The Two Sams Read online

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Chapter 1: Sam the Father

  Chapter 2: The Farmer

  Chapter 3: Slave Owner

  Chapter 4: Death Comes Early

  Sam the Son

  Chapter 5: On His Own

  Chapter 6: Fort Laramie

  Chapter 7: The Maiden Fawn

  Chapter 8: Fawn and Sam

  Chapter 9: Life with Fawn

  Chapter 10: Hunter, Lawman

  Chapter 11: Sylvia, Texas Rangers

  The Arizona Saga Begins

  Chapter 12: Tucson, Arizona Territory

  Chapter 13: Shooting of the Greek, Dance

  Chapter 14: Apaches – Horse Race – Mexican Cowboy

  Chapter 15: Tombstone

  Chapter 16: Louise-Rosa-Sam

  About the Author

  Other books by F. W. Worden

  Back Cover

  The Two Sams

  Men of the West

  by

  F. M. Worden

  CCB Publishing

  British Columbia, Canada

  The Two Sams: Men of the West

  Copyright ©2012 by F. M. Worden

  ISBN-13 978-1-927360-48-4

  Third Edition

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Worden, F. M., 1930-

  The two Sams: men of the west / written by F. M. Worden – 3rd ed.

  ISBN 978-1-927360-48-4

  Also available in print format.

  I. Title.

  PS3623.O74 T96 2009 813.6 C2009-900632-4

  Additional cataloguing data available from Library and Archives Canada

  Disclaimer: The book The Two Sams is purely fictional. Any reference to places or persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The author intends no harm or injury to anyone.

  Extreme care has been taken to ensure that all information presented in this book is accurate and up to date at the time of publishing. Neither the author nor the publisher can be held responsible for any errors or omissions. Additionally, neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Publisher:

  CCB Publishing

  British Columbia, Canada

  www.ccbpublishing.com

  An American story of a father and son in the 1800’s, making their way in the American West.

  Chapter 1

  Sam the Father

  Jess Duncan, was born in the colony of Virginia in the year 1758 to an Irish and Scottish family. He was the third son of a religious father and mother, he had five brothers and one sister.

  At seventeen, Jess joined the Army of northern Virginia and went to war with General George Washington. When the Revolutionary War ended in 1783, upon returning home, he married his boyhood sweetheart, a Pennsylvania born, Dutch girl named, Greta Miller.

  Jess took his new bride and moved to the Tennessee Valley to claim the land, one hundred and sixty acres, he received as a bonus for fighting in the war. On the claim, the two built a farm with their own bare hands and a mule. The work was hard. It was not easy for Greta to conceive or bear children. Jess couldn’t understand it, he wanted a big family. Finally a son was born in the year of 1788, he was named David, after David in the bible who became a king. It took four more years before another son was born, he was named Samuel, after the man who had God’s ear in the bible.

  In the years that followed, the farming was hard and they didn’t prosper too well. Jess took to drinking. When he had too much, he was mean and bad tempered, he took the bad times out on David and David in turn took it out on Sam.

  At fourteen young Sam had enough of his brother’s bad treatment. He told his Ma, “I’m gonna go west, I want-a be my own man.” His Ma understood how he felt. She told him, if that’s what he really wanted, he should go. He told his Ma how much he loved her and his Pa too but he had to go on his own. He was a big strapping boy. Almost six feet tall and weighing a hundred and sixty pounds. He told his Ma, “Don’t be a fret-en. I can take care of myself.” She wanted to stop him but she knew in her heart it would be best for him to go find what he was looking for.

  After midnight, on a spring morning, Sam took his leave. With only a burlap sack of food his Ma had fixed, a blanket, a knife and the clothes on his back, he started walking west. By walking and hitching rides, he reached the town of Memphis, a port town on the Mississippi River.

  There he found a job on the docks as a roustabout. He met lots of people that travel the river. He heard of places up north and of men going west to find their fortunes. He soon had an itch to see the places he was hearing about. Somehow the feeling he had, had to be answered. He quit the docks and got a job on a flat boat going north up the Mississippi River.

  At the town of St. Louis, he looked for work and found a job with Hawkin the gun maker. Jake Hawkin was a man who had just started to make flint fired rifles, the first gun makers in St. Louis. The Hawkin gun shop was less then a year old when Sam went to work. Jake Hawkin found that Sam had a good way with wood. He was so good he was put to work making gun stocks, he was given a bed in a room in back of the shop. He was also the night watchman of the shop.

  Sam made friends easily, the trappers and mountain men that purchased guns talked of the wonders of the western mountains and how trapping was a great way to make money. Sam got the itch to go take a look.

  After a year of stock making Sam told Jake he just had to go and see the mountains. Jake Hawkin knew how he felt. He told Sam, “Boy, if I was younger, I’d go with you, I hate to lose you but I understand. As a bonus I’m giving you the best rifle that we have ever made.”

  It was a Hawkin fifty caliber Kentucky long rifle. With it, he was given a patch box, a ball pouch, extra flints and a powder horn. Sam was told a man by the name of Daniels, a packer who traveled west as a freighter with a pack mule train, needed help. He was in Franklin, Missouri a small town by the Missouri River west of St. Louis.

  Sam packed his belongings in a sack and he walked the miles to Franklin. There he found the packer Daniels. He hired on as a pack saddle packer of mules. Daniels was known as the mule man, a rather cantankerous individual who got his disposition from his mules.

  When there were enough customers for supplies to make a trip, the outfit would be on the trail for Taos, in the New Mexico Territory. In less than a month a train was made up and ready to go west.

  Sam was on his way to Taos with his plans to go on to the town of Santa Fe the jumping off place for mountain men.

  On the way to Taos, Sam’s duty was to saddle, pack, feed and take care of 10 mules. He had to unpack and unsaddle every night, gather wood for the camp fires and tend the same. Some times he was asked to cook and help the other drovers. All the time he had to walk and see that his charges stayed in line with the train. Not a very easy job most of the time.

  Sam and the train reached Taos after weeks on the trail. He was so tired and worn out it took several days for him to be feeling himself again. He had packed and unpacked 10 mules every morning and every evening for almost two months.

  As soon as the train arrived at Taos, he went to the mule man and asked for his pay. He was told, “As soon as I’m paid, you’ll gets yours.” The man seemed angry that this boy wanted to be paid. It took several days of asking before Sam was paid. One hundred and ten dollars in gold coins.

  The mule man told him, “We start for Franklin in two days, be ready.” Sam tells him, “I’m
gonna quit. I ain’t gonna go back with you.” “Ha” says the mule man, “You kin’t stays here. These Mex’s ain’t gonna like you’s stay-n here. You best come back with us. I’ll give you’s a mule to ride all the way back to Franklin.”

  Sam told him, “As soon as I get rested, I Gotta go west, I want-a be a trapper and mountain man.” The mule man started laughing and tells him that all he’s gonna get is his hair lifted by some young Indian buck. “He’ll hang your scalp on his belt. The young ones have to kill to become a warrior. You’s is just the ticket for one of them bucks to make himself a big warrior.” Sam said he had to try. “If that’s the way it’s gonna be, so be it.”

  His mind was made up. He camped out in the hills north of Taos and rested until he felt strong enough to go on. Then he started asking people if they knew where he could find some mountain men. Finally a friendly Mexican told him in his broken English, “Go see Kit Carson. He’s a mountain man, he would know.”

  Sam was shown the house where Kit Carson lived. He knocked on the door early on a Sunday morning. A very handsome young lady answered and asked, “Can I help you young man?”

  “I’m looking fer Mr. Kit Carson. I understand he lives here?”

  “Kit isn’t here. He’s back east at this time. Can I help? I’m his wife.”

  “Ma’am.” As he spoke to her, he removed his hat. “I’m looking, fer some mountain men. I’d shore like to join with some going west. Would you know where I can find some?”

  “Young man, do you know the Mexican Government don’t want you people here. Now you be careful who you talk to. You talk to the wrong people, you might end up in jail. I understand there’s some mountain men down Santa Fe way. That’s where you will find them. If you go, go quietly and be careful who you talk to.” Sam thanked her for her information and concern. He started within the hour walking down the trail toward Santa Fe. It was sixty miles to the southwest, A very long walk by any ones standard.

  Sam walked steady for ten hours. He stopped well after midnight and slept four hours then back on the trail. On the second night he stopped on a high hill and in the distance he could see lights. Thinking it was Santa Fe, he took time to sleep again.

  Early the next morning he met some Mexican sheep herders who told him the lights were from the town of Santa Fe. Walking hard, he entered the town just before noon. After securing some food from a friendly Mexican vendor, he asked a friendly Padre if he knew where he could find some mountain men. The Padre informed him a group was camping a few miles southwest of town. Sam headed that way as fast as he could walk. Soon he smelled burning oak wood. In a few minutes he could make out a group of men by a camp fire.

  He called, “Can I come in?” They returned an invitation. Walking in, he saw ten men dressed in buckskin clothing with coon skin caps setting and laying around a fire. Most had a jug of whisky in hand and were trying to kill it.

  A tall older man got up and asked his name and what he wanted. “I’m Sam Duncan and I wanta be a mountain man and trapper. I would like to join men on the way west to trap. Are you people trappers?”

  The tall man told him his name was John Colter. “You might say I’m the head man of this here outfit. We call our selves trappers.” He laughs, “Or any thing else you’s might want to call us.” He slapped his leg and laughed harder. “How come ya think you’s is good enough to be a trapper and be one of us? You’s is just a little shaver.”

  All this time the other men there were laughing and making fun of this young boy. Sam told him he had looked at the hind end of ten mules all the way from Franklin and after watching their back side, “I can do anything.”

  John Colter looked this boy over damn good and said “That’s a mighty fine rifle you’re a tote-n. Can you’s shoot her?”

  “I’m a fair shot” Sam tried not to be a bragger. John told Sam as he walked away “Come with me.”

  They walked about a hundred yards. John pinned a playing card on a tree. “Now let’s go back and see if-n you’s can hit her.”

  Back by the fire, Sam took his rifle, primed the pan and cocked the Hawkins. “Wait boy.” John said. “I believe the boys are gonna make a few wagers.” It took a few minutes. The bets were on. “Go ahead, hit her if-n you’s can.”

  Sam leveled the rifle, set the trigger and let her fly. A dead center hit. John slapped Sam on the back and said, “Good as any man can do in this outfit, you’re on boy.”

  John introduced the men. “That there feller by the fire is named Tom Fitzpatrick. The big black man beside him is Jim Beckworth. Them men you want on your side in a fight. The man with a full beard is Hugh Glass, another man you shore can count on. Jebediah Smith is the feller sucking on the jug, he’ll back your play any time, if-n he’s your friend. We’re waiting for the Sublette brothers and their friends. Soon as they get here, we’re on the way to the Gila river country.”

  The next day the Sublette brothers and seven of their friends arrived. A day later the group packed up and headed for the Gila wilderness country in the Mexico territory. Sam was on his way to be a trapper.

  John gave Sam a job. Hunt camp meat, help gather fire wood and keep eyes pealed for Indians. He told Sam they would help make him some buckskin clothes when they got enough hides to do it. “Then you’s be a real mountain man.” Sam was very successful hunting game. He had deer meat in camp every night. All the men praised him for it.

  He was away from camp hunting when he spotted a large buck moving thru the timber. He followed it intently. He got a clean shot and brought it down. He approached it carefully. Seeing his shot had hit its mark he started dressing the buck.

  He never knew what hit him. When he gained consciousness, darkness was falling on the forest. He tried to move. His hands were tied at the wrists, his feet tied together at the ankles. Hands and arms over his head. He could see he was stretched between two small sapling pines. His head was bursting. The taste of blood in his mouth. His body was sore all over. He could hardly move. The smell of pine wood burning, flooded into his nostrils. His eyes burned. He could, by bending his neck, see Indian figures moving around the fires. The moon cast shafts of light thru the trees.

  “Captured! Is this to be my end? Am I to die by the hand of a savage?” The first time in his life he prayed to God. “If I am to die here, please God, make it fast.”

  The long night seemed to never end. A minute seemed an hour, an hour seemed forever. The moon went down. Total darkness. It rained for what seemed like hours. No way he could sleep, he couldn’t turn or roll, his body just got sorer and sorer.

  Morning light came thru the trees. The Indians woke from their sleep. Fires were being made. Sam could see most of the people were squaws moving around. One old one came to look at him. She gave him a hard kick in the side. She said something he didn’t understand and went away. Several more squaws came to look and all had something to give him, a hard kick in the side.

  When the sun was high, a small girl, barely walking, came and stood over him and smiled. He smiled back and licked his lips. She went away and returned with a gourd filled with water. She let it run slowly into his mouth. It was so good. He tried to tell her with his eyes and smile. She left and returned with an older girl of maybe twelve or early teens. She, from a gourd, with her fingers, put a dried ground wet meat in his mouth. He ate and smiled between mouth fulls. She talked to him, not in Indian but in Mexican. When they finished, they both left.

  Later that day a tall painted Indian came to see him. He checked to see if he was still tied. Several other young men came to look. One pulled his knife across his throat as if cutting and pointed his finger at Sam.

  Night fell again, a long miserable night. The morning light brought a surprise. Two, what looked to Sam as black men, stood over him. The tall painted Indian was with them. One of the blacks cut the bounds holding his hands and feet. Told him to set up. Sam did not speak, just looked at them wide eyed.

  One of the blacks said “Boy we own you, we just paid a pound
of coffee beans for you and a bottle of whisky... Don’t utter a word until we’re free of this camp. These people are Mesculero Apaches, the toughest and meanest of all the Apache tribes.”

  Sam followed their instructions as the best he could. A pony was brought up and Sam was loaded on. He was told, “Hang on, we’re a leaving.”

  Somehow Sam managed to stay on, although weak. In a few miles they stopped to make camp. He was lifted off and set against a tree.

  His wounds were attended to. His wrists were bleeding from the rawhide ties. The back of his head cut deep and bleeding. At least he was alive and thankful to the Lord. He thanked the Lord out loud.

  The men asked his name and told him who they were, Charles and William Bent.

  “We’ve been in these mountains for years now,” they told Sam. “You’re a lucky boy, that tall painted Apache is Victorio the war chief of the Mescalero tribe. He’d soon kill as look at you, why he didn’t, we don’t know.”

  Sam told of the little girls that helped him. “Who are they?” he asked.

  “The older one is Mexican, was captured years ago. She’s Victorious woman, the little one is their daughter.”

  Sam asked about his rifle. Had they seen it? Did they get it? Charles told him that the war chief took the gun for his own. He kept saying, “You must be a good shot and warrior to have such a fine rifle. We think that’s why he didn’t kill you.”

  Sam felt better each passing day. The three traveled southwest. In four days they came to John Colters camp. Such a surprise. “Sam,” he said, “We shore figured you’s a goner. We saw where a kill was made, with all the blood, we could see where them savages’ drug something off with their pony’s. Shore glad you made it back. I’ll tell you Bents, this is one hell of man.”

  Charles told John, “He’s had a bad time. Been plumb to hell and back. He needs some time to get over it.”