A Man for Temperance (Wagon Wheel)

by Gilbert, Morris

  An hour later she was looking rather anxiously for Brennan, who did not appear. He was right because there was no way to get lost. The trail followed the winding gulch with the Snake River bubbling beneath. Ahead, the Rocky Mountains lifted themselves in an irregular line, and she was eager to see signs of Fort Boise.

  As always, her mind came back to Thaddeus Brennan. Putting up with him had been as difficult as any of the hardships of the trail. He absolutely refused to help with the children, but she had expected that. What she had hoped was that the gentleman hidden behind the rough exterior with manners crude beyond belief would step out somehow.

  By now Temperance was convinced that Brennan deliberately aggravated her. On the second day of their journey, he had started to relieve himself in front of her and the children. Temperance had lit into him with her eyes flashing, and he had stood there looking down at her almost as if she were a relic in a museum. Finally he had shrugged and said, “That ain’t the worst thing you’re gonna see on this trip.”

  Thirty minutes later, she saw Brennan emerge from behind a small ridge. He came toward her, riding loosely in the saddle, and when he got there the first thing he did was go to the wagon without speaking, pull out the whiskey jug, and take several long swallows. He plugged the jug and turned to face her. “Fort Boise is right up ahead.”

  “Good.”

  “Better watch out. One of them traders might take a hankering to you. They don’t see too many women along here.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I expect you can, Temperance Peabody. Nope, no man’s going to run off with you.”

  “I don’t need a man!” Temperance snapped defensively.

  “Most women do. As a matter of fact, most of them will do almost anything to catch a man.”

  “I’d have no man I had to catch.”

  Her remark amused Brennan. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the makings of a cigarette, rolled it, and considered her thoughtfully as he lit it. “Well,” he said, “that’s good news. I won’t have to be afraid of you running off with a mule skinner.” The thought amused him, and he dismounted then pointed forward. “Get ’em started, Peabody. My liquor’s running low.”

  Chapter Nine

  RENA SHIFTED HER WEIGHT uncomfortably, for riding in the wagon was a misery for her. She hated the hard seat and tried padding it with various things, but the jolting seemed to shake her all the way down to her bones. She had tried making a level area of the tools and supplies in the back, but somehow there was always a sharp corner punching at her from beneath the blankets she used for padding.

  “What’s the matter, Rena?”

  Looking up, Rena saw Rose holding Timmy in her arms. The young girl seemed friendly enough, but Rena had become so suspicious of strangers that she had not made a friend of her. “I’m sick and tired of this wagon. It’s shaking my brain loose.”

  “Well, aren’t you excited about going to your new home?”

  “No,” Rena said sharply. “It won’t be any better than what I had.”

  At that moment Bess began to cry. She had cried most of the night, keeping Rena awake, and now impatiently she shook her head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with this youngun. She’s so fussy.”

  “Let me hold her. Here, I’ll lay Timmy down. He sleeps like a rock.” She laid the baby down, reached over, and took the one-year-old from Rena. “She’s such a pretty girl. Look at that red hair! I just love red hair.”

  “I hate it,” Rena said flatly. “Everybody teases us because of it.”

  “Well, I think it’s pretty.” Rose put her finger into the baby’s mouth and exclaimed, “Why, this is what’s wrong with Bess. She’s cutting a tooth.” She laughed and hugged the girl close, leaving her finger in Bess’s mouth. “She just wants something to chew on. She’ll be better when it comes through.”

  Rena stared at the young girl, so mature for her age. “I heard you crying last night,” she said suddenly. “Were you scared?”

  Rose dropped her eyes, tilting her head forward. She kissed Bess’s red thatch of hair. “No, I wasn’t scared. I just got to thinking about my mama and papa, and it made me sad. You know how that is, Rena.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Rose lifted her eyes, for she could not understand this. She said, “You don’t miss your ma and pa?”

  “Why should I miss them? They never did a thing for me except beat on me when they were drunk. I never got a kind word from either of them.” The words were harsh, and Rena’s mouth was a thin line of bitterness.

  “It’ll be better when you get with your aunt and uncle.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s not good to expect anything, that way you never get disappointed.” She shrugged her shoulders and said, “I’m going to walk for awhile. Can you take care of Bess?”

  “Sure I can.”

  Rena crawled to the rear of the wagon, which was lurching along over old ruts, and was practically shaken out. She caught her balance, however, and started walking. The first thing she saw was her brother sitting astride the rear oxen. He looked tiny as he sat atop the large animal.

  “Bent, what are you doing up on that ox? You get off of there right now.”

  “Thad said I could. He put me up here,” Bent said defiantly. He turned and gave her a gap-toothed grin. “It’s fun. Come on up.”

  “I don’t want to ride on any old ox.”

  Rena plodded along for awhile, casting her glance from time to time at Temperance. The woman had been good to her, she had to admit, but she had a deep-seated mistrust of adults.

  Finally she turned to watch Brennan sitting on his horse, his hands folded over the horn. His head was tilted forward and his hat pushed down over his eyes. “Why, he’s asleep. No wonder. He’s been drinking all morning.” She started over and when she got close, she said, “Brennan, why’d you put my brother on that ox?”

  What happened then startled Rena. At the sound of Rena’s voice, Judas, who evidently had just been waiting for an outrage, humped his back, put his hooves together, and going high in the air, came down hard. The jolt tore Brennan loose, and he was flung over the horse’s head as if he had been shot out of a cannon. Rena watched with shock as he turned a complete flip and landed on his back, uttering a large “Wooosh!” as he landed.

  Rena ran forward at once, noting that Judas made no attempt to run away. Indeed, if she had had any idea that horses could think, she would have said that he looked pleased with himself. Brennan was lying with his hat off and his eyes wide open, staring at the sky.

  “Are—are you okay?” Rena asked somewhat tentatively. She thought he might have broken his neck; he was so still. But he moved his arms and legs and managed to sit up.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Can’t . . . breathe.”

  Rena had fallen once on her back and had her breath knocked out, so she realized that Brennan’s breathing apparatus was out of order. She watched, keeping well out of range as he struggled for breath, and finally she saw color coming back into his face. He was heaving mightily, trying to suck air in, and finally he cussed her and said, “Stop sneaking up on me and scaring my horse, you crazy kid!”

  “If you hadn’t been drunk, he wouldn’t have thrown you.”

  “I ain’t drunk.” Brennan’s eyes were bloodshot, and his speech was slurred. He reached down and picked up his hat. Jamming it over his head, he stared at her. “I ought to take a switch to you and I ain’t drunk.”

  “I reckon I know a drunk when I see one.”

  Brennan was embarrassed at being thrown. He was an excellent horseman and could ride the roughest of broncs, but the stallion had caught him completely off guard. He was furious with himself; he should have known better. “How do you know so much about drunks?”

  “I grew up in a saloon, that’s how, and my pa and ma were both drunks.”

  Brennan stared at her, unable to answer for a moment. “Well, you don’t have to be a drunk just
because they were.”

  “I know that!” Rena snapped. “Why are you a drunk, Brennan?”

  Brennan searched for an answer. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, walked over, and, picking up the reins, threw them over Judas’s neck. “I ought to shoot you, you stupid horse,” he said. He stared into the distance. Finally he turned and said, “There’s the fort.” He stared at the girl for a moment and shook his head. “You look like a ragamuffin.”

  “What’s a ragamuffin?”

  “A beggar girl. Look at that dress. It’s falling apart. Full of holes. And look at your shoes. Ain’t nothing to them. While we’re at the fort, you get you some good clothes and some shoes.”

  “I ain’t got any money.”

  “Well, you tell the preacher woman. She’s got money.”

  “No, I won’t ask her for anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like her, that’s why not.”

  “You’ve got to have a reason for not liking somebody.”

  “No, I don’t, but I’ll tell you. I don’t like her because she’s so good. That’s why I don’t like her.”

  Brennan suddenly grinned. “Well, I’ll tell you, kid, that’s why I don’t like her.”

  “Don’t call me kid.”

  “Why not?”

  “My name’s Rena.”

  “OK, Rena. Well, anyway, we’ve got something in common. We don’t like the boss lady, but I’ll tell you what. I’m going to win some money at poker. I’ll take some of it for some clothes and boots for you and your brother.”

  Rena shook her head in disgust. “You’re drunk, Brennan. You got to be sharp to win at poker.”

  Rena was disgusted as Brennan began to boast about what a great poker player he was. She had heard it all before from her own father and from other drunks in the saloon.

  “You won’t win nothing,” she said, “and if you did, you wouldn’t buy me and Bent any clothes.”

  “Sure I will.”

  Rena glared at him. “I don’t believe a word you say. You’re just a drunk, and drunks never keep their word!”

  * * *

  “WE’LL PULL UP HERE,” Brennan said. “Better to stay outside the fort. Lots of meanness going on in there.” He grinned suddenly at Temperance. “Don’t reckon there’s a church in this place, at least there wasn’t the last time I was here.”

  “All right. You set up the tent.”

  Brennan, for once, was agreeable. He was efficient enough when he had a job he didn’t dislike and was half-sober. It gave Temperance some hope that maybe a change would come in the man. She helped him with the tent although he had complained that she got in the way more than anything else. Finally, when the tent was up, he nodded, “Well, there it is. Now, preacher lady, I need some money. Give me an advance on that five hundred dollars you’re going to pay me when we get back East.”

  “What for?”

  “Why, I need some underwear. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I hadn’t changed underwear since we left Walla Walla.”

  “I noticed,” Temperance said wryly. “How much do you want?”

  “Well, tell you what. I’ve got to find a blacksmith. We ain’t got a spare wheel for this wagon. If one of them broke, we’d be out of luck. Might ought to get two. We’re going into some mighty rough country. And I got to get Judas shod. You’d better give me fifty dollars.”

  “That seems like a lot.”

  “Blacksmiths come pretty dear around here. There ain’t too many of them, but I know this one that’s pretty good.”

  Temperance struggled with herself for a moment and then reluctantly agreed. Going to the wagon, she found her reticule where she had concealed it in a sack of dried beans. It seemed safe enough from Brennan there, for he never interfered with groceries unless they were in their finished state. Taking the bills out, she went to Brennan and handed it out. “Be sure you do what you say.”

  “Well, I might have a drink or two.”

  “You just be sure that you get the wheels and the horse shod and some clean clothes.”

  “Oh, I’ll do that, Sister Peabody. You can be sure of it.”

  Temperance watched as Brennan mounted Judas and headed for town. Then she turned to the older children and said, “Come on. We’re going into town.”

  * * *

  FORT BOISE WAS A terrible disappointment. It was a small place with a travesty of a fence around it that had fallen in places and could not have stopped one Indian much less a party of them.

  Inside the fort, Indians were everywhere, for it was on the river and the Indians had brought their fish in. Many of them had been thrown away and left to rot. The ground inside the fort was flat and dry, pounded by feet and hooves, and Temperance didn’t see one white woman nor any children. All seemed to be dirty mule skinners, half-breeds, and half-naked Indians. She passed by Indians cooking fresh salmon and cakes of pounded berries to trade for clothing, powder, knives, and fish hooks.

  Rena said, “This place stinks.”

  “It sure does,” Bent agreed. “I never saw such dirty people in my whole life.”

  The Indians for the most part seemed to be childlike—dirty and naked, except for a few lousy rabbit skins.

  “Look at that!” Rose exclaimed. “That Indian is eating grasshoppers.”

  Sure enough, she saw one of the Indians, an older man with few teeth, munching on a grasshopper. He had a sackful of them and pulled them out and ate them like candy.

  A shudder went through Temperance. “Let’s go to the store,” she said. “I hope it’s better than anything I’ve seen here.”

  The store proved to be somewhat better than the rest of Fort Boise. It was run by a one-eyed man named Causey, who greeted her with some surprise. “Are you on your way to Oregon City?”

  “No, we’ve just come from Walla Walla. We’re on our way East.”

  “You tell me that?” Causey said. “Why, ma’am, that’s a long trip you got. How many wagons in your train?”

  “Just us.”

  Causey stared at her. “You ain’t startin’ this trip in just one wagon.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  Causey looked over the children. “These all your younguns, ma’am?”

  “My name is Miss Peabody and they’re not my children. Their parents died of cholera, and I’m taking them back to their relatives.”

  Causey reached up and rubbed his balding head. “Well, ma’am, I hope you know what you’re doing. It’s a long trip, and the Indians have been acting up some.”

  “The Pawnee or the Cheyenne?”

  “Oh, the Cheyenne. The Pawnee, they’re pretty peaceful right now. What can I do for you?”

  Temperance found it difficult to get what she needed for the children, but she did the best she could. She did manage to buy a supply of dried food, including coffee beans, and finally she turned to Rena and said, “You and Bent need shoes.”

  Rena stared at her. “No, we don’t. Thad’s going to get me some.”

  “Brennan doesn’t have any money.”

  “He’s going to win at poker and buy us some stuff.”

  Instantly Temperance felt anger run through her entire body. She was an even-tempered woman, and this did not happen often. But she recalled Brennan’s face, how innocent he had looked, and the list of things he was going to do with the fifty dollars she gave him. She suppressed her anger, thinking, Why am I shocked? It’s just the kind of thing he would do. Turning to Causey, she said, “Is there a place where we can get something to eat, I mean already cooked?”

  “At the boarding house, Miss Peabody. Right down the street. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you, sir. My man will be back to buy trading goods.”

  “Be glad to serve him, Miss Peabody.”

  As Temperance led the small group out of the store, she was aware of Causey’s voice, and his words followed her: “A woman that’s taking a bunch of kids all the way back East will never make it, not over that trail with
one wagon. Women ain’t got no sense anyhow.”

  Temperance had to struggle with her anger. He’s out getting drunk somewhere right now. Wait until he gets back. He’ll be drunk, but I’m going to tell him a thing or two!

  * * *

  BRENNAN ENTERED THE SALOON, and one look around told him little had changed. He had been here before, and he walked to the bar and said, “Hello, Clint.”

  Clint Clausen was a rotund man, tall and full-bodied. “I forget your name, but I remember your face.”

  “Thaddeus Brennan.”

  “Oh, I remember. You created quite a ruckus the last time you was here. Two or three years, ain’t it?”

  “About three, I guess. Thomas still own the place?”

  “Nah, he sold out. Belongs to that fellow over there in the fancy vest. His name is Vince Blackmon.”

  Brennan glanced at the group playing poker. There were only three in the game—one with a fancy vest, a big, burly man across from him, and another nondescript man, apparently a mule skinner. “Not much action is there, Clint?”

  “Not much. Watch out for Blackmon though. He can be a handful.”

  “I don’t reckon I’d be too scared of a man who wears a vest like that.”

  “Don’t let it fool you, Brennan. He’s dangerous as a snake, and that big one across from him, that’s Alec Carnes. He kicked a fellow to death in a fight here last month. He’s tough.”

  “How about buying me a drink?”

  Brennan turned to see one of the two saloon girls he had already noticed. She was a tall brunette with toughness in her face but still with traces of beauty.

  “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Leona. What’s yours?”

  “Just call me Thaddeus.”