Through The Years Reposting

Several minutes passed before Tyler shook himself like a big dog. "Enough. A man could go crazy thinking about time paradoxes. What's the prayer? 'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference'. Guess that's what I'll have to go by now."

********************

"I used the last of the bacon this morning," Tyler told Midnight on their way into town. It had been ten days since Tyler had witnessed the fight between Dooley and Stover. "Need to restock, so I can eat something beside beans, bacon, and potatoes. There are a few other things I need to pick up too." He laughed and patted the big black horse on the neck.

Tyler realized after just one night at the cabin that several things he was used to in his life weren't known or available in this "now". He found out the first time that he used the "privy" that toilet paper hadn't been invented yet. There was a "Farmer's Almanac" hanging on a nail and torn off pages were used as paper.

He also found that taking a bath wasn't as simple as before. Tyler had a choice of washing in the spring branch or using the hand pump in the kitchen; both methods gave you a very cold bath. If he wanted hot water to wash with or for shaving, it had to be heated on the wood cooking stove. Another item that wasn't available was an electric razor; nor were there any of the safety razors from his time.

"Supplies are one reason to go to town; the other is I'm sort of lonesome. Back home I lived alone but could always run down to the pub or call one of my friends so I never got lonesome."

Mr. Wheeler, the owner of the general store, greeted Tyler as he walked over to the counter. "What'll be Mr. Gibson?"

"I'll need coffee, bacon or a ham if you've got it. I also need bar soap, a razor, and a shaving mug. And six pair of under ware, briefs if you've got them." Tyler had been wearing the pants and shirts he found at the cabin. He'd also found several pair of long johns, but he refused to wear another man's under ware.

Wheeler looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled. "You must mean those new style long johns with the legs cut off. Let me show you what I got." He walked to another counter and returned with the shorts. "See the legs go down to just above the knee and you've got these buttons to hold them on your waist. Never heard them called briefs before.'

"That's what we call them back in Tennessee," Tyler said trying to cover up his mistake. "I take six of them Mr. Wheeler. Oh, and three boxes of .44-40 cartridges."

After putting the items Tyler requested on the counter, Wheeler asked, "Doing a lot of shootin are you?"

Tyler added another Almanac to his order; the one in the privy was down to the last few pages. "I've had to hunt for my food," Tyler answered Wheeler's question. "Been awhile since I did that." He chuckled and added, "I've been missing a lot too. I'm also getting tired of rabbits."

"Sort of expensive hunting varmints with a .44-40," Wheeler offered. "I can make you a good deal on a lever action Winchester .22. Todd Stevens over to Schumannsville sold out last week. Gave me the rifle to pay his account. I could let you have it for what he owed," he said as he handed the .22 to Tyler.

"Makes more sense than using .44-40s to kill rabbits; when I can hit them that is." Tyler hefted and examined the small Winchester. "How much Mr. Wheeler?"

"I can let you have it for $20."

Tyler thought for a few seconds. "Throw in a couple of boxes of shells and I'll take it." He and Wheeler shook hands on the deal.

Wheeler laid the .22 next to Tyler's order. He also added two boxes of .22 cartridges.

"I may be talking myself out of a sale here but you know Ted Smith, the butcher, would take a steer on trade for ham, or bacon or even a butchered beef."

"Thanks for the information Mr. Wheeler. I'll think on it." Tyler paid for his supplies and his new rifle and left the store. He put the supplies in his saddlebags, the rifle in the scabbard under the right stirrup, unhitched Midnight and led him down the street to the Rock Bottom Saloon. "I should say hello to Ernie while I'm in town," he told the horse as he tied him in front of the saloon. "At least that's my excuse to have a beer."

"Howdy," Ernie said as Tyler walked in. A beer was quickly placed on the bar and Ernie held up a bottle from his private stock. Tyler shook his head and picked up the beer.

"Hello Ernie, thanks. Mr. Wheeler told me that Ted Smith would take a steer in trade for dressed meat. That true?"

"Yep. Lot of people round here raise a beef or two and make that trade. They don't have to mess with butchering, or smoking, or curing the meat. They turn to steer on the hoof to Ted and walk away with meat for supper." Ernie smiled and added. "Course some people just round up mavericks and trade them to Ted. Don't have to feed or take care of the cattle that way."

"Mavericks? You mean strays?"

"Yep. Lots of mavericks with no brand on them running in the hills over close to the Guadalupe. But why don't you just drive one of the T2S cattle into Smith's?"

"Mr. Torrey and I never talked about me using his stock. I wouldn't want to take one without his permission."

"That's an honest man," Dooley Thomas said as he entered the saloon. He nodded at Ernie and smiled at Tyler. "Some would figure with Jack gone they could take one steer. He'd never miss it."

Tyler motioned to Ernie for a beer for the Marshal. "My folks raised me to respect others and their possessions. Have a beer Marshal."

"You're an honest man Tyler. They're sometimes hard to find." Dooley smiled and sat his empty mug down. "I'll give you a hand rounding up a few mavericks if you like. Be a good excuse to forget being a Marshal for a day or two."

********************

It had been easier than Tyler thought it would be to round up a dozen mavericks. They were clustered close to the Guadalupe River, in the valleys and bottom land. Dooley and Tyler made the ride to the area in one day, gathered the cattle the next, and drove them back to the T2S the following day.

"Why doesn't everyone round up these cattle?" Tyler asked on the drive back to the ranch.

"Most of the ranches have been around for a lot of years. They increase their herds by breeding and such. Also these mavericks are wild and pretty scrawny; not worth the trouble for the ranchers." Dooley smiled and added, "Makes it a mite easier for people like yourself."

During the trip, Tyler gained a lot of respect for the Marshal. Dooley Thomas was an interesting man. His stories about New Braunfels kept Tyler entertained at night in camp and on the drive back to the ranch. Dooley was originally from St. Louis; his parents had moved to Texas when he was 7 in 1850. He quickly became a "man" of the west from the city boy he'd been. In 1861 he enlisted in the 29th Texas Calvary and fought for 4 years in the War Between the States.

He entered the war as a boy of 18, a trooper, and left as a 22 year old Lieutenant; a veteran of numerous battles. "Damn stupid war," Dooley said as he told his story. He returned to New Braunfels to resume his life on his parent's ranch.

About a month after his return, Dooley was in town for supplies on a Saturday. He'd stopped at the saloon for a beer before heading home when three men entered. They pulled their guns on the bartender and demanded money. One turned toward Dooley but before he could say anything, Dooley tore the pistol out of the man's hand and shot him. He fired and killed a second man and splintered the door frame beside the thirds head as he ran out the door. That man left the saloon, jumped on his horse and rode away at a gallop. There was no law in New Braunfels to report to so Dooley rode home.

Three days later a committee of three town's people came to the Thomas ranch and offered Dooley a job as the town Marshal.

"That was nigh onto 18 years back," Dooley finished his story. "Was a good thing them offering me the job. I found out that I really didn't like playing nurse maid to a bunch of stupid cattle." He handed a cup of coffee across the campfire to Tyler. "What's your story Tyler?"

Well hell, Tyler thought. Got to make up something that's reasonable.

"My folks back in Tennessee have a big farm. I'm the youngest of three boys. After the war, I decided that I didn't want to be a farmer, much less the third in line to own the farm, so I came west." Tyler was careful not to claim to have fought in the Civil War. "Haven't found my place yet, but I will."

"New Braunfels is a good place to live. Come to the church picnic on Sunday," Dooley suggest. "They have one every week after services. You can meet some of the folks that live here. Maybe you'll decide you want to stay."

"I'd like that Dooley. It gets a little lonesome out on the T2S with only Midnight as company." Tyler laughed and added, "He's a good listener but he don't talk much."

Gathering the cattle had been a lot easier than learning how to shave with a straight razor. After cutting himself several times, Tyler decided that unless he was going into New Braunfels he would only shave every second or third day.

The steer that Tyler drove to Ted Smith's on Sunday wasn't as well fed as normal range stock. Tyler's idea was to trade the steer to Smith and set up a sort of credit balance so he could get meat as needed. He'd left the other 11 mavericks grazing on the lush grass of the T2S. "If I'm going to be here I don't want to worry about food. I need to get my bearings and figure out how to live in this time."

Smith opened a gate and Tyler drove the steer into the corral. "Reckon you'd be Gibson. The Marshal told me you'd be comin by."

Tyler had to smile at Smith. The man reminded Tyler of his best friend Charley Jones. Like Charley, Smith was about 5'5 or 6 and probably weighed about 200 pounds. Rotund is how Tyler thought of the butcher. When Smith took off his hat to wipe the sweat off his forehead he had more scalp than he did hair. Just like Charley, Tyler thought.

"Howdy Mr. Smith," Tyler said after he drove to steer into the corral. "I'm surprised that you'd do business on a Sunday."

"Those holy rollers over to the church don't like it none but I ain't breakin no laws. If they let me be I don't bother them. Sides, it's my business when I work."

Tyler chuckled. "Sounds like you don't have much use for the church goers."

"Got nothin against them. Most of the folks are good people, but that reverend and some of them deacons is against a lot of things I like to do. They don't abide with drinkin, gamblin, or fooling around with women. I don't see how a man can get by without those things. So them and me don't see exactly eye to eye."

Smith looked over the steer in the corral. "Bit on the scrawny side, but I can fatter him up. How do you want to do this Mr. Gibson?"

"I'm not sure how this is supposed to work. Can you tell me?"

"Yessir. One way is to butcher the steer for you; I'll even bring it out to you ranch when it's done. Course you might want to wait until I can fatten up that animal; take about a month or so. Normally I do the butcherin for a fee. Charge a $5 kill fee, then charge 10 cents a pound hangin weight for the two sides of beef."

"Hanging weight?" Tyler asked.

"That's the cleaned and dressed steer; usually with the carcass split down the middle. I keep the hide, horns, hoofs and insides." Turning to look at Tyler's steer Smith said, "Your animal's small, I reckon it will dress out about 400 pounds."

Tyler did a quick calculation in his head. "That's $40. "There's only so much money in my poke and I'd have to buy meat from you or the mercantile until the animal was fit to butcher. Even then I don't know how I'd keep a whole steer from going bad. You said one way, is there something else we can work out?"

"Yessir. I'll take the steer and drive it and others to the Army over to San Antonio. Or I might just butcher it and sell it to people around here or to Mr. Wheeler over to the mercantile or to Rosita." Ted looked down for several seconds and added, "I'll give you a side of beef for the animal; I'll even cut it into roasts and steaks for you."

"Could I get what I need from you every week or so until I've used up the side of beef?"

"Yessir we can do that."

"Then if it's OK I'll pick up a couple of steaks and a roast on my way home from the church picnic. See you later."

Tyler mounted Midnight and rode to the church yard where the women were setting up the picnic. He was wearing the Sunday go to meeting coat from the wardrobe, one of the shirts with a button on collar and a string tie. "Going to church, got to be dressed up like Mom always said." Tyler said on the ride into town. Dooley Thomas waved him over to where he and a group of men were standing.

"Maybe I should go help the ladies set things up," Tyler offered.

"Do so at your own risk, young man," one of the older men said. "In my experience it's best to stay out of the women's way." All the men laughed.

The old man took a small flask out of his jacket and passed it around. Tyler took the flask when it come to him and looked at the man.

"Just a little home brew for your constitution. Go ahead young man, it'll do you good." Tyler took a modest sip and felt like his throat was going to burn out.

"Smooth ain't it," Dooley said. He and the other men laughed at Tyler's reaction to the liquor. "Come on Tyler, we better put some food on top that home brew.

Dooley led Tyler around filling their plates from the many different dishes available. As they walked around the tables, Dooley would introduce Tyler to the ladies standing beside their food; if their men folk were there they were also introduced. By the time Tyler had a heaping plate of food, his mind was in a whirl with all the names and faces.

After eating, Tyler pushed his plate down the table away from him and turned back toward Dooley who was stuffing a large piece of pie into his mouth. Looking over Dooley's shoulder, Tyler saw a young woman came out of the church carrying a large pot of something that was steaming. Tyler did a double take and almost dropped his cup of coffee.

The girl had long auburn hair worn down her back. She was slender but by the size of the pot she was carrying it was obvious she was strong. Tyler was twenty or more feet away from her and he still could see her corn flower blue eyes and the string of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"Who's that?" He asked Dooley and pointed at the girl.

"That's Abigail Stevenson. She's our school teacher."

"She sure looks hot," Tyler remarked almost to himself.

"Reckon she is, she's been cooking that pot of soup in the kitchen," Dooley said with a little frown.

Damn, I did it again, Tyler thought. These people don't use that term, at least not about a pretty girl. "I saw the soup was hot from the steam coming off it."

"Abby, come over here if you've got the time," Dooley called across the tables.

"Hello Marshal," Abby said as she joined them. "It's nice to see you."

"Thanks. I'd like to introduce you to my friend here. Abby this is Tyler Gibson, Tyler this is Abigail Stevenson. Tyler is stayin out at the Torrey place while Jack is over to Dallas."

"Welcome Mr. Gibson. You and the Marshal come over and sit with us." Abby led them over to where her parents and two brothers sat at one of the tables. She introduced Tyler to her family. As they ate Tyler answered and asked a few questions and by the end of the meal, he no longer felt like a stranger.

Tyler said good bye and thanked the Stevenson's for sharing their company. "Y'all made a stranger feel at home."

"You should come back next week Tyler," Abby suggested.

"Thank you Miss Abby, I'll do that," Tyler replied.

In the background Dooley tried to hide his grin. You couldn't keep that boy away with a shotgun, he thought.

Before returning to the ranch, Tyler stopped at Ted Smith's and got a large roast and a couple of prime cuts of beef. On the ride back to the T2S, he thought about another convenience that he missed. "No cell phone, hell no phones at all. If I want to talk to Abby or Dooley or anybody else, I'll have to ride into town. Course seeing her would be even better than just talking to her."

That evening he sat in his rocker with a last cup of coffee. "If there is a time paradox, will my being here and changes I might make affect the future? Maybe I'm on a different time line like some scientists talk about or in a parallel universe." Tyler shook his head, rotated his shoulders to loosen the tension and stood. "Hell, I can't do anything about any of it. I'll leave before Grandpa Torrey and Stella get here but the rest of it I won't worry about it anymore." He poured out the cold coffee and went to bed.

********************

Abby came out of the church on Sunday at midday and saw Tyler. She came to meet him as he rode up. "I'm so glad you're here Tyler."

"The thought of eating your Mama's fried chicken instead of my own cooking made it an easy choice Abby."

"Is that the only reason you came?" Abby asked with a sly smile.

Tyler took a deep breath. This young woman attracted him like none back in his own time. Better be careful, he thought. If I get too close I may not want to leave before Grandpa and Stella return.

"No ma'am. Her pies are really good too," Tyler teased.

Abby looked surprised and then she laughed. "You're right; Mama's pies are a temptation." She motioned with her hand as she turned toward the food laden tables. "Come on, I saved you a seat at our table."

********************

Tyler was behind the cabin chopping fire wood on Monday morning. He carried an armful of the split wood into the cabin and saw a rider pass by the front window. Dropping the kindling beside the kitchen stove, he walked through the front door. The man was drawing a bucket of water from the well. He sat the bucket of cool water on the edge of the side walls of the well, took the dipper from where it hung, and took a long drink. The man's tired and lathered horse extended his neck so he could reach the water bucket. His owner punched him on the nose and pushed the horse away.

"You can water your horse in the trough at the corral if you like," Tyler offered.

"Nope, he'll be okay. It'll wait until I get to town."

"I think you should water your animal Mister. He looks about done in."

"It's none of your business Sonny."

Tyler stiffened a little. "Maybe not, but that's my well you're using. Isn't it normal courtesy to ask before you take a man's water?"

The man stepped away from the well and faced Tyler. He was tall with wide shoulders. His face had a scar running from his left eye down to his jaw line. Over all he looked dirty, trail weary, and dangerous. Pulling his slicker back he freed up the pistol he wore on his hip and placed his hand on the butt.

Tyler was at once aware that he wasn't armed. The Winchester and the Colt were still in their places in the cabin. He'd decided not to wear the pistol after seeing the man named Stover shot and killed.

"That'll be about enough Stoddard," Marshal Dooley Thomas said in a hard commanding voice.

Tyler and the stranger turned to see Dooley sitting on his horse with the butt stock of his ever present coach gun propped on his hip; ready for use if need be.

"Water your horse and ride out," Dooley ordered.

The man called Stoddard took his hand off his gun. He took the bucket and held it for his horse to drink. When the bucket was empty, he mounted looked at Tyler, and then at Dooley. "Another time Marshall," he said. "You too sonny."

"I'll be here," Dooley responded. "I won't say it again, ride out."

Stoddard turned his horse toward New Braunfels and rode off at a slow lope; never looking back.