Foxy Statehood Hens and Murder Most Fowl (The Foxy Hens)

by Paula Watkins Alfred

  Her hair under the black velvet of her hat, felt a bit damp. She could take the pretty thing off and rest here, let the breeze cool her head for a moment. She placed the brimmed beauty on top of her carpetbag, then placed her purse inside the upturned body of the hat. “Keep it from blowing off,” she told herself. Black suited her. It shouted respectability. The velvet appealed to another side of her. She loved the feel of the velvet under her fingertips when she stroked the cloth. She dusted the skirt of her brown and black calico dress and wished it were silk.

  Eula Mae’s eyes closed again as she envisioned a large cabbage rose she might place in the center of the flat velvet bow at the side of the hat brim. In a few months she’d be out of mourning and a red or pink rose or perhaps both, would make her hat into a brand new and stylish item of apparel. She smiled at the inner picture of herself in the newly brightened hat.

  “Must be a good dream.” A male voice broke into her reverie. She jumped to her feet. Not Montmorcey. This was a stranger.

  “Not dreaming, just thinking.” She stared up at the man she took to be a drifter or a saddle tramp. Indian Territory was full of men of that sort. His face was unshaven, his clothes unwashed, and what was worse, he smelled. The air carried the odor of sweat and maleness across the few feet that separated them. His white shirt was filthy but she could see it was made of silk.

  Hmm. Granny had once told her that only rich barbers, lawyers, gamblers and gunslingers wore silk shirts. Well, obviously this person was no lawyer, and he hadn’t been anywhere near clippers, razors or scissors for sure, so that left cardsharp or gunman. Eula Mae stiffened. This guy could be dangerous. He held the reins of a huge silver-white horse. Behind the horse she could see three mules packing enormous burdens.

  Probably not an outlaw, she assumed. Bad guys would travel light, wouldn’t they? Horse and gun and saddlebags, maybe. Which left gambler. Yeah, that must be what she was looking at. He was no doubt packing cards, dice, a roulette wheel, and who knew what other types of games of chance?

  He stood smiling down at her. He looked as if he had all his own teeth, clean teeth, at that. Was that a dimple in his left cheek? His dark hair needed cutting, but his brown eyes seemed pretty friendly. His tanned skin gleamed above his grimy shirt. He wore a brown leather vest and lighter, more rough looking leather trousers. Perhaps in other circumstances he could be a good-looking man but he was awfully dirty and smelly.

  Well, his appearance was nothing to her. She’d never gambled, never intended to gamble, so she wouldn’t be seeing this man once they arrived in Tulsey Town… if that was where he was going. He looked strong and capable. Maybe he’d help her find the town? She reached for her hat, clapped it on her head, then pinned it securely.

  “Oh, sir, are you going to Tulsey Town?”

  He nodded but, still smiling, he said nothing.

  “Could I possibly go with you, Mr. uh…?

  “Bartlett Starr.”

  “Mr. Starr, do you mind if I join you on your trip?”

  “It’s not much of a trip, but sure, I’d be glad to have you along, Miss…?”

  “Kent. Eula Mae Kent’s my name.”

  “All right, Miss Kent, if you’ve rested enough we can take to the trail.” He dropped the reins of his horse and stepped forward. “Let me take your sack and your bag and put them on one of my mules. You can ride up with me.”

  “Ride with you?” Eula Mae moved a step away from the man, “Oh, no. I don’t need to do that. I can walk. I’ll just follow along behind.”

  “I don’t think so, ma’am. My horse and I will be thrilled to carry you on to Tulsey Town.” He turned to his horse, “Right Ringling?”

  The horse nodded.

  “He nodded!” Eula Mae couldn’t believe what she’d seen. “Your horse nodded.”

  “Oh, yes.” He tapped the great silver beast on the nose. “Do you want to carry the lady, Ringling?”

  The horse nodded and pawed the path with his right hoof.

  “Unbelievable.”

  The man laughed. The sparkle in his eyes compelled her own smile.

  “Will he let a stranger pet him?”

  “He doesn’t want to be touched by all strangers but he loves to be touched by a beautiful woman.’

  Eula Mae felt her face flame as she moved to caress the velvet of Ringling’s nose.

  “That proves it,” she whispered to the horse, “Your master must be a gambler. He’s a fast talker and he’s full of hot air as Granny called it.”

  Ringling nodded several times and Eula Mae had to laugh. “He’s the beauty around here.” She put her arms around the neck of the huge animal.

  The animal nodded toward her and nuzzled her neck. Both Starr and Eula Mae were charmed to laughter. Their eyes met and the man’s brown gaze seemed to envelop her. She looked away first.

  “Do you trust your purse to my saddlebag? That way you don’t have to be clutching something as we ride.” He nodded toward the double leather bags that lay across the back of the horse behind the saddle.

  “Of course.” She handed him the heavy black velvet handbag. She knew that respectable women wore their hats in public, but the brim of her hat would be a nuisance to the man as they rode. She must again remove her hat. “What about my hat?” She pulled the long gold hatpin out so she could lift the velvet hat from the chignon of chestnut brown hair at the crown of her head. She handed the thing to the man. “Is there a place to put this?”

  He nodded again. “With my own.” He strode toward the lead mule, took a hatbox from the animal’s pack to remove a cream-colored wide brimmed panama hat. “We’ll let our hats ride together. Let them get acquainted also.”

  Once she was on the back of the horse, sitting in the embrace of the odoriferous man, Eula Mae tried to relax. Now I can really appreciate the woods, she reminded herself. She tried not to allow her body to relax into the stranger’s arms which circled around her.

  “The trees are changing colors,” she said. “Everything is gold or red or wine. The territory is beautiful in Autumn.” She murmured the words and tried to keep from touching the man.

  “I hope you’ll feel the same way about Tulsey Town.” Bart Starr whispered against her ear.

  “Oh, I’m not going to stay there,” she explained and tried to sit up straighter. “I just need to get someone to help me recover my trunk and carry me on to Siloam Springs.”

  “Arkansas?’

  “Yes. I’m going to live with my aunt.”

  “Well, we’ll soon be at the ferry, then across to the town.” He lowered his voice a bit, “I kinda wish you were staying.”

  Eula Mae felt something turn over in her chest. She closed her eyes. Maybe she wished the same thing, she thought. Her own heart raced when she realized that the thumping she felt through her calico sleeve, was the pounding of the stranger’s heart.

  “How did Ringling get his name?” she asked, her voice trembled just a bit.

  “The circus. You know. Ringling Brothers?”

  “You’re in the circus?” Neither she nor Granny had ever seen a circus. Maybe all the men in a circus were dirty but handsome and maybe they all wore silk?

  “No, of course not. Ringling was born to be a circus horse. I bought him when he was still a colt.”

  “He’s magnificent.”

  “Yeah. Best buy I ever made, I think. What do you say, Ringling?” He made a clicking sound. Ringling nodded to the right, then to the left.

  Eula leaned to pat the left side of the animal’s neck.

  “You were worth a hundred times what he paid, boy. Big, strong, smart… and you can do tricks. I’m proud to know you.” She patted him on the other side of his neck.

  Ringling held his head high and pranced through the grass and leaves on the trail toward Tulsey Town. For a few steps Eula could see that the horse walked proudly lifting his tail and his knees high, as if he carried royalty.

  When they topped a low rise the man reined in the big horse and loosene
d his embrace somewhat.

  “There she is, ma’am.”

  “Who?”

  “Tulsey Town.”

  “Already?”

  “Right. Look just across the river. Can you see the town?” Eula Mae could make out a few buildings on the further bank of the river below. “And the ferry is just below us here. We’ll ride down and get Sweet Jud and his wife to take us across to the town.”

  “We have to cross a river?” She hadn’t bargained for rivers and boats and such.

  “On the ferry or swim. Ringling prefers the ferry.” He clicked his tongue and the horse trotted down the small hill toward the stone and log building on the bank of the Arkansas. When they stopped, the stranger called to the woman who stood by the porch of the house. “My missus and I want to go across, ma’am.”

  Chapter 3

  A little man in a shiny blue serge suit which was much too large for him, brought the ferry to rest against the small stone dock built into the sand in front of the shack. Above the vest he wore, his sweat soaked long johns stood in for a shirt. Before he helped a family of four to drive their horse and wagon up onto the land, he removed heavy mittens and unwrapped the rags that had bound his hands. He hung the strips of cloth on the rope which ran through openings at each end of the right side of the barge. He then directed the disembarking family toward the trail which Eula Mae and Bartlett Starr had just traversed.

  The ferryman appeared to be quite toothless and he was so short as to be considered almost out of the ordinary run of men. Almost the size of a child. Shorter than she was, Eula Mae estimated. He must stand about four feet, eleven inches in his heavy soled lace up work shoes, she told herself.

  “These here folks is wanting to cross over to Tulsey Town, Jud, honey.” The round-bodied woman threw her arms about the skipper of the raft as she pressed his face into her bosom. “But afore you go across I got some stew readied up for you.” She released the spindly man after pressing a kiss on his bald head. She gestured at Eula Mae and the stranger. “This here man and his missus and their horse and mules all ate whilst they was waiting for you to bring the ferry in, and they done paid me.” She took her husband’s hand and led him toward the shack, talking all the while. The man went willingly, Eula supposed, since he didn’t try to break away from his chattering spouse.

  “Youall just make yourselves comfortable for a few more minutes. I’ll feed up my Sweet Jud and then you can be on your way.” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she walked.

  Eula Mae and the man who’d called her “his missus,” settled back onto the bench near the stone dock where the towrope was securely fastened.

  “Why did you let that ferry woman think we were married, Mr. Starr?” It was the question she’d wanted to ask him since they’d arrived. The ferry man’s wife had kept them so busy eating and chatting about how she and Sweet Jud had built up their ferry business since they’d come here in 1891 with nothing but the clothes on their backs and ten dollars in gold, that there’d been no time for conversation between the two of them.

  Walked all the way, the ferry woman had told them, no kids yet but they’d built themselves a business that made them a decent living and they’d done it with their own hands. They’d heard that her Sweet Jud was the finest husband any woman could want. And about how when he was sleeping she sometimes did the towing so as he could get his energy back. They was ready to have them kids now, or at least she was, she said. Sweet Jud didn’t never say much about kids, she told them.

  Starr had seemed fascinated by the woman and her story and had, whenever she seemed to be running down, jumped right in with the perfect question or comment to get the woman started again.

  Eula repeated her question.

  “Why, Mr. Starr, did you let Sweet Jud’s wife think we were husband and wife?”

  If she lived to be a hundred years old, Eula Mae knew she would never forget the rich laughter that Bartlett Starr had given her in answer.

  He took her hand and let her to the edge of the stone floored dock. The log barge with the wooden railings floated just below them. It was much like a rectangular box with wooden fencing built up all along the top edges of the box with a gate set in at each end. She knew, even before he told her, that the boxlike sides with the fence on top were there so children and animals wouldn’t stumble over the edge and into the treacherous Arkansas.

  “The river is awfully wide,” she murmured.

  “Nothing to be afraid of,” he answered, “Just think, Miss Eula Mae, in the time it takes Sweet Jud to gum up a bowl of stew we shall board our ship of fate and set off across the waters.” His hand tightened on hers. “Just me and my missus. Us and all our animals.”

  Eula Mae snatched her hand from his.

  “I can see that everything is just a joke to you, sir. Maybe that is why you’ve not gone so very far in this life.” She flounced back to the bench and sat down. When he came to join her, still chuckling, she turned her back to him.

  “I think I’ve gone pretty far, Miss Eula Mae. I’m on my way to Tulsey Town, sophisticated Tulsey Town.” He touched her on the shoulder. “When I ride into that little village yonder,” He pointed across the river to the toy-like settlement, “Every man, woman and child in that town will be looking at me.”

  She turned back to stare at him.

  “And why is that, Mr. Starr?”

  Because I will be leading my animals and I will be bringing to that town the most beautiful young woman who has ever graced their streets.” He chuckled again but his brown eyes shone with sincerity.

  Whenever she looked into those shining eyes, Eula Mae felt as if she’d gazed deep into the most dangerous pool of them all, the one Granny had always warned her about… and her gaze was drowning in his. She shivered inwardly, even in the biting heat. She broke the intense stare first, but she had to return his smile.

  “They’ll probably be staring at you, Mr. Starr, sure enough, because you’ll be furnishing the most traffic that the town has ever seen. You’ll be leading a parade. One oversized trick horse, three mules with packs, a rescued woman and yourself, all at once.” She let his deep laughter sooth her. She had to join in. This Mr. Starr was surely good company, as Granny would have said.

  Before Sweet Jud had returned from his meal, Bartlett Starr had brought the mules and the horse down to the water’s edge. He searched in one pack and came out with a pair of fancy leather gloves.

  “Sorry, I don’t have a pair for you, Miss Eula.”

  “Why would I want gloves in this heat?”

  “Well, we humans furnish the horse power on our ferry. The animals are the cosseted passengers here.” He slapped the leather gloves lightly against the rump of his white horse to rid the animal of a swarm of flies. “The more hands pulling on the rope, the faster we’ll slide across the Arkansas and on into Tulsey Town.”

  Oh. Of course. She should have known that. Well, she was strong. She’d do her part, gloves or not.

  The loading of the animals took only moments after Sweet Jud showed up wiping his mouth on his suit jacket sleeve. He began rewrapping his hands. His wife followed behind him with pleas for sugar and flour from the grocery store in town. He nodded and pulled on his large mittens over the wrappings, but he didn’t speak. The little fat woman turned to Eula Mae and smiled.

  “Husbands is awful sweet to have and to hold but they sure ain’t much for conversation, are they?”

  “My Missus here was wondering…” before Eula Mae could answer the ferry woman’s comment, Starr had stepped toward the woman. “My Missus was wondering if maybe you might loan her a pair of gloves for the trip?” He flashed a quick grin at Eula Mae before turning back to Sweet Jud’s wife. “She’s extremely eager to get across to our new home.”

  “Oh, I bet you two is newlyweds. I just knew they was something special about youall. Here.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and brought out a pair of brown mittens. “These here is mine. I knitted them myself and she can use
them and welcome.” She turned the mittens over so Eula Mae could see the palms. “I used pieces from an old shoe that washed up on the bank down there.” She gestured toward the riverbank. “I figured to shore up the palms and that old leather does a right good job.” She handed the mittens to Bartlett Starr. “Just send 'em home with my Sweet Jud.”

  Eula Mae nodded and muttered, “Thanks,” then gave the dark haired rogue a black look. He was making mighty free with that ‘missus’ label, but she didn’t feel like arguing about it in front of this good soul and her tiny silent husband. She’d give Mr. Bartlett Starr a dressing down when they got to the other side.

  Chapter 4

  Since they and their animals were the only passengers, Starr and Eula Mae worked hand-over-hand to help Sweet Jud make good time and they slipped across the quiet water with no problem. At the bank on the Tulsey Town side, both Eula Mae and Bartlett thanked Sweet Jud but he just ducked his head and grinned while saying nothing. Eula Mae held up the borrowed mittens then for Jud to see that she was hanging them over the towrope right next to Jud’s own mittens.

  The Ferryman silently followed the mules after Bartlett had scooped Eula Mae up to his lap once again, then set the big horse in motion to ride north up to Tulsey Town’s Main Street.

  Bartlett had been right, she realized. Everyone in the bare and muddy hamlet did indeed stare at the line of animals as well as at her and the man who held her and at the small straggler in the blue serge suit who brought up the end of the moving line.

  “I haven’t been to many towns,” Eula Mae said, “But this one hardly meets the description of the word town.” She let her eager gaze roam over the wide muddy street and over every wooden structure set on either side of the thoroughfare. “But maybe it has possibilities.”

  Again she heard laughter rumble in his chest. “I make it to be four stores, one drugstore, a boarding house hotel, a train track and three private houses and a smokehouse set around this mud hole they call ‘Main Street.’” His dark eyes were filled with laughter when he looked down into Eula’s face. “Do I have that count right?”