Most bankers aren't ready to help you until after their third cup of coffee.
But with Central National Banks, after our service, you don't have to wait
for the bank lobby to open to get help. You can contact us from
six to eight thirty in the morning or from five to ten in the evening,
and we'll connect you to a real, live, local person who can
answer questions and fix problems seven days a week, Bank, Different Bank,
Central Central National Bank Member fdiccos Walwolves, Witches and Vampires. Written by jo
Anne Christensen, published by lone Bine Publishing. Margaret Sends for Help. Josiah
Wilbarger felt a fiery explosion of pain at the pace of his scalp. With
an agonizing scream, he fell from his saddle. Blood began to pour from
the wound, soaking the tall prairie grasses in which his crumpled body lay.
I'm dying, he thought, with a certain amount of disbelief. When he
heard the blood curdling screams near by, he knew that his friend was dying
too. He was a man who had good friends, as he was a
good friend to others. In particular, he was close to a fellow named
Reuben Hornsby, who had followed him from Missouri to Texas in the early eighteen
hundreds. Will Barker was not married, but enjoyed many of the comforts of
family life. His companionship with Hornsby and his wife and family. He had
consumed many fine meals, played with the children, and spent many an evening
in comfortable conversation by the Hornsby family. Hearth. Even Hornsby's wife, Sarah,
considered the young bachelor a welcome fixture in their lives. Life on the
Texas frontier could be hard, but having good friends and neighbors eased the way.
Occasionally, however, even the best of companions couldn't keep one safe.
Wilbarger and four other fellows had been out on a hunting trip. They had
ended their expectation and were traveling toward Reuben Hornsby homestead when their luck ran dry.
The group was ambushed by a party of comanches who had opened fired on
them before they were even aware of what was happening. Two of the men
escaped, but Wilburger's friends, Thomas Christian and William Strouth, were shot off
their horses, just as he had been. It was their screams he heard
as the common Manchi warriors slit their throats and claimed their scalps. Temporarily paralyzed
he had been by the raffle ball that lay in the base of his skull,
Wilburger was unable to defend himself or even respond as he heard the braves
move in to finish him off. Terrified, he waited for the sensation of
steel to hit his throat. Instead, he felt a hand roughly grasped a
handful of hair and jerk his head upward. There was a tortuously long minute
of exhausted pain as the razor sharp blade peeled a circle of scalp back from
his skull. Merciful blackness followed. Josiah Wahlberger awoke to discover that he was
naked, bloody, and an excruciating pain, but still alive. Darkness was
falling across the quiet plain. The injured man managed to slowly open his eyes
and survey the horrid scene around him. He could see the lifeless corpse of
Christian and Schrother, and he realized that he had escaped being killed only because
because the Comanches had thought him already dead. A second, darker realization was
that he may have survived the attack, only to die a much slower death.
Exposed to the harsher elements of nature. Wilburger could barely crawl. He
had no food or water. He had no clothing to protect himself from the
chill of the night or the days blistering sun. Reuben horns By his place
was a good eight miles away, but it might as well have been eight
hundred. The situation appeared hopeless. Josiah Wihlburger managed to crawl as far as
the nearest tree and propped himself up against its trunk and declared, it is
here. I'll die here beneath this tree. Nonsense, Josiah Wahlberger. The
voice was feminine and soft and had a playful scolding tone. Are such dramatics
really necessary? Wilburger continued. Wilburger could not believe his ears. Slowly he
turned his head in the direction of the voice. There, and the Texas
twilight stood his older sister, Margaret. She gazed down upon him with an
expression that he remembered so well from his boyhood days, when Margaret was like
a second mother to the Warburger clan. Her hands were sternly placed upon her
hips, and she shook her head solemnly as always, though there was a
twinkle in her eyes. You've really done it to yourself now, my brother,
she chied, this was not entirely my doing. Josiah Wilburger crote in
his defense. The effort of speech brought forth a dry, spectic cough from
his parched throat. The pressure lit fire and the wounds of his skull,
and Wahlburger cried out in pain. Margaret's face softened into the look of sympathy,
and the teasing went out of her voice. I haven't much time,
dear Josiah, so listen well and heed what I say. I want you
to stay here beneath this tree and wait for the help I will send.
I promise that you will be rescued before sunset tomorrow. Wilburger did listen to
what his sister had to say, and nodded stiffly to show that he understood.
He then forced his aching throat and swollen tongue to form one important question,
How did you find me? Margaret? Wilburger's sister lived in Missouri.
How she had known of his predicament, traveled to Texas so quickly and managed
to find him was a mystery. It seemed that it would remain a mystery
for even Josiah Wilburger was speaking, Margaret began to walk off into the distance.
By some trick of the rising moon, she seemed to drift effortlessly across
the rough ground. Wilburger tried to call out and ask her to stay,
but the dark curtain within his head was falling again. It would be hours
before he regained any level of consciousness. The next day brought mercilessly august heat
town on Josiah Wilburger. Several times he considered crawling away to search for water,
but stopped himself when he remembered Margaret's instructions. The bit of shade that
the tree provided was a blessing, and if only he could hold on until
sunset, he would be all right. If only he could hold on,
The shadows were growing long, and Wilburger began to slip in and out of
consciousness. Sometimes he dreamed of the command Cheese had come back to kill him.
Sometimes he wished that they would. As the sun began to set,
Wilburger imagined the gentle hands were lifting him onto a buckboard. When he felt
a cool splash of water against his cracked, dried lips, he realized that
he was not experiencing another trick of the mind. He was being rescued slowly.
Josiah, a familiar voice soothe. You can have as much water as
you want, but only a little at a time. Don't want to cramp
up now, it was Reuben horsebyed, holding the canteen back a little as
Wilburger clutched it greedily. Ruben how Wilburger tried, bo was too weak to
speak. It be days before he could tell his strange story or hear the
details of his own rescue. Josiah, are you feeling well enough to join
us by the fire? As Sarah Horsby asked the question, she was already
arranging some comfortable cushions in Warburger's favorite chair. The man had been in their
home for more than a week, recovering from his injuries. Anne had just
managed to take his first evening meal at the kitchen table. He looked tired,
but Sarah knew that their friend was anxious to talk about his ordeal.
She sent the children off to bed and told her husband that he should pour
out a bit of the brandy that was saved for special occasions and crisis.
The three friends settled in by the hearth and sipped their drinks. Then the
Horsbyes listened attentively as Josiah Lahlberger told his story. He left out no detail,
including the vision he had of his sister Margaret. He knew that if
anyone would believe him, it was Reuben and Sarah. When he came to
the end of his tail, he said, that's all I can tell you,
But now I would like to know how it was that you came to
rescue me. The couple looked at each other. There was a moment of
silence. Then Reuben began to speak. You can think, Sarah, he
said, for when we heard about the attack, we had given you up
for dead. But then she had well, I suppose it was a dream.
That night she woke me up saying that you were alive. She had
seen you, she knew where you were. Reuben paused thoughtfully and stared into
the fire. Sarah had been silent for the entire time that they had been
sitting together, took up the story. It was like a dream, but
so real. Josiah, I saw you, pardon me, naked and bloody,
propped up under a big tree. I knew how far away the tree
was, and I knew what direction to go. I knew you were alive,
and I wouldn't let Reuben rest until he agreed to take some men looking
for you. Sarah and Reuben exchanged a knowing look, and Reuben smiled ever
so slightly. It's true, he admitted, I had no rest night.
Wilburger shook his bandage head in disbelief. When did you have this stream,
he asked. Not long after I fell asleep, said Sarah Hornsby, and
I saw Margaret at sunset. Wilburg amused. It was like she went for
help, as she promised. But how could she have been here in any
form to help me when she lives in Missouri and knew nothing of my predicament.
It's a mystery, to be sure. As Wilburger tapped out his pipe
and rose unsteadily to go to bed, he shared one final thought with his
host. I'll have to write to Margaret about this, he said. I
wonder if she won't have a story of her own concerning that night before Josiah
Wilburger could put his thoughts on paper. However, he received a letter from
Missouri. Sadly, it was notifying him that his dearest Margaret had passed away
peacefully in her sleep. The paper shook in Wahlburger's hands as he noted that
the date of her death had been the exact date that his hunting party had
been attacked. The time of her death, he read, been sunset.
It was the very hour at which Margaret's spirit had appeared to Josiah, bringing
comfort and hope to an injured brother out on the lonely Texas Plains