CHAPTER 15
“We got to get a move on,” Chet said. “That sun ain’t waitin’ for nobody. If we don’t see where we is headin’ in the next little piece of time, then we got to wait for mornin’. I seen his horse up around that corner and we best fetch it.”
Matthew had returned to his horse right behind Chet and climbed on once again, finding the action still awkward. He wondered if riding a horse would ever become as natural to himself as it did for Chet. But he doubted it as soon as the question had formed itself in his mind. He supposed one had to be born in the saddle to find any real ease in the saddle. Matthew still had to concentrate on his position in the saddle in order to ward off any pain from his tender backside.
Chet turned his horse and started the short distance for the dead man’s horse. When they reached the bend in the wash around which the horse was concealed, Chet ran across a convergence of the tracks they had been following, though he was having difficulty seeing them in the growing darkness. Turning to look from the direction they had come, he told Matthew, “I’m thinkin’ that there just ain’t no sense in travelin’ no further. Might as well camp here for the night as well as anywheres.”
Matthew’s heart sank at the news. He understood that the day was over, but he had hoped to track a bit longer- they might be close. Instead of complaining he said as more of a statement than a question, “Too hard to see the tracks.”
“That is the long and short of it. If we head after these tracks, we might just miss some odd turn out. The whole time we is on the trail, our horses is messin’ up the trail with their own hoof marks. It’d be a mess to near impossible to back track if we got to.”
Chet swung down to the ground and stood for a moment. “I think we ought to set ourselves up on the other side of the hill. We can have a bit of fire then, and the glow’d be sheltered from up the wash.”
He walked over to the tethered horse and brought it back. “We might as well set up a horse ranch when this is all over the way we keep collectin’ this horse flesh.”
Matthew had stepped from his saddle also and was standing by the head of his horse. When Chet gathered the reins of the horse and started back in the direction they had come to get to the other side of the bend, Matthew followed.
Chet set about unsaddling the horses and hobbling each horse in turn. Matthew had figured out how to undo his horses saddle by watching Chet, but his lack of skill was amplified by the fact that Chet had finished the three other horses by the time Matthew was able to hoist his saddle down from the back of his own horse. But Matthew did not understand the idea of hobbling as he watched Chet start hobbling the first of the four horses.
“What are you doing?”
“This here is called hobblin’. Once it’s all in place then there ain’t no need to be tying up the horse. It can wander a bit and eat what it can for the night.”
“Won’t they just take off?”
Chet gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. “Nope. This here leather strap keeps ‘em from being able to take a full step, so they move about real slow like. In the morning they’ll be right here abouts. Easy as pickin’ mountain huckleberries. Just walk up and get ‘em.”
Chet walked over to Chet’s saddlebag and extracted a hobble for his horse. “Most people that’s out this way always keep one in their bags, along with that wrapped up bit of jerky in the bag.”
At the mention of the dried meat Matthew felt the hunger pains. Chet had given him a few pieces of his own stash through out the day, but never enough to satisfy. Matthew hadn’t known that there was any food on his horse, and he told Chet that he would have eaten a little of it earlier if he had known about it.
“Best to eat just ‘nough to keep the energy up while ridin’. I got a little trail food for us tonight, and some coffee, but I only got one cup atween us.”
Chet started to kick around at some of the larger rocks and shrubs near the base of the hill where they were planning on setting up for the night. Matthew looked on in wonder at the kicking, not sure what to make of it.
“What are you doing?”
“Snakes. Can’t stand ‘em. Just makin’ sure there ain’t none about here.”
“Are there lots of poisoness snakes out here?”
“Rattlers. But any snake ought to be routed. Can’t stand any of ‘em wiggly things.”
Chet instructed Matthew to gather a little wood before all the light was gone. In five minutes Matthew came back with his arms burgeoning with a load of sticks for the fire.
“We ain’t goin’ to have no big fire,” said Chet. “We just want a little heat for the coffee and somethin’ to chase the chill off.”
“Then we should be okay with this,” said Matthew as he dumped his load of wood to the ground.
“Sure. Don’t hurt to have a bit more ‘an needed.”
Chet set about making the fire and soon had his little trail kettle boiling with coffee. The water came from the canteens that were tied to each of the saddles. the two had refilled theirs when they had been at the stream earlier in the day. Chet had made sure that they used what they had sparingly during the ride, and even now he stressed that it is best to drink slowly and let the water get a chance to quench before drinking more.
The men had settled into silence as the evening itself settled into darkness with the coming of the moonless star-speckled sky. Matthew stole glances at his companion who sat now leaning against his saddle with his hat sitting on the saddle’s horn. He saw trouble in Chet’s eyes.
“Chet, thank you for getting involved with all of this.”
Chet was slow to answer before saying, “Ain’t nothin’.”
“It is to me.”
Chet just nodded in response.
“I don’t want to be prying too much here,” pursued Matthew, “there seems to be something bothering you.”
Chet made no attempt to answer as he poured the first cup of coffee and handed it to Matthew. Matthew took it and after taking the sip, he dipped a piece of the hard tack Chet had given him into the cup to soften it up a little.
In his low voice, Chet broke the silence that Matthew was beginning to think would be the course of the night. “If my momma was right, then it’s too late for that little prayer you said?”
“I’m not sure what prayer you may be speaking of,” replied Matthew.
“Back aways with that man I done sent yonder. You done asked God’s mercy for that bastard.” A tone of bitterness had crept into his inflection.
Matthew looked to his companion who was still looking into the flames, and he divined the battle of earlier in the day had never ended in Chet’s mind. He understood that the thrill of victory did not dominate this man. Instead something within was speaking its condemnation.
“You’re right,” Matthew said, “his life has now been written fully. He chose what it would be, what he would do, and how to live. But even Jesus wept over the death of a man. He takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked.”
“God don’t get pleased to put a person in the final destination?” The words were more of a challenge than question.
Matthew wasn’t quick to answer as the fire crackled before them. “Well, I think that depends. For some, those that have put their hope and trust in Jesus, God has great joy to welcome them home. But for those who have rejected Jesus, then, no. God has no happiness to deliver them to their own choice.”
Chet turned to look Matthew in the eye through the dim light of the fire. “Don’t you mean that God just sends him to hell?”
“What I mean, Chet, is that the person makes the choice of his own destination. It’s not God’s choice, it’s a person’s choice. When it is all said and done, God gives a person what he asked for on this earth.”
Chet chewed on this for a moment before returning, “Sometimes a person gets there awful quick like and there ain’t no time, no how to do as you say, ‘put their trust in Jesus’.”
Matthew nodded his head in agreement. “You are right. Life can be very fragile and it can end quit suddenly. God knows that also. You know, in the Bible it says that today is the day of salvation. The best time for someone to get their lives right with their maker is not at the end, but as soon as possible. Today.”
Chet gave a soft chuckle as he shook his head. “Well I just sent a man to hell today. You ever send a man to hell, Son?”
Matthew saw that Chet had just changed the direction of the subject, so he held his tongue for a moment and returned his gaze to the fire. “No Chet, I’ve never killed a man.”
“It feels like hell to be the one doin’ it. Maybe it’s best to just think that I didn’t put him in hell at all. He just died and that’s that- no hell to fear, no heaven to be wishin’ for.”
Matthew wasn’t interested in winning any arguments. If there was anything to win, it was Chet’s soul. He understood that many times the best thing to do is listen, so he resisted the urge to challenge the no-hell-or-heaven comment. The words weren’t the real concern. Matthew supposed that Chet’s struggle was more guilt related.
After a heavy pause Matthew spoke quietly to his companion, “Chet, I know that you did what you had to do. It’ll not be your fault one way or the other where that man has found himself to be now.”
“I know,” came Chet’s response, “I’d rather be sittin’ by this here fire ’an being buzzard bait. Wouldn’t want to change places. But all the same…” He allowed the sentence to hang without being completed.
Time crept on for a moment before Chet started again. “You know what? This ain’t the first bastard I done that to, and I’m givin’ it a thought that it ain’t goin’ to be the last. That’s what festers in my mind, knowin’ that I got to do it all again some day. Then its like the soul of that man sneaks up ahind me and whispers to me.” The light of the fire danced around on Chet’s face as he let his statement sit for a moment.
Matthew waited patiently for the words to continue. “He tells me that hell is waitin’,” Chet said. “He’ll remind me of my momma talkin’ about that man sittin’ in hell and askin’ that beggar Lassers for just a bit of water.”
Matthew discerned he was speaking of Lazarus, but didn’t correct him. Instead he said, “Chet, Jesus doesn’t want that for you. He loves you more than you can ever know.”
“That’s what my momma said.” Chet settled down further against his saddle. “I’m goin’ to get some shut eye.” Chet had brought the conversation to an abrupt end, but he mused on both the encouragement of Matthew and the hauntings of his doom.
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