This is an excerpt from my first book, KIAMICHI TRAIL. It is the story of Jonathon Stout, a fifteen year old who has the sad task of searching for his father, his last living relative - of finding and burying his father's body - and then surviving alone in the wilderness near the Kiamichi River in the mid 1800s.
 
   I rewrote this book, and corrected errors, in Trail of the Spirit Warrior. You get the whole story in the new book, TOTSW, plus double the number of pages, so I've pulled this one from printing. I have a few copies left, if you'd simply like to have a copy of my first book.

    I woke quickly, with all senses alert. It was late into the night and I had sensed a change in the night sounds. Quiet. That's what had woke me, not a new noise, but the sudden lack of it. Shiftin' slow like, I reached out my hand and snagged my nearby colt. Another thing a smart man don't do is sleep in these woods with his gun out of reach.

    The fire had died down to coals and it was mighty dark in here amongst the trees. Not a critter was stirrin' and I knowed somethin' was out there that weren't a usual part of the night. Not movin' at all, I just laid there and listened hard. 
    
   The stamp of a horses hoof was the first clear sound to reach me, then I began to pick out what seemed to be low voices. 
  
   "Why would anybody be sneakin' around here at night?", I wondered, "Maybe they was huntin', but not many people hunted at night without a coon dog."
   
   I decided to just ease further from the coals and wait 'em out.
    
   The voices barely reached my ears, but I could tell it was two of 'em, and they weren't real quiet in the woods. It sounded like they was arguin' about something, and movin' closer.
    
   "He's gotta' be around here," I barely made out the words.

    "Shuttup." Hissed the other, and I thought I recognized the voice. It was the Wiggins! Now what was they doin' lookin' for somebody in these parts late at night? I figured it was me they was huntin', and I didn't want to disappoint them none.
    
   "You boys lookin' for somebody?", I spoke quietly from the dark.
    
   Silence greeted my words. Nothin' more was said, but I could tell from the sounds of their passin' that they had split up. One was circlin' to get on my flank. The other, tryin' to be quiet, but not havin' much luck with the underbrush, eased the other way and kept comin' in.

    I moved to another dark shadow and, colt in hand, waited. Just as I glimpsed a rustle of brush to my left, flame stabbed the darkness from the other side and  I heard the 'thunk' as a bullet struck near where I'd been. "Maybe these fools will shoot each other.", I hoped.

    I didn't fire back since I didn't have either of them located for sure. It seemed like a long time passed before I heard any more sound, but it musta' been only a minute or two. They still hadn't spotted me, but a man with a gun, in the dark of night, was a dangerous thing. No matter the odds.

    Again, flame shredded the dark as three sharp reports cut the stillness.  Each was aimed at a different area of the camp in an effort to get me with a lucky shot. Seein' where the muzzle blast had sprouted, I fired off two quick shots in that direction, and again shifted position.

    It sounded like a small war had erupted in those woods. The shots come from both sides and reminded me of a string of firecrackers I seen once over at Fort Smith. The thunk of bullets hittin' the trees all around where I'd been was a scary sound. I wondered what sound they'd make hittin' my body.


 
Thanks for visiting, be sure to sign my guest book before you leave.                                                                Thanks again, Roger