Creating Fiction from History: 12/29/2021

March 28, 1891

Part II

My dearest Marie,

Oh, how I miss you and Davey! The nights are the hardest for me to be away from you as I think of you constantly, so I decided to write you another letter with more news about Dave Wilson from my visit to the saloon a few days ago. As "luck" would have it, the guy that took $1.00 from me in poker (don't worry – I stopped at that point) was Jim Lowery, the owner of Lowery Boarding House across the street. I found this out after he offered to buy me a drink after the game and I showed him the picture of Dave from the paper, asking if he had known him. He said Dave had rented a room from him about 3 weeks before he died. He was working at a wheel shop at the end of town. He said Dave stayed to himself mostly (which was typical) and was surprised when he came to him 2 ½ weeks later and asked a favor.

Dave was looking rather poorly, Jim figured he wanted him to get the doc to come over but he said no – he asked Jim if he would write a letter for him. Dave wasn't feeling well enough to work that day so Jim went up to his room for a couple of hours and wrote down whatever Dave told him. On the next day, he went up to find Dave still in bed, he had died in his sleep. I asked about the letter, Jim said he never finished it and wouldn't know where to send it anyway since Dave had only given him a name, Jack...something. I said...was it Jack Carlson? He couldn't remember so we went across the street, found the letter and sure enough it was! He said, for a guy that can't play poker worth a hoot, I sure was a lucky guy! I choose to believe it was divine providence again, much like the first time I'd met Dave. He gave me the unfinished letter along with Dave's saddlebags. After reading the letter, I didn't want to wait until I see you to share it – so I'll write it out just as Jim wrote it down.

To: Jack Carlson

It's been over five years since we parted and I've often wondered how you're doing. Knowing you, I have to believe you've made a good life for yourself and hopefully, started a family (something neither of us really ever had). I asked a friend to write this letter for me because I wanted you to have something and don't think I will be able to make the trip to Whitehall to give it to you personally. This is the 8th town I've been in since I left you and feel it will be the last. I've lived a long life, made a lot of mistakes, always been honest, wish I had made a family but count myself fortunate to have found you. I've had a lot of different experiences over the years, but nothing quite like what happened about 2 years ago in Wyoming.

I was riding high up in the mountains in early winter and rounding a bend, saw someone sitting against a tree. I got closer and found it was an old Indian wrapped in a blanket, swaying back and forth, chanting with his eyes closed. I tied up my horse and stood watching him for a few minutes and figured out that he must have taken the "long walk" that was the custom in some tribes for old men to leave their camp, walking far away to die alone. He finally opened his eyes but barely acknowledged my presence with a slight nod. I decided to set up camp there for the night, built a fire close to him and cooked a big rabbit that I had killed earlier. He didn't eat much, but seemed grateful for the food. A couple of hours later as I was fixing to turn in for the night, he motioned for me to come close and reached into his blanket and although we couldn't understand each other, seemed to want me to have something in exchange for the fire and food. It was some sort of shiny medallion, very worn to the point of not being able to make out any inscription; I figured he must have traded with some trapper and this caught his eye. It must have meant a lot to him to take it on his last trip, so I took it, not wanting to upset him. Even though we couldn't communicate, it seemed that he was nearing the end of his journey through life and was at peace with this; no fear or stress....I almost envied him. After a while, I turned in, woke up once or twice hearing him chanting, sounding softer each time. When I awoke in the morning, I found him still sitting but slightly slumped over. I buried him as best I could as the ground was already getting quite hard.

About a week later, I made it into a town and while riding down Main Street, came across a man offering to take pictures for .10. I never had a picture taken so I decided to do it and at the last minute, remembered that medallion the old Indian had given me and decided to pin it on in honor of him. Anyways...I'm now pretty much in the same place as he was then, close to the end and hoping I'll find peace. I wanted you to have this picture and the medallion. You're the closest thing to family I've had for over 70 years.

And that's it – Jim said that Dave was really tired and asked him to come back tomorrow for more but as I said earlier, he died during the night. I guess I'll always wonder what else he wanted to tell me...he was a good man (best I've ever known) and even though I haven't seen him in over five years, knowing he's gone leaves a big hole in my heart. He was very lonely but I think our meeting each other helped him in some way...I hope so anyway.

It's late and I need to get to bed, only another 4 weeks until I see you and Davey's sweet faces! Please kiss him for me and tell him I love him. I do love you so much, Marie!

Forever yours,

Jack