Jim Bowie by Robert E. Hollmann Page B

food. He looks like a good pup. He could stand some good food, and Ma’s the best cook around.”
    I watched Rezin shake his head.
    “You’re always picking up strays, Jim. What are you going to call him?”
    Jim looked at the alligator that was beginning to stir. He reached down and felt the stump of my tail where the alligator had bitten it.
    “I think I’ll call him Gator. Let’s go. Ma will have supper waiting.”

Chapter Three
    AS Jim carried me through the swamps I began to relax. Soon I fell asleep and did not wake up until I heard Rezin call out.
    “Hello. We’re home. Is supper ready?”
    I looked up and saw a small cabin sitting in the center of a clearing. Smoke drifted from the chimney and a small woman stood in the doorway watching us. She waved then walked back into the house. Jim carried me inside the cabin.
    “Hey, Ma. We got something for this dog to eat?”
    I watched the old lady as she looked me over.
    “Where did you get this mutt? He looks like gator food.”
    Jim laughed. “He nearly was. See his tail? A gator bit it off. I reckon he just needs some good food and he’ll make a fine-looking dog.”
    The old lady shook her head as she put some meat scraps in front of me. “I swear, Jim Bowie. You’re always bringing home strays. Well, go wash up. Supper’s ready. Then take off your shirt so I can mend it. I guess you’ve been wrestling alligators again.”
    * * *
    The next few years were some of the happiest of my life. Jim and I roamed the swamps together. He grew into a strong man and I grew into a pretty good dog, if I do say so myself. We had a lot of fun. Jim wrestled alligators from time to time and we hunted and fished and spent our time outdoors. Sometimes Rezin would come with us, but mostly it was me and Jim.
    There was one man who didn’t like Jim. He was the local sheriff who also served as a banker. One day Jim and I walked into his office.
    “Hello, Norris,” Jim said. “I need to talk to you.”
    “Have a seat.” He motioned to a chair. “What can I do for you?”
    “Well you see, I need a loan. I have a chance to do some business, but I need some money to get the business started.”
    The banker leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think I can help you. I know some of the people you do business with, like that pirate, Jean Lafitte. I don’t think it would be smart for me to loan you money.”
    Jim leaned forward in his chair. “Now, look here, Norris. Mr. Lafitte is not involved in this business, and even if he were, as long as I pay you back, why do you care who is in it?”
    “I care because it’s my money, and I don’t have to give it to somebody if I don’t want to. I think you need to take your mangy dog and get out of my office.”
    Jim stood up. “Now look here, Norris. Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean you can talk bad about my dog.”
    Jim took a step toward the banker. Norris reached into his desk and pulled out a pistol. He fired it at Jim, but Jim ducked and the ball hit the wall. Jim looked at the banker through the curling smoke.
    “I’ll go. But I won’t forget this.”
    I followed him out of the office. We walked down the street and saw Rezin walking toward us. He had a package under his arm.
    “What’s the shooting all about?” he asked.
    Jim looked back at the office where Norris was peeking out of a window.
    “I asked Norris for a loan and he didn’t want to give it to me. He insulted Gator, and when I stood up he shot at me. I didn’t have a weapon, so I left. I reckon I’ll see him again sometime.”
    Rezin handed the package to Jim.
    “I think you might need this. I had it made especially for you.”
    Jim took the package and unwrapped it. Inside was the biggest knife I had ever seen. The blade was long and curved at the end. It had a sharp point for stabbing, but it also had a sharp edge for cutting. The hand guard covered Jim’s big hand. The upper edge was wide enough to block the thrust of another knife.