Santa Fe Woman

by Gilbert, Morris

  Molitor pulled his handkerchief out and wiped his eyes and said, “I envy Good News, at least his faith.” A sadness came over him that was obvious from the expression of his eyes and the way his face was drawn. “I had faith once, but I ruined it.”

  Callie did not understand what he meant, but her heart suddenly grew warm. “You’re a good man, Paul. It’s never too late for a man to change.”

  “That’s a kind heart speaking, Callie,” Paul Molitor said. He cleared his throat but then murmured, “For me it’s too late.”

  Callie watched him go, and Kate, who had been standing close enough to hear the conversation, came over. “Paul’s a very sad man, isn’t he, Callie?”

  “I don’t understand him. He’s educated. He could do anything.”

  “His heart’s empty. When a man’s heart is empty, Callie, it doesn’t matter what he does.” She suddenly said, “What about you? Do you know Jesus?”

  Callie shook her head. “No. I don’t know anything about religion.”

  Kate put her arm around the girl. “Well, we’ll have to talk about that if it’s all right with you.”

  Callie had known little of the love of women. She had lost her mother early, and that mother, indeed, had never been demonstrative. “All right,” she said, “I’ll listen to you.”

  * * *

  HERENDEEN HAD NOT SPOKEN to Rocklin directly since the fight, but he came upon him abruptly early one morning and said, “Rocklin, my mules ain’t gonna make it. They’re played out.”

  “I reckon you’re right, Grat, but we’ve got to keep goin’.”

  Herendeen shook his head. “They’ll never make it to Santa Fe.”

  “I know it, but I got good news. Four Bears and Kicking Bird came in last night. There’s a bunch of Pawnees right up ahead. We’ll have a meeting with them.”

  “A meeting with Injuns? What for?”

  “They got mules, Grat. Probably in good shape, too.”

  “You can’t trust Injuns.”

  “You don’t trust anybody, do you, Grat? We’ll keep our eyes open, but we’ll be all right.”

  Rocklin was aware that Herendeen would spread the word, and he knew that most of the mule skinners hated Indians and feared them. But he himself was glad.

  Jori saw him and said, “What’s going on, Chad?”

  “We’re about to get some new stock, Jori.” He nodded toward the long low ridge that lay ahead of them. “Right over that ridge there’s plenty of mules, all we need.”

  “Mules?” Jori asked with surprise, “What are mules doing out here?”

  “The Pawnees raid the Spanish villages. They go to the south and steal the mules. Now we’re going to trade ’em out of some of ’em.”

  “Indians? But won’t they attack us?”

  “Not these. Four Bears said it’s not a war party. Just a few of the older men and some of the young boys and their squaws, of course.”

  He saw that she was troubled and said, “Don’t worry. There’ll be no trouble with these Indians. Maybe later on we’ll run into some tougher ones, but this will be all right.”

  * * *

  THE TRADE FOR THE mules went very smoothly. Jori was shocked when she saw the Indians. She had been brought up on the stories of the Wild West and the noble redskin with strong, fiery warriors, but there was nothing like this in the group that she saw. It was mostly squaws and children, and they were led by a very skinny man who seemed ageless. The lines in his face were scored deep. It was with him that Chad did most of the trading.

  Jori watched as the group came on, and she asked Chad, “Where are the mules?”

  “They’ve got ’em staked out somewhere. They wouldn’t show them to us until we show ’em what we have to trade. Come along,” he grinned. “You can brag to your grandchildren how you met wild Indians on your way to Santa Fe.”

  Jori was indeed eager and accompanied Rocklin. The skinny man, whose unpronounceable name meant flying arrow in English, was old but not feeble. His eyes were the liveliest thing about him, and he obviously expected a great ceremony and Rocklin obliged him. The Indians came closer, and Rocklin had left strict orders that there would be no show of guns. This went against the grain for those like Wiley Pratt who hated Indians, but they knew better than to disobey Rocklin’s orders.

  The swap took place over a long period of time. Kate had fixed food that was snatched and gobbled down by the Indians. Jori, of course, could not understand a word, but Chad did. He interpreted for her, and once he smiled. “What did he say, Chad?”

  “He wanted to know if you were my woman. He said that you weren’t strong enough. I needed to get two or three more just like you. A man needs more than one wife, he says.”

  Jori felt her face glow and saw that Chad was laughing at her. She made herself smile. “You give him the truth of that because I’m not anyone’s squaw.”

  “He won’t understand that. They hate to see a good woman wasted.”

  Finally the trade goods were set out: blankets, cloth, beads, mirrors, needles, crockery, kettles. It took a great deal of time for the Indians to settle, and Jori was shocked at how happy they were over pieces that she would have considered worthless.

  Finally the mules were brought in, and Jori was shocked. “I’ve never seen so many mules! There must be a hundred.”

  “More like two hundred,” Rocklin said. “Their men have been raiding for awhile. We’ll be well-fixed for animals for the rest of the trip.”

  * * *

  THE TRADING LASTED ALL day. After night came, Jori went to Chad who had moved to the outer fringe of the camp, standing in the shelter of a clump of stunted trees.

  “I found out something from the old chief,” Chad said. “He says that Santana has been in this part of the country.”

  “Santana? Who’s he?”

  “A great war chief of the Kiowas. He’s a mean one.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yes. We’re enemies.”

  “Did something happen when you were with the Comanches?”

  “Yes. That’s the way it was.”

  The stars glittered overhead as he spoke, and he said no more. Finally he turned and said, “Are you afraid, Jori?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Chad said.

  “It’s not just of Indians, Chad. It’s—I’m afraid of something else.”

  “Of what?”

  “You’re not afraid, are you, Chad? You wouldn’t understand.”

  Rocklin shifted his weight, glanced up at the stars, then murmured, “I’m not so much afraid of death. I’ve seen too much of it, I guess. I’m afraid of some things though.”

  “I’d like to know what they are.”

  “I guess I’m afraid of missing something. Don’t know how to explain it, Jori.” He lifted his head, for a coyote had lifted its plaintive howl. He waited until the sound died away, then said, “I was a partner once with a young fellow named Clyde. We had brushed up against a war party of Crows, and he had taken an arrow in his liver. I knew he was dying. There wasn’t anything I could do for him. He wasn’t hurtin’ a great deal, but he was fading out. I’ll never forget what he said. ‘I’m not so much afraid of what comes after I die, but I never got done what I was put here to do.’”

  “What a strange thing! What was he put here to do?”

  “He didn’t know—just like I don’t know.”

  “I’ve never thought about things like dying or finding out what we’re here for. My life’s been filled up with dresses and balls, and now that I think of it, I’m afraid of that too.”

  “That may not be a bad thing, Jori. The people I’ve admired the most are those who knew what they were here for.”

  The moon was bright overhead, and Rocklin looked up and said, “That’s a Comanche moon.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The Comanches wait until the moon looks like that before they go on raids.” He started to speak and suddenly he broke off.
With one swift motion he pulled his revolver and with his other arm grabbed Jori and pulled her down to the ground. She knelt helpless in the paralyzing grip of his arms. She silently stared out over the moonlit prairie.

  Finally he put his gun back but kept his arm around her. “I reckon it was nothing,” he said. “I’m just sort of jumpy.” Instead of releasing her, however, he pulled her around and held her tight in his embrace. “I kissed you once, Jori, and I could never forget it.” He pulled her against his chest and kissed her, and Jori surrendered to him in a way that shocked her. She did not know what it was, but somehow she felt safe, which was strange considering that they were alone in the night and he was a strong man. She had always had control over men, but now she discovered she could not even control herself. She felt a weakness, and for some perverse reason that pleased her. She could not understand it. Always she had valued her strength, but now it was Rocklin’s strength she found exhilarating. Finally she pulled back and said, “Have you ever loved a woman?”

  “I’ve known women.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ve seen it a few times. A man and a woman lived in each other and for each other. Those people have the real thing. I’ve always thought they had everything.”

  Jori got to her feet, and he rose with her. She studied his face in the moonlight and said, “How were they different, those people?”

  “I don’t know. Most people are selfish, I think. Most men want what they can get from a woman—and maybe women are the same. But I knew a man and his wife, Ed and Della Singleton. They had a little farm close to us. They were nothing special for looks or anything else, but Ed always thought of Della, what would be best for her, and she was the same. I asked him one time how he and Della had come to love each other so much, and he grinned and said, ‘I always wanted to be a king, Chad, so when I got Della, I made her a queen. Every fella married to a queen,’ he said, ‘must be a king. Ain’t that right?’”

  A warm breeze stirred Rocklin’s hair. He had taken off his hat and put it down. He was staring off into the darkness, but now he turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “So that’s what I’ll do, Jori. I’ll find me a woman, and make her a queen.”

  Jori was acutely aware of his hands on her shoulders. “And what if she’s not all that Della was?”

  Rocklin suddenly laughed softly. “Haven’t got that all figured out yet.”

  Jori stood there for a moment then said, “I’ve got to go. Good night.” She made her way back to the tent and went to bed at once. She lay there for a long time thinking of what Rocklin had said and wondered if the man she got would make her a queen.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A ROLLING FRONT OF snow-white clouds pushed its way across the blueness of the sky as Kate and Good News walked through the ankle-high prairie grass. It was the midpoint in June now, and the hot breath of the desert from the southwest could be felt on their faces. Kate stooped down and began to pluck some long, green-looking weeds—or at least so it seemed to Good News. “What are those, Kate?”

  “This is lamb’s quarter.” She held them up, saying, “We can make greens out of it.”

  “I can remember poke salad and crest and even dandelions, but I don’t know that one.”

  “When I was a girl it was my job to go pick the wild greens. I always liked to pick the spring flowers, and sometimes I would come home with a basketful of new, ripe, wild strawberries.”

  “We had a herb woman back when I was a boy. She said there was some kind of herb that could heal anything. Her name was Keziah. It came out of the Bible, I think.” He stooped down beside her and began to help her pick the stems. “She had a white line around the end of her finger, I remember, like someone had drawn it with white ink. I asked her what it was one time, and she told me her brother had cut it off with an ax. I asked her what for. I remember she was a little bit batty. She said she didn’t know. She just put it on the block and said, ‘Chop her off!’ and he chopped her off.”

  Kate laughed. “You’re making that up.”

  “No, I’m not. It really happened. She had this little white line. I asked her if it hurt, and she said of course it did.”

  The sound of the wagons creaking along behind laid on the air. Good News glanced at them, took it all in, and said, “I guess we all have little white lines drawn around us that remind us of somethin’ that went on in the past.”

  “I think so. Even the people that have lots of money have things like that.” She straightened up and put a bunch of the greenery in the basket, then hooked it over her arm with the bad hand. Good News thought, She doesn’t think about trying to hide her bad hand from me anymore. I think that’s good.

  “I guess life is like a tree,” Kate said quietly. “It gets new branches, and some of the old branches die and have to be broken off. Old things are passed away. That’s in the Bible somewhere. I think it’s best to try to move on from the bad things and look at the good things.”

  The two walked on, and her eyes moved constantly, looking for new herbs. Suddenly she said, “How come you never married, Good News?”

  “Well, I just never knew how to talk to a woman, I reckon, a good woman that is.”

  Kate suddenly laughed. “You’re talking like a magpie to me. What does that mean?”

  “You’re an easy woman to talk to.”

  The compliment pleased her. A summer darkness lay over her skin, and Good News noticed the ivory shading on her neck and the turn of her lips. Her smile was a small whiteness around her mouth, and a dimple appeared at the left of her lips. Now the light danced in her eyes. “I think you’re probably funning me. You’re probably a devil where women are concerned.”

  “No, I’m not,” Good News protested, then he saw that she was laughing at him. “You’re teasing me.”

  “I guess I am. What are you going to do after we get to Santa Fe?”

  “Got no idea.”

  “Well, you must have some notion. Are you going to turn around and go back to Franklin, or are you going on to California?”

  “I just don’t have no idea, Kate. I’m just like a ship without a rudder, I guess.”

  “Didn’t you ever have the desire to be anything, a doctor or a lawyer?”

  “Neither one of those things. I did want—” He broke off abruptly, and Kate turned to face him quickly.

  “You wanted what?”

  “Well, I always wanted to be a preacher, but we can’t have what we want.”

  Kate moved closer to him. She reached out and took his arm with her good hand. “I think that’s a good idea. You should do it.”

  “But I’ve got no education.”

  “Look, we’ve been on the trail for just a few weeks, and you’ve already learned to read. If you put your mind to it, you could do it. It would be a wonderful thing.”

  “Why—it’s just been a dream, Kate,” Good News protested.

  “Dreams are things that we need to reach out for. God can use you, though you’ll never be a smooth, sophisticated man that wears a fancy suit and stands behind a mahogany pulpit. But there are people out in this country that need a preacher. Look at these mule skinners. You’ve gained their trust. You could start a church.”

  Good News seemed stunned, and finally Kate glanced at him. She saw that he had gone into some sort of a state and had forgotten that he was walking along the prairie halfway between Franklin and Santa Fe. He turned suddenly and looked at her, and his warm brown eyes took her in. “Something to think about, Kate. It’s something to think about….”

  * * *

  CALLIE HAD GOTTEN OFF her horse and was walking along the stream that was no more than two feet across. It would take awhile to water all the animals, but water was scarce, and she knew they wouldn’t leave until they had filled up their water barrels and all the stock had drunk their fill. She stooped down and ran her hand through the water, which was warm. The water was clear, and she moved down to where a bend
had formed a pool six or seven feet wide. It had dug out the gravel until it looked to be at least two or three feet deep at the deepest part.

  “Are you thinkin’ about taking a bath?”

  Callie whirled and saw that Mark Hayden had come upon her. She was embarrassed at being caught off guard, but she saw the gleam in his eyes and knew that he was pleased at surprising her. “I’m just looking for a place big enough to push you in, Mark.”

  Mark laughed. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

  “A girl has to stay on her guard around a ladies’ man like you.”

  “Why, I’m no ladies’ man,” Mark said.

  “Yes, you are.” She looked down at the water and, stooping down, ran her hand through it. “I’ve got dust on me a half-inch thick. It’d be nice to take a bath.”

  Mark took a step closer, and when she turned to look at him, he was grinning. He winked and said, “Why don’t we?”

  “You stay away from me, Mark Hayden! I knew you’d have to come out with something like that.”

  “Why, I was just teasing, Callie,” Mark said, surprised by her vehemence. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s the way of life for a man to be drawn to a pretty girl.”

  “I know why you’re drawn to me,” Callie said.

  He saw also the hint of her will and her pride in the corners of her lips and eyes. “You’re like a porcupine, all spines and stickers. Why do you have to be that way?”

  “You never look at me as a woman you would marry.”

  Callie’s statement stopped Mark cold, for he knew that she had spoken the exact truth. Weakly he said, “I can’t afford a wife, Callie. I don’t have anything.”

  “You think marriage is about a house and a fancy carriage and furniture?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “No, that’s not part of it. Marriage is something that goes on between a man and a woman. Got nothing to do with those things.” Mark stood there speechless for a moment. He realized that there was a depth to this young woman that he lacked, and he said quietly, “I think you’re right about that and I’m wrong. But at least, Callie, we could be friends, can’t we?”