Chapter 5 – Jake’s Trip to Caldwell Crossing
The next morning had barely found its light when a soft, polite knock came at the bunkhouse door. Jake was already awake, pulling on his boots, when Mary’s voice followed.
“Jake? I’ve got an errand for you, if you’ve the time.”
Jake swung the door open. Cool morning air rushed in, carrying the scent of damp earth and wood smoke. Mary stood there with a folded paper in one hand and that determined look she wore when she already knew the answer.
“Miller’s store of flour and beans is just about gone,” she said. “And with these new boys—and longer days ahead—I reckon they’ll work better if they eat better. I need supplies. Real ones. Eggs by the crate. Bacon by the side. Coffee strong enough to wake the dead. And any canned fruit you can find.”
Jake smiled. “Sounds like a worthwhile mission.”
“Caldwell approved the whole list,” she added, handing him the paper. “And he gave me this, too.” She tapped the second note. “It says plain as day you’re the new foreman and can charge whatever’s needed to the ranch. Take it to Joslin’s.”
Jake took the notes, his jaw tightening just a little at the title he was still getting used to. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t,” Mary said gently.
Before the sun had fully shouldered its way over the horizon, Jake had the buckboard hitched and rolling. Boone leapt into the back with a joyful bark, tail thumping like a drum. They rattled along the road toward Caldwell Crossing, Boone standing tall, calling out every rabbit, bird, and shadow daring to cross their path.
The Roaring Rapids Bridge appeared ahead, its wide timber planks still new enough to shine in places. Beyond it lay the growing town—Caldwell Crossing—born of sweat, wood, and hard promises. Joslin’s General Store stood at the heart of it all, the first business to rise after the bridge was built.
Jake pulled up near the hitching rail.
That was when trouble found him.
In front of the store, a rough-looking man stood too close to a frightened woman. His hat was low, his grin lower, and his voice—low and slick—carried enough force to make her flinch.
“Ain’t no harm in a little friendly talk,” the tough said, blocking her path.
Jake was already stepping down from the buckboard when thunder arrived on hooves.
A lone cowboy rode hard up to Joslin’s, sliding his horse sideways in a spray of dust. Before anyone could draw a breath, the rider was off his saddle, boots hitting dirt. He dragged the bum into the street and then his arm swung once—clean and terrible.
The thug crumpled like wet canvas.
Silence followed.
Then the woman gasped, clutching her shawl. “Th-thank you, sir.”
The cowboy tipped his hat. “No one should be bothered like that.”
Jake studied him. Mid-thirties, maybe. Broad-shouldered. Sun-burned. Eyes steady. Not reckless—certain. Jake knew that face. He had not seen him since they’d parted at Appomattox Courthouse after the war.
“Well, Colt Barnes!” Jake said. “You old rebel! What are you doing here? When I last saw you, you were heading back home to Kentucky!”
The cowboy startled. He looked over at Jake and said, “Well, you old bluebelly! If you aren’t Jake Harmon, I’m going to send you right where I sent that saddle bum who’s still lying there in the street!”
“Let me buy you lunch, Colt, but first I’ve got to do some shopping for the boss here at Joslin’s. Come on with me.”
Inside Joslin’s, plank floors creaked under the weight of progress. Jake filled barrel after crate: flour, beans, bacon, coffee, sugar, oats, dried apples, canned peaches. Joslin’s pencil scratched steadily as the tally grew.
“That Caldwell account sure is busy lately,” the shopkeeper muttered.
Jake handed over the note. “Ranch won’t go hungry.”
Outside, Boone eyed this new cowboy cautiously, tail swaying.
The man crouched and held out a hand. “Good dog.”
Boone sniffed once—then accepted the verdict with a wag.
“Let’s go have lunch, Pard. We’ve got some catching up to do. Looks like neither of us did what we planned to do.”
After lunch, Jake looked Colt straight in the eye and asked, “Colt, if you’re looking for a job, I’m looking for a man I can trust on a ranch that’s needing you, and Old Man Caldwell is hiring.”
“I’m looking for a job. I’d heard on the trail that Roaring Rapids Ranch had lost its foreman, and I was on my way here to look for work. The Flying-Z was getting too small for me, and I wanted to go further west. There is a lot to see and do west of the Mississippi.”
“Can you get your gear pretty quick and follow me to the ranch? The boss will sure be glad to see you. He rode with Longstreet during the war.”
“I can go right now. I travel light, and all I have is in my saddlebags.”
The ride home was quieter. Colt rode beside Jake on the buckboard, his horse tied behind. Boone still barked at rabbits, but Jake’s thoughts were busy and so were Colt’s. The town was changing. The ranch was changing. And maybe, just maybe, help was finding them in ways they didn’t expect. He could never have thought of anyone he would rather have as a ranch hand and partner than Colt Barnes.
When Caldwell saw the full buckboard roll into the yard that evening, he nodded slowly.
“Looks like Mary sent the right man,” the old rancher said. “And who’s that gent beside you?”
“He’s a Johnny Reb, sir—and I sure am glad I saw him today.”
Tip for English language learners: You can listen to the chapter audio while reading the story text on the page. Try slowing the playback speed so you can follow along comfortably by clicking on the three dots on the right by the speaker and selecting Playback speed.