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Authors: Jeff Egerton
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to jail.”
Gene Spencer, who’d been deputized to take
Jones’ place, had been listening from another room. When he heard
Jones resisting, he crept up behind him and clubbed Alton over the
head. They took his limp, stinking body into a cell and locked the
door.
The sheriff said, “When he comes to make him
take a bath. I don’t know how he got that stench but I’m not living
with it in here.”
The boys slept in shifts until Catwalk heard
an approaching locomotive. He woke Curly and said, “We’re in luck.
It’s a Big Boy from the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe.”
Curly stood up and saw the monstrous engine
carrying the two white flags with red balls that marked a train
carrying two tenders. He playfully punched his partner on the arm.
“This is our lucky day, Cat. This baby can make a couple hundred
miles before the next stop. By tonight we’ll be far away from here;
we might even make it to New Mexico.”
At four in the morning, as the engine was
pulling away from the water tower, they jumped through an open
boxcar door. The boys hid in two empty crates and rode the entire
day and into the night. For most of their trip Catwalk wondered if
they’d really get far enough away that the law wasn’t looking for
them. He hoped they did and smiled at the thought of finding work
with no one trying to arrest, or hang him.
The next morning Catwalk heard the hiss of
air brakes, meaning the train was stopping for water. He saw
several groups of men waiting to board the train. He said, “There’s
a bunch of men getting on, Curly. Let’s drop off.”
As they walked away from the tracks he
squinted back into the sun and tried to read the name on the water
tank. “Vaw-gun?”
Curly said, “Vaughn. Vaughn,, New Mexico. It
looks like we made it, Cat.”
“ I see the town in the
distance, but I don’t think we should go there yet. Let’s head down
this road and see if there’s any working farms that need
help.”
“ O.K. I’m watching for a
chicken coop. Those peaches didn’t last long.”
The boys had been walking for an hour when
they saw a farmer struggling with a plow behind a mule. They
watched from the shade of a tree. Curly said, “No wonder that guy’s
having trouble; his arm is in a cast. Ain’t nobody can handle a
plow with just one good arm.”
“ Do you think we should
offer to help him?”
“ He needs help, and we
might get a meal out of it.”
Catwalk hopped over a stand of barbed wire
and walked toward the farmer. The man was eyeing him suspiciously
when he called out, “I seen you was having trouble ‘cause of your
broke arm. I’ll help you.”
With his good arm, the farmer pulled a
pistol out of his overalls and shouted, “Just hold it right there.
Tell me what you want and remember, I ain’t against shooting if I
have to.”
Catwalk stopped and held up his hands. “We
could use a meal, and I’ll finish your plowing to earn it. Honest,
I’m not going to do anything except plow. We don’t mean no
harm.”
“ You want to help me
finish this plowing?”
“ Yes sir, I spent lots of
time behind a plow. I can finish this field by sunset.”
“ How ‘bout your friend,
what’s he do?”
Curly shouted back, “I can feed your
livestock, repair machinery, shoe your horses, butcher a hog or
milk your cows.”
The farmer took off his straw hat, revealing
a head of dark hair going grey. He was a strapping man, well over
six feet and in spite of his suspicious greeting, had friendly
eyes. He wiped his brow and waved the boys over. “O.K. You can work
‘til sundown and I’ll feed you. If you do good work and don’t steal
anything, I might keep you on.”
Catwalk said, “Mister, we just want to work
for our dinner.”
“ OK, finish plowing this
section.” He then motioned to Curly, “You can repair the door on
the chicken coop. Dang wolf almost tore the thing off trying to get
at my hens last night.”
“ Yes sir.” Catwalk said as
he hung the plow harness over his
Gene Spencer, who’d been deputized to take
Jones’ place, had been listening from another room. When he heard
Jones resisting, he crept up behind him and clubbed Alton over the
head. They took his limp, stinking body into a cell and locked the
door.
The sheriff said, “When he comes to make him
take a bath. I don’t know how he got that stench but I’m not living
with it in here.”
The boys slept in shifts until Catwalk heard
an approaching locomotive. He woke Curly and said, “We’re in luck.
It’s a Big Boy from the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe.”
Curly stood up and saw the monstrous engine
carrying the two white flags with red balls that marked a train
carrying two tenders. He playfully punched his partner on the arm.
“This is our lucky day, Cat. This baby can make a couple hundred
miles before the next stop. By tonight we’ll be far away from here;
we might even make it to New Mexico.”
At four in the morning, as the engine was
pulling away from the water tower, they jumped through an open
boxcar door. The boys hid in two empty crates and rode the entire
day and into the night. For most of their trip Catwalk wondered if
they’d really get far enough away that the law wasn’t looking for
them. He hoped they did and smiled at the thought of finding work
with no one trying to arrest, or hang him.
The next morning Catwalk heard the hiss of
air brakes, meaning the train was stopping for water. He saw
several groups of men waiting to board the train. He said, “There’s
a bunch of men getting on, Curly. Let’s drop off.”
As they walked away from the tracks he
squinted back into the sun and tried to read the name on the water
tank. “Vaw-gun?”
Curly said, “Vaughn. Vaughn,, New Mexico. It
looks like we made it, Cat.”
“ I see the town in the
distance, but I don’t think we should go there yet. Let’s head down
this road and see if there’s any working farms that need
help.”
“ O.K. I’m watching for a
chicken coop. Those peaches didn’t last long.”
The boys had been walking for an hour when
they saw a farmer struggling with a plow behind a mule. They
watched from the shade of a tree. Curly said, “No wonder that guy’s
having trouble; his arm is in a cast. Ain’t nobody can handle a
plow with just one good arm.”
“ Do you think we should
offer to help him?”
“ He needs help, and we
might get a meal out of it.”
Catwalk hopped over a stand of barbed wire
and walked toward the farmer. The man was eyeing him suspiciously
when he called out, “I seen you was having trouble ‘cause of your
broke arm. I’ll help you.”
With his good arm, the farmer pulled a
pistol out of his overalls and shouted, “Just hold it right there.
Tell me what you want and remember, I ain’t against shooting if I
have to.”
Catwalk stopped and held up his hands. “We
could use a meal, and I’ll finish your plowing to earn it. Honest,
I’m not going to do anything except plow. We don’t mean no
harm.”
“ You want to help me
finish this plowing?”
“ Yes sir, I spent lots of
time behind a plow. I can finish this field by sunset.”
“ How ‘bout your friend,
what’s he do?”
Curly shouted back, “I can feed your
livestock, repair machinery, shoe your horses, butcher a hog or
milk your cows.”
The farmer took off his straw hat, revealing
a head of dark hair going grey. He was a strapping man, well over
six feet and in spite of his suspicious greeting, had friendly
eyes. He wiped his brow and waved the boys over. “O.K. You can work
‘til sundown and I’ll feed you. If you do good work and don’t steal
anything, I might keep you on.”
Catwalk said, “Mister, we just want to work
for our dinner.”
“ OK, finish plowing this
section.” He then motioned to Curly, “You can repair the door on
the chicken coop. Dang wolf almost tore the thing off trying to get
at my hens last night.”
“ Yes sir.” Catwalk said as
he hung the plow harness over his
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