MY FRIEND AGGELO

SHORT NOTICE

 Early spring, 1874 – Along the NuecesRiver in Texas

Jack Short scanned the area and thought, “Look at that dirt farmer. He’s probably thinking some days are too good to be true. Little does he know how close death is.”

***

The farmer looked around cautiously knowing that trouble often came out of nowhere to muddle up life. He hoped that it would not come today, for it was a day to remember and enjoy. The sound of the plow effortlessly slicing the earth was music to the ear, and the smell of the freshly turned dirt was intoxicating. Only a farmer could love such an aroma.

A meadowlark, warbling in the adjacent field, serenaded the farmer. He glanced toward the sound to watch the meadowlark maintain his balance while perched on a long stem of grass that was gently swaying in the slight breeze. His own balancing act seemed just as precarious. He had high hope of seeing his dream come true this year. He just needed a good harvest.

Three steps later, he instinctively pulled up on the reins. A foreboding cloud suddenly enveloped him. A scream shattered the serene stillness of the morning. He turned toward his home only to see his wife Beth run around the corner of their house. With hands clutching her skirt she shouted, “It’s the Short gang!”

He dropped the reins and made a desperate head long dash toward the rifle leaning against the tree at the edge of the field. His mind leaped at the thought of how far out of reach it was. His boots felt extremely heavy, as if dipped in lead. They would not move fast enough. He had purposely stowed the rifle out of the reach of his children, yet near enough to get to in case of an emergency. Now he knew it was too far. He should have kept it with him. Next time he would, if there was a next time.

His eyes darted toward his wife Beth, only to see her slump with a hand over her heart. Then he heard the crack of a rifle shot that shocked his ears. He did not have to ask. It was already too late for Beth. Straining against hope, he pressed on trying to cover the distance between him and his rifle. There was hope for his children, if he got to it in time. His legs faltered, but he did not know why. Grunting he bent over and continued his race against time. Again, his legs faltered, and this time they gave out causing him to fall face down in the furrow. Lying with his nose in the dirt, his mind screamed, “GET UP,” but his legs would not move. He willed his body to move. Nothing happened. Lie

Reality began to sink in as he saw blood ooze a bubbly pink substance from just under his left arm. Another spot oozed a darker red closer to the center of his chest, but lower down. The world began to move very slowly as he used his last bit of strength to turn over.

***

Jack Short trotted his horse up to where the farmer lay on his back. He shook his head almost ashamed that the first shot did not drop the man.

Another rider come up abruptly and said, “Jack that was a great shot. It must have been nearly three-hundred yards and from horseback at that.”

“It took two shots to drop one man. I wouldn’t be bragging much.” Jack pulled up on the reins of his horse to stand over the farmer who was now dimly looking up.

Squinting up from the ground, the farmer pleaded, “Don’t hurt my kids.”

“Dirt farmer, you are not in the position to make any requests, and I am not obliged to listen or answer. I’ll promise you they will garnish a good price over the border at the rock mill. They’re paying top dollar for young stock now.”

He heard the anguish in the voice of the farmer as he whispered, “Oh, Lord!”

“There’s no need to call upon Him now. It is far too late for that. You think He cares now or has ever cared? Where’s God when you need Him?”
Jack watched as the farmer tried to rise again but his body had ceased to respond. He knew the last thing the farmer heard was the screaming of his daughter and son. Jack watched as blackness settled over the farmer’s eyes. Both of them knew he was beyond helping his children or his wife. Jack heard the farmer utter one last thing, “Why?”

Looking down at the dead farmer Jack said, “Sometimes life gives you peaches, and sometime it just dumps on you. I guess today was your dumping day.” Even as he uttered the words he knew the farmer did not hear them. Staring down at the dead farmer Jack struggled with the fact that he didn’t seem too comforted in his deeds. An old emotional wound pricked at his subconscious. Why should he feel any pain for this man? No one felt for him when he lost his children.

Jack turned and shouted toward the house, “Lance, torch it, the barn, and anything else that can be burned. You make sure those kids are taken care of, and do not let Beto get close to them. They don’t pay top dollar for spoiled goods.” Lance nodded and jumped his horse in the direction of the house. Jack added, “Get Lizard to round up the stock and tell Chato to search the house.”

Jack turned to oversee the results of the raid and nodded in appreciation of a job well done. Hidalgo, the Mexican bandit, rode up and asked, “Patron, this is the only job?”

“No this is only the beginning for this week. There are four spreads between here and the Frio River. We will hit each of them in the same way, just after the day break, and then move the loot and gatherings down below the Rio Grande.”

“It is good. I will be looking forward to a trip back to my home and to see my Conchita. She is muey bueno and waits for me.”

Lance rode up. “The cattle are bunched up near the corral. Chato didn’t find much in the house except some china.”

“Throw the china away. We don’t have time for such.”

“How about the cooking utensils?”

“Leave them and burn the place. That will strike fear in the hearts of those who come by this way. It will leave a notice that we can come and go at will. ”

“Are we headed south now?” Lance asked as he looked back over his shoulder to check on the progress.

“No, we have a circuit to complete and a notice to leave. Yeah, a Short Notice.”

Jack turned his horse to move toward the house and then stopped to look over his shoulder to the East. He rubbed the back of his neck wondering why that ache would not go away. He thought that by now he would be over the pain that occurred back home. He wondered if he would ever really get over the pain. The morning activities pricked at his heart and he didn’t know why. He quickly brushed them aside with the thought that this was the how life had treated him, and these dirt farmers are no better. He felt deep within his soul that something or someone from the East was coming. Facing that direction he wondered what approached and what he would have to do.

He suddenly turned to face the southeast, disturbed at what he felt. His intuition told him something even more ominous was approaching from that direction. He shuddered. His gut told him it was coming for him. “What ever is out that direction isn’t good.” He shuddered and blinked, “Some days I wish it was Jason again.”