Finding Billy Battles

Prologue: Ted Sayles-2

"This here's about as close to an old-time saloon as I can get to these days," Great-Grandfather Battles declared. "Damned shame too. There used to be grand saloons in Kansas."

We sat at a table near a window, and eventually, I was sent to get coffee for my grandmother and her father. I bought myself an orange Nehi soda.

"Well, I'll be go to hell!" Great-Grandfather Battles blurted as he sipped his coffee. "If that isn't Tom Barkley over there! Why, I thought that mean old bastard was dead."

"Papa!" my grandmother hissed. "Stop it!"

"Who is Tom Barkley?" I asked a bit too loudly. Once again, my interest was piqued. Before Great-Grandfather could launch into what I was sure was going to be a juicy biography, my grandmother interjected.

"Never you mind. He's just another old good-for-nothing who helped give Kansas a bad name a long time ago."

Now I really was intrigued. I looked eagerly at my great-grandfather. He shot me a quick wink. "Sorry, Ted. Maybe another time."

We sat there for another thirty minutes or so while my grandmother and her father engaged in more small talk about family members I had never heard about. My eyes combed the room trying to figure out which of the old men was Tom Barkley. I finally decided he must have been one of four men engaged in a loud card game. We then strolled back to Great-Grandfather Battles' building. As we walked across the green campus, stopping for a few minutes at a bluff high above the Missouri River, I was struck again by how well he walked—erect and with a confident gait, even with the cane. For someone ninety-eight, he was sure in great shape, I remember thinking.

"You know, Ted, Lewis and Clark camped just up the river from here when they were on their journey of discovery," Great-Grandfather Battles said. "Just follow the river up past that bend there, and that's where they camped."

I nodded in acknowledgment, not really caring at the time about Lewis and Clark. I was more interested in Charley Higgins and Tom Barkley.

When we returned to the veranda, Mrs. Crow was waiting for us. "Getting on to suppertime, Captain Battles," she said. It was her way of signaling an end to our visit.

My great-grandfather extended his hand. It seemed as large as a catcher's mitt, and my hand was engulfed by it.

"Now you take care of yourself, Ted. And come back to see me soon!"

I looked at my grandmother. "Yes, we'll be back soon, Papa. But Ted has got to go back to Kansas City to school. We'll come back in a few months after Ted is out of school."

My great-grandfather eyed me closely. "School is real important. After you get out and you're a bit older, come back, and I'll tell you some real good stories about Kansas City." He flashed another wink at me.

Grandmother cleared her throat and looked uncomfortably at Mrs. Crow. "Yes, I am sure you will. Well, Theodore, we best be on our way."

My face was flushed again. She said it again. "Ted, Grandma. Ted!" I insisted.

"OK, then, Ted," my grandmother said, throwing a patronizing look at Mrs. Crow and Great-Grandfather Battles.

As we drove off, I looked back at the broad veranda where we had just left Great-Grandfather Battles and Mrs. Crow. He stood erect and waved with one hand. With the other, he patted Mrs. Crow's behind. Grandmother Sayles didn't see that.

About a month later, my grandmother and I would make the drive to Wadsworth again.

When we got to the home, my grandmother announced that she had some cousins she wanted to visit and suggested that I spend some time talking to Great-Grandfather Battles. I was about to protest when I saw Mrs. Crow and my great-grandfather standing on the veranda.

"Papa requested that it be this way… don't ask me why," my grandmother said. "I will be back in about two hours."

I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I saw no way out of the situation and decided to make the best of it. I climbed out of the car and watched it drive away. Then I turned and walked to the veranda.

"I imagine you are wondering what is going on," Great-Grandfather Battles said. Before I could answer, Mrs. Crow excused herself and headed for her office.

"Let's go over to the Dugout for some refreshments," Great-Grandfather Battles said. "I'm as dry as a covered bridge."

Even though he stood erect and walked pretty well, the pace to the Dugout was slower than I was used to.

"Sorry to be such a slowpoke," he said. "My pins don't work as well as they once did."

"That's OK," I assured him. "We have two hours."

"Well, I reckon we'll get there before then," he laughed. Then he grabbed my shoulder and gave it a short squeeze. When we reached the Dugout and settled at a table, Great-Grandfather ordered two lemonades.

"You must be wondering why I wanted to see you again." I nodded. "I guess so…"

"Well, let's not beat about the bush, then. I asked to see you alone for a couple of reasons. First, you are my only living male relative since the death of your father. I never had any sons, just daughters."

Great-Grandfather Battles saw my surprise at that remark.

"Most folks think Anna Marie is my only daughter… but I have two more. They live in Kansas City. You'll learn more about them a bit later."

Great-Grandfather Battles stopped talking and took a swig of lemonade. "Damned fine stuff, but it could do with a shot of whiskey." Then he winked and pulled out a small flask from his pocket and poured a few ounces into his glass. "I would offer you some, Ted, but I am sure Anna Marie would jump down my throat if I did," he said.

"I don't drink that stuff anyway," I said. "I tried it once when my father wasn't looking. It made me sick."

"Good! Don't ever get started. It could be the death of you. Look at me!" He laughed at that. "Truth be known, I never did care much for the stuff either, but now that I am so damned old and my bones and joints hurt, it kinda helps with the aches and pains."

He took another swig of lemonade-whiskey. "That's better."

I found myself looking around the amusement hall. There were a few other old men sitting around some card tables. A couple were shooting pool, and a few more were napping in brown leather lounge chairs.

"OK, let's get to it," Great-Grandfather Battles said.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I shifted nervously in my chair and then took a sip of lemonade.

"It is no secret that I don't have a lot of time left on this earth," he began. He was looking me straight in the eye, and I quickly shifted my gaze to the floor. "It's OK, Ted. At some point, the grass will be waving over all of us. It's the natural way of things."

"I guess so."

He could see that such a matter-of-fact explanation of death did little to salve the pain I still felt about losing my father.

"I'm sorry about your Pa. I never met him, and that's a damned shame. I expect you miss him a lot."

I nodded, looked away, and took a swig of lemonade. I did miss him, terribly. He was an editor at the Kansas City Star, and barely forty-five when he suffered his first and last heart attack while building a shed in our backyard.

"That's awfully young to pass away," Great-Grandfather Battles said. "But we never know when we are going to be walking that final path. And that's why I wanted to have this talk with you today. I have lived a long and eventful life, Ted. In doing so, I have had a lot of experiences, and I have stockpiled lots of memories to go with them. I never got rich, but I was never impoverished either. Nevertheless, most of what I own is right here in Wadsworth, packed in a couple of trunks."

Great-Grandfather stopped to take another swig from his lemonade-whiskey.

I followed suit with my unadulterated lemonade.

"The fact is, Ted, as I said, you are my only living male heir. All my children were girls. I have no brothers, no uncles or male cousins, no grandsons, now that your father is gone. So you are it. And what I have I want to give to a male heir."

I wasn't sure what he was getting at. Was he giving me those trunks? "This may seem like an odd request of a boy your age—twelve right?" I nodded.

"Well, here it is. I would like you to have all of my possessions. It's not much, but I want you to have it all."

"Thank you," I said, though for the life of me, I don't know why. He didn't know me, and I didn't know him. I recall squirming in my chair and thinking that I wanted to leave. Great-Grandfather Battles was a perceptive old geezer, however, and he seemed to know what I was thinking.

"You must think I am a strange old grissel-heel, eh?"

I didn't say anything. Instead, I stared at my feet, which were encased in a pair of blue-and-white Keds tennis shoes.

"I made it a point during my life to keep a record of my comings and goings, events that I experienced, people I met—both good and bad—and places I traveled to," he continued. "I have written something like twelve journals. About a dozen years back, I began writing my memoirs based on those journals. Never finished it. I don't expect you to understand what I am about to tell you right now. You are still a boy. But later, when you are grown and you have finished your education, you will better understand things. It is just as well, because I prefer that a lot of what I am writing not be available to others until after your grandmother and I are gone."

He could see confusion in my face. What was he talking about?

"Ted, I want you to take my journals, my memoirs, all my belongings, and someday, perhaps twenty years from now, you can help me set the record straight about some things I did, people I met, and some events I witnessed."

"Do you want me to take everything now?" I asked. I wondered if my mother would let me have a lot of old junk in my room at home.

"No, no. I am going to give everything to your grandmother with instructions on when she is to give it all to you."

He looked at me and saw that I was still confused by this odd meeting.

"I know this may seem like a lot to take in right now," he said. "Hell, you don't even know me. But you can believe me when I say later on, when you are older, it will all make sense to you."

"OK," I said. I was eager to get out of Wadsworth and away from this eccentric old man whom I had only seen twice in my life.

Great-Grandfather Battles and I walked slowly back to his dormitory. On the way, we stopped for a moment, and he looked down at me.

"One final thing," he said. "Everything I have told you today and everything I will tell you in the future is only between you and me. That OK?"

"You mean, I shouldn't even tell Grandma?"

"That's right. Nobody. It has to be our secret."

Now I was intrigued. There is nothing like telling a twelve-year-old something is a secret to get the old mind's eye working overtime.

I met with Great-Grandfather Battles three more times over the next two years, and at each of these meetings, he told me stories about places and events I had never heard of. I think it was his way of priming my intellectual pump, of igniting my curiosity. The stories were not filled with great detail. I think he knew the attention span of an adolescent was a limited thing and didn't want to fill my head with too much information. Nevertheless, the stories created little spurs in my mind that many years later would help me unravel some of the mysteries of my great-grandfather's life.