Nick Rackham knew only poverty and pain growing up in the heart of Appalachia. The lashings from his father’s whip left deep scars and inspired Nick’s resolve to break free. At sixteen, his feet wrapped in cowhide, wearing rags for clothes, and carrying only a meager supply of food, he escapes the hardship and abuse, determined to someday succeed as a rancher in the untamed west.
The Civil War is over. Territorial expansion of the west is exploding. The railroad system spiders across the nation while its builders ruthlessly drive out the people who made the plains, hills and deserts home for centuries. Law and order clashes with emboldened gangs of criminals. Gunmen, rustlers and thieves prey upon those helpless to resist. It’s treacherous country, but one that offers opportunity for a better life for those with the grit, courage and strength to survive.
Traveling through the mountains of Kentucky, across the mighty Mississippi, the Ozarks, the great plains, and the deserts of New Mexico and Arizona, Nick confronts swindlers, war parties, outlaws and killers, making his quest for a new life a challenge that must be met The Hard Way.
Coming September 2026
Nick Rackham's Westward Journey
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None of us tried killin’ Pa but we was all different toward him an’ I think it scared ‘im. Us brothers stuck up for each other an’ Ma now. Four of us was as big or bigger than him an’ me n’ Cecil wasn’t far behind. That’s how it works with bullies. Deep down they’s cowards, got no grit. A few folks stand together, n’ that bully crawls off on ‘is belly, like a snake. Pa was a snake an’ not much no more with the whip or the fists or the kickin’ ’cause he knowed he couldn’t whup up on all six of us boys. Surely, we owed us a debt to Old Joe.
Ma had her another baby, number eleven. Named her Eleanor but we called her Ellie. That baby proved the end of her. Ma weren’t so strong to begin with what with the way Pa treated her over the years an’ she were just plumb wore out. One day she took to her bed an’ never got up. Pa carried on ’bout us buildin’ Ma a pine box an’ linin’ it with a tattered blanket, said it was wasteful. We built it anyway an’ buried her on a knoll under a nice shade tree. Pa stayed in his barn jus’ a sulkin’ an’ drinkin’ his homemade an’ we was jus’ glad he didn’t stand at her grave.
George Emory left home about a month after Ma died. Said it was time for him to start his own life. Couldn’t much blame him. Always wondered where he ended up and how things turned out. I heard nary a word nor seen ‘im again.
Didn’t take Pa long to hitch hisself to a new wagon. ‘Bout six weeks an’ here she comes, movin’ in lock, stock, n’ barrel. She was mean, an’ a biggun too. Figured Pa weren’t gonna git away with smackin’ her ’round none. Fool done gone n’ tried it a time or two n’ got hisself a broke nose an’ a pair of racoon eyes for his trouble. Pa met his match an’ I surely were thankful ’bout that. Yessir
My brothers, well, them boys started lightin’ out on their own, one by one, leavin’ more work to fall to me. I was fifteen now an’ wishful of makin’ my own escape but winter was comin’ on an’ it surely weren’t lookin’ too sensible to break loose jus’ yet. Emma, that was the name of Pa’s new wife, didn’t bother me so much. Pa kept insistin’ I call her Ma, but now that I was eye level with him, an’ prob’ly twenty pounds heavier, he generally dropped it when I refused.
To be fair, once Emma settled in, she was a’ mighty kindly to the little ones an’ Stewart was gittin’ downright spoiled. The house were never much to brag on but now it were a pig sty. I didn’t cotton to havin’ to chase chickens n’ other critters off the table when I set to eatin’. Leastways when colder weather come along, the flies died off.
We had us the most miserablist winter ever. Me n’ Cecil done put up quite a pile of firewood back when the leaves was turnin’ red an’ we still dang near ran out b’fore winter wore itself out. Food came scarce an’ I tried my hand at huntin’ but had no luck. Pa never teached us nothin’ ’bout huntin’ an’ skinnin’, so we was a sorry bunch when it come to survivin’ off the land. Pa stayed in the barn burnin’ wood he didn’t chop nor stack an’ drinkin’ his shine t’ keep his innards from freezin’.
By the beginnin’ of March, with the worst of the weather played out, I finally decided to git started on life for my own self. I bundled up a speck of food in a mostly clean rag, stuffed it in the pocket of my too small jacket, wrapped my feet in three pair of holey socks an’ strapped a hunk of cowhide on the outside. See, I never had me no real storebought shoes of my own. I had to wear what were handed down to me from my older brothers. They’d already lit out ‘cept for Cecil n’ I was bigger n’ him so there jus’ weren’t no shoes ’round for me. Didn’t matter none. Time was a’wastin’.
I hauled out just before daylight, sayin’ nothin’ to nobody. Jus’ me, the hills n’ the woods. I was on my own an’ knowed nobody’d ever come lookin’ for me. I had nothin’ an’ weren’t leavin’ nothin’. Well, I WAS leavin’ a whole lotta misery behind. I been a workin’ prisoner on 30 acres my whole life. Went to town once when I was jus’ a littlun but can’t remember much ’bout it. Visitors met Pa at the barn an’ left in a rush. Never talked to none of ’em. Yep, had nothin’, knowed nothin’. Didn’t know where I were headin’ an’ I didn’t much give a care.
Well, wish I could say the country was pretty but the trees was still bare, the ground was damp n’ boggy an’ the rocks was gray. I seen deer n’ rabbits n’ squirrels but I had nothin’ to hunt with an’ didn’t know how to do it no way. ‘Bout the time the sun was high up I set myself down n’ chewed a bit on some dried-up beef. I think it was beef. It surely was cold an’ that got me to thinkin’ ’bout nighttime. I maybe shoulda waited ’til April but then Pa woulda had me draggin’ that plow n’ turnin’ over dirt. Had to do everythin’ by hand after he killed our mule. He sure weren’t gonna leave his barn to go lift a finger ’round the place. Nah, better to freeze n’ starve by my own self.
I don’t have no timepiece, but when I seen the sun sinkin’ down figured I best find myself a place to bed down for the night. My feet ached an’ I was chilled clean through, but I’d made me some distance. It was gettin’ dark when I found me a couple big rocks juttin’ out the side of the hill I was climbin’. At least it would keep the wind off me some. I tucked in tight under the edge, grabbed me another piece of that salty beef and chewed on it ’til I fell asleep. It was plenty cold, but I couldn’t keep my eyes awake.
Six days I been walkin’ an’ my guts was empty an’ a growlin’. Pa never teached us nothin’ about the woods, or huntin’, or livin’ off the land. He was jus’ a no-account dirt farmer an’ didn’t do no farm work once he had him six boys to do everythin’. The corn we raised went to feed the still. I hoped Cecil would wait ’til warmer weather to run off. I was in bad shape. My cowhide wrappin’ on my feet was worn out an’ my socks were gettin’ holes in the holes. Well, can’t get much worse, I s’ppose.
Rain made it worse. I walked an’ climbed an’ finally found a cluster of low to the ground pines that I hid under. Weren’t the best but it helped. I curled up in a ball n’ shut my eyes hopin’ it would warm up.
Not sure if it’s day nine or ten. I’m barefoot now. I been chewin’ on this cowhide tryin’ to make like I’m eatin’ somethin’. Ain’t workin’ too good. Feelin’ weak n’ everythin’ aches. I keep sweatin’ but that don’t make no sense ’cause it’s still awful cold. I might have to stop. My feet are bleedin’. I’m usually barefoot spring n’ summer but I never walked much on cold rocks. Guess I might die alone in these here hills. Hope my brothers made out better’n me.
I’m in a valley laid up by this here creek. Cold water is a help when it ain’t rain. Don’t know what day it is. Got me a sickness n’ fever an’ jus’ can’t walk no more. All worth it. Be with Ma soon.