ridden very far when Too-Tall indicated to Annie to continue, while he dropped back to ride next to Shorty.
“Are you tired, Shorty? Or are you up to seeing something special?”
“I’m game, Uncle. What have you got?”
“Follow me.” Too-Tall spurred his horse and headed off in the general direction of the Sawmill. Shorty quickly caught up with him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did Too-Tall, as they rode along, until they reached the Dam with the Mills on either side.
“It’s above the dam. By the waterfall.” Too-Tall said simply, keeping his secret. “I told you I’d show you the waterfall, but there is something more.”
Shorty looked at the water backed up behind the dam and saw several fish jump. He suspected the little pond had been well stocked with trout. Again, self-sufficiency was evident. A short distance past the pond, Too-Tall pulled his horse to a stop and Shorty pulled up beside him.
“We could ride up, but the effect is better if we take the walking path over there.” Too-Tall told him, pointing to a narrow path with some steps heading up a hill. Shorty nodded in understanding and dismounted, as did his Uncle.
“Lead on, Uncle.” Shorty said, quietly. Shorty wasn’t sure what to expect, but he was getting excited, much as he suspected Too-Tall was getting excited, and nervous. What was it, he wondered that was making Too-Tall so nervous? He would find out soon enough.
As they climbed the path, higher and higher, Shorty could sense the tension of excitement growing in Too-Tall, and his excitement grew with it. Shorty paused momentarily, realizing he could hear the waterfall, and knowing they were drawing close. Rounding a bend, Shorty suddenly saw a wrought-iron gate blocking their way. Too-Tall stopped at the gate, a warm smile on his face, and reached into his pocket and pulled out a large skeleton key.
“I’ll explain in a moment, Shorty, but would you do the honors and unlock the gate?”
Shorty still didn’t know what was happening, or why a wrought-iron gate should be here, but he nodded at his Uncle and took the key from him. One look told him the lock was well oiled and he turned the key with ease. The gate swung open with equal ease and Too-Tall indicated Shorty should go first. As Shorty stepped through the gate, he could hear the waterfall clearly off to his left. The path, which, from the gate onward, was carefully groomed, opened onto a meadow. As they rounded a large clump of bushes, a pool of water came into view, and a few steps beyond, the waterfall became visible. It was not a large waterfall, falling perhaps fifteen feet, falling into a pool which drained off into a gorge over which a small, wooden bridge had been built, for pedestrian traffic.
Shorty stood looking at the waterfall for quite a while, lost in thought. Waterfalls and rapids always had that effect on him. His Dad, likewise, had a strange attraction to the moving water, Shorty knew, and he was sure Too-Tall knew this, also. The evergreen trees which surrounded the area gave it a feeling of seclusion and peace.
“Look in the trees on the other side of the pool.” Too-Tall encouraged him, quietly.
Shorty drew his eyes away from the waterfall and did as Too-Tall encouraged him to do. There, nestled in the trees, Shorty saw a cabin, quaint as could be, with a front porch that offered a view of the waterfall, and the pool. He turned to look at Too-Tall, who had a look he had seen at Christmas time, when the long awaited opening of the cherished gift was now complete, and giver and receiver of the gift were aware of it’s nature at last. Seeing the look on his Uncle’s face, Shorty had a flash of understanding.
“You built it, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“For Dad?”
“For my brother and his family.” Too-Tall corrected him.
“You want him to …… you want us to move here, don’t you?”
“Yes. Ever since I found this Valley, and this waterfall.”
“What does Dad think?”
“About moving here?” Too-Tall paused a moment, looking off into space. “He’s not ready, yet. Someday, maybe.” Too-Tall picked up a twig and looked at it a moment. “Do you want to see the cabin?”
“Yes.”
They walked to the cabin, and as Shorty stepped onto the front porch and turned to look back at the waterfall, which was clearly visible. The sun was shining, and, to Shorty’s delight and amazement, the sunlight shining through the mist from the waterfall created a small rainbow.
“A rainbow!” he said, pointing to it.
“Yes, I’ve noticed them before. Nice, isn’t it?”
“Mom would like that.” Shorty admitted. Too-Tall just smiled.
The cabin was simple, but well constructed, with a fieldstone fireplace in the center. On the back side was a Dutch oven and a flue for the kitchen woodstove. Shorty couldn’t put his finger on the reason why, but felt a strong friendly feeling about the cabin. Was it the balance of wood and stone? Or perhaps it was the simple design of the furnishings. Maybe it was the small tapestry hanging on the wall of the parlor room, with the scene of sheep grazing beside the waterfall. He didn’t know why, but he liked this cabin very much.
“What goes in the room at the back?” he asked, seeing a room extending out behind the main house that had no furniture, as yet.
“The piano Maggie Wool is making. I gave her the commission to make it. I know Erma loves to play.”
Shorty could picture his Mother sitting at her piano at home. Too-Tall was right, she loved to play. The family had spent many happy hours listening to her play. He could picture his Dad, sitting before the fire, smoking his pipe, listening quietly, his eyes staring off into space.
“What if they never come?” Shorty asked him, wondering if he had considered the possibility.
Too-Tall took his time answering. He looked around the cabin slowly, then walked to a window looking out on the waterfall. He stared out the window for a long time before turning back to face Shorty.
“If they don’t come, they don’t come. It’s that simple, Shorty. I’ve built this place for them in hopes they will come. The choice is theirs to make, Shorty. It is not to me to make it for them. After all, I am the one who left our home in Upton’s Corners. It is I who struck off for greener pastures, so to speak. I sensed that something was lacking in Upton’s Corners, something which I have found, here, in Hidden Valley.
This cabin, and the land around it, I have worked for one purpose, to bring my brother, and his family, here, to be with me, and mine. It will always be his, in my mind. That gate, which I insisted you unlock, has been left locked since I first put it up, except to oil it occasionally. No one else has touched it. I wanted a member of Lester’s family to be the first. You were the first. If Lester never comes, the cabin will not be in vain. It has been, and will continue to be, used on occasion. If Lester and Erma come for Polly’s wedding, they can stay here. If not, then it is planned for Polly and Josh to honeymoon here. Others will be invited to spend time here, but no one will live here, other than Lester and Erma, or their family.
I have freely chosen to create this home, with my own hands, and the help of Annie, the children, and some of the others who choose to live in this valley. I will look after it, protect it, in hopes that one day my dream, my hope, will come true. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”
Shorty was silent. His mind was racing in every direction at once, with thoughts of his parents, and Edna Mae, and of Upton’s Corners and all the folks who lived there. He thought of his friends, Caleb, Mad Mountain Jack and Molly, and how much they meant to him. He didn’t even notice it when he went out the door and walked to the edge of the pool, watching the waterfall for who knows how long. He was aware that Too-Tall was nearby, but couldn’t gather his thoughts enough to place them into words.
“Would you like to spend the night here, Shorty? By yourself? There is food in the pantry, and linens are in the bedroom.” Too-Tall said quietly. “The barn is behind the cabin.”
Shorty nodded yes, without really thinking about it. He didn’t notice when Too-Tall left.
Chapter Four
Several hours passed, while Shorty sat at the edge of the pool, watching the waterfall, and thinking. He thought of his parents, and the Valley, and this place that was waiting for them. He thought of self-sufficiency, and Upton’s Corners, but most of all, he thought of living a free life. And he thought of Maggie, the woman he had left behind. The woman he loved. She would not move to Upton’s Corners, he knew, and they had fought. His pride, and his love of Upton’s Corners, had destroyed their special relationship, their love for each other. Or had it? Would she come to Hidden Valley? Would her Mother come? As sick as Mrs. Jefferson was, could she make the trip here?
Caleb would be open to the idea of coming to Hidden Valley, he knew. He was less sure of Mad Mountain Jack and Molly. Edna Mae and Charlie had just married three years previous. She would not come without Charlie, of course. So, why would Charlie leave Upton’s Corners, knowing he had the Sawmill to support him? He’d have to think about that one, and maybe talk to Too-Tall.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of his horse neighing and pawing the ground.
“Well, what’s all the commotion about, fella? Are you wondering what’s the matter with ole Shorty? You must be getting hungry. Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”
He lead the horse to the barn, unsaddled him and gave him a good brushing. There was a grain bin, well stocked, and hay in the hayloft. After he had taken care of the horse, Shorty decided he would now take care of himself. He found some pickled eggs, canned three bean salad, a couple of whole potatoes. An onion and some crackers, along with a wedge of cheddar cheese. That should do me, he thought to himself. He started a fire in the cook stove and cut up the potatoes for frying with some onion.
As he busied himself in the kitchen, his mind was still racing with thoughts of Hidden Valley. After supper I’ll look around some more outside, he decided, and see what the area around the pool is like. When the potatoes were ready he put them on a plate from the cupboard, along with several eggs and some of the three bean salad, the cheese and some crackers. In his rummaging through the cupboards he had found a bottle of blackberry wine. He poured himself a glass and took his meal out onto the front porch. As he ate, the sound of the waterfall was his company. Mom and Dad would like this, he thought to himself.
Shorty began his explorations behind the cabin. Just beyond the barn, he saw, was a small field where the horses could get some fresh pasture, or some exercise. On the far side of the field was a stand of good pine and spruce waiting to be harvested. He was tempted to climb up to the top of the waterfall to see what was up there, but decided it could wait till morning.
The far side of the pool proved to be quite interesting. As he went a short distance into the woods bordering the small grass area around the pool, Shorty came across a small hand-painted sign, somewhat weathered, that read, “Shorty’s Cabin?”. He looked at it a moment, and a wry smile crossed his face. Too-Tall certainly was consistent about wanting his family with him in the Valley. Peering through the trees, he could make out the waterfall. If he took down a few trees, his view would be unobstructed, he realized. Not a bad spot for his cabin, he decided. His curiosity was piqued and he searched the forest and eventually found another sign, much like the first. “Edna Mae’s Cabin?” it said, with “and Charlie” added with more recent paint. It didn’t pass Shorty’s notice that “Edna Mae’s cabin” was closest to the road leading to the sawmill. Was this a sign that Too-Tall expected Charlie to take over the operation of the sawmill? Or was he reaching unwarranted conclusions. Again, he thought, I need to talk with Too-Tall some more.
The sun was getting low and Shorty went back to the cabin. Grabbing a lantern, and the rest of the bottle of blackberry wine, Shorty settled himself onto the porch to watch the sunset. He had plans to make, he told himself. He stayed on the porch until late, lighting the lantern when darkness came. The sound of the waterfall comforted him, and there was an owl which hooted at him, perhaps complaining of this intrusion by a mere human. With great reluctance, he found his way to the comfort of a bed which awaited him. Sleep came fast and easy for Shorty, that night. His decision was made.
“Good morning, Shorty!” a voice called from behind him. He turned from chopping wood and saw Josh and Polly approaching on horseback.
“Good morning to you, Josh, and Polly.” He smiled and put the maul down, taking the time to mop his brow with his bandana. “What brings you up here so early?”
“Mom and Dad wanted us to check in on you.” Polly replied. “Mom sent this for you.” She handed him a cloth bag. “Some fresh eggs and a slab of ham for your breakfast.”
“Well, thank you. All of you. That’s very nice. Would you care for some coffee? I’ve got a pot brewing. It should be done now.”
“Sounds good to me.” Josh said.
Shorty ushered them inside the cabin and poured them each a cup, refilling his cup in the process.
“So, Shorty, what do you think of this place?” Polly asked him.
“It’s nice, Polly. To be truthful, it’s more than nice, it’s perfect. When I came downstairs this morning I half-expected my Mom and Dad to be sitting at the kitchen table, sipping their coffee and chatting, as they usually do.”
Polly smiled an understanding smile. “Is that a Dawkins thing? Chatting over coffee in the morning? I know Mom and Dad do it. Maybe it’s just something parents do.”
“I suspect so, Polly. It’s their quiet time, before the little ones wake up.”
They sipped their coffee in silence for a few moments.
“Dad has told us stories of Uncle Lester and Aunt Erma. He really hopes they’ll come live with us, here, in the Valley. Do you think they ever will, Shorty?” Polly asked, finally.
“I don’t know, Polly. Your Dad told me how much he wants them to join him. Join all of you. I spent some time last night thinking of Hidden Valley, and the cabin here. I hope they decide to come here, Polly. I’ll let you be the first to know, I’ve decided this will be my home.”
“Really? Oh, Shorty! That’s terrific! Dad will be so pleased. We all like you, you know. You will be most welcome.” Polly gave Shorty a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, she was so excited.
“I’m glad too, Shorty.” Josh agreed, extending his hand in welcome. “You’ll fit in real well here.”
“Thank you. Both of you.” Shorty said, meaning it sincerely. “I’ll need to talk to Uncle Too-Tall and Aunt Annie, of course. I would like to ask a few friends of mine from Upton’s Corners to join me here. If it’s all right with everyone.”
“I think Too-Tall would be more than happy to have you bring a few of your friends, Shorty. It’s a big valley, with lots of room for folks who want to live free.” Josh said.
“I can’t wait to see the look on Daddy’s face when he hears the news.” Polly gushed with excitement.
“Well why don’t you and Josh go tell him, then.” Shorty said with a grin. “As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t a secret. There’s no reason not to tell him.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all, Polly. Like I said, as far as I’m concerned, it’s not a secret.”
“Come on, Josh. Let’s go tell him.” Polly grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out the door. “Bye, Shorty! Enjoy your breakfast.”
“I’ll be down after I have my breakfast.” Shorty called after them as they raced to their horses. He watched them go, then turned to face the waterfall. “If it weren’t for you, I would be spending my life in Upton’s Corners.” He knew that wasn’t entirely true, there was more to why he had decided to live his life in Hidden Valley, but he was definitely drawn to the waterfall, and the pool, and the mountains around him. Too-Tall was right, he knew, now. Hidden Valley, and the folks here, had something Upton’s Corners lacked, self-sufficiency.
Too-Tall saw Shorty coming towards his cabin and walked out to meet him. Approaching Too-Tall, Shorty reigned his horse to a stop, and looked at his Uncle with an intense look. In his hand was the sign Shorty found in the forest by the pool, the one that said, “Shorty’s Cabin?” He threw it on the ground, pointed at it, and said, “How much do you want for the land I found that on?”
Too-Tall looked down at the sign, then up at Shorty. “It’s not mine to sell. I can only sell what I own. That land up there, and throughout the Valley, what hasn’t been claimed already, is land available for homesteaders. Are you saying you want to homestead that land? If so, stake your claim and start building.”
“All right. I’m staking my claim.”
Too-Tall bent over and picked up the sign. He held it out for Shorty to take. “You might want this back. It might come in handy.”
They looked at each other a moment, then both faces broadened into wide grins. Shorty climbed off his horse and the two shook hands, warmly.
“Welcome to Hidden Valley, Shorty.”
“Thanks, Uncle Too-Tall. I never thought I’d want to live anywhere but Upton’s Corners, but this valley is now my home.”
“What do you plan to do on your land? Or haven’t you thought about it?”
“Oh, I’ve definitely thought about it. I think I’ll raise sheep, and graze them by the pool, like the tapestry in Mom and Dad’s cabin shows. I’ll raise some fruits, too, and grow useful herbs. Blueberries, apples, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries. I figure I can freeze some, can some, and make wine out of some, too. Eventually, I will build a greenhouse, I’ve decided, so I can grow tomatoes, and other vegetables year round.”
Too-Tall nodded as Shorty spoke. “I’ve been hoping someone would think of growing fruits. Good idea, Shorty. I’ll give you a hand on your cabin, of course. We all will. We can cut off some of the mature timber on your land, swap it for some of the dry stuff at the mill.”
“Speaking of the Mill,” Shorty began, “have you considered who will run it? Long term, I mean.”
“Originally I had hoped Lester would be interested in owning it. I own it, and the Grist Mill, right now, but I don’t want to continue owning it. I’d rather concentrate on my cattle. That, and a another project I have in mind. But ever since Edna Mae got herself hitched to Charlie Upton, I’ve thought maybe Lester and Charlie might be interested in a joint venture.”
Shorty shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, Uncle, you think four steps ahead of everyone. I thought I had a great idea about Dad and Charlie going in together on the Mill, and you’ve been planning it all along.”
“This Valley, Shorty is about three things. The first is freedom, or living a free life. You know about that from Upton’s Corners. The second thing is self-sufficiency, which you have witnessed, to an extent, since you arrived here. The third is family. I’m not talking about blood relations, when I talk of family, though blood relations are very important in the scheme of things. Family, as I see it, is what most people would call community, but, in my mind it goes a step beyond that description. Clan might be a better word for it. Clans are caring communities of people. They look after each other, protect each other. And each clan expects you to pull your own weight. No slackers allowed. Contribute. Get along. But also, live and let live, at the same time.
You’ve decided to grow fruit. No one forced you to make that decision. Fruit will be welcome in our little clan. You are contributing something of value to the clan. You are pulling your weight by supporting yourself in the process. We’ll be buying some of your fruit. However, no one will force us to buy your fruit. Mutual exchange, on a voluntary basis, within a self-supporting community.
Once you get to know the other folks who live here, or are planning to live here, better, you’ll find each of them has value. They willingly contribute. Beyond that, they will not force anything on you. Nor will they be forced. They make no demands, nor submit to demands. And they recognize the need to get along, not in a submissive way, but in a positive way. The “clan” benefits, and they benefit, from the simple action of getting along. It’s surprising how easy it is to get along with other folks when force is not used.
Outside this Valley, Shorty, force is used regularly. Laws are passed, and regulations, for the purpose of forcing folks to get along. They’ll never understand that force won’t work. Each law they pass will take more freedom away, requiring still more laws to deal with those folks who object to the loss of freedoms they once had. It’s an endless cycle, ending in complete subservience, or revolution. History is rife with examples, yet still they repeat themselves.
Hidden Valley is an oasis from all that ridiculousness. We will look after our own, protect our own. Any attempt from the outside world to force us to experience their madness will be resisted.”
“I understand, Uncle. That is why I choose to live here.”
“I’m sorry if I got a bit wound up. I should know you understand.” Too-Tall said, in apology. “Let’s go in and let the others welcome you to the Valley.”
Before they reached the house, however, the sound of a bugle interrupted them.
“Must be Fred and Hattie Cobb.” Too-Tall surmised. “Or Annie’s brother, Kent. Whoever it is, they’ve brought a visitor.”
“How do you know they’ve brought a visitor?” Shorty wondered.
“If they were coming alone, they would just blow three long notes, spaced out, so we knew they were coming in. If they play anything else, such as Ned’s reveille, we know they have visitors with them and go out to meet them.”
Ned had stepped out the door at the sound of the bugle.
“I’ll go out to meet them, Too-Tall. Unless you want to go.”
“I can go, Ned. Do you want to go with me, Shorty?”
“Sure. Might as well do my part.” Shorty said agreeably.
“You can come if you want to, Ned. The more the merrier.” Too-Tall kidded.
“Heck, I might as well.” Ned decided. “Who knows, it might turn out to be interesting.”
Truer words were never spoken. Ned and Too-Tall saddled up, and the three of them headed off to greet the arrivals, rifles visible. As they neared the point of rendezvous, Shorty noticed Too-Tall change his countenance from one of friendliness, to one of suspicion. A look at Ned told him he was doing the same. Shorty did his best to match them. Ahead, they finally saw the group milling about. From the midst of the group, a tiny woman, who couldn’t have been more than four and a half feet tall, stepped out. For all the world, she reminded Shorty of a miniaturized edition of Annie Oakley, with her cowgirl skirt and blouse, a cowboy hat, a tiny little rawhide vest, and a pair of six-shooters holstered on her hips.
“Aye mun, and ‘ave you bin keepin’ us waitin’ ‘ere so ye can luke us oover? And are ye satisfied with us?” She demanded in an impatient, Scottish accented voice.
Too-Tall looked at Ned, who looked at Shorty, who looked back at Too-Tall. They all suppressed a grin, as best they could.
“Allow me to introduce Clarissa MacPherson.” Hattie hurried to interject.
“From Glasgow. And if ye don’t know where it is, I suggest ye stoodie yer geography.” Clarissa interrupted, before the introductions could be completed.
“Ah! Clarissa MacPherson, from Glasgow, you say. And what does Clarissa MacPherson, from Glasgow, want with the folks of our Valley?”
“If ye must know, I am luking for a mun goes by the name of Shorty Dawkins. I ‘ave heard he is the best shot with a gun in this part of the country, and I ‘ave a great desire to proove I am better than ‘im. Are you this Shorty Dawkins?”
“No ma’am, I’m not Shorty Dawkins. Who told you he is the best shot in this part of the country?” Too-Tall asked, making a sign to Shorty to be still.
“An old mun from a place they call Hardyville. He has an eating place there, tho’ the food is horrible. The mun doesn’t move any faster than a turtle.”
“That would be Bud.” Shorty told them.
“Aye, that was the name he gave.”
“How did you happen to be in Hardyville?” Shorty asked her.
“Ach mun, ‘Tis a strange tale to tell. On good King Jamie’s name, I say this is true. I was drivin’ down the rood, mindin’ me own business, when a wee voice in me head says, “Turn down this road.”. Well, as me dear departed Mum always said to me, “Listen to the wee voice in yer head, my lass, and mind yer manners.” So, without a care in me heart, I turns down the rood and it takes me to a little village of strange, but delightful folk. ‘Twas there I heard of this Shorty Dawkins, who shoots holes in trees, so I‘m told.”
“Did someone from Hardyville send you to Cobb’s Crossing?” Too-Tall asked.
“Indeed she did. It was a woman named Rosie, Rosie McCarty, who sent me to Cobb’s Crossing. Hattie and Fred, good folk that they are, were the ones that brooght me up in the woods. Now, I’ve told me tale, and I’d like to know where I would be finding this mun Shorty Dawkins.”
“Excuse me, Clarissa, but I’d like to have a word with Too-Tall, in private, if you don‘t mind. We won‘t be but a moment.” Fred said. Too-Tall got down from his horse and he and Fred walked a ways, that Clarissa wouldn’t hear them. “You know, Too-Tall, from the time we set eyes on her, the Mrs. and I haven’t gotten it out of our heads that she and Mr. Murphy belong together. What a pair they would make. Can’t you just see it?”
“I think we all are thinking the same thing, Fred.” Too-Tall agreed. “You haven’t heard yet, but we’re planning a Shooting Match for Sunday. Everyone who wants to shoot is welcome. All ages. This could work out real well. Clarissa can test her skill against all of us, not just Shorty. Meanwhile, there is time for her and Mr. Murphy to get to know each other, a bit.”
Fred smiled a devilish smile and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a good time. “This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to see the look on Mr. Murphy’s face.”
“Same here, Fred. She’s a feisty one, isn’t she?”
“That she is, my friend. Just what Mr. Murphy needs.” Fred said with glee. They went back to the others.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Miss MacPherson. We’re having a little Shooting Match here, in the Valley, on Sunday. You are welcome to try your hand at beating us at our own game. Shorty Dawkins will be joining the competition, so you’ll be facing him as well. You are welcome to stay at my place till then. Does that sound good to you?”
“If Shorty Dawkins is shooting in yoor competition, then it satisfies me. And I thank ye for yoor kind hospitality.”
“That’s settled, then. My name is Too-Tall Dawkins. I’m Shorty’s Uncle. This fellow over here is Ned Conklin, my wife’s cousin. The other fellow with the silly grin on his face is Shorty Dawkins.”
“Pleased to meet you Clarissa.” Shorty said, grinning broadly.
Too-Tall was already in the saddle. “Let’s get back to the cabin.” He couldn’t help but laugh as they rode off.
Chapter Five
Clarissa proved to be a strong-willed, out-spoken woman with a heart of gold. She feared nothing, and found joy in lots of things. When she was invited into the Dawkins’ home, she quickly spied the harp sitting near the fireplace.
“Ach! A harp! ‘Tis good to see ye have good taste. Me Grandmum had one, such as this, she did. Taught me to play it, too, though I could never be as good as her. Would ye mind if I played it?”
“Be my guest.” Annie insisted.
And play, she did. She was just a little rusty, at first, but quickly warmed up. She played some songs from her native Scotland which were unknown to any of them, and some were familiar. They were all beautiful.
Too-Tall had sent Josh to fetch Mr. Murphy, warning him to keep the secret of Clarissa. “Just tell him there is someone visiting us I think he should meet.”
“I understand.” Josh said with a sly grin on his face.
After Clarissa had finished playing, they sat around talking, with some of Too-Tall’s Special Brew for everyone. Clarissa was telling them of her boat trip from Scotland to Boston when a banjo was heard playing, faint at first, but slowly getting louder. Those who knew of Mr. Murphy’s approach looked at each other surreptitiously, trying to hide their smiles from Clarissa.
“Now I know I’m not daft, and I know ye can hear as well as I can hear, so why are ye pretending ye don’t hear a banjo playing, and why are ye hiding yoor smiles?” Clarissa demanded.
“Oh, we can hear the banjo playing, Clarissa, and we know who the fellow is who plays it. We smile because we think you are going to find him interesting.” Annie deftly managed to say.
“Interesting, ye say? I sit here with a giant of a man ye call Too-Tall, and another one who ye call Shorty, in a cabin in a valley ye call Hidden Valley, and I just played a delightful harp. This fellow with the banjo must be very different for you to call him interesting.” Clarissa said, shaking her head.
“Oh, yes. He is very interesting indeed.” Annie insisted. “Let’s go greet him.”
Clarissa allowed herself to be pulled outside where she looked upon a little man, riding a donkey, and playing a banjo. Mr. Murphy noticed Clarissa and stopped his playing.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to y’all.” Mr. Murphy said, tipping his hat. “And who is this delightful looking lady with the six shooters on her hip? Will ye give me an introduction, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins? Or perhaps yer charmin’ wife will do me the honor of introducing me to the lovely lady.”
“Clarissa MacPherson, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy, meet Clarissa MacPherson. From Glasgow.” Annie said, with great formality.
“A Scottish lass ye be! ‘Tis a pleasure to meet ye ma’am.” Mr. Murphy said, bowing low.
“Aye, and you be Irish, and what of it? But, I suppose I’m pleased to meet ye, too, since ye be a man of my height in this sea of giants. And what be yer Christian name, sir?”
“My Christian name, ye ask?” Mr. Murphy scratched his head a moment, trying to remember his Christian name. “To be tellin’ the truth, ma’am, I’ve forgotten my Christian name.”
“Aye, ye must be Irish, then. I’ll have to choose a name for ye, since I won’t be botherin’ to call you Mr. Murphy all the time.” She looked him up and down, carefully as she decided upon his name. “And what have you got on your feet. Is that a pair of argyle socks, mun?”
“Aye, lass, for I’m partial to them, I am.”
“Then I’ll call ye Argyle, sir, and not another word from ye about it. ‘Tis a good Scottish name. I hope ye can do it proud, though I have me doubts.” She looked him over once more. “Now, Argyle, tell me what makes ye so interestin’ that folks call you that.”
“Call me what, ma’am?” Mr. Murphy asked, perplexed.
“Interestin’! Can’t ye hear me, mun? Are ye deaf, too? Annie told me you were interestin’. What makes ye interestin’?”
Shorty could see Mr. Murphy was getting totally confused and needed help. “He talks to the animals. I’d call that interesting, wouldn’t you, Clarissa?”
“Ye talk to the animals, Argyle?” Clarissa wasn’t sure she believed it. “And what do they say?”
“Whatever they want to say.” Mr. Murphy was finally beginning to understand what was going on.
“He convinced Goliath, our boar, to come back home.” Too-Tall offered.
“That he did.” Ned agreed. “It was quite a sight watching Goliath following Mr. Murphy on his donkey as he played his banjo.”
“Ye talked a boar into coming back home, did ye, mun? I can’t deny, Argyle, it is interesting indeed.”
“It is blessed warm out here in the sun.” Mr. Murphy said. “Perhaps we should go inside and have a little refreshment, if it suits you, Mr. Too-Tall Dawkins.”
“Ah! You do look a might bit pale, Mr. Murphy. No doubt your throat is a bit parched. I know mine is. How about you, Shorty?” Too-Tall asked with a wink.
“I’m thinking some more of your Special Brew would be the thing to cure what ails us.” Shorty agreed.
They went inside for some liquid refreshment, and a chance for Mr. Murphy and Clarissa to become acquainted. It wasn’t long before Mr. Murphy was playing his banjo and Clarissa was dancing. Shorty decided the pair reminded him of Mad Mountain Jack and Molly, only smaller.
When Too-Tall, Shorty, and Ned stepped outside for some fresh air, Shorty mentioned that since Clarissa was here, he thought he would go back to the waterfall cabin for the night, and bring Ezra and Brendan with him.
“It’s getting a might bit crowded, and the cabin is sitting there waiting to be used. Besides, I’d like for Ezra and Brendan to see the place before they leave. We’ll be down at the Sawmill bright and early tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.”
When they went back inside Shorty took Brendan and Ezra aside, telling them of his plan. They said they were looking forward to seeing both the waterfall and the cabin. The three of them helped out with some chores until about three o’clock, then packed their stuff and headed out. Annie packed some ham steaks and some more eggs, along with a loaf of fresh bread for them. Shorty noticed how well Mr. Murphy and Clarissa were getting along, and he even called him Argyle as they were leaving. Mr. Murphy didn’t seem to mind at all.
An hour before sunset, Shorty was sitting on the front porch of his “parents’ place”, with Brendan and Ezra, having some more blackberry wine, and chatting.
“I really like this place, Shorty.” Brendan said. He was rocking back and forth, watching the waterfall. “It’s peaceful and it’s beautiful.”
“Yeh, Too-Tall picked a good spot to entice my Mom and Dad with.” Shorty was watching the fish jumping. It’s feeding time, he thought to himself. “This whole valley is great, and so are the people.”
“So, Shorty, what’s your time frame for movin’ here?” Ezra asked. “I was kinda hopin’ you’d decide to settle in Hardyville, but hell, you’re not so far away we can’t visit you now and agin.”
“You’re welcome to visit any time, Ezra. You too, Brendan. Bring your families, too.” Shorty had been thinking of when he would move to Hidden Valley permanently. “I’ve been thinking I’ll stick around here another couple of weeks, then I have a stop to make before I head back to Upton’s Corners. I’ll probably winter there, then move out here come springtime.” Shorty didn’t say anything, but the stop he needed to make was back in Nowhere. He’d made a big mistake, and he knew it now. He hoped it was still possible to make amends for it.
They watched the sunset in peace. Each man had thoughts of his own, and no one broke the silence. Only the sound of the waterfall and the owl Shorty had heard the night before broke the calm and peace of the approaching night. Brendan and Ezra went to bed as darkness approached, but Shorty stayed up a while longer, thinking of Nowhere, and a girl with golden hair. What if she pushed him away? Maybe he had hurt her too much. What would his life be like without her? He grabbed the guitar from inside the cabin, along with some paper and a pencil, and he wrote a song.
I Will Love That Girl Forever
From the day I first met that girl,
Saw her smile, and heard her laughing.
With her golden hair blowing in the air,
And her eyes, so kind and inviting,
I knew I would ever love her.
In my dreams, I still see her face,
And I hold her hand in my hand.
Take her in my arms,
Keep her from all harm.
Hear her voice,
That still makes me quiver.
I will love that girl forever.
How could I ever turn away?
Turn my back and leave her standing.
As I sit alone, in my empty home,
While my life goes by as I'm dreaming.
I will love that girl forever.
Days go by, and the years they pass,
Only memories are left me.
Of a girl I knew,
With her eyes of blue,
Telling me she'd love me forever.
Yes, I'll love that girl forever.
All the dreams we once shared are gone,
Left behind, abandoned, undone.
Yet I hear her voice, and I still rejoice,
For the love we had, though it's over.
I will love that girl forever.
Hope she's well, and she's found someone,
Had those children that we talked of.
Still I sit alone, dream of only one,
I could never love any other,
For I'll love that girl forever.
When he was done, he wiped the tears from his eyes, bid the waterfall good-night, and went to bed.
Soon after dawn, Shorty, Ezra and Brendan walked down to the sawmill. It was a pleasant walk, and they were eager to do some work.
“I heard you singing a song last night, Shorty. I didn’t recognize it. Did you write it?” Brendan asked him, trying to keep from sounding too curious.
“I hope I didn’t keep you up, Brendan. I had something I had to work out, and wrote the song to help me.”
“Did you get it worked out?”
“I think so, Brendan. We’ll see.” Shorty wasn’t surprised to hear noise at the sawmill as they neared it. He was a little surprised to see Clarissa stepping out of the mill, though. She was in jeans, and was minus her six-shooters. “Good morning, Clarissa.” He called to her.
“And a fine good mornin’ to you, Shorty Dawkins. And to you, Brendan McCarty and Ezra Lyons.” She gave them a wave of hello. “If ye can get yourself up in the mornin‘, then Too-Tall and Argyle won’t be needin’ to do all the work by themselves.”
“Well, we’re here to work, Clarissa, and work we will.” Shorty answered her. “Give us our jobs.”
Too-Tall stepped out of the mill with several peaveys in his hands. “Good morning, gents.”
“Good morning.” They replied in unison.
“Argyle is ready to go, now.” He couldn’t help but smile at the name. “He’ll be running the controls. Ned, Josh, Polly and I will be stacking the lumber when it comes out. You fellas will be feeding him with fresh logs. We’ll start with this pile closest to the carriage.”
“You heard the man, Shorty. Let’s get busy. We don’t want to keep Argyle waiting.” Ezra said, grabbing a peavey.
They worked hard in the sun, using the peaveys to roll the logs onto the carriage, then, as Argyle needed them, onto the conveyor. The logs were pine and spruce, and were intended for 2” framing lumber and 1” sheathing lumber. Argyle took a look at the log, as it was placed on the conveyor, and quickly decided it’s best use. The saw blade was sharp, and sliced through the logs with ease. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the day became warmer, but no one complained. Occasionally someone would wipe their brow with a bandana, but otherwise the work continued unabated. It felt good to Shorty to see the lumber stacks getting higher. When the lumber was dry it would be used to make a home, or a barn, for someone, here, in the Valley.
About nine o’clock, Too-Tall called for a break.
“Annie made up some of her special herbal iced tea for us.” He said, grabbing a large earthen jug from the shade of a tree. “You fellows are going to like this, I think. It tastes real good, and it quenches the thirst like nothing I’ve ever had before.”
Josh handed out cups for them all and Too-Tall poured. Shorty took a sip of the tea and was surprised at how tasty it was. Mint was the dominant flavor, Shorty noticed, but he could also taste some cinnamon, and he thought there was a hint of raspberry in there, as well.
“This is good, Too-Tall. Very refreshing.” Brendan said, obviously impressed.
“I don’t know what she puts in it, but I’m sure she’ll give you the recipe, if you ask.” Too-Tall told them.
Work continued at a steady pace. The logs closest to the carriage were used up and the next pile to be cut was mostly white oak. The white oak was cut into beams, though some was cut into 1” boards. The hardwood was more difficult to handle, being heavier, and Shorty, Ezra and Brendan had to help with the stacking of the beams. As they stopped for lunch, George Wool, Joshua Owens and Josh’s older brother, Nathaniel, arrived to lend a hand. Introductions were made and the group set to work, again. George helped Shorty’s crew, and Joshua and Nathaniel lent a hand with the stacking.
Shorty learned that George, who was a stocky, barrel-chested bear of a man, was both funny and intelligent. They talked a bit about guns, of course, since George was the gunsmith in the group, but also about wood, and trees. When George learned that Shorty was planning on growing fruits, George laughed and said, “Well, now I won’t be the only fruit around here.”
George wasn’t just a gunsmith, or a woodworker, though Too-Tall praised both of his talents. He was also a man who spent a good deal of his free time reading. He read history and philosophy, as well as anything related to guns and woodworking. He knew how to make gunpowder, and had developed the necessary equipment to produce brass casings for ammunition.
“What guns do you fellows have?” George asked them. When he learned Shorty had a .45-70 Allin-Springfield Model 1873 Army rifle, he got all enthused. “You can do some serious long range shooting with one of those, Shorty.”
“Tell me about it.” Ezra said with a wry grin. “That thing can shoot a hole in a sapling from 900 yards.”
Brendan, of course, insisted that the story of the shooting match be told, which it was. George got a good laugh from it.
“I’m looking forward to the shooting match on Sunday.” He decided. “Lots of new talent. I hear Clarissa is looking to beat the pants off of Shorty.”
“That she is, George.” Shorty agreed, taking a look at the diminutive gal. “It should prove to be interesting. If she’s as good as she thinks she is, and if Too-Tall is better than my father, as he says he is, then the match should be interesting, indeed.”
“Don’t forget about Ned and Kent.” George warned. “And when it comes to six-shooters, Mr. Murphy can give anyone a run for their money.”
“Argyle?” Ezra said with astonishment. “Well, I’ll be hog tied. Do you mean to tell me he’s a good shot with a six-shooter?’
“Yep. He’s not very good with a rifle, but, damn can he shoot with a revolver.”
“Hmmm…. Things are getting interesting.” Shorty decided, grinning an evil grin. “It kinda makes me wish my Dad and my sister, Edna Mae, were here.”
When the work day was done, Shorty and his friends headed back to the cabin, tired, but satisfied. They had put in a good days work, they knew, and now it was time to make a meal, have some wine, and watch the sunset. Tomorrow they would go with Too-Tall to the far end of the valley, where the cattle were grazing. Too-Tall wanted to check on them.
“There’s a narrow off-shoot of the valley, not really a canyon, but similar, and we fenced the end of it. It has water and good pasture for them. We’ve been having a bit of a problem with wolves, though.” Too-Tall explained. “We lost three calves this year to the wolves. A bunch of us went out hunting them. We killed four of them. Since then we haven’t lost any more stock, but you can’t be too sure.”
It was an early night for them all, as Too-Tall had said he would come for them at dawn.
Shorty had a dream that night, which was so real, he felt he could reach out and touch it. Maggie, (the girl with the golden hair), was by his side, while two children played by the pool; a girl and a boy. The boy was older than the girl, and he was teaching his little sister something. He knew the children were his children. His and Maggie’s children.
At dawn, the horses were saddled and ready, when Too-Tall arrived.
“Have you had your coffee and some breakfast?” Too-Tall asked.
“Yep. We’re ready to go. Just waiting on you.” Shorty replied.
“Good. Let’s be on our way, then.”
Too-Tall led the way, pointing out interesting facts of the valley.
“Over in the trees over there, on that slight rise, is George and Sally Wool’s place.” He said, pointing across the valley. “When you move here, George will be happy to sell you ammunition or guns. He’ll make one to your specifications, too. Or maybe you want a bureau, or a kitchen table. You can make your own, or buy one from George. He and Sally are planning on moving here in a couple of months.”
A little further down the valley, they could hear some pounding.
“That would be Doc Weedon’s place. He and his children came up last night to work on it. They should have it finished by autumn. Polly and young Josh went over to help them. Joshua and Phil should be there, too. We can stop in on the way back. I‘m sure you‘ll want to meet them.”
“Definitely. I want to meet all my neighbors.” Shorty answered.
They rode in silence for several minutes and Shorty enjoyed the opportunity of just looking around. This valley was to be his new home. Get to know it. See what it had to offer, he told himself.
“Ducks.” Shorty said, not realizing he said it aloud.
“Ducks?” Ezra asked. “Where?”
“No, I was just thinking that ducks, and maybe some geese, would be a good thing to have up at the pool.”
“What about the sheep? Won’t the geese bother them?” Brendan asked.
“Not for long, I bet.” Ezra said with a laugh.
“Yep, the geese will soon learn to leave the sheep alone.” Shorty agreed. He could picture the first few times the ganders tried to mess with the ewes.
They fell into silence once more and Shorty returned to his close observation of the valley. He happened to look up and saw a hawk flying above them, which made him wonder about game birds.
“Are there many pheasant or wild turkeys around here, Uncle?
“Lots of pheasant, Shorty. Some wild turkey, and we have a lot of migratory geese and ducks come through here.”
Just then, Shorty looked to his right, towards a ridge that was perhaps a quarter mile away, and there, standing as proud as can be, was a magnificent ten point buck.
“Looks like you have deer, as well.” Shorty said, pointing towards the buck.
“Yes, and an occasional elk, too. If we can keep the wolves under control, perhaps we’ll see even more of them. If we don‘t take more than the land can sustain, we should be all right.”
Shorty had heard his Dad say the same thing in regards to trees. He knew it was a basic tenet of the good farmer, hunter, or woodsman to take only as much as the land could provide on a sustainable yield.
“Over there is Argyle’s place.” Too-Tall said, pointing across the valley. “Just above where the stream takes a sharp bend to the right.”
“Is that a gazebo down by the stream?” Brendan asked.
“Yes, it is, Brendan. He likes to sit down by the stream, watching the water flowing, and playing his banjo. Sometimes he plays the harmonica.”
“I see something moving over there. Is that goats I see?” Ezra asked, straining to see.
“Indeed, Ezra. He keeps goats. So if you want some goats milk, Shorty, go see Mr. Murphy.” He paused, realizing he had called him Mr. Murphy. “It’s going to take a while to get used to calling him Argyle, I guess, but in a way, it sort of suits him, I think. He seems to like it, don’t you think?”
“But is it the name, or the fact that Clarissa chose the name, that he likes?” Shorty said with a grin.
Too-Tall laughed. “You’ve got a point, there, Shorty. They seem to have hit it off pretty well. Who knows, maybe Hattie’s match-making efforts will bear fruit. Of course the shooting match should tell us a lot. Argyle doesn’t say anything about shooting, but I suspect he’s looking forward to trying his luck against Clarissa. He’s damn good with a revolver.”
“So George was telling us.” Shorty said. “It should prove to be interesting.”
“We’ll see what happens, tomorrow.” Too-Tall said, a sly look crossing his face.
They reached the stream and Too-Tall turned right. Ahead, Shorty saw the opening into the little valley off-shoot where the cattle were grazing. Stretched across the opening of the little valley was a post and rail fence, with a gate which allowed them access. Spread out in the little valley were about fifty head of cattle, grazing peacefully. The closest ones raised their heads in curiosity, wanting to see who it was entering their space, seeing no danger, they went back to business at hand.
“That’s a fine looking herd, Too-Tall.” Ezra said in appreciation. “Healthy looking.”
“Thank you, Ezra. I took some time choosing my initial stock. I could of gotten some cheaper, but I wanted good stock. I started with a bull and three heifers and built the herd from there.”
“I did much the same myself. It takes a while. Yep, it surely does, but it’s worth it. Sort of like a family. Give it love and attention, put in the necessary work, and soon you have a nice healthy, happy bunch of kids, or cattle, as the case may be.”
“Good point, Ezra.” Too-Tall agreed.
“Do you plan on growing the herd bigger?” Shorty asked.
“Some. This end of the valley can handle maybe a hundred head. It depends on the needs of the valley folk. If we grow as big as I want the Valley to grow, then I’ll increase the size.”
“What about dairy cows? Is anyone planning on them?” Shorty asked.
“Ned and his brother, Frank, have plans for a dairy. They’ll be fencing off some of the valley floor in front of their places for the cows to pasture. The lumber we milled yesterday will be used for their barn. This fall, once the crops are in, we’ll all help with the fencing, then in the spring we’ll have a big barn-raising party.”
“I hope to be back in time for that barn-raising.” Shorty said, looking at Too-Tall. “Maybe with some more help.” Too-Tall understood what Shorty meant by “other help”.
“Let‘s hope so, Shorty.” Too-Tall said seriously.
The herd was doing well, and so they headed back. As promised, they stopped to visit Doc Weedon, and his family. Josh and Polly saw them coming and waved in greeting. When they dismounted, a middle aged man with a healthy beard stepped out of the house carrying an armful of scrap lumber.
“Welcome to the homestead.” he said in greeting.
“We were checking on the herd and thought we’d stop in, so the fellows could meet you and your family.” Too-Tall said, offering his hand, which Doc shook warmly. “I’d like you to meet Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty. They live over in Hardyville. This is Doc Weedon.”
“A pleasure to meet you fellas.” Doc said, shaking each of their hands. “I was in Hardyville, several years ago. Nice folk over there.”
“This fellow here is my nephew, Shorty Dawkins, Lester’s boy.” Too-Tall interrupted.
“Well, it is indeed a pleasure, sir. I heard you were up here visiting.” Doc turned back towards the house. “Sally come meet these nice folks. You. Too, Ethan and Julia.” he called.
Sally Weedon came out of the house with a smile as big as tomorrow. “Oh, goodie!” she cried with delight. “I love to see new folks in the Valley. Introduce me, Matthew. Don’t just stand there smiling at me. Ethan and Julia, come meet these new folks.”
“Sally this is Too-Tall’s nephew, Shorty Dawkins, and his two friends are Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty. This is my wife, Sally, gents.” Her husband said in introduction.
Sally looked up at Shorty, then over at Too-Tall. “Oh, yes. I can see the resemblance. Welcome, Shorty. Now let me see if I’ve got this straight, you’re Brendan, and you’re Ezra, right?”
“No dear, you’ve got it backwards.” Doc told her, gently.
“Oh, my! I’m sorry. I’ll get it straight, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sally. We came barging in on you, and maybe flustered you a little. Thank you for your warm welcome.” Ezra told her, tipping his hat.
“Ezra’s right ma’am. No harm done. Glad to make your acquaintance.” Brendan added, tipping his hat to her, also.
Suddenly, Ethan and Julia came running out of the house, or rather, Julia chased Ethan out of the house.
“Ethan! You know I’m ticklish. Stop it!” she cried and laughed.
“All right, Sis. I’ll stop.” Ethan promised. “For now, at least. But you need to quit swatting me in the backside. Is it a deal?”
“Oh, all right. It’s a deal.” Julia held her hand out and Ethan shook it. They both giggled.
“What are we going to do with you two? How can you get any work done when you’re always swatting and tickling each other?” Sally said, shaking her head, but failing to hide her grin. “Come over here, now, and meet some nice men who have come to say hello.” She took each by a hand, placing one on each side of her. “These are our children, Shorty. Ethan is seventeen, and Julia is fifteen. They are good kids, when they’re not squabbling. This is Shorty Dawkins. He’s Too-Tall’s nephew. And these are his friends, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty. Did I get it right this time?”
“Indeed you did ma’am.” Brendan spoke up. The two youngsters stepped forward to shake the hands of the visitors.
“You have two fine looking children, Doc and Sally. You should be proud.” Shorty said sincerely. “There’s nothing wrong with silliness. I’ve been known to be silly myself, on occasion.”
“We are proud of them.” Doc said, obviously pleased. “They may be silly, but they are smart as whips, and hard workers, too.”
“How is the house coming?” Too-Tall asked.
“Very well.” Doc replied. “George Wool is bringing over the doors, today. The chimney is done and we’re about ready to start the trim work. It looks like we’ll be ready to move in by the end of September.”
“Well, we’ll leave you to your work, now. You’re coming to the shooting match, aren’t you?” Too-Tall asked.
“Oh, yes. We wouldn’t want to miss it.”
“We’ll see you there.” Too-Tall replied, mounting his horse. The others did the same. “Tell Polly not to worry about her chores, today. We’ll take care of them for her so she can help you longer.”
“I’ll do that, Too-Tall. Thank you. She’s a big help. Josh, too.” Doc gave them a wave as they turned their horses to depart.
“Stop in any time. You’re always welcome here.” Sally called after them.
Annie’s brother, Kent, and his family had arrived in their absence. Kent, and his son, Bobby, were sitting on the front porch cleaning their rifles. Kent looked up at Too-Tall as he dismounted.
“Everything all right with the herd?” he asked.
“Yep. Nothing amiss. Looks like the wolf problem is gone for now.”
“Good. Thought we’d get ready for the shooting match, tomorrow.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Think you’ll win?”
“That’s my thought.”
“My nephew, Shorty, here, is a good shot, so Brendan and Ezra say.”
“Is he as good as you?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t faced him yet.”
“Uncle says he’s better than my father. It will be interesting to see how much better.” Shorty piped in.
Kent looked at Shorty for a minute. “If you’re anyway near as good as Too-Tall, I’ll be pleased to compete with you, Shorty. My names Kent. I’m Annie’s older brother. This is my son, Bobby.”
“I’m called Shorty. My father is Too-Tall’s older brother, Lester. These are my friends, Ezra Lyons and Brendan McCarty, from Hardyville.”
“We’ve got stuff all over our hands, so we won’t be shakin’ yours, but welcome to the Valley, Shorty. You, too, Ezra and Brendan. Annie tells me you’re plannin’ on movin’ here. Good. I know Too-Tall‘s been wantin‘ some of his family to move here. If your half the man Too-Tall is, then you‘ll fit in real well.”
Shorty looked him in the eye. “I’m a Dawkins, born of the same lineage as Too-Tall. My Dad always thought well of his brother, and misses him. I don’t aim to be like any other man than myself. I’m no better, or worse than any man. So I figure I should be judged on my own merits, and faults. If that works for you, I’d be happy to shake your hand, dirty or no.”
Kent looked into Shorty’s eyes. Shorty did not flinch.
“I like your style, Shorty.” He reached his hand out, and Shorty grasped it, firmly.
“You remind me a bit of my Grampa Dawkins, Kent. He always liked to test a man’s mettle before he’d warm to him.”
“Too-Tall said the same thing to me.”
“And I would have whooped you if I hadn’t grown up with someone like you.” Too-Tall said, giving Kent a wink.
“Yep. You could do that, but you would have known you were in a fight.” Kent replied. “You know something Too-Tall? What with Shorty, here, planning on moving to the Valley, and Clarissa and Argyle getting along as well as they are, this place is getting really interesting.”
“I can’t argue with you, Kent. It is getting interesting.” Too-Tall agreed.
“And if I can convince my friends to move here, it could get even more interesting. My friend Caleb Johnson makes brown ale, as good as Uncle’s Special Brew, and his wife, Celia, is a darn good potter. Then there is Mad Mountain Jack, the best fiddler in the county, and his wife, Molly can dance like you’ve never seen before.” Shorty tossed in.
“If you can get Lester and Erma to join you, well, this Valley will be a beehive of good, self-sufficient folk.” Too-Tall added. “There’s no better woodsman anywhere, Kent, then my brother Lester. And Erma bakes bread that is so damn good, I can still taste it.”
“I heard that, Bear.” Annie said, as she opened the door. “Are you saying I don’t bake bread as good as Erma’s?
Too-Tall looked at her with an, “Oh-oh, I’m in trouble” look.
“Oh boy!” Kent exclaimed. “You are in BIG trouble, now. Hey, Shorty, why don’t we all let these two lovebirds fight it out by themselves. We can take care of the horses and chat some more.”
“Sounds good to me, Kent.” Shorty agreed.
“Hey! Where are you going, Kent Conklin?” Annie called after them. “You must have had a hand in this. You love to rile me up. Come back here.”
“I can’t, Annie. I’ve got to help Shorty look after the horses.” Kent gave her a wave and an innocent smile.
“Why is she blaming you, Kent? You didn’t do anything?” Shorty asked him, as they grabbed the horses reins to lead them to the barn
“Oh, I usually deserve it, Shorty. I’m an instigator. With Annie, that is. I love getting her riled, and she loves getting me riled. It’s a brother/sister thing. She’s not really mad at Too-Tall, or at me. It’s a game we play, that’s all. I saw that Too-Tall had dug himself a hole, which he’d stumble his way out of, eventually, and thought I’d give him a hand by distracting Annie. She’ll fume at me a bit, then plot some way to get back at me. And I wanted a chance to talk to you without Too-Tall around.”
“Oh, I get it. Sort of like the way Edna Mae, my sister, and I are always picking on each other. Sibling rivalry carried over into adulthood.” Shorty nodded in understanding. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I’m not one to beat around the bush, so I’ll just jump right in.” He began, as they fed and groomed the horses, together. “Too-Tall saved my sister’s and Ned’s lives. He won’t let me say it in front of him, but I owe him a lot. Not just for Annie, but for Ned, too. He’s been a good friend, my best friend, since we were kids together. It’s also true that I agree with him about creating our own life, here, in Hidden Valley. Freedom’s dying, Shorty, as you well know. I figure this is as good a spot to make a stand when the time comes, as any. What you might not be aware of, is the amount of time and effort Too-Tall has put into this Valley. He’s worked hard, Shorty. Real hard. Most men would have buckled by now, but not him. He’s driven, you see. He wants to live a free life with his family and friends, for as long as he can. He’ll never leave this Valley alive, Shorty, except for his visits to Cobbs Corner. He will make his stand here, and Ned, and Annie and I will make the stand with him. All the folks here will make that stand with him, at least the adults will. Too-Tall desperately wants his brother, Lester to join him. That house, up at the pool, is a testament to his love for his brother, and his brother’s family. He’d never seen you until you showed up here the other day, but from Lester’s letters to him, he knew you. You were a part of his family before he ever set eyes on you. The same goes for your sister, Edna Mae. I’m not talking about mere blood relations. Family, for Too-Tall, is more than blood, Shorty. Family is love, pure and simple. He would lay down his life for those he loves.
The reason I’m saying all this, Shorty, is to give you an idea of just how much he wants you, and his brother, all of you, to join him, join us, here. I hope you can convey some of that yearning, that desire, if you will, to your family in Upton’s Corners.”
Shorty took his time answering Kent. “Everything you have said about Too-Tall, and this Valley, and about his love for his family and friends, I have sensed, since being here, Kent. If I hadn’t sensed it, I might not have decided to move here, myself. Can I convey that to Mom and Dad, and Edna Mae and Charlie? I don’t know, Kent, I honestly don’t know. I’m going to try, of that you can be sure. Personally, I think Dad and Too-Tall have been separated for far too long. And I can think of nothing better than to bring them here, along with several of my good friends from Upton’s Corners.”
“That’s all any of us can ask, Shorty. That you try.” He patted the horse he was grooming. “Wouldn’t you like some more friends, Dusty?” He grabbed an apple from his pocket and gave it to Dusty. “Thanks for hearing me out, Shorty. I think I’m going to like having you around.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re the type of guy I would want with me in a tight spot?” Shorty laughed at something he was thinking. “You’re an instigator.”
“Yep. One of the best. Let’s get back to the house.”
Thank you for taking the time to read the first few chapters of The Legend of Shorty Dawkins This book may be purchased at:
http://www.amazon.com/Legend-Shorty-Dawkins-1/dp/1468036572/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342554961&sr=1-1&keywords=%22The+Legend+of+Shorty+Dawkins%22