Choices In Time
Author's
Note: "Choices In Time" is a sequel to "A Time For Love".
It is recommended if the reader is not familiar with the storyline and characters
therein it would be beneficial to read the first installment. This piece has been
renamed from it's former title "Choices". Please let me know what you
think. I enjoy any feedback from you readers!
Chapter XI
The Marshal's office was quiet when Buck walked through the door. He had come, seeking specifically to talk to Teaspoon. He thought of the Marshal almost like a father, someone who had been there in the past to offer a few words of wisdom when he needed it and did he need them now.
"Teaspoon?" he called.
"The Marshal's not here." replied a boyish voice coming from the way of the jailhouse cell.
Buck walked over slowly, his head cocked to one side, attempting to get a look at the unfamiliar voice. He walked right up to the closed cell, his brows slightly crinkled, a faint grin on his face. "Aren't you a little young to be in jail?" he asked Charlie Simmons as he laid on the bunk in the cell, his ankle crossed over a bended knee as he read the book in his hand.
"I was curious." he answered, not tearing away from the pages before him.
Buck's frown deepened, puzzled. "Curious about what?" he wanted to know.
"What it'd feel like to be in jail."
"Why?" he was utterly puzzled now.
Charlie sighed. "Why is it that grown ups live in such a small, restrictive world?" he asked, closing his book with a thud.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean why is it that you grown ups never seek to do anything out of the ordinary or do anything extraordinary for a change?" he finally asked, looking at Buck.
Buck laughed. "Oh, you mean like locking ourselves up in jail?"
Charlie rose from the bunk and tucking his book under his arm, adjusted his glasses. "I mean getting a new perspective of life. Seeing things from a different direction instead of standing still, staring at the same picture that rarely or often times never changes."
"What do you mean?" Buck asked him.
Charlie walked
over, pushing the cell door open as Buck stepped aside. He stood facing the
taller man, his smaller frame stoic and assured against the more intimidating
one. He looked up from behind spectacled eyes and determined to make his point,
asked Buck,
"Tell me, would a sunset look the same if you stood behind a tree as supposed
you stood in front of it?"
Buck thought the question rather odd. What did it have to do with anything? Yet he gave it a moment's thought, more to amuse his young counterpart than himself, replied, "I suppose if you just look around the tree, it's the same."
Charlie twisted his lips in a second's contemplation. "Hmmm...WRONG!" came the wry evaluation.
Taken by surprise by the boy's direct assessment of his solution, Buck in a slight defensive tone asked him what was the difference? Buck didn't really see what the big deal was.
"The object in front of you, that's the difference. Sure, you could see the sunset if you looked around the tree but wouldn't it be better if it weren't there at all? Say you walked around it instead of looking around it?" he philosophied.
"Yes...I didn't think of it that way." Buck noted, impressed.
"That's why I like to try new things and why I love reading." he glanced at his book. "It makes me see things through the eyes of other people. Makes the mind richer. Gives me something to contribute to others. That's why I like Ms. Dunne. She's not like other grown ups I know."
"Really?"
"Yeah." he started as he walked over to sit behind the Marshal's desk. Buck's eyes followed this most eccentric child. "She always encourages us to try different things; says it'll make us better people when we grow up, though I don't think I want to be an adult."
"And why is that?" Buck neared.
"No offense but...Is there a certain age where adults lose all sense of reason? Because if there is, I would sure like to know, that way I can prepare in advance!" he shook his head dreading the day he'd be cursed with adult shortsightedness.
Buck couldn't help but laugh again. "No, I don't think so." Then his words took on a more serious but softened tone, "When you grow up you don't see life the same as you do when you're your age. You see the ugliness a lot more clearer."
Charlie looked at Buck's dark, concentrated eyes and he knew what was going through his mind. "Like what happened to you over at Tompkins? I was there, I saw it." he said sorrowfully.
"Then you got your first lesson in what real life is all about. It's not a beautiful sunset is it?" Buck didn't mean to sound so discouraging himself but the thought just sprung in him all the nonsense he had to live in daily.
Charlie shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it."
"There's no pretty face to prejudice."
"I know. But prejudice is like that tree. You can let it block your view of the sunset or you can do something to change the view."
"Some views can't be changed no matter how many trees you go around." noted Buck.
"Maybe. But you won't know unless you try."
Buck snickered. Here he had come to seek advice from a man his senior, a man who'd lived and experienced avenues in life and here he stood, touched by the simple analogies of a young boy. How could a child make such sense?
"You're a pretty smart kid you know that?"
Charlie shrugged again. "It's relative. Even the smartest people have been known not to put to use what's between their ears when need be...but thanks." he smiled. The chair where he sat screetched noisely against the wooden floor as he rose to his feet. "Well, it was nice talking to you." Charlie took several steps towards the door as Buck asked him his name.
"Charlie Simmons."
"Buck Cross." They shook hands.
"I better go. My mother tends to worry about me."
"I wonder why?" Charlie smiled at the remark and turned towards the door again. "I-I heard something about Ms. Dunne teaching Indian culture?" Buck sort of splurted out.
Charlie with book in hand, pushed his glasses on his nose as he turned to Buck, his free hand of the door knob. "Actually, Marshal Hunter has come to visit our class. I must say though, his sign language skills do need some freshening up."
"I'll be sure to let him know."
With a simple nod Charlie opened the door just to meet up with Teaspoon as he entered.
"Why, hi Charlie."
"Hello Marshal Hunter. I gotta run now, but thank you for letting me use your jail cell."
"Anytime son." Teaspoon watched as the boy exited his office, smiling at such intuitiveness.
His attention was soon caught by Buck. "Hey Buck." he greeted, giving a hefty pat on his rider's back. He strolled to his desk, a hint of worry spread on his face. He sighed as he took his seat watching Buck's eyes. "Heard what happened 'tween you and Charlotte. Just have to say that I'm very disappointed."
Buck sighed heftily. "You're not the only one Teaspoon. I don't know why I took my anger out on her."
"Sometimes words are spoken 'fore we think, but it ain't never too late to make things right." counseled the Marshal as he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I hope it's not too late." Buck lamented.
"Have you been to see her?"
He nodded. "I just came from there. She wasn't home, at least that's what I was told."
"Don't lose hope son. Just keep tryin'. Remember actions speak louder than words."
"Yeah. I think a friend just reminded me of that."
The early morning sun met Jimmy and Kid's most anxious hearts. Both had come to a mutual decision to pay visit to several of the jewelry shops along this stretch of land in search of Mr. Witherby. Unfortunately for the boys, their quest would meet conclusion not in New Orleans but in another town, Baton Rouge. The old man, as they'd been informed had closed shop nearly two years ago, retiring from the practice himself and with the urgings of an overprotective, worrisome son, moved the family business there.
The news was not a welcome one. The ride would take another half-day and the boys felt an uneasiness about themselves having to leave the girls alone for any lengthy period of time. They returned to the hotel, informing the girls of the latest blockade in their hunt. They were assured that there was no need for worry. The important thing was getting to the gold first. Time was of the essence. Any further delay would only allow opportunity for someone else. The boys agreed. That very afternoon, they left to find the old jeweler in Baton Rouge.
Arriving into town just before sundown, and as they'd been told, found the jeweler's shop in the middle of this growing town. They dismounted their horses at once, seeing the shops were closing for the evening. Running up the steps, they entered the shop just as a spectacled, slim man walked around the counter. He eyed the two strangers. Their rough rider appearance told him they were not from this place. The gunbelts on their hips were unsettling enough. He tried hiding his concern with little success.
"I'm sorry gentlemen but i'm afraid it's closing time."
"We're not exactly here to buy anything." Kid said.
As if expected, the man at once raised his arms. "Take whatever you want! I-I offer no resistance."
Jimmy frowned. "Put your arms down! We ain't here to rob you."
"You're not?" he asked puzzled.
Jimmy sighed with annoyance. "We're looking for Mr. Witherby. This is his shop ain't it?"
"I'm Mr. Witherby."
The boys looked at each other. This was not the Mr. Witherby they were in search of. "Is there another Mr. Witherby?" inquired Kid. "We were told he did some special work for a friend of his...a set of coins that match this one."
"I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong person." he dismissed, his eyes merely glancing at the piece in Kid's hand.
Jimmy's annoyance
grew. "But you didn't even look at it!"
"There's no need. Look Mister, whoever you are, my father is too old and
feeble to get mixed up with the likes of people like you."
"Like us? Why...you don't even know us." Jimmy added.
The man snickered. "You have that coin. That's all I need to know. You're nothing but trouble. Now please, I have to ask you to leave."
A gruff voice from behind broke the mounting tension. "What's the problem here?"
The slim man turned at once at the sound of the voice. "You should be resting father."
The older man frowned. "Hush up Clarence. I ain't in my grave yet am I? So stop trying to put me there before I'm ready." The older one had a deep, rough cough. Probably the effects of his failing health. He walked up to Jimmy as he hobbled along with the help of his son. His hair was a silvery gray, his blue eyes peered through rounded glasses. He still dressed in the same manner he had for the past forty years as he worked in his shop. The cuffs of his long sleeves rolled up his forearms neatly, a magnifying eyepiece dangled from a chain around his neck and his suspenders now stretched over his larger belly.
"Well, let's see it." he demanded.
"Father, I have to object." intruded his son.
"Son, I may be old but I don't need you telling me what to do. When I'm dead, you're more than welcome."
Jimmy and Kid already liked the old man. Much spunkier than his stuffier looking offspring.
The boys apologized for the late intrusion. They related how they had come to seek his help coming to the knowledge that he'd been the one to manufacture the coins himself. The old man had taken the golden piece as he listened. He signaled for Clarence to bring him to a chair where he sat. Taking the magnifying eyepiece, he placed it snugly over his eye. A laugh eminated from him, springing the curiosity of all.
He waved the coin at Jimmy. "Do you know what this is boy?" Jimmy nodded. "So the old son of a gun is sending you after the gold? You're braver than I thought. Actually, never thought anyone would show." he shifted in his seat.
"You were expecting us?" asked Kid with a mild scowl.
"Just Mr. Hickok."
"How...?"
"Your guns. Two ivory handled navy colts? Don't reckon too many young men own such fine pieces. My clue from Jonas." came a grin. His weathered eyes surveyed the Kid.
"I see you've brought a trusted friend along?"
"Very trusted." Jimmy assured.
"Oh, you're going to need him." he pointed out through another rough cough.
"Well we've found you. Do you have the other pieces?" Kid asked anxiously.
Mr. Witherby coughed again. "Goodness no! I'm not a fool. I told Jonas I'd hide the damn thing but didn't want it in my house or around my family."
"It's hidden? Where?" Jimmy asked, his brow now crinkled.
"Back in New Orleans...on a riverboat."
"Father! How in the world did you manage that?! You could've been killed!"
Mr. Witherby frowned at his son. He was old but not insane. "No one knows Clarence." He turned his attention back to the two riders. "I sent the coin there myself. Lord knows I'm in no shape seeking adventure. Jonas left it up to me to decide how to do this but he told me he wanted that coin on that boat."
"But, if you made the coins, you know where the gold is hidden." asserted Jimmy.
Mr. Witherby shook his head. "No. Too many years have gone by and there are some things a man chooses to forget and that's what I did. Besides, Jonas scattered the three coins. I would've never guessed Sally to possess one after all that happened between those two but Jonas was smarter I reckon. I would never betray my good friend."
"He was a killer father. How can you call him a good friend?"
"Clarence, stop talking about things you don't know, people you know nothing of." he scolded. A formed wrinkle now donned on his brow. "Jonas was not all that people said he was. His reputation is what sent him to his grave."
"A well deserved reputation wouldn't you agree?" noted Jimmy.
"Yes." Mr. Witherby agreed with raised brows, "But it doesn't mean he wasn't a good man. He did much good for folks, not seeking recognition or accolades. He gained my respect for that but don't get me wrong. I don't excuse the bad he did but he was more good than bad."
This was definitely a side to Jonas McBride they never heard though it did little to change their perceptions. "You said the coin was hidden on a riverboat. Which one?" asked Kid, recalling about eight of them the last they saw.
A comingled series of coughs shot from behind the laughter that escaped Mr. Witherby. The boys wondered about his sudden outburst of laughter. The irony of the situation tickled Witherby beyond control.
"The coin's on the Southern Belle." he informed.
"What's so funny about that?" Jimmy asked frowning. The boys couldn't find the amusement in all of this.
"Carson Moore." Witherby noted.
"Who's Carson Moore?" Kid probed.
"A scoundrel if I ever knew one. And the owner of the Southern Belle. Little does he know that a trail to that gold is hidden on his very vessel." Witherby chuckled.
"Why hide it there?" he was asked.
"I told you Jonas wanted it there." he retorted gruffly. "But that's besides the point. Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you two boys." he said with a serious tone, his eyes looking at them with intensity. He leaned forward as he began.
"This is your clue: "The lady, the dog, her gentleman courter, stand guard all together with such deep emotions. She tosses a coin, with dreams so sublime, and wishes a wish for riches to find."
