Old Zack Collins didn't have the looks of a literary man.
In fact, all that distinguished him from the rest of the
pioneer settlers of the Buffalo River Valley was that he had
a better education than most of them, and he had come from
Maryland, while most of the others came from Tennessee or Kentucky.
But he did show his literary talent..at least on one occasion.

Now it is known that many who lived on the Buffalo and in the
surrounding hills and hollows, possessed rare and perhaps elegant
gifts of self expression. Alas, most of their works were oral and
have not survived to our time, except in an occasional mountain
ballad or well loved and oft repeated tale of some sort.
But because of both anger and sentiment the "works" of Collins and
his antagonist may still be read.

A few years before the Civil War, Zack Collins established a fine
farm in the beautiful Buffalo Valley, and not far below the mouth
of Richland Creek. In a short time he was the most prosperous farmer
in that area, had built a good house for that day and time, and was
buying other land around him. He had the added distinction of being
able to do the paper work for his neighbors, both up and down the
Buffalo and far up Richland Creek.

As the years passed he turned his attention more and more to the
breeding and selling of fine horses. He was always scouring North
Arkansas and Southern Missouri for such and often told his timid
wife that if he ever found the very horse of his dreams he would not
sell it for a dozen farms in Texas (Texas was then believed to be
the ultimate Promised Land).

Once he was gone for an unusually long time on a trading and buying
trip. When he returned, he rode by the home gate and paused for a
moment before going on to the barn:
"Hulzaney (his wife), I've found the pear of great price, even if I
did have to ride all the way to Jackson County," he proudly called
out. "No one is going to buy this one!"

Hulzaney said nothing and quietly went on with her pea hulling.
But she thought that her husband had found the horse to be more
valued than a dozen farms in Texas. Indeed he had! After that, he
would often ride the prized animal around to near the far neighbors
just to show off his prized possession.

"I've named him Sid," he would proudly anounce, "named him after my
uncle way back in Maryland. My uncle is a big lawyer but he doesn't
have more dignity than my horse." And then in a slightly lower voice
he would add: "And not much smarter either."
Sid was given a choice stable, the best hay, and apples in season
were freely given him. Zack would hand pick them, then take them to
the green pastures where under the shade of a tree, he would "visit"
with his heart's delight as he fed him the choice fruit.
"Reckon Zack loves that horse more than me," his meek and mild wife
was heard to say on one of those rare ocasions when she spoke of
anything. It did look that way.

Settlers were fast coming into the valley at that time and someone
was always trying to buy old Sid. One of them had tried farming near
Point Peter for a few years, had become discouraged, and decided to
go back to Kentucky. He offered his neighbor Collins a hundred acre
farm for Sid, saying he needed him on which to make the long journey.
Zack, very near insulted, replied that he had just as soon trade off
Hulzaney as Sid, so maybe the woman wasn't too far from right.

Every day, rain or shine, heat or chilling wind, Zack would spend a
great deal of time "visiting" with his beloved horse; indeed, more
time than he spent with his companion. (This writer has long noticed
that a person's treasure usually has that person's presence!).

Those who lean may be let down, was as true then as now, and poor
Zack soon found it out. Richland has a tributary called Dry Creek.
On this lived Matt Martin. Martin and Collins had no association with
each other, due to a squabble over an early horse trading deal.
Matt Martin was a bachelor from Green County, Tennessee, who over
the years had established a modest farming operation on Dry Creek.
He seldom went visiting or had visitors but at such rare times, he
was always talking of an old girl friend back in Teast Tennessee.
Sadie Sain ws her name and he never called one name without the
other.
"Ah aims to get her, come fall," he would declare. But when fall was
past it was always his aim to go "fotch" her in the spring. As it was
he was always too busy sowing or reaping or waiting the winter out
(I've noticed that most people have great ambitions which are stifled
by daily chores.)

About the time Zack Collins found old Sid, Matt Martin found a farm
hand. A young man drifted in from the south and down Richland looking
for a place to stay and work out his board. Such drifters, with
unknown origins and pasts, were called "drop shots" by the early
settlers, and there were many men of this designation in the Buffalo
county. Some of them were simply homeless men, others were
desperados fleeing from the law, while a few only sought to escape an
unpleasant past by settling in a very pleasant land.
This one said he was Jim Buck Harris from Louisana. He "took up" with
Matt Martin and soon proved to be a valuable asset of that Dry Creek
farm. Further, he was a good reader and had what the hill dwellers
called a "rat purty hand write." This proved of much value to Matt
Martin for he needed to do some corresponding with Sadie Sain.

The next spring, Matt Martin put in a bigger crop, secured another
hand to help with the farming, then proposed to send Jim Buck Harris
to Greene County, Tennessee to "fotch home the woman."

Now there wasn't a horse on the Dry Creek farm suitable for such a
trip. Of course, Zack Collins, the horse breeder and trader, was not
a friend but he did have fine horses. Martin reasoned that he could
do no good trying to trade with the old gentleman but in that
Jim Buck Harris was still unknown in the community, and certainly
unknown to Collins, he might be used for such a deal.
The plan was made and agreed on and young Harris was sent down
Richland with gold for the purchase and instructions for proceeding
eastward to the mouth of the Buffalo and on to East Tennessee.

Harris had heard of the Narrows at the mouth of Richland and had long
wanted to see the place for himself. So it was that he climbed this
narrow, clifty ridge, which separates Richland from Buffalo for some
distance before their confluence. While sitting atop this ridge
viewing the breath-taking scenes below and around him, he suddenly
found ideas flowing into his head faster than flowed the Buffalo at
the base of the clifty ridge.
He had the gold but he could just as easily "buy" the horse with
darkness (steal it if you please). That way he could have both the
gold and the horse for the journey he reasoned, and since Collins and
Martin had no dealings with one another and the purchase(or more
correctly stated, the theft.) would never be discussed. (I've noticed
that the stubborness of some is profitable to others!)
Well, that scheming farm hand stayed deep in the brush until dark and
then slipped into the Collins barn. In no time he was riding swiftly
down the beautiful moonlit Buffalo Valley, and the horse beneath him
was old Sid.

Old Zack Collins about exploded when he found his beloved horse
missing. For days afterward he had half the neighborhood hunting all
up and down the valley. When most of his neighbors became weary and
despaired of finding old Sid, Zack brought out some of his well loved
gold and hired many of them to search on.
But at last even he gave up, but every day he would go to the stable head. His wife, who just watched and listened most of the time, once
broke her silence and remarked to a neighbor that she believed old
Zack was "plum crazy..jist as crazy as a Bessie bug".

Meanwhile, Jim Buck Harris had arrived in Greene County, Tennessee
and accomplished his mission. Sadie Sain jumped right up behind his
saddle and the two started toward Arkansas. I guess Matt Martin
should have gone though, for before the couple had gone twenty miles
Sadie got to talking marriage business to her escort. She told him
that she had planned for years to marry Matt but that she had just as
soon be a Harris as a Martin, and in fact had a little rather be a
Harris. Jim Buck took to the idea like flies to molasses and bless
you, if they didn't stop in Knoxville and marry. There he used a
little of the "horse" gold to buy her a fine dress for the occasion.
(Who knows, maybe that's why he saved the gold in the first place).

They rode for days, finally crossing the Mississippi on a ferry boat,
and back into Eastern Arkansas. Somewhere in the swamp lands along
the White River the newlyweds came upon a well steamed-up camp
meeting which was being conducted in a brush arbor, and near the
river banks. They decided to camp and rest there for several days and
wouldn't you jut know it, they got more than rest...they both got
religion and that "powerful strong" as mountain folks would say.
Though they had not planned to return to the Buffalo, they both then
felt that they must return and deliver the horse back to it's
rightful owner.
Jim Buck even remarked as they rode into the hill country that he
felt conscience stricken riding a stolen horse. But he reasoned that
in that the horse had to make the trip anyway, he hoped the Lord
would understand and not mind their riding, as they accomplished the
holy mission. (I've noticed that most folks think the Lord will
understand what it means they may still ride the horse!)

In time the couple did arrive at the Collins farm on Buffalo, but
Jim Buck allowed that it would be best to make restitution in secret
and after dark. It was fine to be religious but he thought that there
was no need to be killed or put in jail because of it.
So it was that the two waited in a cedar glade near the Collins
house, intending to settle their business soon after dark and then
be off.

But as it happened Zack and Hulzaney rode off in a wagon long before
night fall, and indication was they were going away for the night
and possibly longer. It was a good thing it happened that way;
otherwise the poetical works of Collins might have gone undiscovered,
nor Harris been inspired to pen the thoughts of his great moment of
inspiration.
When old Sid was led to his stable Harris discovered a long sheet of
paper attached to the door. Around the edge were feathery designs
made with a quill and pokeberry ink. Inside this fancy border was
old Zack's tribute to a departed horse.

Lots of folks in that area have fancy plaques on their walls now, containing maudlin verses about religion and the departed and such, but I venture to say that only one horse on the Buffalo was ever thus memoralized. Harris paused and read the pathetic woes of a mournful and bereaved horse owner.

Now Jim Buck Harris caught the poetical fire and he ventured right
into the Collins home and searched until he found the quill and ink.
There he wrote his inspiration and returning to the barn, attached
it just below the works of Collins. He stood back and fondly admired
it for a long moment and then read again his "Immortal" words:

With a sense of deep satisfaction that he had equaled Collins in
literary attainment, he returned to his puzzled bride who was
fretfully waiting in the cedar glade. In the setting sun the couple
took northward across the hills, happy that the stolen horse had
been returned.
Strangely enough, nothing was said about restoring the stolen bride
or the gold. (Alas, restitution often ends where selfishness begins!)
Years later, a J.B. Harris was a prominent community and church
leader in a thriving community of the Crooked Creek Valley, in
Marion County, Arkansas.
Once, his wife was a showing an old faded and wrinkled dress from her
trunk to some young neighbor ladies. She remarked that her husband
bought it for her in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Old Zack Collins was both elated and infuriated when he returned
home. He vowed to find and punish the thief if it cost him the farm
and took the rest of his life.

He folded those poems and placed them in a small wooden chest, which
he kept under his bed. But often he had them out, comparing the
writing of the thief with any new writing he might be able to find
in the community or elsewhere.

Days, then weeks, and finally years, the exacting quest went on, even
long after old Sid was dead. You see, for some reason that horse was
never the same after that trip. He would just stand in his stable or
in the pastures looking mournfully toward Tennessee. In no time he
was dead and was given a splendid burial at the top of a little knoll
there on the Collins farm. A slab of stone was cut in a fancy manner,
Sid's name and age cut into it, and this was set up at the burial
site.

However, the next family which owned that farm had the stone
smoothed down and a family name put on it. It was then set up in a
cemetery far up Richland. (Heed this all who crave fame and
rembrance..monuments erected to you may be changed by another
generation.)

The Civil War soon came on with all its stress and hardship.
Those years were hard on the aging Zack Collins. He died near the
end of that war. But old wooden chests and yellowed papers have a way
of outlasting their owners, even thru several generations and moves,
and in distant places can witness that there was once poets on the
Buffalo.