The Private Journals of Isaiah Watts

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2021 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

nhall@tickiestories.us

Chapter 3
The Early Years

“Daddy said it was a good life working for Cousin Abram and Rose. He saw a lot of country, learned much about his family, where we came from, surviving in a sometimes hostile world, and made enough money to send some of it home, via Mrs. Romano, to help Grandma with his brothers.”

(The Private Journals of Isaiah Watts) 

“Well, shit!” Abram Saunders muttered softly, “This is all I need.

With a deep sigh of resignation and a wave of his hand, he bid the lad to enter the house.

“Why don’t you come inside and tell us all about it.”

David wasn’t three foot in the door before Rose asked, “Have you eaten today?”

“A sandwich and an apple Matt had left over from his lunch.”

“Oh dear, you must have something more substantial than that if you’re going to be subjected to Abram’s questioning.”

Before her husband could object, knowing it would have absolutely no effect on his wife or change the present course of action if he did, Rose herded David into the kitchen, canvas bag left in the living room, and seated him at the kitchen table.

“There’s still roast beef, potatoes, and gravy warming on the back of the stove,” and as if an afterthought, “fresh apple pie for dessert. It won’t take me but a minute to plate you up some dinner. You must be starving.”

“If’n it be no trouble, Mam, that’d be just fine.”

“Piffle; no problem at all. Boys have got to eat.”

Rose thought all boys were a veritable eating machine, ravenously hungry no matter the time of day or night. She and Abram raised four boys and one girl and had some experience. Additionally, having three of her nephews working at the farm and two of her sons on the road seeking buyers and sellers of horse flesh, she knew they were hungry when they hit the house and was confident David was as well.

She glanced over her shoulder while she dished up a plate of beef, potatoes, and gravy, along with a slice of fresh baked bread, slathered with butter, and noted David was not only skinny, but in need of some different clothing. From her correspondence with Dorothea, she knew the family was not in the greatest financial shape especially the way Neville drank, according to Dorothea. However, she didn’t realize how bad it might be. She’d have to consider sending Dorothea a little more money in the future to clothe the other boys.

The plate of food Rose set in front of David was more on one plate he’d ever seen, even at Christmas. His mouth watered, but he was hesitant, knowing what his brothers and mother might be having for supper- not near this grand or much. His mother did her best, feeding her family from the garden, eggs and an old hen in the stew pot once in a while, the fish the boys caught, rabbits and squirrels they hunted, and an occasional pig they butchered. They weren’t starving, just not overly fed either. They had to watch things since if their father thought he could sell something to buy booze, he would. Nobody around Logansport or Decker’s Corner would buy anything from him, figuring it was either stolen or taken from his family. As Mr. Decker at the store once said, “He’s nothing but a fuckin’ drunken bum.”

David tucked into his meal, eating slowly, savoring every bite, preferring to eat rather than talk. At home, eating was serious business, after the younger ones were fed, and was not wasted visiting. He wondered, as he stuck a fork into the pie, how he’d explain what had been happening over the past seven years and how his mother’s cousins would react when he told them. How should he say it; his Pa “fooled” around or “treated him and his brothers as doxies, or just plain outright say he’d fucked them- at least him, Ben, and Darius?

His tummy full, he picked up his soiled plate and utensils and carried them to the counter next to the sink. Rose shooed him into the living room with instructions, “don’t you begin until I get in there.”

David sat in a wing-back chair, slowing surveying the contents of the room. It was much more elegant and furnished better than theirs at home. He figured Abram Saunders did well as a horse trader, if the looks of his house and food placed on David’s plate at dinner was any indication. He wondered how much it’d take to buy all of this, but sighed, figuring he’d never have the money or wasn’t certain he’d want that much. It might only bring trouble, especially if someone else wanted it bad enough to take it. He’d learned that much from being around his father; don’t show it, don’t brag about it, and for fuck’s sake, keep it hidden or it will disappear. Of course, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to turn fortune his way as well, only not with family or friends.

Abram and Rose sat on a couch facing David, waiting expectantly for him to begin. They’d watched him look the room over and wondered what was going through his mind. Abram wasn’t altogether certain the lad wasn’t trying to figure out how to steal them blind.

“I don’t know how to say this,” David began, “’cause I know you want to know why I’m here and why I stuck my Pa with a pitchfork.”

Abram sort of raised his eyebrows, nodding his head, encouraging David. “That’d be a pretty good start,” deciding he’d wait until he heard the story before committing anything to the boy.

Rose, on the other hand, already made up her mind. She was going to take this young, handsome son of her cousin into her home as she had the three nephews now working for them.

“Only if you want to, David,” she offered comfortingly. “If you do, tell us in your own words and don’t worry about shocking me. I’m certain I’ve heard much worse than what you’ll say,” she hoped.

David gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders. “Ever since I was seven or so, when Pa got drunked up, which was a lot, he’d force himself on me, using me like he would a woman. Generally he’d wait until he’d get me alone in the barn, pull my pants off, and bend me over. He’d threaten to kill Ma or my younger brothers if I didn’t let him or told on him. If I’d hide from him, he’d grab Ben or Darius instead. It was easier for me to let him fuck, excuse me Rose, me rather than hurt my Ma or my brothers.”

“Oh dear,” Rose murmured, “I guess I haven’t heard quite everything.”

“Did your mother know?” Abram asked.

“Don’t think so, if she did it was right recent. We kept it a secret since we didn’t want Pa killing her.”

“How old are you David?”

“Fourteen, Mr. Saunders.”

“Please call me Abram; and your brothers?”

“Benjamin is twelve, Darius is ten, Joseph is nine, and Zachery is eight.”

“If this had been going on, why are you here now?” Abram asked, curious why it took so long.

“I’d had it; enough was enough. Besides, I’d grown and gotten bigger. I wasn’t afraid of him anymore.”

“How about your brothers now you’re gone?”

“I told Ben to stick him if he tried to hurt Ma or use my brothers. I also told Pa if I heard he’d hurt any of them the way he hurt me, I’d come back and stick his dick and balls to the barn floor with the pitch fork instead of his foot.”

“Ouch,” groaned Abram instinctively reaching for his crotch.

Rose merely shrugged, smile wanly, and responded, “It would certainly get his attention I should think.”

David’s story only confirmed what she read in a letter she received from Dorothea. It was written a couple of weeks previously and only arrived a couple of days ago. Dorothea grew suspicious of Neville’s activities with two of her older sons, but couldn’t discover any proof of her suspicions without outright asking him. She’d done exactly that, but Neville promptly and emphatically denied it, although he did say he caught David and Ben in the barn, “doing what boys do to each other,” and “David was stretched across the back of Ben.” Dorothea didn’t believe him thinking he was trying to put the boys in a position of guilt, but again, couldn’t prove it.

She watched him closely over the past couple of weeks, but didn’t see him enter the barn when Ben or David did. She did find it somewhat unusual when Neville worked in the fields, the boys did the chores and were back in the house before Neville came from the fields and put the team away for the night. If Neville was off drinking, which was becoming more common, the boys had no choice but to do the chores and the field work. Benjamin, Darius, Joseph, and Zachary would hustle back to the house in case Neville would come back, but David would be left alone to care for the team once he came in.

David would never say a word or complain if Neville came home drunk and ended up sleeping in the tack room of the barn. Dorothea would never see Neville come into the barn and only know of it if David or one of the boys mentioned it. She’d stopped Neville’s conjugal visits to her bed when Zachary was born and Neville generally slept either in the barn on a cot or in a small bedroom off the kitchen.

Her letter to Rose concerned what advice Rose might have in how she would confront Neville or seek help from David or Benjamin in order to put a stop to something she only suspected was happening and booting Neville from the house. The property belonged to her and not him, so doing it would bring no land ownership issues up.

Rose let Abram read the letter, hoping he could offer some insight to what she might recommend to Dorothea.

“Geld him,” offered Abram.

She was in the process of preparing an answer to her cousin’s plea for help when David showed up at their house. It was evident from what David told them, he took matters into his own hands and brought his father’s forced sex to a halt.

“Too bad David didn’t follow through on his threat and stick the pitch fork into Neville’s privates,” she thought listening to David tell his story.

David finished and waited for some response from either Abram or Rose.

Abram pursed his lips as in thought, rubbed his chin, and asked David if he knew anything about horses.

“Mostly work horses,” David admitted, “not a lot about saddle horses but some. I know how to work a team proper, but not wear them out; treat’em right by feeding, watering, and resting them. I know what a good work horse should look like, you know, conformation and such, how it holds the bit, and after a couple of times how it acts when you hitch it up. I know enough to watch the eyes and ears so I know what the horse might be thinking.”

“Most people think a horse is really smart and some are, but most times a horse can only think of one thing at a time, so you have to take its mind off of what you’re doing if it balks. Some guys use a twitch, but that’s mean to the horse and they don’t need that. Now a mule, they’re smart so you better watch your ass. Excuse me, Mrs. Saunders.”

“Please call me Rose or Aunt Rose, David,” Rose offered.

“Tell you what, David,” Uncle Abram, as he instructed David to call him, “I’ll take you on here at the farm to help the others with the horses. You’ll join Matt, Jim, and Harry Turner on the wrangler’s crew.”

Abram raised his voice. “Matt, you and the boys may as well come in. You’ve been sitting on the porch stretching your ears long enough.”

The three of the entered the living room, hats in hand, but not a bit apologetic for eves dropping.

“Take Davey to the bunk house, find out what he needs in clothes and such and tell Aunt Rose, and settle him down for the night. At breakfast in the morning we’ll fill him in on our operation.”

When David left, Rose put her arm around Abram’s waist. “Isn’t there something or someone you know who could, do something to help the other’s left at home and maybe give Dorothea some relief from Neville?”

Patting her arm, Abram reassured her. “Not to worry, my love, we’ll see what can be done.”

The next morning David and others were seated at the breakfast table enjoying a meal of biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, ham, and coffee.

Matt got David settled down the night before with a bunk, clean blankets, and told him to get cleaned up.

“You’re a little ripe after the train ride. There’s a water hydrant outside in an enclosed area where we generally clean up when the weather’s decent. It’s cold, but soap and a good scrubbing will clean everything out of the cracks and crevices.”

David stripped, took the towel, washcloth, and soap Matt offered him and walked bare-assed naked out to the washing enclosure.

“Jim,” instructed Matt, “go with him and give him a rinse if he needs it. I’ll go to the house and collect the clothes Aunt Rose gathered up from him from the closets. I’ll take Dave’s clothes with me; tomorrow is laundry day and she’ll want to get things washed.”

David slept well that night, better than in many previous ones.

******* 

“Here’s the deal,” Abram began after the breakfast dishes were cleared, “Jefferson and Robert are out in Omaha attending an auction of army stock, horses and mules. With the war done and all, the government is getting rid of more stock. Gasoline engines and vehicles are replacing horses and mules but there are people who can’t afford those contraptions but can afford horses. It won’t be long until motor vehicles take the place of such critters and this business we’re in will slowly fade to either nothing or much smaller. I intend to make as much as I can while I can. If I make money, you make money. The same arrangement we had before stands, now. I set a price, not accepting anything less. Anything you make above it, you split equally.”

“So, the end of this week you boys will take your mounts and travel by train to Omaha, meet with Jefferson and Robert, bring back any stock they buy or haven’t sold. Ship the critters by rail. We’ll find markets somewhere for the critters.”

Abram paused, letting David absorb the situation and see if he had any questions. David had none; he figured Matt and the others would fill him in on anything he needed to know.

“Okay, no questions so let’s get Davey a riding horse and outfit. Matt, that’s your job. Help him if he needs it.”

On the way out the door, David picked up an apple and stuffed it in his pocket. He followed Matt and the boys to a corral near one of the barns. There were about a dozen horses shuffling around in there. They became more alert as the men approached. Most moved away from the fence where the men gathered; all of the horses except one. This horse, about fifteen hands high, brown with white blaze on the forehead, and white socking front feet, ears up, withers quivering, and giving an inquisitive snort in the men’s direction.

“Well,” Matt asked, watching David observe the horse flesh before him.

“Got a saddle blanket and a hackamore?” David asked.

Harry handed them both to him as David climbed the corral fence and dropped off the other side into the corral. The blaze watched him carefully, not retreating, but not advancing toward him either. David reached into his pocket, pulled out the apple, slipped a hand under his shirt and brought forth his knife. He cut the apple in quarters, put one quarter in his mouth, and slowly chewed it as he walked toward the blaze.

“My, my,” he intoned softly and confidently, “aren’t you just the most magnificent critter ever put on this earth.” He kept up the soft, calming banter until he was about ten foot away from the animal. David hunched down on his haunches, put a piece of apple on the ground in front of him, and began teasing it around on the ground; moving it this way and then back, but never more than six inches at a time.

“Now a horse is a curious animal,” Mr. Romano told him one time. “They just got to know what you’re up to and sooner or later they’ll mosey on over for a look.”

The blaze was real curious, not only what the man was fiddling with on the ground, but about the man himself, walking over, putting his nose down first to smell the human, and then the apple slice. He let the man pick up the slice and feed it to him.

David carefully rubbed the blaze’s nose, fed him another slice, ran his hands down the shoulder and front leg, looked underneath, commenting, “Still got your balls; bet you could make some fine colts if given the chance.”

Still talking, he fed the last slice to the horse, slipped the hackamore over the stallion’s head, and slowly settled the saddle blanket over its back. The critter didn’t object, bite, kick, rear, back step, or try to toss it off.

“We’ll get along just fine, won’t we?” David commented as he led the horse to the corral gate and signaled Matt to open it so he could take the blaze to the barn where a stall and feed waited for him.

Abram stood on the porch positioned so he could observe David’s interaction with the stallion. Matt came to the house as David led his saddle horse to the barn.

“Looks like our new wrangler knows something about horse flesh,” Abram commented.

“He should Uncle Abram,” Matt laughed nodding his head. “’course maybe he should; for a fourteen year old he’s hung like one.”

For three years David worked for Abram Saunders, dutifully wrote to his mother, sending her money through Mrs. Romano, and traveled the Midwest for Abram Saunders. Matt, Harry, and Jim became not only working partners, but good friends as well. David learned a great deal concerning his mother’s family, the Turners, from them.

According to them, the family members originated somewhere overseas, settled in Canada many years ago, and some of them crossed the border into the United States. Most were American born, scattered across the country, remained loosely tied to their relatives, and were known as “Roaders.” They were generally horse traders and thought of as being “gypsies,” especially if they traveled around the country in various groups. The Turners didn’t travel, staying pretty much in one place, but did trade in horses, plus utilizing other trading ventures. They really didn’t adhere to many of the gypsy customs or beliefs, but they respected them when around those who did.

David’s father’s family, the Watts, were from Canada also, but originally from Wales, Aunt Rose thought. “We really don’t know much about him,” she said one time when David raised the question, “but probably the less we know the better.”

He also learned to perfect the art of the “con” and became quite good at it. Apparently his boyish good looks, bright smile, and Sunday School Choir boy face, made him a natural and others susceptible to his charms. “He can talk a snake from its skin,” bragged Matt one time to Uncle Abram when they returned with a sizeable amount of cash.

Abram insisted on gold coin when selling, but would use green backs when buying. There were times when Matt and the others had substantial amounts of money on them when they traveled. Tucked into his belt was a .38 revolver to thwart any attempts at relieving him of that cash. Jim, Harry, and David carried similar weapons, but David also carried his knife. It was silent and he was deadly with it, especially when thrown.

The four of them finished delivery of a small herd of work horses to a group of famers south of Des Moines and were on their way back to a railhead to catch a train to Burlington. Seated on their saddle horses, they were taking their time when they came upon an encampment of wagons and caravans (small enclosed wagons used for housing and houseware items) alongside a small stream.

“Looks like ‘travelers,” Matt warned, “better watch your pockets. You just never know.”

It appeared there were three or four families in the group and Matt gave a wave and they were invited into the camp. The four sat on their horses while they visited with an older gentleman who appeared to be their leader. The group followed crops, also festivals, carnivals, and circus where they worked. The men handled livestock and physical labor while some of the women sold jewelry or told fortunes. Their dress, bright, colorful, adorned with beads, bangles, and other jewelry advertised themselves as “gypsies.”

As they visited, David spotted a young girl peeking at him from behind one of the caravans. Dark hair, dark eyes, bright, bright smile, small, slim build, and when she caught his attention, gave an ever so sweet wink and a wave of her hand. David was smitten, gob-smacked, totally and completely! Cupid fired an arrow and it hit hard and deep!

He looked at her, shifted in the saddle, felt his loins swell, his cock straining against the denim, pulsing with his desire to take and claim her as his own, and thought, “Fuck, I’m as hard as a railroad spike and I don’t even know her name.”

To be continued...

Posted: 12/17/2021