The Americans ll
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From "The Bandana": Before the three attackers lit into me I tried to curl up into a ball an' put one arm over my head to protect myself as much as I could. It didn't work. As my grand pappy said describin' one of his dogs that got too close to a black bear in a hunt, "He was catawamptiously chewed up." I didn't know a body could hurt so much in so many places at the same time. On my third try I rolled over on my stomach. there was much blood on the ground around me an' my clothes were soaked in it. I reached for my bandana to wipe the blood off my face but it was gone. I couldn't tell if they'd used their spurs on me when I was knocked out an' defenseless. I felt weak but that could be from the stompin' or loss of blood. I passed out again briefly an' when I came to I felt for my gun an' found an empty holster. I still had my boots an' I saw my hat layin' a little way off near a bush. I guess my attackers realized they couldn't be seen in camp with my gear. Finally, I pushed pushed myself up on my hands an' knees an' started crawlin' until I got over to the shade of a nearby cottonwood tree. I started to throw up from the pains in my head. I kept throwing up until my stomach was empty an' then I had the dry heaves. Exhausted from the effort an' I fell over on my side an' a sharp pain grabbed me a wracked me with a seizure. Then, mercifully, I passed out again. About a half mile away, Julia Harris was ridin' back to her ranch from a mornin's errands with her foreman Ebo Elder. They were rollin' along in their buckboard full of store-bought goods an' headin' for their ranch, the jh connected. I came to again an' started movin'. I crawled awhile, stopped a bit to rest, an' crawled some more. I aimed to move north an' east since I'd heard about the creek runnin' into the Brazos nearby an' I needed water bad. Before I got to the creek I found a wagon trail that I hoped would either lead to a town or ranch house. In my shape I needed to get to the closest one as quick as possible so I gambled an' as I turned to head east I saw a cloud of dust risin' in the east. Indians or white men I didn't care which. Right now I'd take my chances with either. I considered the effort to crawl off the road in case I needed to hide but the closest cover was too far from the road for me to yell in case I wanted their help. Sometimes it's easier doin' nothin' rather that waste a bunch of energy an' effort. Pa taught me that a long time ago. He also taught all of us to not have any 'give up.' He called it persistence but ma said it was plain stubbornness. Pa liked to play with fancy words. He felt an' listened to the sounds of words. As the wagon cleared the hillside I saw a man drivin' the buckboard an' woman on the seat next to him. I could tell he was older than her...maybe they were father and daughter. I struggled to not throw up again. They slowed to a stop an' the dust cloud followin' them passed over an' around the wagon an' swirled around me. I didn't move. I hurt to much. "Howdy stranger," the man started as he got out his makin's for a smoke. "Care for a smoke," He offered. I could tell he'd been a rider most of his life from his look an' his offer of a smoke right off. That's what would happen when two men met on the trail. Next might come coffee an' conversation before they'd go back to what they were doin' before they met. Meanwhile, he was lookin' me over an' chattin' me up but his eyes were addin' up every detail he saw about me. Everything about me an' my bein' there was wrong an' cause for caution. Occasionally his eyes darted across the horizon lookin' for other riders. I noticed he sat with his holster gun within easy reach an' she had a rifle in her lap with the muzzle pointed in my direction. Careful folks I thought. "Range is in pretty good shape for movin' cattle this time of the year," he continued. He knew I wasn't local an' must be from a passin' trail drive but I could tell he was curious about how an' why I was there. Meanwhile, he was tellin' me plenty if I took sense of what he didn't say an' how he didn't say it. My head hurt plenty an' I couldn't talk just yet. "Think a stage will be by anytime soon," he asked dryly. "Ebo," the young woman spoke, "How about givin' me a hand down here?" she said impatiently as she stepped down from the wagon seat an' walked towards me. "Sure miss Julia," he answered, "I was just checkin' for whoever done this to 'im. I could tell his injuries weren't from bein' tossed by a horse...unless it stopped to kick 'im head to foot several times which ain't likely." "If you two don't mind I could use some help here," I whispered an' then passed out from the concussion caused by the beatin' I took. I didn't feel them load me in the wagon, bump me over the dirt road, an' then unload me miles down the road. They talked about me, my condition, an' what to do about me on the way to their ranch. Both were wary of me but they would not deny me the care I needed.
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About the Book
The Americans II is a collection of four short stories about La Fon’s pirate relatives, cowboys in the old West and a female robber, Pearl Hart, who was involved in the last stagecoach robbery in America. There are historical nuggets preceding each story that highlights or explains an aspect of that story. “Brotherhood” depicts the dedication between twin brothers when one wrestles a bear for cash and then bravely rides hundreds of dangerous miles to save his brother. “The Bandana” is about Lance Wittry’s challenges to survive and thrive despite the dangers on a cattle drive. In “Brazil and Back,” the adventures of John Dhu Mordecai McKinney, a one-time slave turned pirate, meets Marietje “Mary” Sebring in Brazil. Pearl Hart’s difficult life is the focus of “The Last Stagecoach Robbery.” Abandoned by her husband, she struggles to survive by joining an ill-fated stagecoach robbery in the Arizona territory. Experience the actions, thoughts, and feelings as these brave Americans strive for better futures.
About the Author
At a young age Donald La Fon’s parents introduced him to the historical places near their home in Tippecanoe County, Indiana, and helped develop a keen sense of appreciation of historical events. The visited the Battle of Tippecanoe battleground, the site of Fort Ouiatenon, Fort Michilimackinac, and other historic sites where he began learning about the people involved in historical events and places. His grandmothers encouraged his research efforts. They spent days touring old family home sites, visiting cemeteries where family members were buried, and relating family history. Later, his college education and his respect for his ancestors’ efforts enabled him to research and write about their experiences. He has visited other battle sites of the Revolutionary War, War of 1812, and the Civil War in many states. La Fon has walked where American heroes have lived, fought, and died. He has read their letters and diaries. And, La Fon has visited numerous libraries to gather information to add depth and understanding to his stories. All his travels and research were done for the sake of authenticity in his writing and to honor our American ancestors and their lives.