Medicine Bundle

by Patrick E. Andrews

  The thoughts of the situation stirred him to an inner anger that was so privately painful he would not discuss the feelings even with his best friend Charlie. Particularly the deep hurt he felt because his father didn’t care much for him. Silsby did miss Rebecca a great deal. He loved his sister and wondered if she had married the army fellow.

  ~*~

  Silsby came wide-awake one night as a man who gets an overabundance of sleep often does. He stared up at the rafters over his head to allow Morpheus to sneak up on him again, when he heard conversation. Thinking it was Angelo and Charlie, he sat up to see what they might be talking about. A glance at Charlie’s bunk showed him fast asleep with his head turned toward the wall. Silsby glanced over at Angelo and could see him sitting on the edge of his bunk.

  “You son of a bitch,” Angelo said, looking straight ahead. “I told you not to do that, you son of a bitch.”

  Silsby felt a flash of anger. “Don’t you call me no son of a bitch, Angelo!”

  Angelo continued talking. “That saddle is mine. I bought it in Santa Fe, hijo de la chingada. Don’t take that saddle. You son of a bitch.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Angelo?”

  Angelo got to his feet, and began to pace up and down the shack, arguing clearly and loudly about a saddle with somebody he thought was walking with him. He began to rave in Spanish, speaking rapidly and using gestures that seemed to fit in with the language. “La montura es mia. Comprendes? Es mia.” He went to the door and opened it, walking out into the snow in his longjohns and socks.

  “Oh, God!” Silsby wailed. He leaped from his bunk and ran over to Charlie, shaking him roughly. “Wake up!”

  Charlie rolled over with a sleepily quizzical expression on his unshaven face, “What?”

  “Angelo’s gone loco just like Mr. O’Neil said he would.”

  “Hey!” Charlie snapped, now wide awake. “The door is open!”

  “I know the godamned door is open,” Silsby said. “Angelo just walked out of it into the cold without putting on his clothes.”

  “Shit!” Charlie said. “We gotta get dressed and get him.”

  “Good thing they ain’t no storm.”

  “It’s still cold as hell,” Charlie said, getting out of bed.

  They quickly donned the proper clothing and rushed from the shack. It was easy to follow after their companion by the tracks in the snow. They found him beginning to turn blue after going almost fifty yards. He didn’t resist when they grabbed him and led him back inside.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you, Angelo?” Charlie asked. Angelo didn’t answer. He climbed in between his covers and immediately went to sleep. Charlie shrugged. “At least he’ll warm up in there even if his feet is wet. I’ll build the fire up. Leaving the door open has turned this place into an ice house.”

  “I reckon he done like Mr. O’Neil said he might,” Silsby said.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Charlie said ominously. “If he starts to get mean and I think he might kill one of us, I’ll do for him first.”

  “Me too,” Silsby said. “I reckon we’ll have to take turns watching him.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “This here winter has just got shittier.”

  “I do miss the Injun Territory,” Charlie admitted.

  They cooked breakfast and kept their sleeping companion under constant surveillance. At mid-morning, he sat up and once again began carrying on a conversation with his invisible companion. This time he discussed the merits of a certain whore named Rosalia who seemed to be employed in a bordello at a place called Palomas. Then Angelo decided to take a walk again.

  When they went after him this second time, Angelo fought. He punched and kicked at them, until Silsby lost his head and waded into the crazed man, knocking him down in the snow several times before Charlie pulled him off. “You’re gonna kill him!” Charlie exclaimed, wrestling with his friend.

  “Nobody hits me! Godamn him! Nobody hits me!”

  When Silsby calmed down, Charlie groaned. “Between the two of you, I’m having a great time, ain’t I?” They carried Angelo inside for what was to be week of intermittent insanity. Each episode got steadily worse until Silsby and Charlie grew tired of taking turns guarding him at night. They tied the struggling cowboy up, releasing him only when he was clearly lucid and sane.

  During one of his periods of rationality, Angelo asked, “Have I been acting loco again?”

  “You been plumb out of your head, Angelo,” Charlie complained.

  “Yeah,” Silsby said. “You talk to folks that ain’t there, and you fight.”

  “Angelo, you better get used to being trussed up like a calf for branding,” Charlie warned him. “We’re gonna tie you up ever’ night.”

  “We got your shooting iron hid,” Silsby said.

  “And don’t try grabbing one of ours,” Charlie warned. “We’re sleeping with ’em.”

  “Why, hell, fellers! I wouldn’t shoot one of y’all no matter how crazy I got. Y’all’re my pards.”

  “We cain’t trust you none, Angelo Kennedy,” Charlie said.

  “Aw! It couldn’t be that bad, Charlie,” Angelo protested.

  “We’ll get you but good if you go real crazy mean,” Charlie said. “So you think on that. Real hard.”

  “I’m real close to kicking your brains out,” Silsby warned him.

  Angelo knew his companions were right in what they said. “Damn! I’m regretful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t even remember none of that shit.”

  “Remember it or not, we’ll hold you to whatever you do, Angelo,” Charlie warned him.

  Angelo’s condition worsened in the following weeks as spring approached. He was tied up every night, but managed to get loose a couple of times. His madness gave him extra strength, and the interior of the shack was torn up in the riots that followed. He bit, kicked, and scratched as he attacked the two men imprisoned with him in the line shack. Angelo got the hell beat out of him for his insanity and he spent several days hog-tied on the floor as he slobbered and threatened Silsby, Charlie, and the one man only he could see.

  The routine of battling Angelo, interspersed with storms and having to ride the range, took its toll of Silsby McCracken and Charlie Ainsley. They became bleary-eyed and irritable to the point they thought they might go crazy too.

  ~*~

  The thaw came in late April, and the relief crew rode out from the ranch. Silsby and Charlie almost ran out and kissed the grizzled cowboys who had arrived to take over the northwest range.

  Part Three

  THE TERRITORY

  1890 – 1895

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Luther McCracken looked up at the narrow sign swinging just over his head.

  MEDICINE BUNDLE, O.T.

  The recently-constructed railway depot platform still smelled of new lumber as Luther paced up and down its length. The faint, lingering odor of fresh paint could also be discerned in the immediate area. The station manager leaned out his window and grinned at the homesteader. “If you don’t stop walking back and forth so much, that platform is gonna be wore out before it’s two months old.”

  Luther irritably glanced at the man without comment. He went over to Fionna who sat on a bench outside the waiting room. He joined her, fidgeted for a few moments, then stood up to renew his pacing. He passed the station manager’s window and stopped. “Are you sure the noon train is on time?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Just how do you know?”

  “We got a telegraph line now,” the manager said. “It goes as far east as Muskogee and as far west as Guthrie. If they was a delay they’d flash a message to me. Now don’t you worry none. They’ll get here.”

  “Hell! I know they’ll get here!” Luther snapped. “I just hope they make it at a decent hour on that damn railroad of yours.”

  “Say now!” the manager responded. “The Missouri Valley and Arkansas Railroad is a
lways on time. You can count on that.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “If the train’s late, you can write a personal letter to the comp’ny president and give him a piece of your mind,” the manager said. “I’m sure a complaint from you would have him shaking in his boots.”

  “Now looky here! I’m —”

  “Luther!” Fionna called. “Come over here and sit down.”

  He rejoined his wife, fuming and muttering. Fionna looked across the tracks at the well-organized streets of Medicine Bundle. A business district, fine residences, and a town hall made up the community. Newly planted elm trees, small and spindly, bloomed in the balmy weather. They had been arranged along the streets for shade and appearance as one of the first community projects. “It’s hard to believe that when we first come here this was just open, empty country,” Fionna said. “It didn’t take ’em long to put up a town, did it?”

  “I reckon not,” Luther said, not paying attention.

  A few minutes passed and the distant sound of a train whistle could be heard. The station manager leaned far out of his window, looking over at Luther. “See? I told you the twelve o’clock would be on time.”

  “I didn’t say it wouldn’t, did I?” Luther said happily. “I knowed we could rely on the good ol’ Missouri Valley and Arkansas Railroad.”

  “Good God!” the manager moaned, coming out of his office to meet the train. “You’re the type of feller that’s mad one minute and happy as a lark the next.”

  “Ease up a bit there,” Luther advised him. “You’re gonna work yourself into a conniption fit. You shouldn’t take things so serious all the time.”

  Fionna added, “It’ll shorten your life.”

  “Good advice from them that knows,” the station manager said sarcastically.

  It took another five minutes before the noon train out of Muskogee squeaked and hissed its way to a stop in front of the depot. Fionna was now on her feet, standing beside Luther as they glanced anxiously at the two passenger cars. “I see ’em!” Fionna cried.

  They hurried toward two distant figures stepping down onto the platform. Grant Hollings turned and helped Rebecca as he waved at his approaching in-laws. Rebecca and Fionna hugged each other while Luther and Grant shook hands. “It’s good to see you again, Luther,” Grant said.

  “You bet!” Luther said. He turned to Rebecca and gave her a quick embrace. “Well! You got here.”

  “Yes we did, Pa.”

  “How was the trip?”

  “Quite nice,” Rebecca replied.

  Grant asked, “How are you, Mother McCracken?”

  “I’m fine, Grant. It’s wonderful to see y’all here in Medicine Bundle.”

  Luther said, “Let me help you with your suitcases.”

  “There’s more in the baggage car, Luther,” Grant said. “They’ll unload it on the platform.” They walked over to where the station manager had just wheeled out two large trunks. He sat them down, checking the shipping labels on them. “Those are ours,” Grant said.

  “I’ll go get the wagon and bring it around,” Luther said.

  Within a quarter of an hour all the luggage and trunks were settled in the back of the large farm vehicle. The four people crowded together on the seat. “I thought it’d be best if we went over to the land office now,” Luther said. “They got the deed all set to be signed.”

  “That sounds fine to me,” Grant said.

  They bounced over the railroad tracks hard enough to give the wagon a good jolt. Grant put an arm around Rebecca. “That didn’t bother you, did it, dearest?”

  “No, darling, of course not.”

  They rolled down the main street of the town, going straight into the heart of the commercial area. Luther edged the wagon over to a spot in front of a large building. “This won’t take long,” he said. “Me and Grant can attend to things alone.”

  “You stay here, dear,” Grant said to Rebecca. “I don’t want you climbing on and off the wagon.”

  As the two men walked into the building, Fionna leaned toward her daughter and patted her hand. “Grant is such a considerate husband.”

  “I’m going to have a baby, Ma.”

  “Oh my Lord!” Fionna exclaimed so loud that passersby turned and looked at her.

  Rebecca smiled. “The regimental surgeon at Fort Gibson told me.”

  “When’s it due?”

  “In October sometime. I should start showing in another month or so.”

  “Oh, Rebecca! That’s the most wonderful news.” She hugged her daughter. “What does Grant think of becoming a pa?”

  “He’s real happy. Like I am.”

  “Wait ‘til Luther finds out,” Fionna said. “Lord Above! They’s just so much happening at once.” She wiped at her eyes. “Look at me starting to cry! You don’t know how happy me and Pa are about ever’thing. Imagine you and Grant leaving the Army and buying the farm next to ours. Then you’re gonna have a baby on top of ever’thing else.”

  “You’re not any more surprised than I am,” Rebecca said. “Grant came home one evening and announced that he was going to resign from the army.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “I’ll let him tell you about it.”

  Fionna embraced her daughter again. “We have a lot to do, don’t we?”

  “We certainly do. Isn’t it going to be fun?”

  Fionna suddenly went silent for a moment, gazing intently at Rebecca. “You talk diffe’rnt or something.”

  “There’s a real story behind that too, Ma,” Rebecca said. “Wait until you see the nice things I have in my trunks. Dishes, silverware, and even a real pretty lamp. We have some furniture that should be here in another month.”

  “Oh my!”

  “And the clothes I’ve bought! Direct from Saint Louis and Chicago by catalog, Ma!”

  “I cain’t wait to see all them things,” Fionna said. She grasped Rebecca’s hand. “But let’s talk about the baby first.”

  Rebecca smiled sadly. “Before we do that, I have to ask about Silsby.”

  “We ain’t heard nothing. I pray he’s hale and hearty and happy.”

  “Me too, Ma.”

  “Now the baby!” Fionna said. “Have you picked out any names yet?”

  “No, we haven’t thought much about it,” Rebecca said. “But there’s still plenty of time for that.”

  The two women began discussing options for the christening even though they knew it was Grant who would make the final decision. They didn’t notice that it had taken Luther and Grant more than half an hour to complete the signing of papers that would give the younger man ownership of the farm that ran alongside that of Luther’s. When the two men climbed back up on the wagon, Grant showed a sheaf of papers to Rebecca. “This means it’s ours now. That’s my entire army savings all wrapped up in a farm.”

  “A fine farm!” Luther added as he snapped the reins and got the wagon rolling again. “Don’t you worry just ’cause that other feller couldn’t make a go of it.”

  Fionna, hardly able to contain herself, blurted, “Luther! You’re gonna be a grandpa. Rebecca told me. In October. I’m gonna be a grandma too.”

  Luther’s surprise was so intense that it made him drop the reins. He picked them up, saying, “I never thought about such a thing.”

  “You should’ve knowed it would happen when your daughter got married,” Fionna said.

  He smiled and offered his hand to Grant. “Well, now, my best congratulations to you, Pa.”

  “And to you, Grandpa!”

  They continued out of town, going down a country road that led out to a patchwork of homesteads. The crops, freshly planted to mark the first year of farming, ripened in the newly fenced fields. After another mile of travel, the wagon left the road to roll a short bumpy distance to the farmyard.

  The McCracken home was a comfortable, two-story frame affair that was well-constructed and sturdy enough to stand up under the battering of prairie winds. Luther had cashed t
he Missouri bank bonds they’d gotten for the sale of their old place to finance a good beginning on the new family farm. It was his dream come true, and he was proud as hell of it. After they came to a stop, he gestured at the house and barn with a sweep of his arm. “What do y’all think?”

  “That’s such a grand house, Pa!”

  “It’s a dandy,” Grant added.

  “You spend your first night with us,” Fionna said. “You can move over to the new place tomorrow.”

  “We’ll leave your trunks on the wagon,” Luther said. “We can throw a tarpaulin over ’em that’ll keep the dew away.” After helping the ladies off the wagon, Luther and Grant took the smaller pieces of luggage and carried them into the house.

  “What’s the other farm like, Ma?” Rebecca asked as she and Fionna walked arm-in-arm toward the back door.

  “It’s the same size as this one,” Fionna said. “A reg’lar hunnerd and sixty acres. The house is smaller though. But the other feller left some perty fair furniture behind.”

  “When our stuff gets here we’ll be in fine shape,” Rebecca said. The two women walked into the house. Though it was rather sparsely furnished, it already had a comfortable settled look about it. The old kitchen table appeared as if it had never been anywhere else. This was the furniture that had been placed under the canvas covering for Grant’s visits to the Clarkville campsite. Now it gave the parlor a homey look.

  Luther and Grant went outside to cover the belongings in the wagon while Fionna took Rebecca on a tour of the place. The parlor and kitchen took up the downstairs. Up on the second floor a short hallway divided the one large and two small bedrooms.

  “It’s more’n we need,” Fionna said. “But your pa really is expecting Silsby to come back some day.”

  “How long has it been now?”

  “Close to two years,” Fionna said. She took Rebecca’s arm to lead her back downstairs. “Now let’s get something to eat.”