Return to Holliday Creek (6)

Homecoming

        -By Robert Faulkender ©

First Sergeant Bill Hicks had received a letter from home that said the family business back in Ohio was failing. Bill’s dad had been ill for a long time and Bill’s older brother had managed things so badly that the family attorney suggested that Bill come home.

     The sergeants had been a good team: Bill the organizer and Ted the operator. And, they became good friends. When Bill Hicks announced his intentions to leave the army, he didn’t have to ask Ted Skillman twice if he wanted join him in the family business. For Skillman the gateway just opened to a life he thought he had missed. 

     Hicks and Skillman exchanged looks that lingered. Daily went on. “You both have furloughs coming; but, Hicks, you haven’t a prayer of taking one before your discharge. The colonel’s screaming for troops down here, and if he gets anything near what he asked for, we’ll need every top kick we have to handle the build up—that would include you Skillman, only, you get a break.”

       Skillman smiled. “I’ve an approved two week leave in my pocket; starting tomorrow.”


      The Captain nodded. “See if you can catch the afternoon train to El Paso today-- can’t obey an order you don’t receive.”

 

    Daily turned to Hicks. “Yours is more complicated. Colonel Slocum has called a commanders meeting at 1300. All first sergeants will attend.”  Looking at Skillman, “That will be all, sergeant. Great initiative and courage showed today—duly noted for the record.”

1890

     Wichita Falls, Texas was no longer a cow town along the Chisholm Trail. It was a bustling growing place, oriented on oil. Ted could see the offices of Panhandle Oil Company from the train station. A livery stable across the street beckoned. The sign read: Clay and Son Transfer Company.  Skillman walked over. He felt excited, perhaps a little nervous; he had been gone from the homestead for nearly nine years without much communications in between. Guilt set in. 

   The black man inside the office of Clay and Son was no young buck, but he moved with agility and looked plenty strong. He appraised Skillman, “What can I do fur ya, Sergeant?”

    “I need to get out to the Tarbutton ranch west of town. Anything going that way I can hitch a ride with?”

     “Tarbutton place, ya say?” The man’s face softened some, and he opened the back door of the office. “SARAH; come front.”

Sarah? Could it be?