Buffalo Girls (12 page)

And yet, if he never came, would there ever be a time of joy? Or would it all just be the dumps, as Calamity called her low spells? Was it better to be up sometimes than down all the time?

There were other questions, no less difficult, that she had had to struggle with lately. Billy Cody had been awfully nice—he was dependable, amusing, unfailingly sweet; and he had convinced her that he meant to divorce his wife. Sometimes her heart ached a little for Billy, at the thought of how hard he was trying.
It was sad that the one who tried should always fail, while the one who never tried always succeeded. Just the other day Billy had brought her a sled, and they sledded merrily downhill, once almost shooting onto the frozen Yellowstone. He didn't fail at making her have fun, at least. Sometimes she had the urge to try a little harder herself, to reward Billy for all his gay effort—she was tired of the flood inside her. Wouldn't peace be better, even if it meant damming the flood and keeping it dammed—a tricky task?

But damming the flood, if she could do it, might really not be kind to Billy, in the end. Billy was smart—discreet, but smart. He was not like most men, who had to have even simple things spelled out in capital letters several times before they could grasp them; Billy had surprised her recently by being ahead of her in his thinking, rather than behind, where she was accustomed to locating men. However thick the dam she built, Billy would soon figure out that the flood was still there, and that if it broke free again, as it always could, his nice love would be like chaff, like a straw.

Billy hadn't been able to change her much—not enough that she could be nice to him in the way she sometimes hoped to; but he
had
wedged his way into her life, sheer energy being the wedge. Where she had once had only one problem to contend with, she now had two, and one of them stood below her at the bar, drinking beer and teasing Calamity.

“Dora ain't hurrying on down this morning, is she?” Blue remarked. Now and then he stole a glance at her. She still stood in a darkness at the top of the stairs.

“Why should she? What would be to hurry for, unless it's to slap your face?” Calamity asked. “She's mad at me because I went to your dern wedding—you can figure out from that how mad she must be at you.”

“Oh, damn!” Blue said. “That nonsense again. I would hardly subject my Dora to the raw ranch life—the first hard winter would kill her.”

“I'd rather die of life than die of nothing,” Calamity said.

“I'd know about the nothing,” she added, sliding her glass across the bar. Teat, who was bartending at the time, poured her a little whiskey.

“I guess I've rode a long way in the slush to drink beer and be criticized,” Blue said. He felt a little dip in his spirits. It was rare anymore that he got as simple a welcome as he felt capable of giving. The welcome was there, he had no doubt—it just took longer and longer to arrive at it.

Calamity was about to deliver a few more opinions when the saloon door swung open once more and Billy Cody stood in it, wearing a coat made of otter skins.

“There's Billy, this will be interesting,” she said.

“Why, T, what a surprise,” Billy said, though it wasn't, exactly. He offered his hand. Blue took it, a bit irked to discover that he was actually glad to see Billy. In his mind he had been ready to punch him but the minute Billy strode over and held out his hand the thought vanished. The man had an irritating likability as long as you were in his company; the minute he stepped out the door, though, the conviction that he was extremely irritating returned.

“Billy, you look prosperous,” Blue said. “Do you find that the Chinese like cowboys?”

“Oh, we ain't tried China yet,” Billy said. “I hope to get there eventually.”

Then, as if remembering someone he had forgotten to speak to, Billy looked toward the head of the stairs. Blue looked, and Calamity looked also, but all they saw was an empty staircase. Dora DuFran was not there.

“So where's Dora—having a nap?” Billy asked.

“I expect she's having a nap,” Calamity said.

Darling Jane—

Janey you'll have to forgive your mother, I have let months slip by without taking up a pen, I have no excuse. I just got low and
lost the habit. Nearly dying in the blizzard was a setback, I could not get over it although I was not seriously ill, was only exposed to the blizzard a few hours and have been at Dora's ever since, my room is as cozy as yours is in Springfield I guess.

It was a long winter though—on the first spring day I thought I had better ride Satan before he forgets me, I had not rode him since he brought me to Dora's back door in the blizzard.

The snow had about melted off the prairies, it was muddy but a pretty day anyway, I thought I'd take a little ride to see if I'm game for adventure with the boys this summer. Not five miles out of town I jumped the grizzly. That old roaring bear scared Satan so bad he nearly threw me, I lost both stirrups, the saddle horn was all that saved me. If I had been thrown the grizzly would have had me for sure. I think the bear had just woke up—he didn't follow or he would have caught us for sure. I met No Ears before I got to town, he looked worried, I think he smelled the bear, he can smell things most men cannot smell, even Satan didn't smell this bear and horses usually do.

Blue wanted to get out of bed and go shoot the bear. Despite his bad experience the time he roped the bear he still thinks he is a bear-killer I guess. Of course Dora wouldn't have it, she had not nursed him for the broken leg and collarbone for him to go off and get ate by a bear. Few know the true story of Blue's injury, certainly his wife doesn't, Billy Cody doesn't either.

When he found Billy in town Blue pretended to ride off, he waited till night and then snuck back and tried to climb up Dora's drainpipe. He will try anything—it broke and he had a fall, the ground was frozen and no fun to fall on. The story Blue put out was that his horse pitched him into a woodpile, I guess a cowboy would feel better about being pitched into a woodpile than he would about falling off a drainpipe. Certainly it will sound better to Blue's wife. Who knows what she expects of Blue? I doubt she expects him to be climbing drainpipes in the winter, it's not common behavior.

The upshot was Dora got to have him for six weeks while he
was mending. They were quite lovey-dovey. It was a rare opportunity for Dora, and Blue got nursed so well I imagine he'll come back and try to break something next winter, Dora's nursing has got to be an improvement over ranching in the blizzards up in the Musselshell.

Billy Cody finally went off. If he was discouraged by Blue's stroke of luck you couldn't tell it:—Billy don't let much discourage him. He is getting together the biggest Wild West show of all, he has even got Sitting Bull to agree to be in it. I finally agreed to try it too, if old Sitting Bull thinks he can stand it I guess I can stand it also.

Janey, being scared by the blizzard and then by the bear has made me moody, it takes nothing to make me cry. Yesterday Doosie made me a pie and I cried, she thought I didn't like it and got upset. It don't take much more to upset Doosie than it does to upset me. I did like the pie, I made it up with Doosie later, we ate the whole thing ourselves except for a little piece Doosie gave Teat. There was none for Blue, he was outraged, Dora has spoiled him so now he thinks every sweet has to be for him.

In these low moods I will cry over anything, I cry because I miss you, Janey. I fear I will be old soon or even dead and never know my girl. Then I get to thinking of Wild Bill, if I could see him as I once saw him, if I could love him as I once loved him I would be the happiest woman in these territories. Well, Jack McCall spoiled that.

Lost is lost, why think of it? If the sun would shine more maybe I'd stop. Now Blue has gone back to his ranch and his wife, Dora is terribly down, she got used to Blue being here.

I told her it would happen and that it would take her six months to get over it when he got: well and left. She got mad of course. What do you want me to do, send him off crippled? she said. I am sure Billy Cody saw through the woodpile story, he's a bulldog, I expect he thinks Dora will get tired of Blue sooner or later, she'll play out from all the coming and going.

Billy is younger than both of them, I guess he thinks he's got
time on his side. Don't you listen to people who say bide your time, Janey, nobody knows if they've got time on their side or how much, younger people than Billy Cody have died in this country. Blizzards or bears or ruffians, there's plenty of things that can get you and get you quick.

I don't know why you would even want to read these letters, Janey. I mean to write cheerful things and then I write of dying. You are just a child and should not have to always be reading such things.

It takes a lot to amuse me when I am like this. Doc Ramses the fortune-teller was some help while he was here. He was a magician, he'll slap Teat on the cheek and pull a bear tooth out of his ear. Once he stuck a glass eye on his forehead and looked at me strangely, he said he knew a secret about me nobody else knew. I got annoyed, he knows nothing about me, he can't see much with a glass eye.

Still some of his tricks were funny and helped pass the time, but then Billy got restless to go round up Sitting Bull and all the other people in the Wild West show. They left a week before Blue left, now the town feels empty. Dora stays in her room all day and Skeedle is in vile spirits too, the other day we were all the three crying at the same time.

I said to both of them, we ought to hang ourselves if we can't do better than this, they agreed, but we won't do it, no energy.

I had word that Ragg and Bone are in Deadwood, it does not sound good, Jim is sick. I am going to head that way in a few days, No Ears said he would go. He is very interested in Doc Ramses's magic, he says it is better than most medicine men can do.

I am awfully scared of bears now, I'm almost too scared to ride to Deadwood and Deadwood ain't far. I had no fear once, I would just ride on by a grizzly if I saw one, none ever bothered me. No Ears says we will be safe, he doesn't smell any bears on the road to Deadwood. I think he is just bragging, nobody can smell every animal between Miles City and Deadwood.

Do you ever see the morning star in Springfield, Janey? I saw it
today, the clouds broke, it shone so bright it made me sad and lonesome. I got up and knocked on Dora's door, she was just sitting there in her chair by the window. I felt silly for knocking, what was I going to say, Look at the star? But Dora wasn't mad, she invited me to come sit with her, I sat there with my thoughts, she sat there with hers.

I don't know what Dora was thinking about but that bright star called back old times for me—sad times, some of them. I remember when I went with Custer and his expedition into the Black Hills, it was the first big expedition to go there, it was a mistake. The Sioux didn't like it, and the land was theirs by treaty.

But Custer went in anyway and discovered gold, how I hated him, he looked at me as if I was no better than a cow, I can't describe his cold look. It was hard, Janey, all those soldiers and me. I tried to hire on to scout, at least I knew the main trails and the Indians didn't mind me, I didn't make a penny, Janey, they even begrudged me food. I finally offered to do laundry for the soldiers, otherwise I suppose they would have let me starve.

I hope you will never experience such hardship as your mother has, Janey, I was washing the soldiers' old filthy clothes in the same creek Custer discovered the gold in. All I got for that work was a little grub, I finally left camp alone, the Sioux were kinder to me. I guess they thought I was crazy, but they fed me and I wasn't asked to do no washing.

I knew then that war would come. What is a treaty when there is gold in the bottom of the creeks? It was that damn Custer that found it too, I hated him. He sat outside his tent feeding his pack of hounds while I washed clothes in the creek. Custer's dogs ate better than I did—you don't forget such things.

I shed no tears for Custer when he fell. I lost many friends in the battle—of course I regret they got massacred, it was all Custer's doings, he behaved as if he could do no wrong. I saw him quirt soldiers for the least little thing, he deserved what he got, good riddance.

You will read of all this in the histories, Janey, do not let them tell you Custer was a hero, he was cold and careless, listened to no one. If he had listened to his Crows he would have lived—of course the Crows knew what was waiting for him.

This will not interest you much, I am sorry to write at such length. The days drag sometimes. Ordinarily I'd just mount up and go, that's what people have always done out here—they mount up and go. But my nerve is not what it used to be—that's all there is to it.

Your mother,
Martha Jane

B
ARTLE HAD NEVER HAD SUCH A TIME WITH
J
IM
R
AGG
. J
IM
did not appear to be very sick, not by the standards of the day—a phrase Bartle enjoyed using—but nothing Bartle could devise or invent had any effect on Jim's spirits, which descended rapidly once they arrived in the vicinity of Deadwood, and had so far refused to rise again.