“Yes, go to work now,” Randall replied, watching as the boy moved swiftly to Parker’s side. He had no doubt that Matthew was telling the truth about his folks but he also sensed that the boy was not telling the whole truth. What is it about him that makes me think still waters run deep?
Tossing the dregs of his coffee onto the dying embers, he thought, Ah well, if there’s a fortune to be had with that boy, I’ll ferret it out of him soon enough…and the girl? He grinned. Annie McCauley would love to have a young new virgin in her stable and would pay well for the privilege.
He looked around and, raising his voice to be heard loud and clear, hollered, “Listen up! I want the wagon and four, plus the mules, to be ready within the hour. Pack for a six day run into Seattle. And, Parker, pack for cold weather, you hear?”
“Yes sir, I hear ya,” Parker answered.
Turning to Mattie, he said, “Son, you go tend to those mules. Feed’ em and make damn sure their leathers aren’t wet. You will find extra riggin’s in that stock wagon over past the tent. Also, grab as many of those buffalo pelts as you can carry and put ‘em in back of that wagon over there.” The old man pointed south and Mattie saw a newer wagon parked by the cliff’s rocky walls.
“Yes, sir!” he said and ran to the older of the two wagons. He saw the leather braces, bits, and harnesses under an oilskin tarp. Throwing a couple sets over one shoulder, he wrestled two heavy skins out of the back and staggered over to the newer wagon. Arms trembling from the effort, he lifted the two skins inside and hurried over to the restive mules.
While he fed, watered and brushed the animals—trying to avoid the bigger one’s large, square teeth—he saw Tulu walking slowly behind Marie to the edge of the encampment where a privy had been dug for necessary business.
Studying his friend carefully, Mattie thought she seemed sad but unharmed. Gritting his teeth, he knew why. Although he was still innocent of the congress between men and women, he knew enough to understand that a virgin was a valued commodity…one that Randall Penny would be loath to part with…without being paid for it first anyway.
Then he spied Tulu’s broad back, uncovered despite the morning’s cool chill. It was completely waffled with whip marks and scar tissue. For all his size, the huge black man had been whipped to his knees over and over again, nigh onto death. Or so it seemed to the boy who stood aghast, his mouth hanging open in shock and pity.
Mattie watched as Tulu directed Marie to the privy, turning around to give the girl some privacy. The big man crossed his arms and stared back at the boy with eyes as dark and fathomless as the deepest sea. He showed no shame or embarrassment but a slow, simmering pride and dignity that made Mattie look quickly away.
His own people came from slave states and took great care of their “folk.” His ma had often told him how much she missed her own personal slave named Teeny, and how she had never forgiven her husband for forbidding the woman to accompany her mistress out west.
Mattie had also heard, however, about the cruelty of some white masters and the appalling treatment many Africans had received from slave traders of all nationalities. It appeared Tulu had been the recipient of that terrible treatment and Mattie resolved to be as kind and courteous to the fellow as possible…that is, unless the man tried to make good on his threat of eating him and Marie for dinner. Then he would stab those dark, knowing eyes right out of his head.
Forty-five minutes later, Randall shouted, “That’s it, we’re leavin’. Tulu, go fetch that girl. Matthew, you and Parker get in back.”
Mattie had no idea where they were headed or why, but he knew better than to delay. He jumped in the back of the wagon alongside Parker and made room for Marie once she arrived. Then—with Penny and his cousin riding on the buckboard and Mattie, Marie and the old man riding shotgun, stuffed in amongst the furs in back—the wagon took off, heading west.
The Sherman Stage Line used to make bi-weekly runs between Wenatchee and Seattle but—due to inclement weather and mechanical breakdowns of its three coaches—that would not be happening this time around. Randall Penny frowned, thinking about the trip ahead of them. He was almost certain he could get a hundred dollars out of the avaricious Madame Annie for the little girl but was it worth traveling through such hostile territory for a measly hundred silvers?
He cursed his luck and his rotten, lousy timing. Who could have known when he and Top Hat left Wyoming for greener pastures in the state of Columbia that the Indians would go to war against one another? The Northwest Trading Company had set the stage with their tainted furs and arrogant proprietorship over what was, so far, still Indian country.
Then the Roman Catholic priests and the Protestant ministers threw dried grass on smoldering coals when they started competing against each other for ownership of the natives’ souls. After the massacre at Whitman Mission, Indians turned against one another, blaming first this tribe and then that tribe for the slaughter of the kindly missionaries. Now, the Cayute and Umatilla nations were at war with almost everyone and neither cared who was caught up in their fight.
Oh well, he mused. There is no crying over spilt milk. This is the life I chose, for good or bad. Besides, there wasn’t just one girl to pawn off for cash; there was a whole shipment of rifles, pistols and whiskey sitting at the Seattle dockyard that he and his cousin could sell for three times the purchase price. He had already sent four of his boys into Spokane Falls to collect protection money owed them from four saloons. That would bring in some much-need money as well.
In addition, Monte, the displaced Nez Perce buck that served as the gang’s tracker and arrow man, was headed back into Indian Territory to trade some coffee, whiskey and sugar for native knick-knacks. That kind of stuff always sold well in Spokane and Seattle when trains and wagons of settlers pulled into town. Sure, the outfit is low on cash right now, he acknowledged with a sigh, and the boys are mad because the big payoff at the Dupre’ trading post didn’t pan out but, as always, we will make do.
Glancing over at Top Hat, Randall sighed. His cousin was getting worse and worse. Even when he was a youngster, there was something a little off about the way he looked at the world, as if it was his God-given right to beat beast and man into whatever shape he saw fit and goddamn the consequences. Now, though, a keen and perverted cruelty had taken hold of the man.
There was no call for Top Hat to shoot that girl’s mother right in front of her eyes. When they had decided to silence the witness to their crime, Randall had no sooner uttered the words than Hat hauled off and did the deed without any thought to the emotional affect it might have on Marie’s future value.
He was mean to animals, too, and God help any red Injuns they crossed paths with. Closing his eyes in order to keep his ever-growing revulsion from his face, Randall whispered to himself, “I need to do something about my crazy cousin soon before he brings the whole world and its wrath down upon us all.
Chapter 6
Top Hat
Mattie was scooting along a stout branch on top of an apple tree in the backyard. The sky was heavy with yellow-gray clouds and tiny, crystalline drops of hail tapped at the tree’s leaves. There were about a dozen more apples to pick and then they could all go back inside where it was warm.
He seized three of the blood-red apples and crowed, “I got a few more…almost done!” Looking down, Mattie saw the open mouths of the burlap sacks his ma and sister held up to catch the falling fruit. He pitched two and snorted in disgust when the bag collapsed.
“Hey! Hold your bag up, Maude, darn it!” Mattie was loath to admit it but his knees went a little shivery when he climbed too high and he was ready for this late autumn harvest to be over and done with.
Yet the bag lay empty on the ground as if Maude had just run off somewhere. Frustrated, Mattie looked around and saw the bottom of his ma’s skirt. Frowning, he noticed how dirty her apron was. What in blazes has she been doing? He wondered.
He saw her hold up her sack but, although he leaned this way an
d that, he couldn’t see her face.
“Mattie!” she cried. “Mattie, can you help me?”
“Sure, Ma! Just give me a second to climb outta this tree,” he said. Tossing the last apple, he started down. But when he reached the ground, both sacks were there, still empty.
“Ma…Maudie, where are you?” Mattie hollered. It was snowing heavily now and he pulled his jacket closed with chilled fingers.
“Mattie!” His ma was calling him again but this time her voice was far away. “Mattie, help us, please…”
His heart was breaking in fear and tears were freezing to his cheeks. He wanted to help but knew, somehow, that he couldn’t. He covered his ears when her call came one last time…then he opened his eyes with a gasp.
Marie was leaning over him with a small green apple in one hand. Tiny, dry aspen leaves were raining down on them with a soft patter.
“I’ve been calling you and calling you, Mattie, but you were sleeping hard,” Marie said. “Here are some apples Tulu picked for us. Are you hungry?”
He smiled at the fruit held under his nose and glanced over the rails of the wagon at Tulu riding his big roan close by. He was talking softly to Parker who sat high on one of the rolled up buffalo pelts, a rifle cradled casually across his chest.
Wiping an errant tear, he croaked and cleared his throat. “Hi. I’m glad you’re awake. Are you feeling better?”
Marie took a small nibble of an apple and sighed.
“Oui…I guess so.” Her shoulders drooped and she shrugged, looking away.
Mattie took her hand, seeing that dried blood still stained her cuffs and the bottom of her brown gingham dress. He whispered, “Have they hurt you?”
She shook her head, and her long, black curls shone blue in the sunlight. “No…except for, well, you know.”
“Enough talk outta you two!” Top Hat snarled.
Mattie saw that Randall was asleep; his mouth hung open on his chest and his head bobbed back and forth in rhythm with the horse’s steps. Top Hat was turned around in his seat, glaring at them with cold, snake-like eyes.
Suddenly, Tulu spurred his horse. He trotted to the front of the wagon and mumbled, “Sumpin’ you need, Boss?”
“Nah. You just make sure those two pups don’t get up to something while my back’s turned, you hear?”
Top Hat looked at them and scowled again. “You!” he barked, pointing at Marie. “You get up here behind us…and keep your mouth shut.”
Marie blushed and scrambled over the hides to the front of the wagon directly behind Randall. She settled in so that the only thing Mattie could see of her was her eyes. Turning to Parker, Mattie asked, “Where are we, do you know?”
“We’re about fifty miles northeast of Wenatchee, son.” He took an old rag from his back pocket and wetted it with water from his canteen. Handing the damp cloth to the boy, he added, “I want you ter wash up and keep a sharp eye out, alright?”
Mattie nodded and started running the washrag over his face, neck and ears. Gazing around at the landscape, he saw sagebrush and arid plains. He also saw tall pine and fir trees in the distance and realized they appeared to be headed toward a mountain range that rose like a giant serrated saw in the far distance. He had always admired the smaller peaks of home known as the Bitterroots and the Saddleback Mountains but they were tiny hillocks compared to what loomed in front of them now.
His heart started beating hard in his chest and he asked the old man, “Sir, is that Seattle?”
“So, you heard the boss say we are going to Seattle, did ya?”
When Mattie nodded, Parker shrugged. “Well, you heard right. We’re going into that city for supplies and…other things. But that there is the Cascade mountain range. There is a road cut through it but you need to understand that it’s rough country. There are bears and mountain lions and all manner of critters up in those hills that would like to eat us for supper.”
Looking sideways at his young charge, Parker asked, “Can you handle a rifle, boy?”
Mattie replied, “Yes, sir. My pa taught me.”
Suddenly, Top Hat pulled back on the reins and yelled, “Whoa…whoa, you nags!” The wagon came to a stop and he glared in displeasure.
“That kid will not be holdin’ no firearms, Parker. Have you gone loco on us in your old age?”
“My cousin here, he has a soft heart,” he continued through clenched teeth. “But me? I know better than to trust these whelps…and so should you!” Gesturing down at Marie, Top Hat added, “This one would put a knife to my throat, given half a chance!”
Mattie, watching the exchange with alarm, saw something dark pass over the man’s face, like storm clouds racing past the sun. He pressed his body against Parker’s back.
Top Hat studied Parker’s face, then leaned over with a bitter grimace and spat on the ground. “Or just maybe that’s what you want, eh? I know you never did like me overmuch, you old coot but, if I think you’re cooking up something behind my back, I’ll…”
“Shut the fuck up, Top Hat!”
Randall had come fully awake and sat staring at his cousin with a red face. Reaching over, he grabbed the traces out of Top Hat’s hands.
“I think it’s about time you got some shut eye! We are all tired but no one is plottin’ nuthin’ and I won’t have you threatening my best hand, hear me?”
Top Hat stared at Parker a moment longer before he turned around and leaned back against the wagon rails.
Mattie did not miss the raw fear in Parker’s eyes, the sudden tension in Tulu’s shoulders, or Randall Penny’s panicked reaction to a situation that very nearly got out of hand over nothing while he was asleep.
Vowing to watch out for Top Hat just as much as the wild animals Parker warned of, Mattie settled down in the middle of the wagon bed as they headed west.
A couple of hours later, Randall pulled the horses to a stop and said, “Everybody out! We’ll take some lunch here and fill our canteens with water.”
Mattie had needed to pee for a couple of hours but didn’t have the nerve to say anything. As soon as the wagon’s wheels came to a stop, he sprang out the back. Intending to empty his bladder behind one of the closest trees, he was brought up short with a yell.
“Hey! Don’t be runnin’ off! You stay close!” It was Top Hat again, who had rattled the wagon’s boards for the last two hours with his snores.
Randall rolled his eyes and said, “Leave him alone, cousin. Don’t you see he’s about to piss himself?”
“Jes’ sayin, Boss…” Top Hat muttered, gazing at Mattie with hot eyes.
Mattie hurried behind a smallish pine and sighed with relief as he wet the ground in front of his boots. Looking through the tree’s needles, he watched as Tulu led Marie behind a large boulder; he saw Parker rummaging around in a leather sack for some grub and Randall rubbing the aches out of his lower back…he didn’t see Top Hat anywhere. Suddenly nervous, Mattie buttoned his britches and started back toward the wagon but a tall form stepped in his path.
Top Hat stood there with a strange look on his face. There was hunger there—and greed—but there was something else, too. Something Mattie didn’t understand. The man had his pants opened and clutched his personals in one hand while he burned holes in Mattie’s body with his eyes.
Top Hat’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide with excitement. He leered and whispered, “Where you headed, boy? Come over here.”
Mattie had once done the thing Top Hat was doing when he daydreamed about Marie and he almost died from the shame of it. His cheeks turned red now as he realized what was happening and that the boss’s cousin was a sodomite with designs upon him.
Stepping sideways, Mattie jinked through a small stand of jack pines and ran back toward the wagon. He saw Tulu watch his approach and stare past him toward the sheltering trees.
“You stay by me and old man Parker, you hear me?” Tulu murmured.
Mattie nodded his head, willing his hands to stop shaking as he gathered up
their canteens.
Chapter 7
Trial by Fire
They traveled another six hours until, finally, Mattie saw a small town in the distance just as the sun was fixing to go to bed. His heart leapt in nervous excitement. He could imagine grabbing Marie and running into one of the houses on the outskirts. Shacks and tents mainly but, still, the warm lantern light shining through the cracks of those structures seemed like beacons of safety and comfort.
Unfortunately, Top Hat pulled up short of the perimeter and the horses stamped their hooves in agitation. There was a large stockyard at the far edge of the town limits where Mattie could hear cows lowing as hay and grain were spread out for the livestock.
Randall and his cousin climbed down from the wagon and conferred together quietly. Mattie stared at the houses again and tried to think of a way to escape his captors until Tulu rode up to the side of the wagon. The big man stared into Mattie’s face and shook his head slightly as though he could read the thoughts racing through the boy’s mind as easily as words on paper.
Mattie sighed and scooted back down into the bison hides. Staring over at where Marie sat gazing back at him, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat and saw that she understood his thwarted intentions and frustration. Then Randall walked up to where Tulu and Parker stood by the back of the wagon.
“Unhitch the horses, Parker, and get two saddled up. Top Hat and I are headed into that town to pick up supplies and extra grain for the animals.” Staring at Mattie, he added, “You be good, Matthew, and don’t you be thinkin’ about runnin’ off.”
“Yes, sir,” Mattie answered.
Turning around, Randall said, “Tulu, I would rather you came with us but I don’t know if ol’ Parker is quick enough to stop these pups if they jackrabbit. Besides, I need you here to guard against any Injuns. There are plenty around here and they’re all riled up from fightin’ each other. I don’t think they’d be bothered by scalpin’ themselves a nigger and a couple of white kids if they took a mind to stealin’ this wagon and the animal flesh we’ve got.”
Deadman's Lament (The Deadman Series Book 1) Page 4
