Devil Rising: The Heart of a Gunman. R. B. Conroy

thought back to that day when he and Ed sold their outfit for a good profit to a couple of young runners in the camp. They reminded Jon very much of he and Ed when they first came to the camp two years earlier. Excited and filled with anticipation, Jon hoped the newcomers would do well. Later that evening, they gathered up some wood and built their last fire. It was a windy, cold evening on the Dakota prairie as they sat by the campfire for the last time.

      “You got any kin up Ellsworth way?” Jon leaned close to the fire and rubbed his hands together as a cool northern breeze sent a chill up his spine. Ed had said earlier that he wanted to head up Ellsworth way and Jon was wondering if there was a family connection in the Kansas town.

      “Couple of cousins and an uncle, that’s about it,” Ed replied as he threw a couple of logs on the fire. “We lived there for awhile when I was just a boy. I always liked the area, folks are nice there. Ever since then, I’ve thought that it would be a good place to settle down. How about you Jon, where’s your kin folk?”

      They had been so busy trying to make a go of it in the camp that they never got around to talking about their families. Now that they were parting, it seemed to be something they wanted to know.

      “I got a little sis out in Denver. Last time I heard she was working in a laundry. She’s the only kin I got left, except for a couple of cousins; both of my parents have passed away. Daddy died in a farm accident shortly before I left Indiana. He was up in the hayloft pitching hay in a wagon and lost his balance and fell. His head hit the hitch on the wagon and it killed him.

      “I was always in awe of my father; I couldn’t believe how quickly he died after the fall. Just a matter of a few minutes, his head swelled up and his eyes almost popped out of his face. He looked frightful,” Jon said matter-of-factly.

      “My mama died from pneumonia when I was just sixteen. She got real sick that winter with the flu and then she caught pneumonia and died. She was a fine woman, I really miss her.”

      “What kind of man was your father Jon?”

      “Hmmm...well, he wasn’t a very happy man that’s for sure. I got a good beating about every day. He said the beatings would make me tough, but I hated it and I hated him.” Jon’s voice trailed off. “How about your folks Ed?” he asked, anxious to change the subject.

      “They’re fine. Both of them are still farming back in Missouri. I plan to visit them for awhile after I leave here.” Ed seemed surprised by what he saw next when he looked over at his friend.

      Jon’s big calloused hand was trembling; his trigger finger wiped a tear away from his eye. “I’m going to miss you buddy, I want you to know that! I’m really going to miss you!” Jon’s big heart was breaking as he opened up to his departing friend. “You’ve been like a brother to me Ed, I’ll never forget ya.” Jon’s voice was shaking; he was almost whispering now.

       “Now don’t go getting sentimental on me Jon or we’ll both end up bawling like babies,” Ed replied as he started to tear up. “I wish we could go on forever friend, but things change. And I guess we just have to go our own way now.”

      “I guess we do,” Jon said quietly as he scribbled on the ground with a stick, not wanting the pain of looking his departing friend in the eye. “I guess we just have to go our own way,” Jon murmured as he laid back, pulled his hat down over his eyes and prepared to go to sleep for the last time on the cold Dakota prairie.

      Ed sat for some time and looked at the flickering flames as they danced nervously in the dimming campfire. Then he too lay down on the cold, hard ground for his last night’s sleep in the buffalo camps.

      Jon remembered how somber and melancholy the two young hunters had been that final evening as they sat by the campfire and reflected quietly over their two years together. All of the trials, tribulations and challenges that they had faced together in the camp had indeed made them very close. They had taken on a very difficult situation and had overcome enormous odds to make a go of it. All the struggles and shared experiences helped form the character of both men as they made their way through life. The lessons learned and experiences shared would never be forgotten.

      Jon and Ed were pretty subdued the next morning as they loaded up their pack horses and prepared to leave. They were still trying to absorb the totality of the situation. Neither one knew what to say. Finally Jon broke the ice. “You better name one of them little ones after me, you hear me!”

      “I promise I will, Partner, I promise! Jon Jr., no doubt about it,” Ed said enthusiastically. “And may your hole card always be an ace, my friend!” Ed said as he walked quickly over to bid his friend farewell.

      “Thank you, Partner!” Jon said sincerely as he approached his friend with his hand outstretched. The two shook firmly, quickly embraced, mounted up and rode away in opposite directions. Both were nursing a very heavy heart as they turned without cue a few hundred yards down the trail and tipped their hats in a final farewell. Jon rode on toward Cheyenne and the gambling haunts in that railroad town while Ed headed back toward Missouri for that visit with his folks. A powerful and defining period in these two young men’s life had just come to an end. Little did they know on that cool September day in the Dakota Territory that they would meet again many years later in a little mining town far out in the Sonoran Desert.

      Chapter 4

      The dust flew as Jon playfully kicked an empty tin can under the wooden walkway. He glanced at the “Military Discount” sign that hung next to the red, white, and blue barber’s pole as he hurried up the stairs. It was time for Jon’s bi-weekly haircut and some friendly jawin’ with his good friend Tom Baldwin, popular barber and President of the County Commission.

      Busy sweeping the floor, Tom didn’t notice Jon come in.

      Jon looked around, admiring the little shop. Several colognes, scissors, combs, shaving mugs, and the ever present straight razors were lined up on the shelf just behind the chair. A beautiful oval mirror with beveled glass hung above the shelf. Jon glanced toward the back, looking for Tom’s brown and white Bassett hound. He smiled as he spotted the docile hound lying motionless by the back door. The only sign of life from the chubby beast was an occasional swat of the tail.

      “Well hello Jon, how the heck are you?” Tom grinned as he caught a glimpse of the big lawman. Commissioner Baldwin looked distinguished in his red plaid vest, white cotton shirt, and black shoe string tie. A pair of small, round lenses hung precariously on the end of his rather long nose.

      “I’m just fine, Tom, good to see you again,” Jon replied.

      “Sit down Jon, please.” The natty barber pointed to the chair.

      Jon’s big body fell into the leather chair; his head nestled into the soft head rest. The breeze from the large black cloth felt good as it flew over Jon’s head.

      “You know Jon, I always kind of hate to cut your hair.”