by Al Lacy
One by one, the wagons made the crossing. When it came time for the Coopers’ personal wagon to cross, Solomon was at the reins with a whip in his hand. Nipper and Buster were tied behind. The three oldest Cooper children and Biggie rode in the bed, and Patty Ruth was in the seat between her parents, Ulysses safe in her arms.
The wagon creaked and groaned as it floated across, rocking like a boat. In spite of their father’s insistence that the wagon wouldn’t tip over, the children clung to each other. Suddenly the wagon gently nudged against the north bank, the oxen found footing, and the wagon emerged onto dry ground.
The wagon train was thirteen miles north of the Kaw River when Ezra guided it to a spot beside a small creek. They had lost a little time in the river crossing, and he would have pushed them to make another mile, but both men and animals were showing signs of weariness.
After supper, Solomon sought out his drivers to thank them for the good job they were doing. As he headed back toward his wagon, a familiar voice called, “Mr. Cooper!”
Solomon looked over his shoulder to see Tony hurrying toward him.
“I have some questions about your Sunday morning sermon, sir. Ever since that service, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“I’ll be glad to answer your questions, Tony. Do you want to come to my wagon so I can get my Bible?”
“Sure.”
At the wagon, Hannah and the children were nowhere in sight, and Solomon invited Tony to sit down on the bench near the fire. “All right, Tony. How can I help you?”
“Well, sir, if I understood right, you said that the only way to have my sins cleansed and forgiven is by putting my faith in Jesus Christ.”
“That’s right, my friend. If there were some other way of salvation and forgiveness, God wouldn’t have sent His Son to die that awful death on the cross. He would have let people lay hold on salvation through their various religions. But religion isn’t the answer. It was because He preached against the religions of His day that Jesus was hounded and crucified by the religious leaders and their followers. They were actually doing what God had planned before the foundation of the world.”
Tony looked as if a light had gone on inside him. “So the crucifixion was planned by God before He ever created the world?”
“Exactly,” Solomon said, flipping pages. “Listen to Jesus’ words in John 10:17-18:
Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.
“Do you see what he said? Not only did He have power to release His spirit into the Father’s hands, but He had power to raise Himself from the grave. All of this, Tony, was to provide the only way of salvation for sinners like you and me. Jesus satisfied the Father’s holiness and righteousness. Only Jesus Christ had spotless blood, and only Jesus Christ was sinless. The rest of the world—throughout the ages—could not qualify. Understand?”
“Whew! This is all new to me, but it sure makes sense. So it’s not religion a person needs, it’s Jesus Himself.”
“That’s right.”
“Mr. Cooper, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare Bible I could borrow, would you?”
“Sure. We’ve got several.”
“Would… would you write down some places I could read to help me understand it better?”
“Be happy to. When you’ve read them we’ll talk about it some more, okay?”
“Yes, sir!”
Tony was gone when Hannah and the children returned to the wagon. They were elated to hear of Tony’s interest, and they prayed together right then, asking the Lord to enlighten him and bring him to salvation very soon.
The next morning, the sky was heavy with clouds, and a brisk wind was blowing.
B. J. and Billy were playing alongside the Cooper wagon when B. J. happened to notice movement to the west. He studied it for a moment and realized he was looking at a band of mounted Indians.
He ran toward his father, who was on Nipper, and shouted, “Papa! Papa! There’s Indians out there!”
Solomon looked in the direction B. J. pointed. “I’ll go alert Ezra!” he said, and goaded Nipper forward.
“Ezra! Indians!”
Ezra adjusted his battered old hat and said, “Yeah, son. I spotted ’em about ten minutes ago. Looks like about fifteen of ’em. That few ain’t gonna attack. They may just be watchin’ us, or they might want somethin’. I was about to ride back and calm everybody.”
At that moment, the Indians trotted off the mound and made a beeline for the wagon train.
Solomon told Chris to stay with Micah and headed back the way he had come as Ezra hurried along the line, admonishing the people to stay alert but not to panic. The Pawnees were not attacking. They wanted to talk, and Ezra would do the talking.
Solomon was at his own wagon, talking to Hannah, when the wagon master called for him and Becky Croft’s father, Dave, to come to the lead wagon. As Ezra reached the front of the line, he signaled for the train to stop.
The Pawnees came within twenty yards of the train and halted. Three of them nudged their mounts closer. With Dave and Solomon flanking him, Ezra raised his hand in a sign of peace. The lead Indian, whose long-tailed headdress identified him as a sub-chief, made the same sign, although his features remained stony. A stiff wind plucked at the feathers of his headdress.
By now, the occupants of the wagon train looked on with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
At the Cooper wagon, Patty Ruth watched, wide-eyed. “Are the In’ians gonna scalp us, Mama?”
“No, honey. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”
Ezra spoke to the leader in the Pawnee language. While they talked, Dave Croft whispered, “Sol, look who’s coming.”
Walt Cuzak and his four oldest sons were walking toward them with rifles in hand. It wasn’t until the Pawnee leader clipped off his words and stared past Ezra that the wagon leader turned to see the Cuzaks. He looked back at the Pawnee sub-chief, said something appeasing, then set hard eyes on Walt Cuzak.
“Stop right there,” Ezra said. “I didn’t call for you and your boys. Get back to your wagons.”
Walt stared back belligerently. “Whatta they want?”
“I said get back to your wagons, Cuzak. You walkin’ out here brandishin’ those rifles can give ’em the wrong idea.”
“We’re part of this train,” Dwight said. “We gotta right to be out here.”
“Whatta they want?” Walt asked again.
“Food.”
“We ain’t gonna give ’em no food. Why should we feed these redskinned skunks? Tell ’em to go beg somewhere else.”
Solomon scowled down at Walt and said, “Do as Ezra told you, Cuzak.”
“Don’t you tell me—”
Solomon interrupted. “It’s a good thing for you these Pawnees don’t know English. If they did, your life wouldn’t be worth the dirt it would take to cover your body. Do what Ezra told you. Get back to the wagons.”
Anger spilled from Cuzak’s dark eyes. There was a steely quality in his voice as he said, “Who’s gonna make me, Cooper? You?”
“If I have to.”
“Well, you—”
“Walt, shut up!” Ezra said. “When I want your help, I’ll ask for it. I’m tryin’ to keep peace with these Indians. Now, butt out! If you get Chief Big Cloud angry, there’ll be bloodshed.”
Ezra turned back to the sub-chief and talked to him for several minutes. When Chief Big Cloud nodded, and the shadow of a smile touched his coppery face, Ezra turned to Solomon and Dave and said, “I’m going to ask the people if they’ll share some food with the Pawnees.”
The Indians waited patiently while the wagon master met with the people and explained the situation. He advised them it would be best to give the Pawnees the food they requested.
Ezra nodded his approval as the people agreed, and then lifted his voice. “All rig
ht. I want everyone who will donate food for the Pawnees to raise a hand.”
All hands lifted except those of Walt, Frank, Dwight, Gordon, and Edmund Cuzak.
“Hey, Walt!” Stuart Armstrong called from the midst of the crowd. “What is it with you Cuzaks? Aren’t you part of this train?”
Walt’s features hardened. “Yeah. So what?”
“Seems to me if you guys are going to enjoy the protection of this train, you ought to do your part. None of us want to give away our food, but it’s better than dying in a Pawnee massacre.”
Walt’s jaw jutted out defiantly. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Armstrong! We give ’em food, those savages will keep comin’ back for more. When we run out they’ll attack the train and kill us all.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about, Walt,” Ezra said. “I’ve been dealin’ with Indians on these plains for a long time. The smartest thing to do is treat ’em like human bein’s and show ’em some compassion. If we give ’em food, they’ll treat us real good.”
“Well, they ain’t gettin’ no food from me and these boys o’ mine.”
Ezra and the others left the Cuzaks to stew over the situation and gathered several gunnysacks full of food.
The Pawnees rode away happy and the Cuzaks stomped back to their wagons.
Ezra shook his head and mumbled, “Walt Cuzak must have been born under a black cloud.”
That evening after supper, the women went to the creek to wash clothes. Curtis Holden told his grandmother to rest; he would wash the clothes for her. In the light of the rising full moon, he came upon an open space next to Deborah Smith. He had noticed her on several occasions and liked her fresh-scrubbed farm-girl look.
“Hello,” he said, as he knelt down beside her.
“Hello yourself,” she said.
Curtis grinned. “I know we all had our names called out the night before we left Independence, but I don’t expect you to remember mine. However, I do remember yours. You’re Deborah Smith.”
She flashed him a smile and said, “And you’re Curtis Holden.”
A little ripple of pleasure ran through Curtis as he realized she’d noticed him. “Miss Deborah, I don’t have near as many clothes to wash as you do. I’ll carry yours back to your wagon when you’re finished. That is, if I may.”
“Well, of course, Curtis. I appreciate that very much. You are indeed a gentleman.”
While they worked side by side, Curtis said, “You’re from Virginia, right? Farm girl?”
“I’m from Virginia, yes. But I never lived on a farm. I just have that farm-girl look.”
“Well, it sure becomes you.”
Deborah blushed. “Thank you. And you’re from Arkansas.”
“Sure am. That sort of gives us something in common, doesn’t it? I mean being Southerners, and all.”
“Guess you could say that… and unless I’m mistaken, we have something else in common.”
“What’s that?”
“My brother-in-law, Lloyd Marlin—you’ve met him, I believe?”
“Yes.”
“He told me that he’s noticed you reading your Bible quite often.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you believe it?”
“From cover to cover.”
“When and where did you get saved?”
“At a revival meeting in Hot Springs, Arkansas, when a hellfire-and-brimstone evangelist came to our church. I was nine.”
“Well, isn’t that a coincidence? I came to the Lord in a revival meeting in Roanoke. And guess what? I was nine years old, too.”
“Wonderful, Miss Deborah. We really do have a lot in common!”
“You can just call me Deborah,” she said, smiling warmly.
By the time the clothes were all washed, both young people knew they wanted to get to know each other much better.
On the opposite side of the circle, at the Tolliver wagon, lovely Vanessa Tolliver was sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair, doing some sewing while she chatted with a young woman named Katherine Oakley. After a while, Katherine jokingly said she needed to go find her husband. It would soon be time to spank him and put him to bed.
Vanessa was still giggling when a beefy male figure came out of the shadows as if he had been waiting there. She recognized Walt Cuzak’s third eldest son, Dwight, in the firelight.
“I’m sorry, Vanessa,” Dwight said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Vanessa gave him a wary glance and said, “I don’t recall giving you permission to call me by my first name, Mr. Cuzak. I’m Mrs. Tolliver to you.”
Dwight scratched at his beard and chuckled. “No sense standin’ on ceremony, Vanessa. Let’s be honest. I’ve noticed you, and you’ve noticed me.”
“Pardon me?”
“Aw, come on… you know it, and I know it.”
“You can be on your way now, Mr. Cuzak.”
“I ain’t brushed off that easy. Now, warm up a little.”
Curtis Holden had carried Deborah Smith’s wet clothing to the Marlin wagon and was heading for his own wagon when he passed by and heard Vanessa say, “I told you to leave, mister! Now, do it!”
“Is there a problem here, Mrs. Tolliver?”
Vanessa looked at Curtis with relief and said, “Yes, there is, Mr. Holden.” She put down her sewing basket and rose to her feet. “Mr. Cuzak, here, seems to have his ears full of wax. I told him to leave, but he insists on being a pest.”
Curtis sized up Cuzak—at least two inches taller and about forty pounds heavier. But Curtis knew how to box and was good at it. He fixed Dwight with steady eyes and said, “Best thing for you to do, mister, is grant Mrs. Tolliver’s wish.”
The rising full moon and the firelight revealed a smoky glare in Dwight Cuzak’s eyes. He looked Curtis up and down and sneered, “And just what are you prepared to do if I don’t, pee-wee?”
“If you don’t leave on your own power, I’ll be forced to use mine.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Curtis Holden gracefully sidestepped Dwight’s swinging fist, causing the bulky man to stumble.
“Now, Dwight,” Curtis said, still holding his wet wash rolled up in a bundle, “you heard what Mr. Comstock said about fighting. You want to get thrown out of the train?”
“There won’t be any fight, pee-wee, if you mind your own business.”
“As a gentleman, I am minding my own business—looking out for a lady who’s being annoyed by a rodent.”
“Rodent, eh?”
“That’s what I said. Now, go find your rat hole and jump in it. Mrs. Tolliver’s husband isn’t going to be very happy when he learns about you pushing yourself on his wife.”
“I can handle him! And I can handle you, too!”
Curtis dropped his wet wash, dodged a hissing fist, and countered with a solid blow that split Dwight’s upper lip. The big man staggered backward and put a hand to his mouth. When his fingers came away crimson, his features contorted with anger.
By this time, a few people had gathered around.
“I’m gonna kill you, pee-wee!” Dwight roared.
“I don’t think so.”
Curtis’s words had a ring of challenge, and Dwight charged like a maddened bull.
Curtis sidestepped again and landed a chop to Dwight’s temple. The big man fell in a heap, shaking his head.
Now people were coming from every direction as Dwight struggled to his feet, cursing Holden and going after him again. Curtis met him with a stiff jab to the nose, a left jab to the mouth, and a hissing right cross.
Just as Dwight went down, his brothers Frank and Edmund and his father piled on Curtis from behind, taking him to the ground.
Suddenly Ezra Comstock’s voice cut through the night. “Hold it right there! Frank! Edmund! Walt! Stop it!”
The Cuzak brothers rose to their feet. Curtis got up, too, brushing dirt from his hair. When Walt stood up, he swore at Curtis and surprised him with a p
unch to the jaw. Suddenly Walt felt powerful vise-like arms around him, lifting him off the ground.
“That’s enough!” Solomon Cooper said into Walt’s ear, squeezing so tight that Walt could barely breathe.
Lafe Tolliver pushed his way through the crowd to his wife’s side. Vanessa gripped his arm with trembling hands, and told him how Dwight Cuzak had accosted her and Curtis Holden had stopped to help. Lafe charged toward the man who had dared harass his wife.
Ezra jumped in front of him, throwing up his palms. “No, Lafe! No more fightin’!”
Lafe stopped with great effort. “Only because it’s you saying it, Ezra,” he said, breathing hard.
Ezra turned toward Walt Cuzak, still held tightly by Solomon, and said, “You know the rules, mister, and so do your boys! I made it clear before we started this trip that there would be no fightin’.”
“Don’t blame us!” Walt said. “I’m sure Dwight didn’t start the fight!”
“Oh, yes he did!” Vanessa said. “I told him to leave me alone. Curtis Holden was passing by and heard me. He told Dwight to do as I said and disappear. It was Dwight who started the fight.”
Tony Cuzak listened but said nothing. He was so weary of the ways of his father and brothers.
Walt struggled to free himself, but to no avail.
“You just cool down,” Solomon said. “I’ll let you go when you cool down.”
Ezra stepped closer to the head of the Cuzak clan. Biting off each word, he said, “Walt, you and these four are no longer part of this wagon train. Get your wagons and go your way.”
“But Ezra, you can’t put us out! We paid you in advance for the whole trip!”
“So did everybody else. You and your oldest four broke the rules. Be gone.”
“Wait a minute, Ezra!” Dwight said. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean Vanessa no harm.”
“It’s Mrs. Tolliver to you!” Lafe said, his arm draped protectively around his wife.
Dwight nodded at Vanessa. “Yes, ma’am…Mrs. Tolliver.” Then to Ezra: “If Holden hadn’t butted in, there wouldn’t have been no fight.”
