by Dean Hughes
Will knew. He got off his horse and walked to Oliver. The ox was Billy, one of his strongest. But the damage was much greater than the loss of one ox. Shooting an ox was the same as shooting a team. It took time to train two oxen to work together. And the trouble was, Will needed six teams, not five.
Will tried to keep control. A fury was building in him. But he told himself that for once in his life he needed to be the Christian man he was supposed to be.
“Do you know George Samples?” he asked.
“I do. He lives south of here a couple of miles, him and his brother. Neither one has a wife.”
“Well, he did this. He warned me yesterday that he didn’t want me here. He said he would do something to run me off.”
“I know George, and I wouldn’t put it past the man to do such a thing—but how can you prove it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You might want to report this to the constable,” Oliver said. “He could maybe stop by George’s farm and tell him that he’s suspected—and then he could warn him that if he tries something again—”
“Are you talking about Harmon Wilson? Is that the constable you mean?”
“Yes.”
Will shook his head. “Wilson might help Samples,” he said. “He doesn’t think much of us Mormons.”
“I doubt that. I don’t think he would agree with a man who shoots another man’s animals.”
“I don’t know what I can trust in anymore, Oliver. What do you think of our people? Do you think we’re thieves and liars?”
“I live and let live, Will. The Mormons I’ve met seem about the same as any other people. I’ve heard folks say that they steal and all that, but I don’t know that anyone’s got any proof of it.”
“We have some bad people among us, I’m sure,” Will said. “And there’s been some scoundrels who’ve moved in and made their home among us. They think they can use the place to do wrong and get away with it. But it’s not what our church would ever approve, and we try to stop such things the same as any other town would do.”
“I believe that,” Oliver said. “There’s wrongdoers in every place I’ve ever been. If there’s thieving going on, it can’t all be coming from your people.”
“We can live together, can’t we?”
“I don’t know why not. I only worry that if too many of you come, that might upset people like George Samples more and more. It does seem strange for people to gather up like that. It may not be wrong, but it does cause suspicion.”
Will nodded. He thought of Joseph speaking of going west, where Zion wouldn’t impinge on anyone. But he also thought of the word Zion—what it had meant to him when he had heard of it in England. It was supposed to be a place of goodness and mutual support. He had never imagined that it could create such hard feelings.
“I need to think about all this,” Will said. “I might have to give up this job. I can maybe afford to buy another team of oxen, but it will set me back and delay everything I’ve been working for. And if he comes after the rest of my teams, what would I do then?”
“I don’t know, Will. You have to decide. But it’s not right to let him win.”
“I could ride down to his place and tell him that I know he did it, and I won’t let it happen again.”
Oliver shrugged. “I don’t know. He might shoot you on the spot.”
“Well ... for now, I better slaughter this animal. If you and your wife want to brine this meat and cure it, I’ll share with you half and half.”
“That’s fine. But you better work fast. It was a warm night, and the meat is going spoil fast in the sun.”
Will knew that, but he hardly had the heart to get started. Billy was a friend. Will had spent a lot of days with the animal, working hard. Still, he couldn’t just sit down and cry. And he couldn’t let the meat go to waste.
Chapter 14
Shortly after Will began to butcher his ox, Jesse arrived. He had managed to buy a plodding old workhorse that he rode bareback. It was a slow means of travel, but at least he didn’t have to make the long trek on foot. Will saw him lead his horse through the gate at the end of the field and then lift the reins from its head and let it go free in the pasture. As Jesse walked closer, Will saw the concerned look on his face. “What’s happened?” Jesse asked. “Is that Billy?”
Will told him what he knew, and Jesse stared at Will in disbelief. “You mean he just shot your ox for no reason?” he asked.
“No, he had a reason. No doubt it was his way of telling me that I might be next.”
Will was looking down the road as he spoke. He had spotted two horsemen riding up from the south. “It’s George Samples,” Oliver said. “Him and his brother.”
The brother was bigger and oilier, with the same sort of dirty beard. George was unable to hide a grim smile as he came near. “Mornin’,” he called. He had stopped his horse on the road beyond the pasture’s sod fence, but he was not more than twenty yards away. “What you doin’ with blood all over yuh like that?”
Will stood up straight and looked at Samples. He knew what he wanted to do. He also knew he couldn’t do it. But he wasn’t going to take any more of the man’s gloating.
“George, you killed my ox. Are you—”
“Wait jist a minute thar, Lewis. Don’t start makin’ accusations. I don’t know nothin’ about killing no ox.” He glanced at his brother, who grinned, showing only two teeth in front.
“What’s next?” Will demanded. “Do you have in mind to kill more? Just tell me what you want from me.”
“I told yuh yesterday what I want. I want yuh to clear out.”
“You, and all the rest of yuh,” the brother said.
It was Oliver who spoke up. “There ain’t no call for all this. You Samples boys don’t have a right to tell people who can live here and who can’t. It’s not right to kill a man’s animals like that.”
“How’s yer ol’ milk cow doin,’ Oliver—and that ol’ team of plow horses? They in good health?”
“Don’t threaten me, George. I’ll have the law on you.”
“An’ here’s what I say. Jack Mormons should be run outa here jist the same as Mormons.”
“Never mind,” Will told Oliver. And then he walked to the fence. “George, what’s your brother’s name?”
“It don’t matter to you,” the brother said.
But George answered. “It’s Blake. Blake Samples. Don’t forget it. He’s a man who keeps his word. He could tote you under one arm, walk all the way to the river—an’ drown you thar.”
“Is it the roadwork you want?”
“What?”
“Do you have enough teams? Could you do the job if the county hired you to do it?”
“I could do it good as you. That’s fer shor.”
“What if I tell them, over in Carthage, that I can’t finish the job, but I know someone who can? Would that be the end of this?”
“They won’t hire George,” Oliver said. “Nor his brother. They’ve never done anything right in their lives. And never finished a job they started. Everyone around here knows that.”
“I think I noticed that cow of yers is lookin’ sick. She could die one of these very first nights, the way she looks.”
“She could get lead poisoning,” Blake said. They both grinned, but Will could see that George’s anger was serious and that Oliver could end up paying for it.
“George, Blake,” Will said. “I don’t want trouble, and Oliver doesn’t either. He told me himself he likes to live and let live. So let’s end all this. I’ll give up the road job, and you can see if it’s something you could hire on to do. Then, as far as I can see, you have nothing to complain about. We can just go our separate ways.”
“You kin go yer sep’ert way, all right. You can go straight to hell, you and ever’ Mormon in this county.”
“Maybe we will leave someday. But for now, let’s just—”
“You better clear out now or I’ll be making beef out of you and not your ox. An’ then I’ll have mysel’ some fun with yer wife, and—”
Suddenly Will was over the sod fence. He grasped for George, caught hold of his suspenders, and jerked him down to the ground. He had him by the neck by then, one hand gripping his throat and the other fist high in the air. But he didn’t strike the blow. He only stared into George’s terrified eyes. At the same moment Will heard movement and knew that Blake was dismounting, but he glanced to see Oliver and Jesse both bounding over the fence, and in another few seconds Blake was prone on the ground too, Oliver on top of him. Both horses shuffled about, sending up puffs of dust. And then everything stopped.
“I’d like to slaughter you like I did that ox,” Will growled. His fist was still hoisted in the air, and he had to fight his impulse toward driving it into George’s face. “I won’t do that. Not now. But if you ever come near my wife, I swear, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
George didn’t say a word—not with Will’s hand around his throat.
Will threw his leg off George and then grabbed him by his elbow and jerked him to his feet. George must have felt Will’s strength because he didn’t make a move to take advantage of his freedom. “Let Blake up too,” Will said, and Jesse and Oliver hoisted him upright, one on each side.
“Let’s end this right now,” Will said. “I told you yesterday I’d be your friend and neighbor if you’d let me. But since you don’t want that, let’s just forget all this ever happened. I won’t speak to the constable this time, and you admit to yourself that a Mormon can be a fair man. I’m handing the road job over to you if you want to go after it.”
“This ain’t the end of nothin’,” George said, but he walked backward carefully, reached his horse, and grabbed the reins. He pulled himself up by the saddle horn and then rolled his bulk into the saddle. “Let’s go, Blake,” he said. Blake’s horse shied a little as he stepped toward it, but he chased it down and mounted it. The two turned their horses and headed back down the road, but they kept glancing back as though they were still wary.
Will and Jesse and Oliver watched for a time before Jesse said, “Will, I don’t understand. Why give up our work? They have no right to take it from us.”
“I’ve thought all night about it,” Will said. “It’s too far down here. We’re taking too great a chance working this close to Warsaw. And more than that, it’s working us—and our animals—too hard. Let’s just farm our plots and take on some extra plowing when it comes. We’ll get by.” He looked at Oliver. “I know the Samples brothers won’t listen to reason, but if you tell people we did what was fair, that might change a few minds about us.”
“If you stayed on this road, those boys wouldn’t let up,” Oliver said. “They’d shoot more of your oxen, and maybe take potshots at you. But it ain’t right to back down to them. It’s what keeps men like that going.”
“Christ taught us to turn the other cheek. I can’t change those men, but I can do my part to end the trouble.”
“Then you shouldn’t have thrown him on his back,” Jesse said. “He won’t forget that.”
Oliver was nodding. “He’ll be waiting for you sometime. You can count on that.”
Will folded his arms and looked out across the prairie. “I know,” he said, “but that was too much, what he said about Liz.”
“And that’s why he said it,” Jesse said. “He was pushing you until he got you to show your hand. He’ll be drinkin’ with some of his kind tonight, an’ he won’t say a word about bein’ thrown down. He’ll be tellin’ about killin’ your ox, and he’ll be vowin’ what he’s going to do next. That puts Liz in more danger than ever.”
“I know.” Will had been settled with his decision the night before. He had told himself that if there was any trouble at all, he would give up the road job, but that sort of concession didn’t work with a man like Samples. Will should have let the man have his little verbal victory. But the threat of that man harming Liz hadn’t been anything he had expected. The truth was, he didn’t regret what he’d done to George. He hoped maybe he had put some fear in the man.
• • •
Liz was surprised when she glanced out the window and saw Will riding toward the house. It was early afternoon, much earlier than she had expected him. What concerned her, though, was that she saw how worried he looked. He got off his horse, but he didn’t walk it to their corral or pull the saddle off.
When Will came inside, Liz knew enough to wait. He had something on his mind, and he would tell her what he wanted her to know. She had learned that he didn’t spill things out the way she did.
“You’re home early,” she did say, hoping that might at least start the explanation.
“I’m giving up the road I’ve been grading,” he said. “It’s too far south. It’s not worth all the traveling Jesse and I have to do. If we ever get any rain this summer, we could still have a decent harvest. I’ll pick up some plowing if I can, but I don’t plan to cut any more roads this year.”
“That’s good, Will. It gets lonely when you’re gone so long, and I always worry about you—with all the hateful talk we’re hearing.”
Will only nodded. Jacob had toddled over to him and was looking up. Will picked him up and tickled him. “Hey, how’s my boy?” he said. He looked over at Liz. “He’s walking better every day now, isn’t he?”
“He is. He still tips over. But it never bothers him. He’s back up fast and off and going again. He thinks he’s big now, walking about.”
“That’s right. He’s a little man, that’s what he is.” Will tickled him again, and Jacob twisted and laughed.
Liz loved watching that, but she knew there was more to Will’s decision than he was letting on. “So did you just up and decide today that you weren’t going to finish the road?”
“Aye. Jesse and I talked it over, and it seemed for the best. I sent him over to Carthage to tell the boys over there that they can give the work to someone else who wants it, and settle with us for the part we did.”
“Won’t they have trouble finding someone else to do it?”
“Maybe not. Someone might jump at the chance, especially with the harvest looking slim. I told Jesse to say that we wouldn’t break our promise. If they could find no one else, we’d finish out.”
“That’s good. But if I know you, you’ll still work too much.”
“That could be true. My only worry is having enough work for Dan. But immigrants are still coming, and they need their fields opened. That should keep all three of us busy.”
“Just hope that some of them can pay you.”
“Aye.”
And now she saw the worry again.
Will set Jacob down. “Liz, you might as well know, one reason we decided this way was that we lost one of our oxen. Billy ... died ... last night.”
“Died?”
“Yes. Mrs. Hyatt is curing the beef, so I told Oliver we’d split it with him, but we’ll get some meat from it—tough meat at that—but I’m afraid that’s all. I can either buy a new team or purchase one ox and hope I can find time to train it to work with ol’ Barney.”
Liz laughed. “Those are my oxen, you know. So maybe I ought to decide.”
“No doubt about it. What do you want to do?”
“I say, get another ox and say your prayers. The Lord will look out for us. Six teams have been good for us. No one else has so many, and it’s brought business to us right along.”
“That’s true. It’s what I was thinking too.” But he was still hesitating, and she knew there was more on his mind. “Do you want supper now, or—”
“No. I want to ride down and talk to William Clayton about some business matters. I won’t be long. I’ll build a fire when I get back.
Don’t heat up the house any more than it is.”
She was relieved to hear that. The block house had stayed fairly cool most of the morning, but the heat outside was sweltering, and she was feeling it now. She had been sick every day for the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t as bad as the last time she had been pregnant, but then, she wasn’t dealing with a tossing ship this time. Still, the heat didn’t help her at all.
“All right, then. I’ll be on my way, and we can maybe sit outside a little once the sun is down. We can let Jacob watch the fireflies. We haven’t done that for quite some time.”
“That’s not so. He and I do that almost every evening. And Nelly and Warren walk over sometimes. You just haven’t been here with us.”
“I know. That will change now.” He set his hat back on his head and walked to the door.
“Will?” Liz said.
“Aye.”
“If the ox was sick, is it all right to eat the meat?”
“He wasn’t sick.”
She waited, but he offered her nothing more. Finally she said, “Will, something has happened. I knew it the minute I looked at you. Tell me why you really gave up your roadwork. I’d rather know.”
Will nodded. He looked across the room, not at Liz. “There’s a man who lives south of Oliver Hyatt’s farm. George Samples. He saw me cutting the road and told me that he didn’t like Mormons getting that work. He warned me something might happen. In the night, someone shot Billy. There’s no question that he was the one who did it. Then he came back with his brother today, and I told him I didn’t want any more trouble. He could have the work himself if he wanted it.”
“Why did you give in to him?”
“For all the reasons I told you. That job is too far south, and the truth of it is, it’s too close to Warsaw. You’ve been telling me that yourself. Let him have the work and then have no reason to resent me. He keeps saying he wants to run us out of the county, and I just figured I’d show him I wasn’t spoiling for a fight.”
