Along The Fortune Trail by Harvey Goodman Page A

episodes of ravenous appetite for whores, whiskey, and gambling, concluded by periods of introspective retreat in which he wrote poetry.
    Homer indulged Reuben's eccentricities as God's handiwork and took no issue, mostly due to Reuben's fierce work ethic and steadfast business skills. Homer, for his part, had occasionally engaged in some of the same activities, but was considerably more private and discreet in his affairs. He knew of the whispered speculation over the years connecting him with Jacqueline, but neither of them wanted marriage and were never public enough to confirm anything.
    When seven-year-old Sammy Winds had arrived at the ranch in the summer of 1857, both brothers had thought it providential that Sammy, as the sole survivor of a murderous Indian attack, had come to land on their doorstep. They took it as a mission to do right by the boy.
    Reuben instructed him in hunting and fishing and trapping, and the workings of guns and gear. Sammy took to all of it, quickly learning timeless techniques of utilizing the earth's bounty and demonstrating intuition that marooned of a born breed, as the essence of man personified in purpose.
    Homer concentrated on giving the boy classical education, and read Grimm's, Aesop, and Andersen to young Sammy. Initially, Homer explained the morals, ethics, and lessons of the stories. Gradually, he sought the boy's opinion and judgment in the aftermath of each tale, asking deep questions in the simplest of ways and stringing together questions that lit a stepping path of logic and reason. Homer was a natural teacher, and Sammy was a natural student.
    As the years went on, he taught Sammy history, philosophy, science, and math, and he further kindled the fire of his intellect with Aristotle and Plato and Plutarch and Virgil and Dante, and The Bible.
    With the mentoring of Homer, Reuben, and Lundy, and all that everyone else on the Twin T. had dispensed and offered to Sammy as their advice or wisdom, or the one or two things they knew to be truly invaluable in living, it had been quite an education.
    Frigid wind whistled through the treetops with the song of winter's lullaby, and a full moon hung low in the sky, glowing dully through a lone opening in the clouds like the night's soul. Sammy dismounted and walked Dobe into the barn, then lit a lamp and pulled his saddle. It was caked with snow, as was Sammy's hat and coat, and icicles hung in his beard. Both man and horse were grateful to be out of the storm they had endured for the last hour of the ride back from town.
    Sammy rubbed the horse down with hay for the next ten minutes, then quit and looked at Dobe. “You're on your own, pard. I'd like to have a cup with you, but I don't figure you'd drink it … and right now I need it. Rest up.” Dobe snorted and stamped, and Sammy was gone toward the ranch house in earnest pursuit of hot coffee.
    Jacqueline was whipping cream, while Lucilla and Raquel worked on potato pies and biscuits. The smell of roasting beef wafted by Sammy as he entered the kitchen. “Happy to see I made it back in time to be on the front end of this deal,” he said, grabbing a coffee cup and heading to the stove, where two oversized coffee pots always faithfully stood.
    “What deal is that?” Jacqueline asked.
    “That deal of a meal that's permeatin’ my olfactory sense and creatin’ an anticipation of beautiful satiation.”
    “What you say, Mister Sammy?” Lucilla asked.
    “He said he's hungry,” Jacqueline answered. “Supper's at 6:30, like always. So if you look yonder to the cuckoo, you'll ‘cipher about forty more minutes. Homer was here a minute ago asking if you were back yet. He'd like to visit with you. I believe he's back in his den.”
    “Yeah? You know what it's about?”
    “No. Mister Taylor keeps his own counsel. But you can tell me what he wanted when you're done and then I'll know,” Jacqueline said with a mischievous smile.
    “What if he wants to consult with me about whether