Dave stared at him with displeasure, but he said nothing. The silence of the crowd was sullen as they began to clean up the dishes, but no one dared to question Winslow. His treatment of Stedman had been brutal and harsh enough to put fear into them.
“Be glad when we get to Oregon City,” Dave said to Tom later as they got ready for bed. “The fun’s out of this trip.”
Lake settled into his bedroll and said slowly, “I thought Sky was going to kill Stedman.”
“He will if this happens again. Winslow’s got his ideas of right and wrong, Tom, and when something breaks across—he’ll smash it down, or die tryin’.”
“That’s a good quality sometimes—I guess it’s what got us this far.”
“Sure—but he’s gone sour, Tom.” Dave shook his head as he lay back and looked up at the sky. “Soon he’ll be seein’ things that aren’t there.” Lloyd’s voice was heavy. The vicious outflaring of the fight had rattled his nerves, and he wished again that the trip was over.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WELCOME TO OREGON!
Stedman was driving his wagon two days after his fight with Winslow, nursing broken ribs and a burning hatred. He said nothing about the fight to anyone after it was over, except once to Leon Crumpler. “He can’t watch his back all the time. When we get to Oregon City, we’ll have a settling!”
October was on them by the time they reached the foothills of the Cascades, and the air turned bitter cold in a freak display of winter weather. Sky led them to a lava beach that was hard-pressed between a high bluff and the rolling Columbia River. The canvas tops of the eighteen wagons cast a pale glow against a gray flicker of sand and rain. They had come two thousand miles in just over six months, and now they faced the monumental task of building rafts and floating downriver the last ninety miles through the gorge of the Cascades.
They all got out of the wagons and stood staring at the river. They’ve been whittled down quite a bit, Sky thought, watching their faces. Summer’s heat had boiled the confidence from them, and the daily grind of the trail had sapped their vitality so that most of them moved with the carefulness of the aged. The strength with which they had started the trip had been reduced to a dogged persistence that barely enabled them to make it through a single day.
Tom Lake was standing beside Edith, both of them dulled by the cold and depressed by the thought of what lay ahead. While Edith had little to say to him before the night he’d come to her wagon, after that meeting the two of them had been friends. Tom knew she’d been wounded deeply by Sky’s carelessness, and he made it a habit to spend a little time with her each day.
He had gone to her wagon that night, thinking she was sick, and found her crouched over, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Pulling her upright to get a better look at her face, her eyes had met his with such a hopeless expression that he hadn’t known what to say except, “Tell me, Edith—maybe I can help.”
He had been shocked by the torrent of sobs that wracked her body as she flung herself against his shoulder; he’d held her until she had quieted down long enough to tell him what had happened. “I’m the hopeless old maid, Tom. I thought that Sky was going to ask me to marry him.” She’d sniffled. “I guess I ought to be flattered that he picked me out of all the others to marry his best friend.” Lake knew she had been heartbroken, so had taken special notice of her the rest of the trip.
Now he sighed and looked back at the towering pines that lined the high landscape of the bluff. “It makes me tired to think of making those rafts,” he remarked wearily, “but Sky says there’s no other way.”
She looked up at the sky. “I hope a snowstorm doesn’t catch us here.”
He asked carefully, “Have you been thinking of the man Sky mentioned?”
Her face was drawn, and there was little of the vivacious light in her expression that had been there six months earlier. “No, Tom. Just getting there is about all I’ve got the strength for.”
She might have been speaking for all of them. As the days went by, life settled down to a mind-numbing routine. A third of the men went to the woods to fell the timber, while the others drove the oxen to-and-fro, dragging the logs back to the beach. Sky, along with Lot Penny and Tom Lake, formed the rafts out of the fir logs, while the women did the cooking and washing. There was no letup from dawn to dusk, and all of them moved as if they were in a trance.
When they had finished the thirteenth raft, Lot groaned, “This sure is a hard way to serve the Lord, Brother Winslow!”
Sky straightened up carefully, the backs of his legs aching with the strain of shifting the heavy logs into place. “Only five more to go, Lot. We’ve got to beat that weather that’s building up over there.” He sank the blade of his axe in a log. “Let’s get some grub.”
They walked along the beach to where the women had put together a table of rough saplings to hold the food. Over the tables they had erected a framework of sorts and covered it with canvas so it was possible to keep out of the fine drizzling rain long enough to eat. When Penny had commented on the constant rain, Sky had said, “You’ll get used to it. The wetness around here is the saturatin’ kind. When you get close to a stove, you’ll stand around in a steam bath. You won’t get entirely dry until spring, and you may get to feelin’ like a book with the glue about ready to let go—but it’ll feel normal after a winter or two.”
After eating his meal, Sky got up from the fire and began to walk down by the river. Rebekah watched him as he disappeared around the bend behind an outcropping of rock. After all the men were fed, she checked on the baby, then fixed a plate for herself and went to sit beside Tom, who was holding Timmy. The boy was wearing so many clothes to keep the cold out that he looked like a ball, but he was still agile enough to pull at Lake’s plate.
“I’ll take him, Tom.”
“No, you go on and eat. We’re doing fine.”
She watched as he played with the child, wondering at the transformation that had taken place in Lake. At the beginning of the journey, he had been just another driver—though less imposing than most of them. Failure had bent him physically and spiritually, so that his shoulders had drooped and he’d been unable to meet a gaze directly.
Now everyone marveled at how he had grown in assurance since he’d assumed his role as the trail doctor, causing Karen to remark, “Tom Lake didn’t save three lives that day—he saved four!”
As Lake held up the baby, playing with him, Rebekah looked at his hands. “Your hands are in terrible shape, Tom!”
Setting the baby on his lap, he looked down at them, noting the blue nails on the fingers that had been pinched by shifting logs and the cuts that scarred them, and nodded ruefully. “Guess there’s no way to build a raft without getting a little beat up.”
“But you’re a doctor,” she argued. “Your hands are more important than other men’s.”
“Don’t take a vote on that, Rebekah.”
“Well, it’s so!” Her voice was indignant. “I don’t think Sky ought to have you doing a job that will ruin your hands. What if you had to operate on one of us?”
Lake regarded her patiently. “Sky doesn’t think that way. He always does whatever’s needful at the moment. Stedman needed a whipping, and everything else stopped for Sky until it was done. These rafts have to be built to get the wagons down the river. That’s the one thing that’s needed—and until that’s done, nothing else matters.” He shrugged. “Even if all of us get our hands cut to pieces, he’ll do whatever’s needful.”
She reached over and took Timmy from him. “You eat.” Then she rocked the boy back and forth thoughtfully. “You’re right, Tom,” she said after a while. “Sky is like that. But he has to be. We wouldn’t have gotten this far if he hadn’t pushed us.”
“Sure. I’m not speaking against him, Rebekah,” Lake hastened to agree, rising to his feet and looking down the river. “I’m just saying he’s not an easy man to live with. He’s led a pretty hard life, and he didn’t make it by giving
in—he pushes himself harder than anyone else. What worries me is that someday he’ll find himself in a situation where he can’t get through with muscle and a gun. That’s always been enough—up till now. But what’ll Sky do when that fails him?”
A crease of worry formed on Rebekah’s brow. “I owe him a lot, Tom. He took a chance bringing me on this trip. No other man would have done it.”
He nodded soberly. “Sure. Me, too, Rebekah. I’d still be a drunk if Sky hadn’t made me change.” He started to leave, then turned to ask, “Is the baby still coughing?”
“Last night she did, but she’s been a little better today.”
“I’ll stop by and look at her after supper.”
By the end of the day two more rafts were finished. As Penny and Winslow tightened the last bolt, Lake said, “If we’re about finished, I’d like to go have a look at Mrs. Riker before supper. She’s feeling poorly.”
“Sure, Tom.” Sky took three more turns on the nut, then said, “That’s good, Lot.” He sat back on his haunches and watched Lake walk back to the train. “You know something? Tom’s a different fellow these days.”
“He’s found his place, is all.” Penny straightened and stretched his aching arms. “Somewhere in the good Book there’s a verse about that.”
“If there is, you’d know it, Lot,” Sky replied with a touch of admiration. “Except for my pa, you know more Bible than any man I ever saw. What verse you talkin’ about now?”
“ ‘As a bird that wanders from her nest, so is a man that wanders from his place.’ ” Lot thought hard. “That’s in Proverbs.”
Sky couldn’t guess what Penny was talking about. “What’s it mean?”
“Well, Sky, God didn’t put a man here to be alone—He meant for him to be with other folks. And that’s why God made Eve, remember? To be company for Adam.”
“Yeah, but it seems to me that most of our troubles come from other people, Lot. Man out by himself in the woods can get killed by a grizzly or a rattler, but most of the miseries that hang on come from other people.”
Penny loved to argue the Scriptures, so he settled himself against the raft they just finished and went on. “Why, sure, they do. But look at the other side of it. It ain’t only our miseries that come from other people, Sky; we get our happiness from them, too. Man can’t talk to a dog, can he?”
“I don’t know, Lot—I had a smart old hound that had more sense than most men. I talked to him quite a bit,” Sky argued. Truthfully, he was not paying much heed to the talk, for Lot could go on for hours. Still, it was relaxing, and he knew that soon he would have to get back to the burden of getting the rafts down the Columbia—which would be a dangerous and tricky job.
Lot Penny, though he had little formal education, was an inherently intelligent man who had spent a lifetime sharpening his skills at reading people. He had rarely met a man with more potential than Sky Winslow, and it grieved him that the man had never taken a strong stand for God. Penny never forced the issue, however; he knew that no man would force Winslow into serving God—or anything else! Still, he had prayed often that somehow he would be able to lead the young man into the ways of the Lord.
“God made all the animals to be subject to man,” Penny said with conviction. “But a dog won’t take the place of a human, Sky, and you blamed well know it! Anyway, that Bible verse’s talking about something else. When a bird wanders from her place, she’s not got anywhere to go. True enough, she don’t have no little birds she has to feed—no responsibilities. But she ain’t complete, don’t you see?”
“I reckon she could get by.”
“Sky, you know you don’t believe that,” Penny reproved him gently. “What about that boy you speak of—Joe. Ain’t you yearning to see him?”
Sky nodded. “I love Joe—but his mother put me through hell, Lot.”
“So you’ve had a taste of both heaven and hell, Sky. After you die, you’ll be in one or the other—but on this earth, man’s got some of each. Anyhow, that’s what the verse is sayin’: man needs a place. And that don’t mean a house. It means people that love him, and more important than that, he needs to love people.”
“I guess so.”
“You’re a smart feller, Sky. You know I’m right. And I can tell that you think the world of your ma and pa. There’s another verse that says, ‘Raise up a child in the way that’s right, and when he’s old, he won’t depart from it.’ “ Lot laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Brother, I’ve got the feeling that you’ve been out of your place for a long time, but I believe you’re gonna find it again—soon. I’m trustin’ God for it.”
Penny’s words stirred Winslow, reminding him that he had no one to share his thoughts with. The end of the journey was not something he looked forward to, for his problems with Joe would still be as critical then as they had been when he left months earlier.
“Lot,” he said tentatively, “I haven’t told many people this, but I’ve come on this trip for a couple of reasons. First, I wanted to help a friend find a wife. I hope now it’ll work out for him, but there’s something else.” He hesitated, not wanting to burden other people with his troubles.
“What is it, Sky?” Lot’s prompting seemed to encourage Winslow, and he laid the whole thing before Penny, including his difficulties with Joe. “I’ve got to have help, Lot.”
Penny replied, “You ought to get married, Sky.”
“No!” Winslow bellowed, and Lot blinked. “I’ve tried that, Lot, and it didn’t work.”
“But not all women are like her, Sky.”
“Yeah, I know . . . but I’m not going to take a chance on going through that hell again!”
“You going to live like a hermit for the rest of your life, Sky? You can’t shut people out like that and stay human. You’ll fester inside and get mean.” Penny hesitated, then said carefully, “I think a heap of you, Sky—but I’m honest when I tell you that I’ve seen some of that in you already. Unforgiveness does that to people. It don’t hurt the one you hate so much—but it eats away at a man’s insides until he’s all empty. No love, no kindness—nothing!”
Sky wanted to believe the preacher, but in the end he shook his head determinedly and said, “It’s all right for most, Lot, but I’m just not going to try it.”
“Well, you said there was another reason for your coming here; what is it?”
“I want to hire one of these women to be a housekeeper for me and Joe.” Now that the idea was out, Sky’s eyes glowed as he went on to explain his plan, but he talked with a desperate animation that sounded to Penny as though Winslow had to convince not only Penny but himself. “I could move into town, Lot, buy a house and build a little house for the woman, just for her. She could cook and take care of the house for Joe and me, and I could pay her well.”
Penny smiled sadly. “Son, these women didn’t come all the way across the country to be servants. They want to be wives!”
“I know, Lot, but—”
When Winslow did not continue, Penny said, “Well, I can tell there’s more. Spit it out.”
“It’s Rebekah. She’s got those two children, and not many men would want to raise another man’s kids. So I’ve decided to ask her if she’ll do it. What do you think, Lot?”
“I think she’ll say no.” Penny shook his head. “You’re foolin’ yourself, Sky, and that ain’t like you. Sure, some men will back off from those two children, but there’ll be others who’ll welcome them. Especially when they see how pretty Rebekah is.”
Tired of the conversation, Winslow got to his feet. “Guess I’ve always had the idea that she was pretty well fed up with men. At any rate, I’m going to ask her, Lot.” He walked away from the raft with a purposeful straightness in his back.
“Sure hate to see that boy get hurt—but he’s headed for a bad fall!” Penny said to himself.
****
The crew in the woods worked late that day cutting enough logs for all the rafts; by doubling up on the oxen, they broug
ht the last of the logs into camp by nine o’clock. All of the men were exhausted, but after a late supper everyone sat around the fire and talked about the descent down the river.
“How do we go about it, Sky?” Al Riker asked. “I don’t see how anything can get through those rapids down there.”
“Well, there’s about six miles of white water,” Sky explained. “We’ll float the rafts through and portage around the rapids.”
“What’ll happen to the rafts?” Dave asked.
“Won’t be hard to catch ’em in the calmer current. Then we load the wagons back on and take a thirty-mile drift to the mouth of the Sandy. From there it’ll take two days into Oregon City by land.”
“Don’t sound too bad,” Lake spoke up.
“Won’t be—unless we get a big rain that fills the river up.” Sky glanced upward at the black and ominous sky. “There’s been lots of big thunderheads building up since yesterday.”
“What if that happens?”
“It gets a little tricky. Have to have a boat and a couple of good men ready to catch the rafts.”
Riker shook his head. “Wouldn’t want that job—a small boat in a wild river tryin’ to stop heavy rafts.”
“It can be dangerous,” Sky admitted. He looked up at the sky again, feeling the pressure of the rains building up. “Let’s get some sleep. Maybe we can finish the rafts tomorrow or the next day and beat those thunderheads.”
The men wearily shuffled toward their bedrolls, but Tom Lake went first to stand by Rebekah’s tent. He listened intently for the baby’s coughing but heard nothing, so he went to his blankets. He and Lot Penny had rigged up a snug shelter underneath the wagon Lot drove, lining the ground with canvas and raising a skirt of it to keep the cold air out. Lot was already down and snoring, so Tom crawled in beside him and went to sleep.
The Reluctant Bridegroom Page 19
