The Two Sams: Men of the West. F. M. Worden
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body, her long black hair, braided in two strands pulled across her full rounded breasts, would invite the natural instinct in any young man. Sam slipped down beside her and kissed her full waiting lips. The two enjoyed each other for some time that afternoon. This was only the first of several afternoons they spent together down by the creek.
The word got around the agency like wild fire and soon Walter asked Sam about the rumor. “Was it true, was Blue Bird and you having girl boy relations by the creek?”
Sam told him that it was true. Walter was devastated and mad as a hornet. “You’ll have to leave the agency. The council and Chiefs are mad that you would take advantage of one of their young girls.”
Jane came in and said, “The Chief wants Sam whipped as no white boy can violate their women. Sam you will have to leave the agency.” She started to cry.
Walter told him he would have to leave. “Don’t you know Blue is a blabber mouth? She has told everyone on the Choctaw about your relations. You’re so dumb.”
That night Walter told Sam he must leave the very next morning. “I can’t promise your safety. I know your Pa and Ma would want you to go and make good at something. He talked of a gun maker in St Louis he had worked for. A Jake Hawkin. “He made the rifle your Pa treasured so much. You like guns, you might like to make them, I’ll have a letter for you to give him when you get there, we’ll give you twenty dollars and your Pa’s pistol, we’ll keep his rifle here, if you or Jack ever want it, it’ll be here.”
Sam packed his few belongings in a feed sack. Jane fixed a food sack and next morning, along with many tears, Jack, Jane and Walter bid young Sam goodbye. Sam started his journey to St Louis and into manhood, he would be sixteen years old his next birthday, in December. He would never see Jack his brother again who was killed at the battle of Shiloh, fighting for the Southern cause, nor would see his Aunt Jane or Uncle Walter again. They would both die at the agency.
He walked and hitched a few rides on freight wagons all the way to Ft Smith. There he got a job with a freight company hauling cotton bales to the Mississippi River for shipment north. His main job was to yoke the oxen team each morning and unyoke and tend to them as they grazed in the evening. There were seven teams he had to take care of.
At the Mississippi River they crossed on a ferry boat. The teamster paid him a five-dollar gold coin for his labor.
In Memphis Sam looked for his Grandpa Moore. He found him working on the docks. His Grandpa was delighted to see him. He knew both his daughter and Sam were gone. Jane had sent word the year before. The girl’s mother had also died and Grandpa Moore had remarried a lady twenty years his junior. Grandpa was sorry the way he had treated Sam’s Pa. “I wish I had that time to do over,” he told him. “Things might have turned out different. I want you to live with me and my wife.”
Sam’s Step Grandma didn’t cotton to him at all and she let him know in no uncertain terms. He wasn’t welcome to stay. She told him in private, “I don’t want any young-ns around. I ain’t gonna do for you.” She asks him not to tell his Grandpa her feelings. His staying might interfere with the relations with her and the old man. Sam told her he would leave.
“I’ll cause you no trouble,” he told her.
Sam told his Grandpa he would like to go on to St Louis. “I want-a learn about gun making like my Pa did.” He said nothing of his Grandpa’s wife’s feelings toward him.
His Grandpa saw it was no use trying to get him to stay. He told him he knew all the captains of river boats and could get him passage in a few days to go upriver, he did. On a livestock boat going north the next day captained by a Captain Black. Sam signed on to work as a stock feeder, A job he could do well.
Sam was on his way to St Louis. He had trouble with thieves on the boat and had to show them his pistol several times to keep them away from his sack of belongings.
When the docks of St Louis came in sight, Sam was ready to quit the river. He bid Captain Black goodbye and walked from the boat down the gang-plank to solid ground and up the street.
He was in awe of such a town, there were more people than he had ever seen before. Memphis was big but nothing like St Louis. There were carriages and buggies going ever where, wagons pulled by oxen teams moved thru the streets. Men on horse back seemed to be going in all directions. Sam was impressed with this gate way to the west. Now all he needed was to find the Hawkin gun shop.
He stopped the first man he met to ask for directions. Before he said anything, the man turned on him. “Get the hell away from me boy, I don’t give money to bums.”
This made Sam mad. “You son-of-a- bitch, I wouldn’t ask you for the time of day.”
The man shrugged his shoulders and walked away. The next person he met was a lady and before he could say a word she said, “Get away boy.”
He said to her, “Nice friendly town you got here.” He gave her a high sign and went on his way looking for the Hawkin gun shop.
Sam the Son
Chapter 5
On His Own
Sam walked to the first street that paralleled the river and turned right, passed a blacksmith shop, a dry goods store, a well lit café, several small shops. He stopped at a sign that read “JAKE HAWKIN GUN MAKER.” He opened the door. A bell on the door announced his arrival.
A man who looked to be in his thirties asked, “What can I do for you boy?”
“You Jake Hawkin?”
“Yes, what can I do for you boy?”
“Sir,” Sam said, “I have this here letter fer you.” He handed him the letter.
As the man read the letter, ever once in awhile he would look over his eyeglasses at Sam as he read. Then he asked, “You Sam Duncan’s boy?”
“Yes sir, I am.”
“How is your Pa?”
“My Pa passed some years ago.” Sam looked down so as not to show his feelings.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jake said as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Your Pa was one fine fella. I thought as much of him as one of my own. So you’s want a job with us? Just like your Pa. Well son if -n you’re as good as him, you’ll be a good one.”
“My Pa told me he worked stocks. I’d like to try that.”
“We can always use another stock man. You’s can start now, if-n you’s a want-n to. Come meet my brother. His name is Sam too. I want you to meet the rest of our workers.”
All the men were corrigible to Sam. Jake showed him a small room in the back of the shop. “Your Pa had this room when he was here. It was a long time ago.” He wiped his nose as he spoke. Sam thought he saw a tear in this mans eyes. “You can stay here now in the same room that your Pa had.” Sam was pleased to be in a place where his Pa had been.
Sam settled in and was shown how to rough out wood stocks. After work, everyone had gone home, he investigated the area behind the shop. A dirt road or more like an alley passed by the rear of the building. Across the way was a stable where Jake and Sam kept their buggies and horses while at the shop.
To the north of the stables was a gun range. Farther back ran a levy that kept the Mississippi in her banks. Most evenings Sam walked or sat on the levy and watched the river boats pass. It was his only entertainment.
A most enjoyable year passed. He was a good student of rifle manufacturing and repair. Sam would soon be eighteen. Jake let Sam test fire the new rifles as they were finished. Sam liked that duty the best and it showed. He became a crack shot.
Jake told everyone Sam was one of the best shots he had ever seen. “His Pa was good but this boy