Paradise Sky

They will come, and you must go. They will blame you for my death, but I have left notes and my will with my solicitor, a Mr. G. O. Freemont, to be opened after my death. The letter stating my suicide will be a

I told him you had been accused of a crime but were i

Now, you look just fine, but I told him about your ears so you can be recognized whenever you show. Make sure it isn’t anytime soon. Keep the ears covered on the trail, because you will be identified with them sure as shit. G.O. is a fairly young man, looks healthy, so I’m expecting him to be around when you set your sights back on this part of the world.

Look under my chair and see the bucket there. It has the Colt and the LeMat, which I have placed in a holster that won’t grab at the gun when you pull it. Also in there is ammunition for all the weapons, including some shotgun loads. You will find the Winchester leaning against the tree. The Colt ammunition fits it. I have sighted it some since you last used it. Stay firm in life and know you’re as good as anyone else, but don’t take to anger too much, as it will be your undoing, especially if you got a gun on you. Wear a wide-brimmed hat in the sun, as I have taught you, because your ears, even with black skin, will take a sunburn.

I’m tired now, and I see you out at the corral, so I got to finish this up and shoot myself in the head. Make sure all the livestock is good and fed, and when word gets out I’m dead, my solicitor will come out and manage the sale of all items. Head out west, but go east first. Cross the draw and cut back to the west when you get past Pine Ridge.

Leave me here in the chair. They will do what they do with my corpse, which they can have, it being of little use to me or them at this point.

You are as a son to me, Willie, and I give you my dearest and loving wishes as would a father. Ride like hell.

P.S. Be careful of women. They can cause you trouble.

I folded up the letters with trembling hands and put them back in the envelope. Gathering up the guns, ammunition, and holster, I went down to the corral and loaded up the weapons on my riding horse. I put the loop-cock Winchester in the saddle sheath. I put some of the ammunition on the pack horse. I fastened on the holster with the LeMat in it. I fed all the stock quickly. They would be all right for a couple of days. Of course, there was nothing that said the wrong people wouldn’t take them, but there was nothing I could do about it. I considered letting all the stock go free, but decided that wasn’t a better idea than leaving them, but to this day I feel guilty about it.

The moon laid a bright path over the ground. It was good for me to see by, but it was good for anyone following as well. I set out east, like Mr. Loving had said. It wasn’t long until I was on a path through the pines. It was the same way I had come to the farm some few years back. Soon I was in the swamp water, going toward Pine Ridge. If all things went well and I wasn’t castrated and hanged by morning, I would be striking out hard for the far west.

6

During the night, as I was making my way through the pines and into the swamp water before cutting westward, I was worried as could be. Sometime near morning I realized I was being followed, and I come to the thought that Ruggert and his men was closing in on me. I had all them horses with me, and that slowed me a lot. I thought about letting them go save for the one I was riding, but thinking on how them beasts was gifts from Mr. Loving, and how much care me and him had put into them, I just couldn’t. Instead I determined I might have to stop somewhere and just fight it out before I let them loose.

It turned out what I heard behind me was a wild hog tramping about, and I was glad then I had kept hold of the horses. I stopped during the day in a cluster of trees that didn’t have but one way in, which was a little narrow trail. The trees was packed up tight together in a big mess on a hill, and vines and brambles and stickers had twisted in there among them, making them like a fence.

Tying off the horses, I went into the trees first on foot, seen that the center was clear of growth. It was blackened there where lightning had hit, burned trees flat so quick the fire hadn’t spread. I got the horses and led them inside the clearing.

I took a chance, removed the saddle off my riding horse so as to give it some comfort, and took the pack goods off the other. It was risky. Should someone come up on me and I had to make a retreat or a fight of it, there wouldn’t be time to put everything back the way it was supposed to be, and the only way out, other than trying to push through thick limbs and tight brambles, was the way I had come in. So I was hid pretty good, but I was also trapped if I was trailed there. It didn’t matter none to me right then. I was tuckered out. I hobbled and fed the horses some grain and let them drink water I poured from my canteen into my hat. I had a simple meal myself, a strip of jerky and a chunk of salt bread.

Stretched out there on my blanket on the ground, my head on the saddle for a pillow, I was feeling about as low as a man could feel. Right then I could have walked under a fat snake’s belly wearing a top hat and tall-heel boots. I tried to think of the good times me and Mr. Loving had, about the cooking and reading and all that, but it wasn’t any use. I could at that point only remember him dead under the sitting tree with that little pistol dangling from his finger.

My plan was to sleep through the days and start out again when the nights came, provided the nights was bright enough to travel by. When I come awake it was firm dark. I could see the stars glimmering between the gaps in the treetops. I lay there and took them in for a while, still feeling lonesome and scared. I had me another piece of jerky and the last of the bread, grained the horses, watered them a little, and then set out.

I went along like that for three days. Traveling by night, sleeping by day, keeping to the wild country as much as possible. I guess it was on the fourth day I decided they wasn’t right on my trail and had maybe never found it to begin with. It was then that I started to keep regular hours. Traveling by day, camping by night. Eventually I rode into a town that was pretty much the border between East Texas and the begi

The deal went easy because I had that bill of sale on me. Another town over and I was tired of dragging that pack horse along. I sold it and most of the goods I had that it was carrying. Again, I had signed the new bill of sale with my name, and it was at this point I knew I needed another moniker, as Mr. Loving had suggested in his letter. I decided I would take part of his name or something similar. Tate became Nate, and Nate become Nat, and Loving became Love, and I became Nat Love. That’s the name I am still mostly known by and have kept ever since.

I crossed out of the trees and into the plains, and there wasn’t much in the way of water or shade. I rode where I saw the brush grow, finding a creek or two that way, though the water in them was little more than a trickle. It was enough to water myself and my horse and fill my canteen. This became harder as I went, because the brush got more sparse and so did the water. I took up riding at night again and sleeping during the day, because it had grown very hot. Though the nights was pretty cool, with my coat on they was bearable, and there was no longer trees and tree shadows to make the going rough.