Rivers West

by Louis L'Amour

“Aye, she wastes no time, that girl. She bought the boat and found a crew in no time at all. She hopes to have stores and fuel aboard and be gone within hours, and if I know men, that Macklem will have it done. He looks a slave driver to me.”

  “Macklem?”

  “Aye. Captain Macklem now, with sailing orders for St. Louis and points west.”

  Massman sat down.

  My eyes turned to Jambe-de-Bois. There was no triumph in him, no I-told-you-so. There was just disappointment…and fear.

  Miss Majoribanks was going west on the Western Engineer with Macklem for captain, going to the rescue of a brother who might well be a prisoner of the same bad lot who crewed her vessel!

  Chapter 10

  *

  JAMBE-DE-BOIS SHOOK HIS head slowly. He was scowling. “Too late now. Macklem is a charmer. If he’s talked to her, you’d get no place arguing against him. In fact, if you tried it, he would be all smiles and friendly, and when you got out of her sight, he’d kill you.”

  “Maybe I am not easy to kill.”

  Jambe waved a hand. “That was what Sam Purdy thought, and Macklem destroyed him.”

  “I shall call upon her.”

  “You’ll do no good. She’s found a man who will take her where she wants to go, he listens to her, and he tells her she is right to go west. He needed a way, and now she’s made it easy for him and his crew. You cross them, and they’ll kill you.”

  “Nevertheless, I shall go to see her.”

  He glanced at the clock in the tavern. “It is close to one o’clock. You cannot go now.”

  “In the morning, then.”

  Needless to say, I slept not at all that night and was up with the first light. I say I slept none, yet certainly I must have, in snatches here and there. With the first crack of dawn, I was having coffee, and, without waiting for breakfast, I went out upon the street.

  Two men leaned against the hitching rail. One was a man with a stocking cap on, the other wore a black slouch hat, and both were husky, capable-looking men. Yet I merely noted them and turned toward town.

  As I did so, one of them called out. “Wrong way, mister. If you’re huntin’ work with timber, go the other way, toward the boat docks.”

  “Thanks. I have business uptown.”

  They were walking toward me, spreading out a little as they came. “You better go to the boat docks. Nobody wants to see you uptown. Fact is, we was warned most partic’lar that you shouldn’t go uptown.”

  I smiled pleasantly. “I suppose you’d stop me if I tried to go?”

  The man with the stocking cap grinned. “Why, now, we wouldn’t wish for you to get into trouble, would we, Pete?”

  “We surely wouldn’t,” Pete said. “He might have notions of callin’ on a certain young lady. Wouldn’t do, no way.”

  “Well,” I said, “I suppose you’re right. I might as well go back and eat breakfast.”

  “There! I told you he was smart, Pete! Didn’t I tell you? I just said to you, ‘That boy’s smart. He won’t need to be told no second time.’ An’ what did you say?”

  “I said we should teach him a little lesson. Sort of impress him.”

  My three steps had taken me close to them. I put my right hand up to hitch my collar into better position, and I threw the punch from there. Now I was always taught to punch through what I was hitting at, as though my target was the back of the head instead of the chin.

  My family runs to heavy muscle and bone, and I’d helped it along with much boxing, wrestling, and hand-to-hand practice, and years of handling heavy tools. I threw my high hard one at the man with the slouch hat, and he never even got his hands up.

  He was on my left, and I threw that right high and across. Without losing momentum, I just let my natural shoulder swing carry me and came back with a left that caught Mr. Stocking Cap coming in.

  I’d have been surprised if either of them got up, and I was not surprised. Feeling suddenly cheerful, I turned and went uptown.

  Penn Street had a row of elegant houses, but I’d not come unprepared, for before coming out onto the street I had put on my tailored black suit. It was one I’d had made in Montreal on my last visit, and it was beautifully styled.

  The house toward which I’d been directed was a fine-looking mansion, and the man who opened the door bowed me in when I asked for Miss Majoribanks. I wasn’t certain she’d be up.

  “Oh?” she looked surprised when she saw me. I don’t know whether it was just me or the handsome black suit. “Oh, Mr. Daniel! Do come in!”

  A very pretty blonde young lady came through the door behind her, and she said, “Helen, this is Mr. Daniel. He was with us when we came down from Maine.”

  “How do you do?” Helen had big blue eyes, which she widened very effectively as she took my hand. “We are just sitting down to breakfast. Won’t you join us?” She turned. “Daisy, set another place for Mr. Daniel.”

  The dining room into which she led me was a handsome room with walnut panels and furniture, the table set better than any I’d seen since I left my grandfather’s place.

  “Helen,” Miss Majoribanks’ features were stiff, “I’m afraid you misunderstand. Mr. Daniel is…I mean he’s not…”

  “A gentleman?” I suggested. “Isn’t that a matter of opinion, Miss Majoribanks? Have you ever found me to be otherwise?”

  Her cheeks were flushed. Obviously embarrassed, she said, “I mean…I did not invite you here. This is the home of a friend. I cannot presume to—”

  “Invite a laborer? A man who works with his hands?”

  I held out my hands to Helen. “Are they so bad, these hands?” I smiled at her. “Is it so bad to shape wood, to build?”

  She took my hands, laughing. “Why, they’re wonderful hands! And so strong-looking! They make me shiver.”

  Miss Majoribanks’ lips tightened a little. “I’m sorry. Had it been my home I—”

  Helen held my right hand by the fingers and led me to the table. “Sit here. Please do! Daisy, Mr. Daniel is a big man, and I’m sure he’s very hungry.”

  It was a pleasure to sit at such a table again. Yet despite its richness, it lacked a little something one might have found in my grandfather’s home.

  “Are you staying in Pittsburgh long, Mr. Daniel?”

  “That depends.” The coffee was strong and hot. “I came here hoping to build boats. Perhaps to build one for myself for trade on the western waters. But certain things have happened…that’s the reason I came here this morning. I had to speak to Miss Majoribanks.”

  “To Tabitha?”

  It was the first time I had heard her name. Tabitha Majoribanks. I couldn’t decide whether I liked it or not.

  “Is it personal? Must I leave?”

  “No, no, it’s business.” I put down my cup. “Miss Majoribanks, if you will permit me. I understand you have bought the steamboat Western Engineer?”

  “Yes, I have. It was going for a very reasonable price, and it seemed much the simplest and easiest way to go west.”

  “I’m sure it is. You have a crew?”

  “Of course. Colonel…I mean Captain Macklem has taken care of all that. He’s very efficient.”

  “And so handsome!” Helen exclaimed.

  I paused, not sure how to proceed. Tabitha Majoribanks looked at me expectantly. “This Colonel Macklem,” I said, “is the man who killed Sam Purdy.”

  “Who had first attacked Colonel Macklem.”

  “No doubt. I was thinking of the manner of it. Also, he was on the road in Maine when Foulsham, the young British officer, was killed.”

  Tabitha Majoribanks knew where the conversation was going now, and her eyes were chilly. “And you, Mr. Daniel? Were you not on that road also?”

  “Yes. I was. But Foulsham was alive when I found him.”

  “And did he accuse Colonel Macklem?” Her tone was cold.

  “No, but—”

  She stood up. “Mr. Daniel, I have no idea what you hoped to gain by coming here,
nor what you wish me to believe. But if you are jealous of—”

  “Jealous?” I remained seated. “And why should I be jealous? What reason could I possibly have?”

  Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes narrowed to pinpoints. Oh, she had a fine anger, this Tabitha Majoribanks! And when angry she was remarkably handsome, too. Beautiful was not quite the word at the moment.

  I got up then, and before she could speak, I said quietly, “You believe your brother has come upon something important to your country. Mr. Foulsham was pursuing a man, or at least investigating one, who had betrayed his country, a notorious adventurer.

  “At this moment, a certain Torville is recruiting all the riffraff he can find, with a view, we believe, to seizing the Louisiana Territory. Colonel Macklem, with a considerable group of riffraff, is now going aboard your steamer. If your boat is the easiest way to the western lands for you, it is the same for him…for them.”

  “You are accusing him?” Her eyes were furious.

  “No. I have not sufficient evidence. What I am suggesting is that you find another crew. Find one known to local people, and a captain known to local people.”

  “You have not sufficient evidence! I should think not. All you have is supposition and your own dislike for him. I’m sorry, Helen, but I can no longer remain in the room with this man.”

  “I’m leaving.” I turned to Helen. “I am sorry. I had information. I hoped she would listen, but I did not mean to disrupt your breakfast.”

  She walked to the door with me. “You will come again, won’t you? And please…don’t take offense. I have never seen her so angry before. She must like you a great deal.”

  “Like me? She detests the ground I walk on.”

  Helen laughed. “I doubt it. It was what you said about no reason for jealousy that really burned. Do come again, Mr. Daniel.”

  “Call me Jean,” I said. “That’s really my name.”

  I walked back slowly, turning the whole affair over in my mind.

  My efforts had been useless. Now she was angry, and if I was any judge of people, the last thing she would think of doing would be to rid herself of Macklem. I had really made things worse, for all my good intentions.

  Macaire. I must warn Macaire.

  Suddenly, I was alert. I must move with caution. Those two men who’d confronted me outside the inn had not been there by accident, but obviously to prevent me from doing just what I’d done. Only I’d made a proper mess of it.

  Macklem, or somebody close to him for whom he was acting, certainly believed that I knew more than I did. No doubt, he suspected I could go to them with concrete information, and wished to prevent that.

  Butlin was loafing on Water Street, obviously watching for me. He sauntered along toward me. “Looks like you had trouble,” he said.

  “No trouble,” I said.

  “But a man at the inn said you were jumped by two thugs.”

  “Oh, that!” I grinned at him. “That was nothing to what I ran into when I tried to warn Miss Majoribanks about Macklem.”

  Briefly, I explained. Butlin stood quiet, listening. He was a good listener, Butlin was, and a man who remembered, but above all, as I was learning, he was a man who knew how to act on what he had learned. Many men have information, but few know how to use it to advantage.

  “So what do we do now? Jambe-de-Bois is worried.”

  “I want to talk to Macaire. Find him for me, will you? I shall change clothes.”

  My room was quiet. From my window I could see the Western Engineer. From my packsack I got out my telescope and studied the steamboat.

  A man was standing on a skiff painting over the ship’s name. Several men were walking up the gangway carrying boxes and bales. Macklem was wasting no time.

  A wagon pulled by two horses had drawn up near the gangway. The back of the wagon was covered with a tarpaulin, and as I watched, several men surrounded the wagon, all of them facing out. Six husky men came down the gangway. The back of the tarpaulin was lifted and one long box taken out, then another and another.

  The husky men took the boxes up the gangway at a trot, and all the while those other men were looking, watching, wary as cats.

  A warehouse and big stacks of lumber shielded them from Water Street, and only my position on the second floor of the tavern with my telescope gave me a chance to see it happen.

  As I watched, I counted aloud: “Three, four, five…six, seven…eight.” And there were more. At least ten of those long boxes, and nobody needed to tell me what they contained, for I had seen such before. Each box contained at least a dozen rifles. Perhaps more.

  There was a light tap on the door, and Butlin came in. Handing him the glass, I indicated the wagon with its tarp, now pulling away. Another was pulling up, and it was unloaded in exactly the same way.

  “Well?” I said.

  He glanced at me. “Rifles?”

  “Of course. There must have been at least a hundred on that first wagon.”

  “So we can guess, a modest estimate, no less than two hundred rifles aboard—and probably more. That’s a lot of firepower.”

  “Did you find Macaire?” I asked.

  “Nope,” answered Butlin. “He’s not around. At least not yet.”

  We were silent. The second wagon had discharged its cargo and moved away. Now there was only the usual activity around the hull of the dragon boat.

  “What are you going to do?” Butlin asked.

  There was nothing I could do. Tabitha Majoribanks would not have me aboard, and I certainly would not serve under Macklem. Whatever was to happen would happen soon, for their boat would likely pull out for the West in a day or two.

  “Nothing,” I said, “but hunt a job.”

  Butlin dropped into a chair and stared thoughtfully out the window. “That’s a fine girl,” he muttered, “a fine, proud girl.”

  Something inside me cringed. I felt a shame come over me. Yes, she was all of that. I remembered the set of her shoulders, the look of her back as she walked away from me. But I knew she had no use for me, and although she was a fine, proud girl, she also had a fine, devil of a temper.

  I said as much. Butlin chuckled. “Would you have it otherwise? If you’re going to have steam in the kettle, you’ve got to have fire in the stove.”

  Through my telescope, I saw a man walk up the gangway, pausing at the rail. It was Colonel Macklem. My fists clenched.

  But fists were not the proper weapon for him. If a man was to tackle Macklem, he must do it with a calm mind, for I knew that man was thinking. He was thinking all the time.

  And every thought was of how to kill you, how to make you suffer.

  Chapter 11

  *

  AT THE BOAT yard I had no trouble. Boats were building. Men were needed. Timbers were cut in a sawmill, but many needed added shaping, and I was a better than fair hand with ax or adze.

  I was hired on the spot.

  That afternoon, John Dill, my boss, walked over to where I was working and kicked the chips I’d cut from a timber in facing it. The chips were almost uniform in size, and the timber as smooth as if polished.

  “You’re good,” he said quietly. “Have you built boats?”

  “I am a shipwright,” I told him. “I have built three schooners, a barkentine, and several brigs, along with a number of fishing craft.”

  “I thought so.” He watched me work for a time. “Have you built bridges?”

  “Several…and barns, as well.”

  “We’ve a steamer to build. One hundred and twenty-five feet overall, main deck, cabin deck and a texas.”

  I leaned on my ax. “You will build it here?”

  “I shall. If you’ll have the job, it is yours.”

  “You mean I shall be in charge?”

  “I’ve watched you work. You’ll do it. I want the job done by a man who loves his work, who loves the wood he works with and the tools he uses.”

  It was what I wanted. It was what I had come west t
o do. Now it was here. One hundred and twenty-five feet would make a handsome craft, and once I’d put one in the water I could write my own ticket.

  Why did I hesitate?

  “Let me give you my answer tomorrow. I must think of what must be done and what I have to do.”

  “Well enough. You know where my office is. Come along when you’ve made up your mind.”

  For a moment longer I waited, thinking, and then once more I went to work, liking the clean, neat strokes of the adze, the way the chips broke away. This was what I had started to do in life, to build, to build boats that would carry the commerce of this wild land, go up its farthest rivers.

  When I finished my day, it was dark. I stacked my tools and turned away from the river toward the hotel. If I was going to stay in Pittsburgh, I must find new, less expensive quarters.

  There was the faint scuff of feet on the street ahead of me. I stood very still. I’d had a bit of trouble on the previous day, and hoped for no more.

  Hands chest high, whether to block a punch or lead one, I continued my walk.

  “John Daniel?”

  It was Macaire.

  “Macaire! We need to talk,” I said.

  “Aye,” he answered. “Come sail with us. You can ship aboard us in any capacity you like. Or you can come as a passenger, as a free trader.”

  “You speak for yourself, Macaire. Neither Macklem nor Miss Majoribanks would allow it.”

  “If I speak for you, they’ll take you. Will y’come, lad?”

  “I cannot. Your Miss Majoribanks thinks I am common stuff—and dislikes me into the bargain. As for Macklem, he’s a very dangerous man. We’d kill each other within the week.”

  “Ah, you don’t know him, lad. He’s a canny one. He’s a way about him, smooth as a French tailor, and he’d say naught against you. In fact, and this will surprise you, lad, he suggested it.”

  “Macklem?”

  “Aye. Your name was up. I don’t know if it was Tabitha who mentioned it, or whether ’twas Macklem himself, but your name was up. She said you’d been companions all the way down, and he come out with it, quick and easy. ‘Have him aboard,’ he says, ‘in any capacity he wishes.’ The words I speak were his own.”