The Mother Tree
Delmar Fortner
Blackie had always wanted to visit Dodge City. But some way, he seemed to shy away. He was sure he would find the three men who had murdered his father there. It was the late 1880s, and for nine long years he had driven trail herds, worked roundups, and prospected. He was always looking for those three men. He spent one winter in Crazy Horse's camp.
Blackie rode up a steep grade and came out on a flat. He looked down on Dodge City. Not too big, but a beautiful site. To his left was a big tree showing its spring beauty. As he looked, it rattle its leaves at him. He looked again. It shivered again. "That's strange," thought Blackie, "no wind, not a breeze, spooky." He rode over, backed his horses under the limbs for shade. The leaves trembled again. The gray horse's ears came up and he shook his head. Blackie's hair stood up on his neck as he spoke to the horse.
"Come boy, we are not scared of a tree." On the trunk was a large heart that had "Mother" and "Peggy" carved in it. He reached down and touched it. The leaves trembled. "Horse, let's get out of here and get something to eat. You'll have me believing in spooks."
He rode into Dodge City, stabled his horses, fed them a double feed, and walked into town. Blackie wanted a bath and some good food. Seeing two men standing in an alley, he asked them, "Know where I can get a bath?" One had a whip, the other a knife.
The man with the whip said, "The tadpole wants a bath!" The whip coiled just as the tip hit the ground. Blackie drew his gun and shot the man in the knee. Terrible, the other man, was ready to throw his knife when a bullet went through his shoulder.
The marshall came up, taking two long steps where he could see. "Hey boy! What are you doing? Hand me that gun!"
Blackie looked behind him and said, "Marshall, I don't see no boys around here." The marshall turned red and then grinned.
The lady doctor ran out with her black bag. A deputy ran across the street. The marshall took Blackie's gun and said, "Take him in. I want to talk to him." Just then a man who had been standing on the corner stepped up.
"I saw it all, " he told the marshall. "They was getting ready to take him. They are mean and out of whiskey."
Terrible told the marshall, "We were just playin'."
Blackie said, "Let him bring them in. I'll take myself and keep my guns." After he was out of hearing, the doctor said she thought the marshall had a bad one.
Blackie turned and walked to the marshall's office. He pushed open the door, stood looking around. There was an old desk, a chair and four cells. Blackie unbuckled his gun belt and hung it on a peg. His father had taught him to always remove his gun when entering a lawman's office. "It shows respect," he remembered his father saying. "Don't ever sit in a lawman's chair." He sat in a chair by the desk, being careful not to disturb anything.
The deputy came in with the two men and locked them in a cell. The mean one yelled, "Boy! I'll be looking for you!"
Blackie glanced at him, saying, "I reckon you better not find me."
The marshall came in and sat in his chair. He noticed Blackie had removed his gun belt. He pushed his old gray hat back and looked at Blackie out of hard cold eyes. Blackie like this hard, old man; he had to be hard in this town of half lamb and half cougar.
The marshall twirled his mustache. "What makes you think you can come into my town and shoot up folks?"
Blackie laid his arm on the desk and looked into those old hard eyes. "Marshall, it was self-defense." He wondered what the old marshall was thinking. He had seen the knives and whip.
The marshall looked at Blackie. "I think not. They didn't have guns," he said as he fumbled with the posters on his desk.
Blackie said, "They had knives and a whip! I saw a man killed with a whip, and I would rather face guns. It is a good thing they didn't have guns. I would have killed them both."
The marshall grinned, "Maybe not."
The man who had been standing on the corner came in. Blackie could see from his dress that he was a gambler. He wore a black coat, black string tie over a clean shirt, and wool trousers stuffed in nice boots. A face you couldn't read, but kind.
"Marshall, it was a fair shooting. They came after him," said the gambler.
The marshall watched Blackie as he shuffled the posters. Blackie knew he was trying to make him nervous. "My name is Blackie Sims. I am not wanted by the law anywhere. You won't find me on those posters."
The marshall replied, "You can go, but stick around a few days. I want to talk to you again."
Blackie got his gun, hung the belt over his arm, and walked outside. He was hungry and still wanted that bath. Cowboys were walking the street, going to eat, or just waiting around. There must be a herd outside of town. They were waiting for the boss to get money from the bank to pay them off.
The gambler came out and Blackie thanked him "Blackie, you are a lucky man. If that mule skinner had got that whip up, you would have been a goner. Come stay with me while you are here. I have a nice little house not used much. I need someone around to pass the time with."
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