A Tail Among Tales by Bill Sheehan

Author:Bill Sheehan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Koehler Books
Published: 2021-03-31T00:00:00+00:00

Kaboom! A shotgun blast ripped through a tree line directly in front of eighteen-year-old Sonny Barlow as he rode along a riverbed. He was on the outskirts of Silver City, New Mexico. Sonny was a young man traveling through the Old West.

“Hey! Hold your fire!” Sonny quickly slid out of the saddle on his old mare and headed for the nearest tree for some cover. “Hold your fire! Don’t shoot! I don’t mean any harm.”

“Who’s out there?” yelled the shooter.

“Name’s Sonny Barlow. Just passin’ through,” he yelled, now responding from behind the security of a big tree.

“Git out here where I can see ya.”

“Okay, okay, just don’t shoot.” Sonny held his hands high in the air and walked out from behind the tree slowly toward the mystery voice. As he stepped into a small clearing, he could see the shooter. “You the one doing the shootin’?”

“Yeah. I thought you was a turkey. Good thing for you I don’t know how to use this thing so good.”

The shooter motioned for Sonny to join him in a makeshift camp. Sonny tied his mare up to a tree branch and headed for the campsite.

The shooter never took his eyes off of Sonny.

“You say your name was Sonny?”

“Yeah, Sonny Barlow.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope. My real name’s John Thomas Barlow the second, but my Pa always called me Sonny. What’s yours?”

“Henry McCarty.”

Sonny asked, “What do people call you?”

“Henry McCarty.”

Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to sit?” asked Henry.

“Sure.” Sonny thought Henry looked very young.

“You from around these parts?” asked Henry.

“No, I’m from back East. Virginia way. I sorta ran away from my father and his medical practice and I just happened to end up here. I’m headed for the mountains in Nevada territory where all the silver is, and thought I might do some silver mining . . . You gonna offer me some coffee?”

“I ain’t got no coffee.”

“Well, I do.” Sonny headed for his saddlebags. Henry reached for his shotgun again. When Sonny heard the hammer cock, he pulled the saddlebags slowly away from the back of his saddle. He rummaged for an old pot and headed back to where his new-found friend, Henry McCarty, sat.

“I can make pretty good coffee. If you could get a fire started, it would help.” Sonny looked around for Henry’s belongings, but he didn’t see anything. He didn’t want to get too nosey because Henry still had the shotgun close by. Henry watched Sonny intently as he made the coffee.

“You’re kinda young to be travelin’ around all alone, ain’t ya?” asked Henry.

“Me? You don’t even look like you shave yet. How old are you?”

Henry proudly responded, “I was fourteen last November.”

Sonny stared at Henry for a moment. “I remember fourteen. I used to drive my father’s buggy. He’s a medical doctor back in Virginia. I’d drive so he could sleep between the house calls he made out in the country. My Ma died when I was born, so he raised me . . . sorta.”

“What do you mean, sorta?” asked Henry.

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