A Western Christian Story

It was cold, very cold. He needed this coffee, needed it bad. The fire felt good. He couldn’t stay to close to it as he felt he might be noticed. By whom he had no ideal but he felt it, felt it strong. He has lived a large portion of his life in the wild. As such, he had learned to depend on his “gut feelings”. He had such feeling now. He trusted it completely.

He filled his cup close to the top. Then he slowly backed into the brush behind him. He was concealed for the most part. To a trained eye he could probably be detected, but for a novice, he would be completely invisible. Problem was, he was dealing with a trained eye. He just felt it.

Zeb was a Christian. As a matter of fact, he was strong in his faith. Living in wild country, sometimes that faith was severely tested. Killing was just part of the culture if you wanted to survive. He didn’t like to kill, but it was necessary. You had to kill to eat. Sometimes you had to kill to keep from being killed.

He had read his old King James Bible through numerous times. He believed every word of it, through and through.

He sipped on the coffee. It felt good. It seemed to warm his innards. He wanted to read his Bible this morning but felt he couldn’t take his attention off of his surroundings. Every sense had to be on alert. Every movement had to be detected, evaluated and dealt with, rather physically or mentally. None the less, he knew the Word of God in his heart. He believed in what King David had said in Psalms, “Thy Word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against thee”. He had God’s word in his heart.

Sometimes, it was a balancing act to live and not sin. He didn’t want to harm anyone. If only all men could learn to live together?

Zeb was good with just about every form of weapons. He learned these skills early on in life. He was a good fighter also. Having 4 brothers, you had to fight, not in hate, just for the sport of it. He was good at it. Living off the land, using a rifle or pistol was just another tool you had to perform with. He was exposed to bow and arrows, he could use one proficiently but there were those who were better . Knives? they were just an extension of you hand.

He was a good tracker too. Not many things could get pass him if he took an notion to find them.

He now sat in the land of the Comanche.  He knew them well. He knew what they would do to him if they caught him. He couldn’t be taken alive that was for sure. They had ways to make you really hurt, ever before death.

As he looked around slowly, he sent up a silent prayer. A prayer for God’s protection on him, for guidance and  wisdom. He felt God’s answer. He felt it strong. That was good because he would need it.

The leather strap was off of his pistol he had on his side. He did this when he felt the need to get it out quickly. His rifle was close, very close. He never let it get to far from him.

His mustang was tied off a couple of hundred feet away, he was saddled and ready to go if needed. He has grazed last night. He was ready. Zeb could see him. If anything was close, the horse would tell him by his reactions.

They coffee was about finished. One cup was enough for right now. He took his last drink and moved slowly out of the bush. He empty the coffee pot, pouring it off to the side. He didn’t want to pour it on the fire as it would make to much smoke. The existing fire gave off little smoke and it was quickly concealed by the tree branches  above. He quickly poured sand and dirt on the fire. It was out. The pot was hot but not so hot as to go into his saddle bags. He slid a piece of jerky in his mouth. It was good.

He slid back into the cover of the bush. He studied his surroundings for a moment. All was still or so he thought. He reached over to grab his rifle and head down to where the mustang was.  As he did so, the arrow missed his shoulder by 4 inches. Instinct took over for Zeb, he was 20 feet away with several jumps then he lay still. Movement, movement is what he needed to see. Just any movement. There it was. He wanted to fire his rifle but knew he needed to wait to see if there was only one there.

It must be a young warrior. No old warrior would give his location away with that movement. Another movement, then several. No doubt the young warrior thought he had hit him with the arrow. He started to move toward the fire Zeb had. Zeb was not there. Zeb location was perfect to kill him when he went by. Just as the young warrior came by, Zeb then jumped from his cover with a knife in his hand. Instantly, the warrior was penned to the ground with Zeb’s knife at his throat. He knew he was fixing to die. Zeb seen the look in his face and knew he couldn’t just kill him like this. He slowly lowered his knife cautiously, ready for any aggressive reaction. There was none. The young warrior knew his life had been spared. He also knew he had to repay this act of mercy.

Zeb knew little of the native tongue, but he know a little.  He told the young warrior to go in peace. Zeb backed away slowly and back into the bush. He found his mustang still tied. Cautiously, he untied him and stepped in the saddle. He detected no movement as he rode through the timber for concealment. He left.

They young warrior just lay for a moment. He was startled by the events that just happened. He had been spared this death. He thought about the face of the man he had just seen. He would remember it for the rest of his life. He had to. He felt this was an omen. An omen that said he must live and lead his people. That said that even his enemies would spare his life. It was an omen that said that he owed a debt to this man. He would pay it.

He found his horse at the bottom by the creek. He too rode away to another life. Another destiny.

HIs name was Quanah Parker.

Would their paths ever cross again? Destiny would tell.

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One Response to “A Western Christian Story”

  1. Mandy says:

    Excellent story- whens the next installment???

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