Ralph Compton Comanche Trail Read Online Free Page A

orchard and garden.
    Soon a hand-painted sign hung above the doorway, visible to those traveling the Osage Trail, proclaiming that G ROCERIES, F OOD, AND L ODGING were available. Crude though it was, another way station for weary travelers was in business.
    In time, a steady stream of settlers stopped in. Some purchased a meal, a few bought sacks of ground corn and canned pears, some only stopped to water and feed their horses. Occasionally an exhausted traveler would take restful advantage of a night spent in the Benders’ barn.
    And Kate Two, a pretty young woman who had not inherited her mother’s girth or ill humor, would entertain guests. If a male traveler arrived alone, she would invite him to the bed in back of the cabin while the rest of the family excused themselves to the barn to tend the visitor’s animals.
    It was another talent, however, that most intrigued travelers. Kate Two claimed the mystic ability to communicate with the dead. For a dollar, the same price she charged for a visit to her bed, she would conduct séances once a meal was finished and the table cleared. With a flair for the dramatic,her eyes would roll and her head would jerk as she reached out to passed loved ones and communicated their reassuring thoughts to mesmerized onlookers.
    Along the Osage Trail, Kate Two was becoming something of a celebrity.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Thad Taylor had felt a growing sense of uneasiness as he traveled back southward, stopping to ask settlers and townsfolk if they might have seen his father. None, however, recognized the man in the picture he showed. It was as if Doc Taylor had simply vanished.
    Thad spent a morning in the small settlement of Thayer, getting no positive response from shopkeepers or passersby. The town marshal was asleep in his tiny office when Taylor entered and roused him. He grumpily said he’d not seen the man in the photograph before, placed his booted feet back atop his desk, and was again snoring even before his visitor left. Down the street, an elderly gentleman, repairing the broken axle of a traveler’s wagon, had suggested that he might want to make a stop at the next way station. “It’s only about five miles down the way, where you meet up with the Osage,” he said, pointing southward. “You’ll see it just ’fore you get to Big Hill Creek. Likely there’ll be a number of folks to inquire to once you get there.
    â€œIf nothing else,” he added with a smile and a wink, “I hear tell you’ll find a mighty pretty young lady living there.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    It was nearing noon when Taylor saw John Bender hoeing in the garden. “Young fella,” Bender called out as he tilted his hat back and wiped his brow with an oily bandanna, “it looks as if you’re headed the wrong way. Most folks are travelingwest these days. Why don’t you get down and come on into the house? You look like you could use something to eat and something to wet your whistle.”
    As he issued the invitation, a young man who appeared to be close to Taylor’s age peeked from the corner of the cabin, a grin on his freckled face. “Howdy, howdy, mister. Howdy, howdy,” he shouted, then broke into laughter as he began flapping his skinny arms. Then he disappeared.
    â€œThat there’s my boy,” Bender said. “He’s a bit touched, as you can see. But he’s a hard worker and does what he’s told, so I ain’t complaining none.”
    The inside of the cramped cabin had the odor of lard too often used, boiled turnips, and a faint metallic smell Taylor didn’t recognize. Kate Bender stood at the woodstove, sweat beading across her forehead and a dip of snuff protruding from her bottom lip as she removed a pan of corn bread and placed it on the table. She ladled a cup of water from a barrel that sat near the doorway and handed it to the