Outlaws in the Ozarks

Mary moves to Missouri with her 2nd husband to start a new life.

     It all began with the accident.  The accident led to a series of events of that was our eventual undoing. I often wonder what would have happened if Larry would have never hit those kids.  Would we still be together and living in Missouri? 

    We were scraping by and doing well enough for the first six years we lived in Miller.  Larry and I lived and worked in the old cabins north of town.  I was able to start my very own saddle shop in the small one room log cabin behind our slightly larger lodgings in the front.  I would spend hours drinking by the fire and working the leather into perfect shape.  My daughter Amy loved horses as much as I did and seemed happy with our new home. She read and dreamed as free as could be, which is all I’d ever wanted for her. 

    I’d grown up in Colorado Springs and the last place I expected to find myself was in the middle of the goddamn Ozarks, but I did.  I graduated high school and married Dan shortly there after.  I wholly expected to live in Colorado Springs with my husband and our baby girl the rest of my life.  But then Dan cheated on me with Jeanne and our marriage quickly fell apart.  I was devastated, but took the chance to go to college and make a new life for myself.

      I was at Pike’s Peak Community College when I met Larry Benson.  He’d was in the army and was about to get out.  He was originally from Missouri and was longing to go back.  After dating for several months, Larry asked me to marry him and move back with him Miller.  Excited for our new romance and a new adventure, I said yes without hesitation. 

     We drove the 750 miles through Kansas to his hometown the day after we were married.   Amy wasn’t too happy about leaving her father and friends behind, but she did like Larry at least.  The trip took us nearly an entire day, but all I could think about was starting a new life away from the unpleasant memories that had piled up over the years.  We arrived in Mt. Vernon, where were stayed with Larry’s brother Dwight.  Dwight was a farmer who raised chicken along with wheat. 

     It wasn’t long before Larry bought a piece land that held four log cabins on it.  Larry was in love with the history of the place.  The cabins were built around the time of the Civil War.  Although it probably should have been made into a historic site, it was sitting there empty at the time.  The former owner had officially purchased the land back in the 1930s and lived there all his life.  Now that Isaac and Hephzibah James had died, the place was up for sale.  It was said that Isaac James was the cousin of the famous Jesse James. 

    Jesse James lived up in Kearney, Missouri before he moved to Texas.  Jesse’s Uncle John, who would become Isaac’s father, moved south to help with the effort of the Confederate Army.  He built the block house with some friends and claimed the land.  Later, he helped build the first log cabin some 300 feet away.  Isaac was born in the one room cabin and that is where he died.  As a teenager, he helped his father build to two other cabins.  Isaac married and raised his family in the largest of the cabins.  The blockhouse never saw any action and was never a registered site for anything to do with the Civil War. 

     Larry collected guns from the civil war and read a great deal from the Missouri Historical Society’s journals.  I was more interested in being to work with leather as my father had and grandfather had.  When we moved it, we took the largest cabin to live in and I created a shop in back.  It took less than a year to sell my first High Back Saddle.  I had business cards made up and began taking orders.  It wasn’t a large income, but it was enough to keep making saddles at least.  Larry paid for most of our expenses helping out at his brother’s farm. 

     Larry had a daughter named Vickie from his first marriage.  She came to see us from time to time.  She was older than Amy by about five years.  The two of them got along well enough, but they there was enough age difference that they never became terribly close.  I was still close to my sister Connie. She wrote me letters weekly at first, but then slowed down to monthly and eventually barely at all. 

     Connie had not wanted me to move and was constantly urging me to move back home.  She said that we should be close to family and that we needed them as much they needed us.  I dismissed her desire for us to be closer for several years, but when we hit bottom suddenly the idea of returning to Colorado Springs seemed most welcoming. 

      Anyway, things were going along smoothly when Larry got a call.  His brother needed his help on something immediately.  Larry convinced me to leave Amy for a short while and drive with him.  We’d both been drinking that evening, but neither one of us were what you’d call drunk.  We never gave a second thought to hopping into our 1970 Ford Pickup truck after a few beers or a few shots.   

     Larry and I were laughing about something.  I can’t remember what exactly it was.  But Larry wasn’t paying attention and he drifted over the center of the line on Miller Road.  At that exact moment a car came over the crest of the hill and we hit it straight on.  I remember seeing us heading into it and being unable to do anything.  I screamed, but it was too late.  Larry hit them before he could jerk the wheel and get out of the way.

    There was a loud crash as our vehicles collided.  And then the next thing I knew I awoke to sirens and screams.  The fire and rescue crews had arrived and were prying apart our two mangled vehicles.  It took me a few minutes to find out that we’d hit a teenage boy and a little girl.  The boy had only minor cuts and bruises, but the little girl was unconscious and in critical condition. 

     Larry had wrenched his knee something awful and couldn’t walk.  I was sore and had a minor cut to my forehead, but I was otherwise okay.  Once we’d been examined by the paramedics, the cops questioned us.  The ambulance screamed away, rushing the little girl to a hospital somewhere while we tried to explain what had happened. 

     The cops demanded to see our licenses.  Larry brandished his quickly and quietly.  I dug in my purse and pulled out my expired license from Colorado.  In the five years I’d lived in Missouri, I hadn’t bothered to get a new license.  My old one from Colorado had since expired and this caused a great deal of fuss from the already frustrated police officer.  Larry was given a ticket for the accident and I was given my own ticket for not having license.  We both caught hell for not having insurance on our truck.

     When all was said and done Larry was taken by Ambulance to the Cox Medical Center.  I rode with him and got checked out as well.  We called Amy from the hospital to let her know what happened and that we’d be home as soon as possible.  Larry had a torn up knee that required surgery and then months of rehabilitation.  I suffered some minor whiplash and was prescribed some Viccodin.

     We heard the little girl Octavia was going to be okay and we were very relieved.  Unfortunately, the accident kept Larry from working.  Not that he could have gotten to work anyway.  Our truck was totaled and we didn’t have another vehicle to use or the money to purchase another one anytime soon.  I wasn’t making enough to support the both of us with the saddle shop, so I had to apply for state assistance.  Since Larry wasn’t on disability and they went off of his previous month’s income, we were denied food stamps.  We didn’t have any medical insurance though, which allowed us to get Medicaid for Amy.  If anything happened to her, we’d be okay.  If anything more happened to Larry and me we were screwed. 

     Once I received the summons to court to answer for a lack of license, I had to get a lawyer and try to defend myself.  He assured me that I wouldn’t go to jail if I could get my clean driving record from Colorado and procure a Missouri State License before my court date.  Unfortunately, I had to take the stupid written portion of the test over again, so I picked up a copy of the handbook from Mt. Vernon DMV and studied a while before making my appointment.  I already looked like a fool.  I didn’t want to add to it by failing my driver’s test after driving for thirty-some years.

       Things were much easier back in the olden days I thought.  You didn’t need a license to ride a horse into or out of town and no one ever got in trouble for riding a horse under the influence of alcohol.  I couldn’t help by smile to myself when realized that Larry and me might have been considered outlaws at one time.  Though we were not as naughty or notorious as Jesse James, perhaps there was a bit of his rebellious spirit attached to our house. 

      Any amusement about being an outlaw soon faded.  The electric and the phone were overdue.  It wasn’t long before my account was overdrawn and closed out.  When I had no choice but to let the phone be turned off, my family called Dwight and wrote me immediately.  They were all worried sick about Larry, Amy and me. I had to assure them that we had not fallen off the face of the earth, though it felt like it.  That winter I felt tired, depressed and isolated in our home.  What was once cozy and comfortable became tiny and oppressive to me. 

      My sister Connie decided to drive out to Missouri and come and get me.  I told Larry that I was ready to leave with her and go back to Colorado, but Larry wouldn’t hear anything of it.  He wanted to stay in the log cabin.  It was his home and he’d be damned if anyone was going to chase him out of it.  I begged him for the sake of our marriage, but there was no convincing him. 

     It was beautiful spring day when Connie’s minivan pulled up into our dirt driveway.  Amy and I filled up the back with as much as we would cram back there and hopped into our seats.  Larry looked at us from the front porch before going in and slamming the door.  I longed to hug him and cry in his arms, but my stubborn pride wouldn’t let me.  “Screw him,” I said out loud for Connie and Amy to hear.  My anger was the only thing I let them see.  I could show them that my heart was breaking as we drove away.  “Screw these goddamn Jesse James middle of nowhere Ozarks,” I muttered as we sped down Highway UU.  I drew in a deep breath and fought the tears that threatened to fall.

     Amy and I began another new life in Colorado Springs.  I finished my education and settled into a quiet life.  I was told that Larry lived in squalor for a few more months before the sheriff came to escort him off the land.  The bank had foreclosed and Larry had no other choice but to stay with his brother Dwight again.  Larry’s alcoholism took over his life and he worked very little over the following years.  He never bothered to contact me again or even file for divorce.

      I had several boyfriends and none of them cared that I was still legally married.  Then one day Gary Gunderson asked me to marry him.  Some five years from the time I’d left Larry at the cabins, I was forced to file for divorce.  It was all over and done and I was free to marry Gary within a few months time.  I’m not sure why I put it off for so long.  I guess a part of me still held out hope that Larry would come after me or want me back.  I still loved him and I couldn’t understand why he didn’t appear to love me any longer. 

       I guessed that maybe he hated himself for the accident that caused so much damage both our lives and other people’s lives and he didn’t feel worthy to be my husband any longer.  But I may never know.   Larry blew his head off with a shot gun just days after I married Gary in a small civil ceremony.  My heart sank when I heard the news, but it was not a surprise.  Larry lived like an outlaw and died like one.  He wasn’t about to let a failing liver or cancer or anything like that take him slowly and painfully.  He was going to leave on his terms and his terms only.  I always liked that about him despite the fact it took him from me in the end.

       Amy is now attending Pike’s Peak Community College and has her own serious boyfriend.  I want to tell her not to follow him across the country and not to risk such heartbreak, but I can’t.  Those few years before the accident were some of the happiest of my life.  In truth, I wouldn’t take them back for anything�"not even knowing how it all came crashing down around my ears a short time later. 

       Sometimes you have to move away, claim your independence and understand what its like to live like an outlaw before you can settle into the right life.  Sometimes you just have to say what the hell and make that leap of faith and fall flat on your face before you learn how to pick yourself up again.  My time in the Ozarks made me stronger.  It made me who I am today.