by Nancy Radke
Those horses built up quite a lather at first, trying to get away from that rattling thing that followed them, but I held them to the road and Dawn bounced along with the wagon. She sure wasn’t a Sunday-go-to-meeting type of girl, who couldn’t take being roughed up. I figured her bottom must be black and blue from being spanked by that buckboard seat. A buckboard is not comfortable, especially with no cushions on its seats. This one had no springs either to help ease the travel, and I stopped several times along the way to give those horses and her a breather.
“Would you like to ride Hero?” I asked. I didn’t know if he’d take to someone wearing skirts, but we could always try.
She looked longingly at Hero, but shook her head. “Pa don’t want me riding astride a horse. Says it don’t look feminine. And it’s not modest. Besides, this skirt is not made for riding.”
By noon those horses had decided the buckboard was there to stay. We stopped near a spot where the water seeped out of the ground. Dawn talked to the horses while I pulled out some grain to give them. I didn’t want them too fired up, so gave them each just a little bit.
The water was brackish where we stopped. I thought of the distance we had come and was very happy that I hadn’t tried walking it that first day.
I tied their reins to a stubby little bush that looked like it had been there before the sun had baked this area dry.
Then I joined Dawn, setting in the shade of the buckboard. She had spread a ground sheet down and opened the small tote. She had filled it with food such as you don’t get out on the trail. Little cakes and dried fruit, some fresh bread and cheese.
“Ma’am, you would spoil anyone traveling with you. No wonder John wanted to come.”
She took a bite of that fresh bread and smiled, shyly. “I don’t fix this when John comes.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t have done it because of the trick John pulled. She had the tote with her when she’d left the house, before she knew. I looked at that food and wondered if it was really a loop, for husband catching, aimed at my head.
I wasn’t wanting to be caught, but that food sure tasted mighty fine. I helped myself to some more. Now that I knew what she was up to, I’d tread more carefully. In the meantime, I downed three of those little cakes and polished them off with some sort of cold peppermint tea she’d put into a canteen. A man could get used to that kind of treatment. Fast.
We stayed there two hours, letting the horses rest and the hot sun go further on its journey. It gave us lots of time to get to know each other.
And read. She’d brought the Bible along and wanted to read the whole time, but a mind can only hold so much information dumped into it at one time, so after an hour, I stopped her.
“What happened to you when you were taken?” I asked.
“Indians practice slavery. Stealing horses or people is part of their culture. So they stole a little yellow-haired girl who rode too far away from her home ranch. I had a good horse and almost out-rode them, so I was a prize to be captured and taken back unharmed. It was the chief’s son who caught me and his father adopted me into his family. I was to marry the son when I reached the age. Slavery is different there. After a while you become part of the tribe. I wasn’t the only child they added. Their tribal groups are small. It’s a way to bring new blood into the families.”
“What brought you back?”
“Some soldiers saw me in the village and raided it to free me. My father and brother were both killed trying to save me.”
“And then?”
“I remembered Pa and Ma, even my name they had given me, so the soldiers brought me back here. I came back a stranger. I really don’t fit into either world now. Ma was gone, dead of consumption, and Pa didn’t know how to treat me. I wasn’t the little girl he knew. And I missed my father and brother.”
She bit her lower lip, remembering that time. “I wouldn’t sleep in a bed. They were so soft they made my back hurt. And I didn’t understand the ways of a white woman. Only Aunt Mabel would help me. They live twenty miles the other side of the valley, so I’d ride over there when I could. Pa didn’t understand that either.”
I understood, finally. When she referred to her father, she meant her Indian family. When she said, “Pa,” she was referring to Cummings. I wondered if he knew it. And if he did, what did he make of it?
She described her life in the Indian village. It had been hard, but not cruel, as they had treated her kindly, for them. She spoke of her adopted brother, the chief’s son, whom she was to marry. He’d tied ten horses outside her door, showing her worth to him, and she had taken them to water immediately, showing her acceptance, for he was kind to her and a mighty warrior. Her mother had died one winter, falling through the ice, and the whole tribe had mourned her, for she had been a great lady. “My name means, ‘the light at the beginning of the morning.’ My father said I was a joy to have.”
I told her about my Tennessee hills and my bothers and sisters.
“You have sisters?”
“Two. They can ride, plow a field, bark a squirrel or dance with the best of them. And cook.”
“And read and write?”
“Oh, yes. Ma made sure they read the Bible and the classics, same as us boys.”
“What does it mean, to bark a squirrel?”
“Squirrels aren’t very big, and if you shoot them, chances are you ruin the meat. So you shoot next to them and knock the tree bark into them. It knocks them out of the tree, either stunned or dead.”
“Why would you leave the mountains, with all that fresh water you speak of, to come here, where the water is barely drinkable?”
“Opportunity. I plan to take Hero and chase cows out of the thickets until I get me a herd together, then trail them to the railhead in Missouri, or wherever it is by now.”
“You want Hero to chase cows?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ve heard the brush is full of them.”
“As thick as fleas on a dog. But forget using Hero. You need a short-legged quarter horse with hide as tough as wood, who can crawl through the thickets. Those long-horned cows love the thickets, and it takes a small horse to crawl in and chase them out.”
“I don’t have money to buy me another horse. That’s why I took this here job.”
“Hum.” She thought a moment. “What you should do is get yourself a few good-looking mares and breed some horses. The Rangers would love some fast horses with Hero’s blood in them. You could sell his services to some of the ranchers around here and earn yourself enough money to buy a few good mares. Or trade for them. Wouldn’t cost you nothin.’”
I rubbed my chin in my hands. I’d been chasing a cow dream for so long, I hadn’t considered using Hero. But it made perfect sense.
The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. To trail a herd north, I would have to hire me some riders, gather a herd and them take them north. I knew I wasn’t the only man with that idea.
Raising horses was a different matter. Horses were cheap in this country, unless they were exceptional, like Hero. If I could raise exceptional horses...
“You could breed him to Misty, and... What’s wrong? Don’t you like the idea?”
“There’s only one thing wrong.”
“Which is?”
“Hero is not my horse.”
“What?” She looked at me in shocked dismay.
“He belongs to my cousin, Trey. During the war, Trey took me prisoner. He always could move like an Indian and so caught me. Turned me over to a private to guard me. I had an easy escape. That’s how I got Hero. He was Trey’s horse, so I took him with me. I’d lost mine, and had to put some distance between me and the Union line. He was saddled and ready to go. I don’t know, but I’ve often wondered if Trey staked him out for me.”
“Could be. Being’s he’s your cousin.”
“Anyway, I have to take Hero back. The more I think about it, the more I know I have to do it. I’ve got it hanging over me.”
She talked all the rest of the way to the settlement, telling me about the weather patterns, the ways of the animals and the people who lived here abouts. She also warned me about the blister bugs. “If they crawl on you, your skin will blister. Worst thing you can do is brush one off. Then you’ll get a long water blister on your skin.”
By the time the first buildings came in sight, I figured I’d got the lay of the land, and wouldn’t be pulling any pilgrim stunts. For every land has its own voice, a rhythm that makes it different from other places. This one was harsh and didn’t treat newcomers well.
It was late afternoon when we arrived at the store, which set near where a smallish creek entered the river. Two houses sat next to it.
Dawn indicated one of the houses. “I stay there, with Mrs. Allen, when I’m here.”
I pulled the buckboard over, jumped out and took her bag down. I helped her out of the buckboard, as if she needed help. A dog barked before we could yell our hellos.
“You don’t have a dog. Why is that?” I asked, for all ranches seemed to have them.
“A Comanche put a lance through him last spring. Pa hasn’t replaced him. I’d like to have another dog. They give you warning when strangers come.
There were two long hitching posts—rails—in the shade of some trees. Two horses were already tied there.
I took our horses to drink, then tied them at the rails, their harnesses on the rail near them. Dawn went inside the store and I heard her exclaim. When I followed her in I found out the reason.
“Matthew, this is my Aunt Mabel. She’s come in to get supplies, too.”
“Howdy, Ma’am. I’m right pleased to meet you.” Those weren’t just words, for I knew that Mabel was the one who had helped Dawn after she’d come back. A tall, kindly-looking lady, she gave me a once-over.
“You the one with the horse?” she asked. “George said James hired you on.”
“Yes’m. If you’re talking about Hero.”
She nodded, then turned back to Dawn. “Why haven’t you ridden over to see me lately?”
“Pa said I couldn’t go. There’d been talk of Indians raiding south of here.”
“There’s always talk of Indians raiding.”
“Sometimes it’s true.”
“Yes. But if you listened to those old women, you’d never go anywhere. Why I could just sit out there on my ranch and starve to death, being afraid. You come visit me, Dawn. Carry your rifle. And bring him with you.” She nodded at me.
They commenced to choose their supplies, with the storekeeper, Bennett, helping them. I carried boxes and bags out to both of their buckboards. They left the food items to be loaded the next day.
Dawn showed me what she’d purchased for herself, a notebook and a pencil, her eyes shinning like she’d found gold. And in a way, she had.
Bennett offered me some whiskey, but I wasn’t about to make John’s mistake. I doubted it was stronger than what our mountain stills offered, but I said, “No thanks.” I had a lady to care for and a man who’s addled his brain with liquor can’t even care for himself.
We all went to the house next door to eat.
The lady there—the storekeeper’s wife—put out food, and she had two beds available that Mabel and Dawn took. I put Dawn’s and Mabel’s bags in their rooms, then washed up to eat.
I checked the horses, then walked over to the house. The storekeeper locked his store and walked over to join me. “Is this the store that was robbed?” I asked him.
“Yes. There are no banks around, so some money was kept here. That gent held me up, then skedaddled with the money. Trouble for him was the Lazy M foreman came in for supplies just a few minutes later, and took off after him. They had a race up the road, with the thief’s horse being faster. But it was dropping in its tracks when he reached Mabel’s place. Her husband, Harold, was out at the barn when the thief rode up and shot him when he refused to give him his horse. Then Marianne shot at the thief. He grabbed the horse and lit out.
“We are ready to fight off the Indians when they come raiding. We just have to remember some people are bad and some are good, no matter what they look like.”
We entered the house together. The storekeeper’s wife, Dawn, and Mabel were having a fine old visit.
Bennett looked at me and motioned me back outside.
“Three women in one kitchen,” he said. “Now that’s what I call a crowd. They won’t want our help.” He pulled up a rocking chair and I tilted back a cane chair and we set there like long lost friends.
He pulled out a pipe, tamped it down and lit it. “Heard tell they almost hung you.”
“Yes. I had to do some fast talking, with that kid shaking out his loop.”
“That George, he’s got no more sense than a goose. Mabel won’t let him have a handgun. He knows how to shoot it, but she figures he needs to stick to a rifle until he learns a little respect. Fellow carrying a handgun had better be able to use it. And to know when he needs to stay quiet and leave the scene.”
I nodded. He seemed to be holding the conversation right well, without any help from me, so I sat quiet.
“She’s afraid his big mouth will get him killed before he has a chance to learn to shut it.”
“Have you been here long,” I asked, when he seemed like he was going to go quiet on me.
“We came just before the big Injun raid at Elk Creek. I think my wife would’ve packed up and gone if’n we hadn’t of already been settin’ well on this place.”
“Were you here when Dawn returned?”
“Ah, yes. There was a big to do about that. She was a quiet thing, standing there with those big blue eyes of hers, trying to figure out what was going on. I think she thought she’d been kidnapped again, only this time by the soldiers.”
“It must have been hard on her.”
“Cummings didn’t help. It about destroyed him when he lost her the first time. His wife hadn’t wanted to come west. When she lost Marianne, she went a little crazy. Blamed him. Never was in good health after that.
“When Marianne returned, he wanted her to become his little girl again. She couldn’t, and I know he beat her to try to force her into accepting his ways. Mabel stepped in and took her away from him for days on end, helping Marianne understand what was happening. She could barely speak any English. She would go off into what James called an ‘Indian stare’ that drove him furious. I expect because it shut him out. He didn’t like bein’ shut out by his own daughter.”
“He still gives her a hard time,” I said.
“Yes. He’s a hard man, which is what you need in this land. But he doesn’t understand his daughter.”
5
Dawn poked her head out the door. “Supper’s ready.”
We went in to eat, and man was that there food good.
We needed to get an early start, so we all turned in. I threw my bedroll out by the horses and slept under the stars.
Next morning we loaded the food items and I helped Mabel climb onto her buckboard. It was hard for her and I wondered at what she’d do if something happened.
“Do you live out Dawn’s way?” I asked her.
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t we escort you home? Dawn can ride with you and I’ll drive our two learners.”
Those horses had not wanted the harnesses put back on and Bennett had had to hold them by the ears while I got them strapped up.
“Good idea,” he said. “Mabel, you drive ahead with Dawn. By the time you reach your place, these two will have had all the orneriness plumb tuckered out of them.”
It worked out well. Those two pie-biters didn’t like how heavy the buckboard had become. They wanted to see how fast they could dump it, but
with Mabel’s team ahead of them they didn’t have much room to do anything. I had Hero running loose beside the buckboard in case I had to chase them down, and I kept their noses pretty much stuck to the back of the other wagon.
Dawn watched me worriedly for a bit, then fell to visiting with Mabel.
By the time we stopped for lunch, those horses acted like they’d never done anything else except pull a wagon.
Mabel said we’d no need to see her all the way home, but I said I’d like to see her place. She was proud of it, but when we pulled into the yard I could see that a man wasn’t there.
While our horses rested, I helped Mabel unharness and carry in her supplies. Then I cut a pile of wood. Hopefully George could swing an axe.
We stayed two hours while I did some of the things a man does to keep a place in top shape, then we put those horses to the trail again. It took longer, as we had to return to the fork in the road, then head back up towards Cummings’ place. It was lovely, trotting along as the evening shadows grew longer and twilight fell. My world had never included a woman in it, but all of a sudden I was thinking of it and thinking hard.
I wondered, if I put my arm around her, what would she do?
I kept it straight to my side for the longest time. Then she said something like she was right tired and leaned against me. I flung my arm around her to steady her and we travelled that way all the way to the ranch.
It was dark by the time we got there and she pulled herself away and sat up straight as we trotted into the yard. I’d gotten used to her being up against me with my arm around her. I really didn’t want to let go.
Lewis and John came out as we pulled up.
“This is a right good team, John,” I said. “They’re willing.”
“Yes,” Dawn added. “It was so thoughtful of you to care for my safety.”
Lewis unloaded and John unhooked the team and led them away. Neither one said a word.
The next week, right around sundown, James Cummings arrived back at the ranch with three men and the kid.
