Faced With Change

   “Gus! Gus, I got a telegram for you!” Thirteen year old Buckley Shawson came running up with the piece of mail in his hand. He had recently gotten the job of delivering the mail that arrived on the new train passing through their small village, and this was the first time he had been able to deliver anything to his own family. He handed the note to his older brother and held his breath expectantly.

Gus carefully unfolded the note and scanned its content. He was silent for a long while.

Buckley had grown very quiet beside him sensing something in the note was not as exciting as getting it had been. At length he asked very quietly, “Well, what does it say?”

“It’s from Will.”

“What does he say?”

“He says he needs me. His farm has been attacked by Indians several times, and although he has been able to defend it so far, most people are being driven to the nearest army fort or out of the country entirely. He has joined the army and they are going after the Indian tribes but they have very few volunteers compared to the size of the Indian tribes. Here Gus started reading the telegram word for word. “It might be stupid considering our lack of knowledge compared to theirs when it comes to the territory, but its our only choice if we want to stay here and I am unwilling to leave what I’ve worked so hard for. We need every body we can get. Every brain, every gun…I need you Gus. We need you. I feel like I might be dragging you to your death considering the odds against us, so I can only ask for your help. I won’t think badly if you choose not to come. Signed, Your Brother, Will.”

“Are you going to go, Gus?” Buckley looked up into his older brother’s eyes with the greatest sincerity.

Gus was quiet for a while and it was evident that he was thinking deeply. “Yes, I think so.” He turned and walked toward the house. “I will talk to Ma and Pa first.”

Delete Created with Sketch.

“It would be a good learning experience, I think, if I survive.”

Mrs. Shawson looked at her son. “Yes, but the odds don’t sound good.”

“I will bring my pocket Bible so that I can read at night and remember that God is sovereign and whatever happens to me has to go through Him first. You know that Ma. I can read to Will too.”

“Yes. I also know that decisions have consequences. But if your pa says you can go, I will not beg you to stay. I am glad you want to stand with your brother.”

“Thanks Ma. I will miss you. I’ll miss all of you. I will go meet Pa on the trail and if he says I can go, then I guess this is goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Son. Take care.”

Delete Created with Sketch.

Gus’s horse’s hoof beats could be heard from a distance as they galloped across the lonely road that led to the small village known as Hochville. When Mr. Shawson heard them, he reigned in. His pack horse pricked forward his ears at the sound, but his saddle mount remained nonchalant. He seemed to know exactly who was approaching.

“Pa.” Gus said after his horse had come to a complete stop next to his father. “I got a telegram today. Will is asking me to come join him.” Gus handed over the piece of paper as he spoke.

After reading the content of the note, Mr. Shawson asked, “Do you want to go?”

“Yes Sir. I do.”

“Then I won’t stand in your way. Did your ma pack your bags for you?”

“Yes Sir. Everything is with me.”

“Alright. Goodbye then.”

“Bye Pa.”

The sound of his horses hoof beats echoed on the dirt road as he galloped off, and day after day he listened to their rhythm as he headed west. Mile after mile passed beneath him until his bones ached no matter how he sat the saddle. Keeping his days and nights consistent and his mealtimes steady, he had lost no strength on the journey so far, but rather gained muscles he didn’t know that he had. As he neared the Great Plains, the sound of wolves howling in the distance became normal and every night before falling asleep he pictured them out in the great open space hunting the large beasts that populated the plains so heavily. He had heard about them from Will. They were called buffalo.

He began to spend longer days on the trail as his strength and endurance increased. At first after twenty-five miles in the saddle, he was exhausted. But now he could do a pretty easy thirty to thirty five miles, and his horse was gaining endurance as well.

On his third week traveling the Great Plains he wondered if they would ever come to an end. He hadn’t even seen a single settlement since entering them. This was his third month away from home, but he often thought of his family. He wondered if they would even recognize him now. He hadn’t shaved since he left, and he felt like his whole stature had changed. No matter though. In spite of the hardships of travel and the constant search for food and water, he was enjoying the experience. Every night he pulled out his pocket Bible and as he read, he thought about everything that he had learned about God’s creation that day. It amazed him and made him very excited. God was a indeed a very great God!

One night as he settled against the ground, he heard a wolf howl much closer than usually. There was something strange about its tone. His heart beat violently in his chest. After all this time spent with the wilderness and the consistency of the great plains, there was something that he detected in the sound of that wolf’s howl that made his blood rush up his spine.

Suddenly a sharp crack told him the bushes behind him had separated and a strong grip around his throat sucked the breath out of him. He fought it with all of his strength, but to no avail. He was running out of air fast. His eyes ceased to focus and just as he thought that he was going to be killed, he felt a sudden release in the grip around his throat. At the same time he thought he heard a gunshot, but his ears were already ringing so he couldn’t be sure. His head spun violently and his eyes closed involuntarily.

A few seconds lapsed in which he recognized nothing, then he heard his name. “Gus. Gus, are you alright?”

He forced his eyes open again. A man with a beard equally as scuzzy as his own was bending over him. “Will?”

The man nodded.

“How’d you know it was me?”

Will smiled. “Yours is the only Bible I know that looks like that. Come on. Can you stand up?”

“With a little help maybe.”

Will extended his right arm towards Gus. “Good.”

Delete Created with Sketch.

“Tonight?” Gus was taken by surprise.

“Yes, they have a camp not two miles from here. The one who jumped you was from that camp.”

Gus looked at the faces around him. All were dressed in army caps and clothing, and all had serious faces. They weren’t pulling his leg. They were going to attack an Indian village tonight. “How many?”

“Six hundred.” Will replied.

Delete Created with Sketch.

The darkness seemed to close around him as he crept up to the camp on his stomach. Soundlessly, Will inched forward next to him. He pointed toward the group of trees about five yards in front of them. At first Gus was confused. What was he trying to tell him? Then he saw him. An Indian stood among the trees gazing into the night before him. Even in the dark you could tell that every sense was alert, every muscle was ready for action if he detected any sound or movement. Suddenly he spun directly toward them and drew a knife from his belt. He remained in a crouched position like a mountain lion ready to spring staring in their direction. Had they made a noise? Had he seen them move? Then the thought entered into Gus’s mind that perhaps he had merely sensed their presence. Gus got the feeling that he was working outside of his skill zone like a hunter realizing that he was the one being hunted. Will must know they were playing with fire. But Will was ready for it. He had lived the same kind of a life out here as the Indians had, especially since he had started hunting them. Gus was not.

Gus began to inch his rifle forward, prepared to shoot from a prone position. He knew he needed to be ready for the Indian to attack them with his knife. He only hoped that the knife was all this enemy had. Then he felt a slight touch from Will, warning him not to move even the slightest bit. Gus froze, wishing with all his heart that he had his rifle at his shoulder. All at once the Indian let out a blood curdling howl and dashed into the darkness. The camp sprang to life in a single second and the sound of gunshots burst into the night air.

Gus instinctively ducked his head, but as he did so, he saw his brother spring to his feet and dash behind the nearest bush. Gus followed instantly.

“Every bullet counts.” Will hissed. “If you shoot, don’t miss.”

Gus raised his rifle to his shoulder and sought a target. But the air was thick with smoke and that, combined with the darkness, made it next to impossible to see figures. And what if he shot someone from the army? His brother’s rifle belched fire next to him and in the midst of the smoke, he glimpsed the body of an Indian drop to the earth. He searched harder for a target, but before he could find one, he was jumped from behind. Turning his rifle into a club, he immediately knocked his assailant across the face. The Indian went rolling off of him and he jerked his rifle into action. He knew he would never forget the sight of the Indian as his bullet punctured his chest and rolled him over with the impact. Smoke closed around him, and he turned to locate his brother again. At first he could see nothing but more smoke, but when it cleared, he saw his brother sprawled out on the ground.

“Will!” He cried, but when he reached his side, he knew it was over. His brother had been shot three times in the chest and once across the face. He obviously hadn’t stopped fighting until he had stopped breathing. Gus had heard about heroes and had always admired them. But as he stared down at his brother, he knew that no hero could be appreciated like that who was known and seen in the act of that heroism. For Will, that act was a continuous one that had cost him his life.

But the fighting hadn’t stopped with the realization of his brother’s death, and the moments that he spent crouched beside his brother were too many. A bullet slammed into his shoulder and jerked his attention back to the battle. He rolled over onto the ground and almost cried out in pain, but bit his tongue before any sound escaped. His gun. Where was his gun? Despite the frequent gunshots that brought death at nearly every one, there were no cries of pain. Will hadn’t cried. Gus had never heard a sound from his direction. He had fought silently, intent upon his purpose with gravity. Now Gus must locate his weapon. He was sure now that the gunshots didn’t only come from the Calvary. There were too many of them. The Indians had guns too.

When he located his rifle, he realized the pain it would bring him to raise his arm to shoot it. The bullet had dislocated his shoulder and his arm hung uselessly by his side. Now he must find some other way to fight until the battle ended- if it would ever be over. Who was winning? Six hundred?

Abruptly Gus spun around. He had caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of his eye and none too soon either. The Indian sprung on him and he knew that there would be no mercy for his bum arm. He fought with everything that he had, but he had no weapon to assist him. A knife cut deeply into his side and he groaned in pain. Every sense in his body went to his side. Then he felt his muscles weaken and he crumbled beneath the Indian’s weight. Darkness closed about him.

Delete Created with Sketch.

It took months to recover under the care of the people at the fort, but he was alive. As soon as he could sit up, he borrowed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote a letter to his family back home. With his left arm in a sling to protect it while it healed, it was rough to hold the paper still while he wrote these words:

Dear Pa, Ma, and Little Brother,

We had to fight the first night that I got here. I didn’t even make it to the fort before we attacked an Indian camp. There were six hundred in the camp and only sixty three of us. Will fought bravely and never uttered a sound as they killed him. It took four bullets, three to the chest. I never knew they had hit him until he was dead because I was attacked by another Indian. I will never forget what happened that night, and I will never be the same because of it. I guess change comes whether you ask for it or not, and coming out here I couldn’t have expected anything else. But I couldn’t have know what I would experience the night of that attack. I could never have imagined the horrible sounds and sights. But Will was my anchor a midst it all, and I lost him. I guess none of us ever know how we will handle change until we are faced with it, and this is a big change. Only God knows, and I am still asking Him to help me with it. I pray he helps you too.

Your Son and Brother,

Gus.

P.S. I never did get to read Will a Bible story.