The Legend of Hermit Jack

Chapter 1

Toole City

"I've done it!" he shouted. "Mrs. Fraser, I've done it!" He shouted toward the distinguished gray-haired woman who cared for his son.

He turned to Will, "Son, we are going west!"

"West? What's west, Father?"

" It's a second chance, my boy, a second chance."

William Warren, Sr. quit his job and sold the house that had been home to his wife and son and bought land. It was in Colorado and although he had never seen it, he knew it would be the answer to all his prayers and dreams.

***

It was the summer of 1880. Will was standing on the boardwalk in Toole City, Colorado. He was remembering his father's excited words. Actually, Will had not thought of anything else, since his father burst into their Wisconsin home, shouting at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Fraser, their housekeeper had been as shocked as he was.

Now it seemed like so long ago, but finally after the long stagecoach ride from Laramie, Wyoming, Will had awaken that morning, in Colorado!

They still had not seen the land his father purchased. However, Will knew they would get there, someday.

Meanwhile, he was just a curious 10-year-old boy, eager to find out everything he could about this bustling mining town. Starting with, why was there a black and white Border collie crawling out from under his feet.

Will watched intently as the little dog wearily made his way onto the dirt street. The collie grunted, stretched his legs, sniffed the air, and began his morning rounds.

Will watched as the dog headed toward the bakery for a slice of freshly baked bread and to the restaurant for a taste of last night's leftovers. He rounded the corner to greet the boarding house cook who always had strips of freshly cooked bacon. If he found any of the wooden doors closed, he would make a soft growl, and the door would immediately open. At each stop, there was a smiling human, satisfied that he or she had done their duty for the black and white Border collie.
Finally, he would jump up on the wooden boardwalk in front of the General store.

A sound startled Will and he turned to look behind him. A girl came out of the store with an old tin plate full of water. She placed it on the wooden boardwalk. Will watched as the collie lept up next to the tin plate and started drinking.

The little girl proudly said, "I see you've met Hermit Jack."

The boy looked over the collie, then said "funny name for a dog."

"Well, I named him after Jack Creek, south of town." she pointed. "Any loud noises scare him and he burrows a hole under the boardwalk. He'll stay for hours, just like that old hermit, up in the hills. Anyway, I just call him Jack for short."


"Hmmpf," he seems like nothing more than a bacon bandit to me"

Sally's face screwed up in disgust, "Bacon bandit?"

"Yeah, looks to me like he'd do most anything for a piece of bacon."

"You're probably right, "she giggled. " He's one of a kind, that's for sure."

Both continued to watch Jack lap up the cold water, laughing as most of it got sloshed out of the plate.

"My name is Sally. My Dad owns the store here. We've lived here nearly six months now. You're new here aren't you?

The boy was a couple of inches shorter than she was. She had to look down into his eyes while she impatiently waited for his response.

Will caught the girl's gaze and took a step back. He was not that shy. Her directness startled him.

"Um," he hesitated, thinking how much information am I ready to give out.
"I'm Will," deciding that was enough.

Nevertheless, Sally pressed for more. "Where did you come here from?"


"Laramie, my father, and I came in on the Laramie stage last night."

" I knew that silly, but I don't think you lived in Laramie. I think you came from somewhere else."

Will frowned, thinking, Ok, this isn't going to be easy. "We're from Wisconsin,"

Sally's mouth dropped. "Wow! That is a long ways away. What are you doing in Toole City?"

"So, is he your dog?" He pointing at Hermit Jack.

Sally had lots more questions. However, for now she'd just answer his question.

"No, he's pretty much the town dog. No one really knows where he came from. He just showed up begging for food one day. Like you said, he's a bacon bandit."

Will nodded, and then a frown crept across his face. "I'm supposed to be going to school, where is it?"

Sally literally beamed as she grabbed his arm. Despite his efforts to pry it away from her, Will found himself being drug down the boardwalk toward the end of the street.

"I'm twelve," Sally exclaimed. "But I'm the only twelve year old in the school, so I get to help the younger kids learn their reading and writing. How old are you?"

It seemed impossible, but Will's frown grew even larger as he visualized this girl helping him read and write. "Ten, but I don't need no help with readin' and writin'" he forced a smile at Sally. She was not detoured and bouncing with glee, she pointed to a big red building at the top of the hill. "There's the schoolhouse!"

As the two children rounded the corner leading up the hill, Hermit Jack found himself alone. He lapped up one last drink of water, and lay down next to the boardwalk. His head resting on his front paws. He closed his eyes.

***

Hours later, Jack heard laughter. His tail thumped in the dirt. He did not take his eyes off the corner, as he stood. Eventually, children began pouring out into the streets. Jack was delighted. He broke into a run toward Jack and Sally. He greeted them with a quick lick on each of their legs. They simultaneously shouted, "Hi Jack!" as the dog ran in circles around them, jumping with glee. Will heartily reached down and rubbed Jack's belly.

Will heard the clickity-clack of stagecoach wheels coming from behind him. He turned around but nothing was there. Then the dust from the street began to rise into the air. Six horses rounded a corner and stormed down Main Street.

Will's face broke out into a smile of recognition, as the stage driver cracked his whip high above the horse's heads. They breezed past Will and Sally, engulfing them in dust. Will started to run toward the stage stop. Sally and Jack simply cocked their heads to the side in unison, as they watched.

Will caught the stage just as a big man jumped down from the driver's seat. The big man's face also broke out into a smile of recognition, as he put his huge hand on Will's shoulder.

"Howdy, young feller!"


" Howdy Andy!"

"How's Toole City a-treatin' ya, Will?"

" Ah, I'm not really likin' it much, everything's new." He paused and looked down at the ground. "It's good seeing someone I already know," he extended his hand.

Andy ignored Will's hand, and wrapped a big arm around his shoulder. "You'll see me every day at 4 o'clock." Andy untied his bright red bandana and shook it in the air. Dust flew in every direction,. Will coughed. Andy reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a shiny gold pocket watch. "Ha Ha Ha", he grinned, "Oops... guess some days it's a little after 4 o'clock."

Andy opened the coach door and out stepped the mine superintendent with a cash box. It was full of the miner's weekly wages. He nodded in the direction of the saloons. Some girls leaning against the walls gave a simultaneous sigh.

The sigh meant that once again no one new, had come to town. No strangers would be spending their money on the girls, or buying drinks. The blacksmith across the street turned and went back inside. He too would have no paying customers. Several shop doors closed with a thud for the same reason. The sheriff made no movement at all, as if he automatically knew there would be nothing to move for.

Of course, the miners would now have money. They would soon be running to the saloons with their weekly wages burning holes in their pockets. The money would be out on the tables faster than the bartender could pour the drinks.

Will had discovered at least four saloons in the tiny town. Tonight they would be full of shouting, music, and the sound of playing cards hitting the table. Almost every miner would be out, even the superintendent. Although he never drank, he could always be seen leaning against the bar peering out into the crowd for anyone needing a little assistance getting back to the broken down old Jack Creek hotel conveniently located at the mine's entrance. It served as a bunkhouse for the unmarried miners since the first day of the silver strike. The superintendent begrudgingly became 'caretaker' for most of them. William Warren was one of the few exceptions. Each night he would dutifully return to the room he shared with his son.


Occasionally he did stop and peer over the swinging saloon doors. If anyone recognized him, he would ignore the invitations to come inside with a slight nod. William Warren had far greater plans for his meager salary.