Diana Reep - The Dangerous Summer of Jesse Turner

THE DANGEROUS SUMMER OF JESSE TURNER

D. C. Reep

E. A. Allen

Copyright 2015 Diana C. Reep and Emily Ann Allen

C over Design: Michael James Canales, MJCImageWorks

A ll rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or use of this work in any form by any electronic or mechanical means, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the copyright owners.

This is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously.

For Canyon and PresleyDR

For PaulEA

And dedicated to all who like to read about danger and adventure

The Liberty, Missouri News-Gazette

February 16, 1898

U.S.S . MAINE BLOWN UP IN HAVANA, CUBA!

Explosion yesterday sinks our battleship in Havana harbor

and kills over 250 sailors. Spanish treachery is suspected.

The Liberty, Missouri News-Gazette

April 22, 1898

CONGRESS DECLARES WAR ON SPAIN!

President McKinley issues call for 125,000 volunteers to free Cuba

from Spanish oppression and avenge the attack on the Maine !

E verybody knew I was an outlaws kid.

Aunt Livia always warned me to keep quiet about my pa riding with Jesse James and the Younger boys while they robbed banks and shot up the countryside, but in a small town like Liberty, Missouri, everybody knew everything. I was Hank Turners son, and that meant I was Turner Trash .

I reckon my pa felt fine about riding with the James gang. I never knew him, so I couldnt ask. He named me after Jesse James and lit out when I was a baby. My ma died before I could talk. Aunt Livia raised me like I was her own although she was a maiden lady of forty when I came along.

Youve got to rise above what people think, Jesse, Aunt Livia would say when I was little and came home bloody and crying from being beaten up. Turners can be decent folk. You do the right thing and youll get respect.

Finding a way to blot out my pas reputation was not an easy thing, but then war came. Most people in Liberty didnt know where Cuba was, but once they heard about our ship and the fallen sailors, they got worked up about the attack, and by the time Congress declared war on Spain, people were ready for a fight. When I heard the call for volunteers to go to Cuba with Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, I knew my chance to prove a Turner could amount to something had come.

To join the First U.S. Volunteer Cavalry Regiment, I had to swear I was seventeen, but what the heck, six more months wasnt so very far away, and I reckoned I could be just as good a soldier as any other fellow.

When the time came for me to leave, Aunt Livia got weepy at the train station. Youre going so far away! She let out a wail and hugged me in a fierce grip. Her tears made my shoulder wet where she pressed her forehead. Be careful!

I will, I muttered. I wanted to sound tough, but my throat felt tight, and my voice came out like a gasp. Dont worry about me.

The train whistle sounded, and the conductor yelled All aboard!

Aunt Livias fingers pressed into my arm. Dont get hurt, she said. Promise me.

Fighting might be over before I get there, I said.

***

B y the time I got to Camp Wood outside San Antonio, a thousand volunteers were there, and more coming in from every state and the western territories. The place was dusty and rowdy, but I felt good because I was one of the crowd, and nobody knew about my pa and his robberies. In camp, I was like everybody else

Uniforms hadnt arrived at Camp Wood yet, so the volunteers didnt look like much of a regiment. Rich New YorkersFifth Avenue Boys somebody called themstill wore their city suits, white shirts and straw hats with wide hatbandsboaters. Cowboys carried ropes and had leather fringe on their jackets. Some of them were real broncobusters. Indians from the territories arrived the day after I got to camp. We werent much alike, but we were all fixed on being Colonel Roosevelts Rough Riders.

The third day in camp, I was in line waiting to get into the mess hall when the fight started.

A cowboy pushed in front of one of the New Yorkers standing in front of me. Git to the back of the line, la-de-dah boy. Real men go first, not a boy in silk undies hell dirty up as soon as he hears any guns.

The New Yorker started out polite enough. I beg your pardon. The end of the line is well back there.

Then you better git back there. This is my spot now. The cowboy looked about twenty. He had a long thin scar on his cheek and when he smiled, his whole face went lopsided. Gave him a real evil slant.

The New Yorker stood his ground. I dont intend to move, he said. You cannot push your way in wherever you want to. Youll have to go to the rear.

A la-de-dah boy telling me what to dothats ripe. The cowboy sneered, slapped the boater off the New Yorkers head, shoved him out of line, and sent him reeling backwards.

We all got quiet. The cowboy shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, grinning, getting ready for a fight. The New Yorker took a step and slowly bent over toward the ground. I thought he was going to pick up his hat, but instead he came up quick and hard with a punch that caught the cowboy on his jaw and knocked him back on his heels.

Fight! Fight!

The orderly line of fellows turned into a pushing crowd. I was up front from the start. In spite of taking the cowboy by surprise, the New Yorker started getting the worst of it pretty quick. The cowboy knocked him down, and his head hit the ground hard. I could tell he was dizzy when he stood up. His eyes werent focused, and he didnt keep his hands high enough to avoid the punches that were catching him on his chin. The cowboy bashed him in the stomach next and tripped him when he tried to straighten up.

The crowd started tossing in advice. Hit him hard! Step back! Move around!

I couldnt tell who the advice was aimed at, but it wasnt helping the New Yorker because he doubled over with the blows he was taking from the cowboy. Every time he tried to fight back, the cowboy landed another sickening body punch.

Aunt Livia had always warned me, Jesse Turner, dont meddle in other peoples business.

Mostly, Id followed her advice, but I didnt think it was right the way the cowboy was bearing down on the New Yorker with a murderous look. Id seen that look in fights back in Liberty. Blood ran down the New Yorkers chin and dribbled on his white shirt. Another punch and he was back on the ground. The cowboy kicked him in his side.

Give it up, I shouted. Hes down. Just let him be.

The cowboy picked me out of the crowd, and his lopsided grin told me I was in for it next. I set myself to handle the blow coming my way, when he pulled a knife from his back pocket. The blade was shortthickshiny.

Dont mix in this, kid. The cowboy moved toward me.

Im plenty quick on my feet, so I dodged his first swipe at me. The crowd was too close to let me back up much. He got the knife near my chest, and I danced away again.

Now the crowd started giving me advice. Watch out! Keep back! Dodge him!

The cowboy had dark eyesalmost blackand he was getting near enough for me to see the sparks in them. He was excited about the chance to cut me up. For sure, I was going to get that knife in me before too long.

Something flashed past my face, and I spun around. One of the Indians in the crowd had flicked a leather strap and took the blade right out of the cowboys handsent it flying some twenty feet.

What in hell is going on here?

Id seen Colonel Roosevelt earlier, looking just like an officer shouldall polished up. Now he glared down at us and shook his fist while his horse reared up, snorting and pawing the air. I jumped back to avoid the bays hooves.