Medicine Bundle

by Patrick E. Andrews

  She wished she could talk to her mother, but Fionna always seemed to be occupied with something or other. There was also the problem of never being alone in the camp. Somebody in the next campsite or who happened to be strolling by could overhear any conversations with very little difficulty.

  After a half hour beside the singing water of the creek, Rebecca was cried out. She wiped at her eyes and nose before getting to her feet for the walk back to camp. The sounds of the habitation increased as she grew closer to the cluster of wagons and tents. Her arrival coincided with the departure of her parents.

  “How was your walk?” Fionna asked, tying her bonnet strings under her chin.

  “It was nice, Ma.”

  “I hope it settled you down.”

  “I feel some better,” Rebecca said, realizing her mother had sensed her mood.

  “That’s good,” Fionna said. “Your pa is going to a meeting and the ladies are getting together at the Benson wagon.”

  “Where is Silsby?” Rebecca asked, looking around.

  “He’s wandered off,” Fionna said. “He and some of the other boys are prob’ly doing something.”

  That pleased Rebecca. She needed more time to be alone with her thoughts. It would be nice to get into the back of the wagon in the darkness, even if it was stuffy. Luther set his hat on his head. “When Silsby comes back, tell him to wait here. I want to talk to him.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Luther left them, threading his way through the wagons toward the other side of the camp. Fionna gathered up some things she wanted to take with her. “I’ll be back directly,” she said.

  “Enjoy yourself, Ma.”

  Rebecca pulled herself up into the wagon, settling down against a bundle of rolled-up blankets. The rear opening under the canvas gave a good view of the darkening sky. The first stars were blinking, and a refreshing evening breeze was building up out of the west. The girl settled down within herself, shutting out the camp sounds.

  After a few moments, her reverie was broken by a rustling noise. She listened a bit, then realized someone was inside the tent. She crawled to the tailgate and peered over it. A smudgy silhouette showed up from the lantern shining through the other side of the canvas. Rebecca, not sure whether to be alarmed or not, watched and listened for another minute. Then she cautiously climbed to the ground, and walked over to peek through the flap.

  “Silsby!”

  Silsby, on his knees beside his bedroll, whipped around to face her. He said nothing in greeting, only turning back to whatever he was doing.

  “We was wondering where you’d got off to,” Rebecca said, going inside. “Pa went to the meeting and wants to see you. Ma is with the ladies.” She studied him for a moment. “What are you up to?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “You’re stuffing things into that cloth sack,” Rebecca said. “Are you going somewheres?”

  “Yeah,” Silsby answered, continuing to insert clothing and other personal possessions into the bag.

  “Where?”

  “Away,” Silsby said. “I’m going away.” He finished and deftly tied the top of the sack. “It’s something I’ve been thinking on for a long time.”

  “You’re running away!”

  “That’s right,” Silsby said, getting to his feet. “A lot of fellers my age have already left home.” He walked to the tent opening and stepped outside.

  Rebecca followed, grabbing his arm. “But where are you going, Silsby?”

  “Some place where if somebody hits me alongside the head, he’s gonna get hit back.”

  “Wait a minute, Silsby,” Rebecca begged. “Let’s talk about this first.”

  “I ain’t got time to talk.”

  “Maybe if you and Ma —”

  “That won’t do no good and you know it.”

  Rebecca started to protest some more, then realized it would be useless. “You be careful, Silsby.”

  “Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder.

  Silsby strode rapidly out of the range of the lantern light into the darkness.

  ~*~

  Silsby McCracken, walking east all the way through Clarkville, continued toward the glow of a campfire visible in the distance. He approached the circle of men sitting around the flames, stopping as he entered the flickering illumination. “Howdy, fellers,” Silsby said, dropping his bag.

  Charlie Ainsley, smoking a cigar, looked up. “So you was serious, huh, kid?”

  “I’m here, ain’t I?”

  “I knowed he’d join up with us,” one of the cowboys said. He was a short, dark fellow named Tommy Chatsworth. “The kid had that look in his eyes like he meant what he was saying.”

  “Spread your bedroll out with the others,” Charlie said. “We’ll be leaving in the morning. You can ride in the wagon with the cook.”

  “Thanks,” Silsby said.

  He picked up his gear and went over to where the cowboys had laid out their blankets. They had saddles set on the ground for pillows. Silsby decided he’d spread out his two blankets and rest his head on his bag of clothing when he slept that night. He went back to the fire and squatted down.

  “Had any supper?” Charlie asked.

  “I ain’t hungry.”

  “We got some beans left and coffee,” Tommy said. “You can get a cup and plate off the wagon if’n you want.”

  Charlie advised, “You got to keep up your strength if’n you’re gonna ride for the Rocking H.”

  “I couldn’t eat nothing,” Silsby said.

  “You’re too excited,” Charlie said. “It ain’t ever’day that somebody decides to be a cowboy.”

  Another of the crew offered his hand to Silsby. “I’m Dennis Nettles.”

  “Silsby McCracken,” the boy said.

  “You’re gonna be riding for a top outfit.”

  Charlie laughed. “Ever’ damn cowboy thinks the ranch he’s working for is the best one.”

  “Naw!” Tommy disagreed. “It’s always the last one he worked for.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Charlie said. He winked at Silsby. “He means that the fellers always talk about the last place they worked as paying more, having better grub, and a squarer boss. It’s all lies, believe me.”

  “The Rocking H is a good outfit,” Dennis insisted. “Bosses don’t come better’n Mr. Harknell.”

  “You could be right in this instance,” Charlie conceded.

  “On second thought I could use a cup of coffee,” Silsby said. He got up and walked over to the chuck wagon to get one of the tin cups hanging on the side. He returned to the fire and filled it from the pot on the coals before sitting back down. “How much did you say I was gonna get paid?”

  “You say you ain’t got no cowpunching experience, right?” Charlie asked.

  Silsby shrugged. “I’m a farm boy. But I can ride a horse perty good.” He took a sip of the strong bitter coffee. “Well, maybe not as good as you fellers, but I’ll catch on directly.”

  “Well, now,” Charlie mused, “you’re gonna be our wrangler, Silsby. That means you’ll take care of the horses. That’s where new fellers always start on a ranch. I’ll explain more about that later. But you’re also gonna run errands for the cook and keep the bunkhouse clean.”

  “Most of us have went through that,” Dennis said. He was a bandy-legged little fellow. “It’s part of the learning.”

  “The pay is twenty dollars a month and found,” Charlie said. “When you get good enough to ride herd, you’ll go up to thirty dollars.”

  “Then we’ll get another young feller to be wrangler,” Dennis said.

  “Or a old one,” Charlie added. “Actual, wranglers is either young hands or real old ones that cain’t take long hours in the saddle. That’s why they don’t get paid as much as the reg’lar hands. Twenty dollars a month. That’s the pay.”

  Silsby, who never received a penny for his chores at home, felt the salary was more than adequate. “I can get by on that.”


  “You can get an outfit and stuff out to the ranch,” Charlie went on. “We always got something that was left behind by somebody who pulled up stakes and went to another outfit. Or —” He winked at Silsby. “— he was hurt real bad or kilt. Cowboying can be dangerous at times.”

  Silsby wasn’t concerned about potential injuries. “I reckon I’d like some boots like y’all got.” He raised up one foot to show the heavy farmer style of footgear he wore.

  Dennis nodded his agreement. “You need a higher heel like ours. They keep your feet from slipping through the stirrups when you’re roping and got to stand in ’em.”

  “That’s right,” Tommy said. “You won’t be hopping clods no more. You’ll need some chaps to keep from getting your britches tore on thorn bushes and stuff.”

  “Don’t forget spurs,” Charlie added.

  Silsby grinned. The idea of being dressed up in a pair of chaps and high-heeled boots with spurs created a mental picture of himself as a dashing, daring cowboy.

  “The ranch will see you get a decent horse and saddle,” Tommy said. “But later on, you’ll want your own.”

  “What about a six-shooter?” Silsby asked.

  “Save your money and you can get one,” Charlie said. “A perty good second-hand Colt or Remington and a holster and belt can be picked up in Kensaw for twenty dollars or so.”

  “I’ll have that much money at the end of my first month,” Silsby said.

  “Now you don’t want to spend it all on a shooting iron,” Charlie advised. “They’s a couple of gals in Kensaw that can make a cowboy happy for a dollar or two.”

  Silsby sneered. “I ain’t spending none of my money on girls.”

  “You’re still young,” Charlie said with a guffaw. “But it won’t be long before being with Fat Dora or Fanny is gonna be the highlight of your lonely month, boy.”

  “Can you play poker, Silsby?” Dennis asked.

  “I don’t know no card games.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll teach you,” Tommy assured him.

  The other cowboys laughed at the remark. The sound of an approaching horse interrupted any further conversation. Everyone looked in the direction of the hoof beats until Dewey Harknell rode into the firelight. The big man dismounted and looped the reins around the wagon tongue.

  “Any coffee left?” he asked, walking up to the group.

  “We got plenty, Mr. Harknell,” Charlie said. He nudged Silsby. “Go get the boss a cup off the wagon.”

  “Who’s that?” Harknell asked.

  “Our new wrangler,” Charlie said. “I just hired him on. He’ll be going back to the ranch with us.”

  Silsby returned and handed a cup to Harknell. The rancher studied him for a brief instant. “Do I know you from somewheres?”

  “My name is Silsby McCracken, sir.”

  Charlie chuckled. “That’s Luther McCracken’s boy, Mr. Harknell. Don’t you remember?”

  “And you’re hiring on the Rocking H?” Harknell asked the boy. He knelt down and poured some coffee into the cup. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather find a job on a farm somewheres?”

  “I don’t want to be a farmer, sir.”

  “He’s a good kid, Mr. Harknell,” Charlie assured him. “The first time I laid eyes on him, his old man was beating the hell out of him with a leather strap. The boy didn’t make a sound.”

  “Does your pa know you’re here?” Harknell asked, standing back up.

  “I left home,” Silsby said. Then he defiantly added, “It don’t matter what my pa thinks. I’m on my own now.”

  Harknell gave Silsby a long, appraising look. The boy was muscular and obviously had the physical strength for the demanding work of punching cattle. Harknell nudged Charlie with his boot. “What if there’s another showdown with the Boomers?”

  “That judge told them sodbusters to say off the Grasslands, Mr. Harknell. Remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The kid’s got what it takes,” Charlie said. “I’m damn sure of that, Mr. Harknell.”

  Harknell looked at Silsby, and said, “If Charlie wants to hire you on, it’s all right with me.”

  Silsby felt a sense of relief now that the boss had accepted him. “Well, if nobody minds, I reckon I’ll have another cup of coffee.

  Chapter Nine

  Fionna McCracken stood a few paces beyond the wagon, staring fretfully out over the prairie. After a few minutes she held her hand over her eyes to shield them from the low mid-morning sun. She went back to the wagon, nervous and frowning. “Luther! You got to get some men together now! Silsby could be laying hurt out there some place.”

  “He ain’t hurt, I’m sure, Fionna,” Luther said. “He took his bedroll with him. That means he’s camping out.”

  “He should have been back by now.”

  “I’ve already talked to Harvey Matthews and Ed Benson,” Luther said. “They’ll be ready to go directly.”

  “Cain’t they hurry up? Since none of the other boys know where he is, he musta gone out there by hisself.”

  “All right, Fionna! It takes time to round up good riding horses and saddles. They ain’t too many here in the camp.”

  Rebecca sat in a chair at the rear of the wagon. Her mother had been in near hysterics since before sunrise when she realized that Silsby was not in the tent where he was supposed to be. Rebecca had said nothing. She was so used to covering up for her brother’s behavior that she couldn’t bring herself to tell them he had run off.

  “Maybe Injuns got him,” Fionna said tearfully.

  “Now they ain’t been Injun trouble here for ten or fifteen years,” Luther said.

  “Then bandits have caught him!”

  “Silsby don’t have no money,” Luther said. “If he ain’t got nothing, then robbers got no interest in him. No doubt we’ll see him come walking up any time now.”

  “I pray so to the Good Lord!”

  “I tell you one thing,” Luther said grimly. “He’s gonna get the whipping of his life for causing this ruckus.”

  “He ran away,” Rebecca said.

  “What was that, dear?” Fionna asked.

  “Silsby ran away.”

  Luther walked over to her. “He ran away?”

  “Yes,” Rebecca said. “He packed some things and walked off last evening while y’all was gone.”

  “Where in the world was he going?” Fionna asked.

  “He wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Why didn’t you say something last night?” Luther scolded.

  “I don’t know,” Rebecca mumbled.

  “I got to go tell the men so’s they can stop getting ready to go look for him,” Luther said.

  “Why?” Fionna asked. “They can find him and bring him back.”

  “I won’t ask those fellers to go through all that trouble just ’cause Silsby decided to go off somewheres. The boy will be back on his own. Don’t you worry none about that.”

  “I don’t think so,” Rebecca said.

  “O’course he will!” Luther snapped. “Why, I musta run away a half dozen times when I was a boy.”

  “He’s near a full-growed man,” Rebecca countered. “I don’t think you’ve noticed that.”

  “He’ll be back.”

  “Don’t you realize what’s really happened?” Rebecca asked. “He’s left home, Pa. Left home! He don’t want to come back.”

  “Don’t sass me, girl.”

  “Are you gonna hit me?” she asked, suddenly feeling an angry defiance. “With Silsby gone, you can start slapping me around when you’re upset.”

  Luther stared at her in surprise. “What in the world —”

  Fionna walked over and put her arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “Now, honey.”

  Luther spoke sharply to his daughter. “I’ll deal with you when I get back. Right now I’ve got to find the men and let them know they can forget any search parties.” He gave Rebecca another frown of disapproval, then walked away in angry strides.

&n
bsp; Fionna sat down in the chair beside Rebecca’s. “Surely Silsby won’t be gone long.”

  “I just pray I’ll see my brother again someday before I die,” Rebecca said. “Now I know how Esther felt about being away from her kids.”

  “He’s just a little upset about something.”

  “He’s more’n a little upset, Ma, and you know what he’s riled about. He’s sick and tired of getting beat like an ol’ dog ever’time he does something wrong.”

  “He’ll get over it bye and bye.”

  “You never listen to me, do you, Ma?”

  “Silsby’ll miss my cooking and getting took care of,” Fionna said. “My boy won’t stay gone long.”

  Rebecca reached over and grasped Fionna’s arm in a firm grip, shaking her. “Ma! He is not coming back! If’n you’d heard what he said last night, you’d know that.”

  Fionna angrily jerked her arm free and glared at Rebecca for a long moment. Then her expression softened and her shoulders sagged. “You’re right. He ain’t coming back, is he?”

  “He wasn’t happy, Ma.”

  “What about you, Rebecca?”

  “I guess I just don’t know nothing about myself,” Rebecca said. “I’m so confused and unhappy at times. Then ever’thing will suddenly seem all right. But after a while I get to feeling sad again.”

  “Life ain’t easy,” Fionna said. “Especial for us womenfolk.”

  “Yesterday while I was out walking, I stopped down at the creek,” Rebecca said. “I sat down and cried for a while. When I used up all my tears, I just stayed by myself thinking. I thought about what it would be like if I just went to sleep and died.” She looked over at her mother. “I thought it would be nice and peaceful. All this wondering about how things might turn out would just ease away.”

  “I know the feeling, darling girl.”

  After a few moments of silence, Rebecca said, “Ma, I want Mr. Hollings to call on me if he wants to.”

  “Your pa don’t like him.”

  “I don’t care whether he likes him or not!” Rebecca shouted, leaping from the chair. “I like him! I like him so much it hurts.” She burst into tears, crying with her hands to her face.