Welcome To The Bullpen
CHANGED MAN
By A.R. Matlock
Driving a four-hitch is a shoulder wrenching, back breaking job, plus riding that hard wood plank seat all day for days on end is a tough proposition. I had some good and some bad experiences during the three months I had hauled freight between Kansas City, Missouri and Fort Smith, Arkansas. They were both staging points for westward bound folks. In 1839 a lot of folks, were coming through Kansas City, bound for the western mountains and plains. Also there was the movement of the Cherokees into the Indian Territory and Fort Smith was one of the entry points into that wild country, so there was lots of freight being hauled over the trails. I had been hauling freight for over two years, working for a couple freight lines. It paid pretty well, but once I get my fill of it, I’ll move on to something else. I had just finished a long haul from Fort Smith to Kansas City and the only thing I was thinking about was a hot bath and some good food, that’s when Price and I met up.
As I was leaving the freight barn located on the river at West Port Landing, two wagons were drawn up in front of the loading docks. Three men, who drove for Jackson Freight Lines, the same line as I did, were busy beating on a man, who looked like he was just about done in. His nose was spouting blood and his face had been pushed into the dirt some. Now I’m not one to put my nose where it don’t belong, but there are things I just can’t stand; one is seeing animals mistreated and another is watching three men beating up on one. The odds were a little one-sided.
Nick LaFain was the one giving the beating. I knew him to be a troublemaker and he took pride in the fact that he had beaten a couple of men almost to death. The other two were Ollie and Ruff Day who had their hands full trying to hold this young red headed, run down at the heel teamster. LaFain put a right into his middle and the red head sagged, but Ollie and Ruff doing their part, kept him from falling. LaFain was busy pulling on some rough leather gloves. I had seen those kind of gloves used and had been on the receiving end before and had scars to prove it. He was getting ready to cut the man’s face up. LaFain was not tall, but his body was big and looked solid, like a trunk of an oak tree and arms hanging down like limbs from that same tree. His eyes were close together and his look was one of just plain mean, enjoying the pain of others.
He was grinning through his tobacco strained beard as he moved in to continue the beating when I stuck my nose into it. “Looks like you fellers have a serious grudge against this man.”
LaFain said, ”Stay outa this, unless you want some of it too. He works for McLain Freight and I don’t like the competition. We’re just showing him this is our dock. He can find another!”
Now I didn’t figure that I wanted any of the beating, but as LaFain started to turn back to finish the beating, I pulled my gun and laid it alongside his head, he fell like an oak tree and with the same motion I turned and pointed my gun at the Day’s and said, ”now you two he-men, just let him down real easy, unless you want what this gun can dish out. Pick LaFain up and move on out of here.”
Ollie Day said, ”Nick won’t forget this, he’s going to get even.”
Knowing that I would have to watch my back from then on, I said, ”You tell LaFain that when he comes after me he better be ready to die, because I’ll kill him. ”My grandpa always said, if you going to fight then fight to win. I knew the only way to handle men like LaFain was to make sure they understood that you would not hesitate to kill them.
I kept my eye on Ollie and Ruff as they put LaFain in their wagon and drove off. The man on the ground tried to push himself up, but fell back. I bent down to help him and he took a swing at me, but he paid for it, as he groaned and passed out from the effort. I had to heft him to my shoulder. I finally got him over to the doctor’s office and the doc wrapped a bandage around his rib cage several times and said, ”He won’t be driving a four-hitch for a week with those bruised ribs. Leave him here until he comes too and then you can move him.”
Relaxing in a hot tub of soapy water is one thing I enjoy but don’t get too do often. Another thing I enjoy doing is eating so I had to give up the now, not so hot water and get something to eat. The cook had just put on the table, a bowl of beef stew, with cornbread and a cool pitcher of milk to wash it down, when the man with the red hair and bruised ribs came up. “My name is Price Phelps; most of my friends call me Red.” The doc said you saved me from getting my head bashed in, I want to thank you for that.”
“Have a chair, I’m Zach Watts! Glad you’re up an about. How’s your ribs feeling, they took a pretty good pounding? Have you had supper?”
”Thanks, I could eat a bear with the hair still on, but I’m not sure I can eat with these bruised ribs. Doc says I’ll be okay in a few days. Right now I’m sore as all get out.” For someone who had a sore rib cage, and a swollen mouth, he sure didn’t act like that it hindered him any, he just kept eating. The cook was sure proud of him. Price wasn’t much of a talker while he ate, but after the meal, he let go and we talked about our growing up years and freight hauling experiences, we hit it off real well. The next morning he met me at the freight office and got hired on driving with me. Course he wasn’t going to be much help for few days, but it was good to have a partner.
Our first load together was down south to Fort Smith, which most times it takes about six weeks to make the trip and anything could happen through those mountains. Highway robbers were notorious going south, I guess they were misguided, thinking the wagons was carrying money. The trail crossed rivers, subject to flooding. I almost lost my team, wagon and my life in those muddy waters. I’ve been attacked by renegade Indians, luckily traveling with other freight wagons there was always to many rifles and the Indians would give up when they realized their medicine wasn’t any good, so I was real glad that Price was on the seat with me.
We left West Port Landing just as the sun’s rays were setting the tree tops a blaze. Ten wagons stretched out along the trail that led south. Our wagons were lined up pretty tight for the first few miles but began to spread out when we began to push through rough terrain, strewn with boulders about the size of the log cabin I grew up in. Black jack and pine trees lined the rough trail that crossed dozens of streams as it wound its way south, like a snake, towards Fort Smith. The third day out of Kansas City the trail went through several miles of black bottom land and rain had made it into black quack mire. Those red mules worked real hard for couple of hours getting us through onto some dry dirt. Nick LaFain true to his friend’s word; let us know our trail was going get even rougher.
The body’s recuperative powers works pretty fast, but Price suffered a terrible beating and his rib cage was badly bruised and sensitive to jarring, like he was getting riding that hardboard seat. I knew he was anxious to even the score with LaFain, but I talked to him about avoiding it until his body was healed better. He listened knowing I was right. I think we both knew that LaFain was not going to it let go. Three days out the left rear wheel begin to make a squealing sound like it was dry of grease and I had pulled over beside the trail to take a look. The other wagons were passing us by, which forced us to work hard to catch up. As Lafain’s wagon pulled around us, he lashed out with his whip, cutting our mules across their backs. Cutting our mules with the whip was bad enough, but I had just stooped down on my knees to get a good look when the mules jumped forward, almost knocking me in under the wagon wheel. Price reacted quickly and got control, but LaFain had made his point, it was not over. Someone had mixed sand into the grease that covered the axel skein and the hub. If we had not heard the noise coming from the hub we would have had real problems. As it was, I spent a couple hours cleaning and re-greasing the hubs. I didn’t say anything to Price, but LaFain had just bought himself a lot more trouble than he knew. If that wagon had of rolled on me it could have killed or maimed me for life. I was not going to let that go. We finally caught up with the wagons as the sun was going down.
Camp was pitched along a little creek flowing south. Since it was a train made up of Jackson Freight company wagons, we had a grub wagon that cooked for the entire train, after we took care of the mules we washed up and headed down to eat. I told Price to watch Ruff and Ollie, while I had a little talk with LaFain. Price was not happy that I was taking LaFain on, but I finally convinced him that it was necessary and could not wait.
Price, I have to admit, is pretty wise, he said, ”My stomach is shaking hands with my back-bone, why don’t we eat first and fight later?”
“Sounds like a good idea and the cook may not hold the food for us anyway. ”So we set down to supper and our stomachs were glad. After having a second cup of coffee, I told Price, “Let’s go have a little talk with LaFain!”
LaFain had just set his plate down and was standing up to get himself some coffee. I walked up and without a word let go with a straight right to his jaw. When one hundred and eighty-five pounds is packed behind a rock solid fist meets up with a man’s jaw something has to move, and he did. Now before he commenced to sailing back over the log, he was sitting on, his eyes was full of surprise and amazement. He stretched out for about a half of a minute, just long enough for me to lay my hands on a piece of firewood about two inches thick and about two feet long. He was on his knees shaking his head from side to side. I let him get about half way standing and I brought that piece wood alongside his head. For some reason he didn’t get up right away. Price had his Kentucky pistol lined up on Ruff and Ollie, so I knew my back was covered. I reached over picked up a bucket of water and drowned LaFain. He rolled over and began trying to get to his knees. I bend way down, grabbed a handful of hair and helped him up with an upper cut to his chin. He started to fall, except this time I held him with my left hand and put a right in his gut. Then I let him fall. I poured the rest of the water over him and started our little talk. “LaFain, you almost got me killed or hurt today. We can continue this little tit-for-tat if you want to or we can settle it once and for all with guns, it don’t much make me any difference, or we can let it go and leave it here. It don’t matter to me! What do you say about it?”
He rolled his eyes like he was having a hard time focusing and said “Well, I was just funning with you.”
“You’re funning almost got me killed and maybe my mules hurt. Now you going to let it go or do we continue this little talk?”
LaFain still groggy said “You shouldn’t have hit me with that wood. I won’t forget that. One of these days, I’ll get even with you.”
Well, he should not have said that, I just laid that wood right up side his head again and ole LaFain just melted to the ground. I told Ruff and Ollie, “Take him back to his wagon and if he don’t change his attitude I’ll take my gun to him the next time. And tell him that if I’m shot at or even looked at mean, I’m going to think he put them up to it and I’ll come looking for him. You tell him that!”
The next few day’s things shaped up pretty good, we made good time and I didn’t hear anything from LaFain until we got to a place called Marias des Cygnes river, heading a small settlement of Joplin. Now it normally is not a bad river to cross, except we had thunder storms with lots of rain up stream, to the north, and the water level was over the banks and our normal crossing was running wagon board deep and the current was moving fast. Several wagons were ahead of us as we waited our turn for the crossing. We had just moved into the river, when men began yelling and pointing. The mules were little nervous with all the hollering going on and by the time we got stopped, we saw an uprooted tree, set adrift somewhere up stream, slam into the side of a LaFain’s wagon, out in the middle of the river. The tree was huge. Its trunk was bare of roots like it had been cut for wood by somebody up stream and the storm sent it down. It slammed into the wagon with a tremendous force, tipping the wagon over, lifting the wheels off the hard bottom of the river and was pulling the mules downstream. LaFain jumped in the water, trying to cut the traces loose to free the mules, but one of the trees branches caught LaFain and pulled him under. The wagon was pushed aside, like a match box. No longer hindered by the wagon, the tree started moving faster down river with LaFain tangled up in its limbs. Ollie and Ruff were swimming to shore without looking to Lafain. I reached back and grabbed a coil of rope and went into the water. Price grabbed one end of the rope, tied it to our wagon wheel and I headed to where I last saw LaFain. As I swam I knew it would be hard to find him but I had to try. I heard Price shout, ”He’s about ten feet to your left!” I looked and sure enough I saw his head. He was lucky because we were at the end of our rope, literally. I grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him up to tie the rope around his middle.
“Pull us in, I got him!”
Price and couple others hauled us in. I wasn’t sure LaFain was alive. Price got a hold of him and rolled him over on his stomach and commenced to lifting him by his belt. Lifting him up and down, none too easy I might add. He did that a few times and ole LaFain started coughing up some that muddy river water, he had swollered. LaFain finally was able to set up and he looked at me and Price, and said nothing. The other teamsters finally got LaFain’s mules settled down and rescued what was left of the wagon and it’s freight, by that time it was late, so we pulled up on a dry knoll in a pretty grove of cottonwoods to make camp.
Red and I was sitting at our fire a while later, sipping on a cup of coffee and ole LaFain came up. He looked different, the meanness and orneriness had gone out of his face. In a humbled voice he said, “I don’t know why, but you saved my life. I apologize for my beating you up Price. If you want to wallop me now that would be alright, I deserve it! I never been that close to dying before and I’m gonna mend my ways. I’ve done a lot of mean things before and I sure don’t have any friends, but if I can ever do anything for you two, just holler and I’ll be there.”
Price looked at ole LaFain, right in the eye and said, “Nick, I don’t hold any grudge against you, I appreciate your apology. Why don’t you have a cup of coffee?”
Later, Price was throwing some wood on our fire and he started laughing. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
He said, with a grin on his face, “You know the Lord does work in mysterious ways. You got ole LaFain’s attention when you laid your hand on just a little stick of firewood and the Lord got all of LaFains’ attention when He put his hand on a big piece of firewood. Nick is a changed man. Why he might even start preaching.”
“Price, I swear you’re got a good point there, a little wood in the right hands and put in the right place does change minds.” As far as I know, ole LaFain was as good as his word, for I never heard anything else or seen anything mean out of him, at least for the rest of the trip. However, I never heard whether he started preaching or not.
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