Well Traveled

by Margaret Mills

  For Gideon, it was both a relief and another curse. He didn’t have to be around as much—Jed spent almost all his time sleeping, more peacefully as each day went by—but Gideon couldn’t leave yet, not with the Indian under his protection, as he’d come to think of it.

  And not with the hole in his wallet. Between the four dollars a day for MacCray’s visits and medicines and the two-fifty for room and board, his forty dollars disappeared fast. He’d had to cash in the train tickets he’d bought for the trip to San Francisco to meet up with the show, and while he still had enough money for one for him, he didn’t have enough on him now for passage for Star. Boarding his horse had added up, too, and making sure Star was comfortable there. That meant short, fast rides and apples, which came cheap but still added up with everything else. He’d had more than his share of needs to satisfy, sharing a room with Jed, and Lila had made a fine profit off his little stallion’s wants, too.

  But his mama hadn’t raised no cold-hearted son, and Gideon had held on to his charitable nature as he’d passed into manhood. He could make the money again—hell, he had money in the bank in San Francisco, just waiting for him to get there.

  He thought he might ask Landon for a loan, something he could pay back once he got to his bank account in San Francisco, but he hated having to beg for a handout. He reckoned Landon wouldn’t think he’d spent his money wisely, no matter the color of the stranger’s skin. Which meant going overland—a long trip, but one that he could make in time to catch up with the show in San Francisco, maybe, if he got going soon. Very soon.

  It was late night of the eighth day—fourth day since Jed’s fever had broken, that Gideon returned to the room to find Jed up and about. He’d asked for his clothes as soon as the fever had broken, and while Gideon missed the sight of that bare skin, it had been a relief to find Jed well enough to be worried about appearances. Now, though, when he stepped into the little room, he found Jed standing in only his leather loincloth, his hair wet and water trailing down his bare shoulders as he washed himself from the bucket of well water Gideon had left in the room earlier. He stood awkwardly, using his injured leg more for balance than to hold his weight, but he was up and moving well under his own steam.

  It was a good thing Gideon had just left Lila, or he might have embarrassed himself. As it was, he looked away as Jed used a towel to dry his hair. “Good to see you up,” he said, closing the door. “You feeling better?”

  “I will be ready to travel tomorrow,” Jed answered, his voice muffled under the cloth. “This has cost you much—I know this. Far more than what little I had to give you.”

  Gideon hesitated, not sure how he wanted to say this. His silence must have been enough, though, because Jed nodded and the corners of his thin lips twitched, as if he would smile.

  “I heard you talking to the woman,” Jed said, filling in the silence. “You sold your train tickets back for the money to stay here. I would like to repay you.”

  Gideon stared for a few seconds, thinking, before he asked, “Do you know how to get to San Francisco from here? Overland, I mean? And fast?”

  Jed’s expression tightened into a frown. “The fastest way is the train,” he said slowly.

  Gideon shrugged. “Reckon so, but only if you can afford the tickets. I can’t, not for me and my horse, and I sure as hell ain’t leaving her behind.”

  Jed tilted his head to one side, and Gideon wondered how much he remembered from the day they’d met. Enough, it seemed, for the Indian said quietly, “I can get you to San Francisco.” He nodded, clearly thinking. “We can leave tomorrow—”

  “Not that soon,” Gideon said with a smile. “You need another couple of days to get your strength back, and we’ll need to get you a horse—”

  “Why?” Jed cut him off. “I thought you wanted this to be fast. A horse would slow me down—your horse will slow us down.”

  Gideon stared at him, wondering if the fever had come back or if it had been so high that it’d cooked his brain some—he’d heard tell of fevers doing that.

  “Horses need more rest and time to graze that a man does not. My people can make twice the distance in a day on foot, if they move fast, than on horseback. We always freed our horses, if our need was urgent enough. Your need is not that urgent?”

  The first words Gideon could find were the ones closest to his heart. “I ain’t never had a need urgent enough to think about leaving Star,” he said, harder than he’d intended. “She’s my horse.”

  Jed drew a deep breath and nodded before he ducked his head back under the towel, rubbing the ropes of his hair in it. Freed to look, Gideon eyed the trim waist and narrow hips, the trim curve of his ass and the way the skin folded as Jed bent forward to dry his hair. “Tomorrow, I will get my pack,” he said, his voice muffled under the damp cloth. “Then we can leave.”

  Gideon watched as Jed draped the towel over the back of a wooden chair, then ran his fingers through his hair, combing it out as best he could. That had him arching back, his chest thrust out. Gideon turned his head away… for all of two seconds. It was hard not to appreciate the long black strands that seemed to flow between his slender fingers. In the soft light of the room’s lamps, it gleamed, dark, blending into the shadows around Jed but shining where it caught the light.

  Lila’s hair was long, but not as long as Jed’s, nor was it as thick or as black or as—

  He ducked his head, taking a deep breath and staving off the comparison. He scrubbed his fingers through his own hair, but it was more to clear his head than to do any cleaning.

  He sat down on the far side of the bed, toeing off his boots. They’d been sharing the bed since Jed’s fever had broken. It was big enough, and he was paying for the damned thing, anyway. Tomorrow? Damned Indian was foolish, crazy, maybe. Just what he needed.

  But the next morning, Jed was up and gone before Gideon opened his eyes. At first he thought the Indian had run out on him. That was a shock. That after all he’d done, Jed would run off without a word.

  But as he dressed and packed up his things, he settled on anger. He’d done all of this, and now he’d been left to get himself out of it. He could do it, no problem, but it vexed him that he’d have to. There would be someone headed to California soon enough, someone needing to get there before winter started setting in. He just had to get the word out that he wanted to go—at the liveries and at the restaurants and saloons, here with Miz Howard’s girls; travelers moving West always liked to relieve an itch when they had the chance.

  He stripped the linens off the beds and left them by the door, knowing the house girl would pick them up along with all the others that were due for changing and get them to the Chinese laundry. He’d paid extra for this, too, and for the towels he tossed on top of the pile. He cleared away the water bucket and all the things they’d used before doing one last check of the room for his stuff and anything Jed might have left behind. The weather was pretty enough, and warm enough to sleep out in the open tonight—no sense paying to stay here anymore.

  Lila and most of the ladies were still sleeping, but he left word with Elsie, who was in the kitchen and the one picking up the slack now that they were fresh out of house boys, that he was done with the room and he’d be by later to thank them all for the help. He grabbed up a biscuit on his way out the door—he’d paid for that already, and it was hot—so his mouth was full and his eyes half-closed as he made his way through the door and onto the back stoop to find Jed standing to one side, his pack on his back, his eyes closed as he shifted from one side to the other, testing his bad leg.

  Without opening his eyes, the Indian said, “If we leave now, we can make it a good way before night falls.”

  Gideon stood for several seconds, collecting his thoughts and getting past the surprise, hiding behind his mouthful of biscuit. When his mouth was empty, he said, “How the hell did you get out there and back?” He was thinking about the injury, watching the way Jed was still favoring the leg.

  The I
ndian looked over his shoulder at Gideon. “I was careful,” he said. “No one saw me. And now that you are finally up,” he said with a frown of disapproval, “we can get started. I will meet you on the road out of town. I do not think you need to be seen with me when you retrieve your horse.” There was more disapproval in his tone, but Gideon let it slide by like creek water.

  “You sure you’re ready to go?” He looked down at Jed’s bad leg.

  “I have been ready,” Jed answered. “I was afraid you had taken ill, you were in bed so long. If we are to make good time, we must move while it is daylight. We left the solstice behind months ago, and each day grows shorter.”

  “It’s only August, Jed,” he said, amused. “Days are still longer than I’d want to be hiking.”

  Jedediah raised an eyebrow. “White people speak of hurry, but they do not know what it means.”

  Gideon grinned and held up a hand when Jed started walking toward the alley, limping on the bad leg but using it anyway. “I paid for breakfast, we might as well eat it.”

  Jed looked warily back at the house, but Gideon just shrugged and set his bag down, darted back in, and found a scrap of cloth to wrap four biscuits and some bacon in. It would be a nice lunch on the road, and he’d need to stop by a store, stock up on supplies for the trail. Jed hadn’t seen Star yet, either. When he did, he’d appreciate why Gideon cared.

  As soon as the screen door banged shut behind Gideon, Jed started walking. “We’re gonna be in real trouble if you get out there and that leg acts up,” he said, jogging to catch up.

  Jed paused when he reached B Street and met Gideon’s eyes. In the morning sun the blue was still night-dark, but nobody with eyes could miss it, that one thing about him that was so completely not Indian. “You and your doctor have done very good work. I understand how close I was to having my hair cut. I will not waste your efforts by doing anything I am not ready to do. The worst of it was the infection, as your doctor said, not the wound itself.”

  Gideon frowned at him. “You sure?”

  Jed nodded. “The muscle is still healing, as is the wound, but if I do not use it now, it will heal weak and be harder to use later. We can walk—and if you are taking the horse, we will be walking slowly enough.”

  Gideon rolled his eyes, thinking that Star would be carrying Jed more than she would be carrying Gideon. He tried one more time, or started to, but Jed cut him off.

  “I am well enough to do this. Go and get your horse and head out of town. I will meet you on the road.” He glanced back once more, and the stormy blue of his eyes shone brightly in the morning sun.

  Gideon smiled at him and nodded. “I’ll trust ya. Okay, I’m going to get Star and some food for the trail. Won’t be more’n an hour. I’ll meet you on Front Street, across the tracks and a little ways out of town. Deal?”

  Jed extended his hand, and Gideon grasped his wrist in the Indian way, then he took off up B Street at a jog. The memory of those shining eyes hurried him along.

  He ducked into Doctor MacCray’s place long enough to find that MacCray was out on a house call and to ask that Elmer pass on word that he was moving on.

  “Old Holt, he’s been in a darned good mood the past few days,” Elmer volunteered.

  “Yeah?” Gideon hadn’t really noticed.

  “Yep,” Elmer said. “I think he’s feeling like he can perform miracles.”

  Gideon grinned; he’d been thinking the same thing, once Jed had turned the corner. “Well, he did a good job with my friend, that’s for sure.”

  “I thought it might be him,” Elmer said. “Doctor MacCray was awful close-mouthed….” Elmer trailed off, inviting Gideon to open his own, but Gideon wasn’t stupid.

  “The poor fella had a bad infection, but the Doc got him through it. Tell him my thanks again, and that I’ll write him a letter when I get to San Francisco.”

  He left before Elmer could try and pump him for more information, ducked into a dry goods store for hardtack, coffee, and a tin pan to cook in, then headed for the livery, and Star. He found her trotting around in the corral by the stable when he arrived, kicking up her heels and looking all kinds of frisky. Bobby, the eldest of the stable boys, strolled out of the barn’s interior, wiping his hands on a rag. “Hey there, Gideon,” he called.

  “Howdy, Bobby. I came by to take this one off your hands,” he said, and whistled for her. She threw her head and trotted over, reaching her long neck over the top of the corral fence to nibble at his hair.

  “She weren’t no trouble. Lots of energy, but docile as a lamb,” Bobby said.

  “That’s what makes her special,” he said fondly. To his horse he said, “Time to go, girl,” and led her by a haft of mane over to the gate. “You mind finding Mitch so him and me can settle my account?”

  Bobby ran off and came back a minute later, carrying Gideon’s blanket and saddle, bridle and bags. Gideon filled the saddlebags, weighting them carefully before he threw on the blanket and saddle, adjusted the saddlebags once more and tied on his carpetbag suitcase behind the cantle carefully so it wouldn’t bounce around. When he fed Star the bit she stomped a foreleg, clearly ready for a run that Gideon would be all too happy to give her.

  As Gideon tightened the leather at her cheek, Mitchell Freeman strolled up. He handed over two quarters and said, “That makes us square.” Gideon didn’t complain. He was surprised to get anything back, since Bobby’d told him Star had had her oats this morning. “Where you headed?” Mitch asked.

  “San Francisco,” he said, swinging up into the saddle. Star threw her head and tried to work the bit forward, a bad habit she developed when she didn’t get enough exercise, and Gideon felt a little bad for neglecting her this past week.

  “You’re riding?” Mitch asked.

  “Yep. Spent too much of my travel money to get Star a stall on the train.”

  “Long trip alone,” Mitch said.

  Gideon smiled again. It would be, if he were traveling alone. He reined out with a wave for both men and put the late morning sun to his back, let Star pick her way across the train tracks and onto Front Street. The buildings on this side of the tracks were more ramshackle, shacks and tired storefronts that petered out fast. He started looking for Jed almost immediately, but was maybe half a mile out of town before he spotted him, standing just off the edge of the road, his belongings in the big leather sack that hung from one shoulder. A Winchester rifle was tied to the side of it, surprising for an Indian—it was probably good he’d left it hid out of town.

  “Didn’t think you’d carry a gun,” Gideon said as he came alongside.

  Jed shrugged. “Easier hunting than bows and arrows.” He frowned up at Gideon as he started walking, his limp pronounced, but it didn’t seem to be giving him much trouble. “I could sell it. Maybe make you enough for a space for your horse.”

  “Not hardly,” Gideon said. “It’s old enough, I doubt it’d fetch ten dollars.”

  “How much do you need?”

  Gideon spurred Star forward without answering, and Jed set up an easy pace beside him, pulling ahead briefly then looking over his shoulder and slowing his pace accordingly. “Don’t matter none, I reckon it’s decided. Hey, I bought a map.”

  “Why?”

  “To tell where we’re goin’,” he said, amused.

  “I know where we’re going,” Jed said. “We are going to San Francisco, as quickly as possible.” At that he narrowed his eyes, and then rolled his shoulders. Gideon was fast learning that both were signs of derision. “In a hurry, but with a horse.” White men, the narrow look and the shoulders seemed to say.

  Gideon shook his head, but he smiled. At least he was going to have interesting company.

  They walked for a lot longer than Gideon expected, Jed keeping pace—setting it, more like—until Gideon got tired of sitting and Star started reaching her nose toward the grasses that grew alongside the road. “Jed,” he called. He’d let himself get lulled by tall forest pines and a wide, well-kep
t road, and a hum Jed started not long after they’d started, not so much sounds but words: hyunh-hya-hyunh-huh. Native songs, they didn’t sound much like the chants of his friends in Bill Tourney’s show, and they were so quiet Gideon had to strain to hear them, but he’d learned that there were more kinds of Indians than there were different breeds of whites. The chanting came to a natural end point, and Jed looked over his shoulder. “Star needs water and I want to stretch my legs,” he said.

  Jed nodded. “Stream up ahead. Good water. Cold.”

  “How far up ahead?” he asked, suspicious. He’d already noticed that Jed had a way of leading him by the nose, and they’d only been on the road a few hours.

  “Ten, fifteen minutes?” He pointed downhill, in the general direction the road was traveling. “There, in the fold of the land. This road will cross the stream.” Gideon wondered if he ought to pull out his pocket watch, but he let it lie, and sure enough they came upon a brook, not wide enough to need a bridge. He could see the heavy ruts of stage wagons where their metal wheels had scarred the stones.

  The clear water burbled happily, and Jed found a rock, levered down carefully in deference to his hurt leg, and after a few seconds of eying the creek, he stuck his mouth in the water just like Star did. It tickled Gideon to no end to see them both like that not three feet from each other. Did something else to him to watch that long throat work, sucking water down, but it was worse when he looked away, and his gaze landed on Jed’s rump, sticking out at him and stretching the buckskin tight. Gideon cleared his throat and moved further upstream to get his own mouth wet. He used the pan he’d bought for cooking, though, scooping water out and gulping it down more civilized.