Fervent Charity (17 page)

“Don’t worry ’bout that. I’ll telegraph anywhere you want.”

Lena dictated and watched as he wrote it down, word for word, with a stubby pencil into his notebook. Behind her the men had backed the wagon up flush to the boxcar. The wagon bed was lower. The horse was going to have to step down. Someone had also hauled up a bucket of water. They were good men, she thought, giving the horse a drink first.

The conductor, sweating himself even as he stood in the cold wind, looked at his watch and complained loudly to Willie who just shook his head. “The sheriff’s in charge now, you’ll have to take it up with him.” The mention of local law enforcement shut the conductor up and he stood back. Of course, Willie knew that the sheriff wasn’t in charge. Lena was.

Coats and jackets came flying out of the boxcar. Lena caught them and piled them in the front of the wagon. There was a moment of stillness and then all hell broke loose. Scuffling and thrashing sounds, and cursing.

“Watch those back hooves, Don!”

“Hell, I’m worried about the front ones!”

She heard a crash against the side of the boxcar and a strangled “sonofabitch!”

“Go easy with him, in there!” Lena called out. She heard more muttered curses.

More thumping, bumping, scraping sounds and Carl yelling, “Look out Kermit!”

“Got it, Daddy!”

One of the boys squealed.

“Pull up on his goddam tail!”

“I wouldn’t do that, Carl!”

“Damn!”

That last “damn” was from Carl, who never swore or raised his voice. More grunts and curses, scuffling, thumps and skidding hooves. Another hard slam against the side of the boxcar. Lena was afraid they were going to kill the horse trying to save him, but at last there was quiet except for some very hard breathing, even gasping, which she suspected was coming from Hank, the heaviest of the men.

“Should we give him some more water now, Daddy?” That was Kermit. Good boy.

“Yeah, Son. Not too much.”

Through it all the horse hadn’t made a sound except for the scrape and scrabble of his hooves trying to support himself and gain purchase on the slippery boxcar floor, and his body slamming into the slat walls. After what was an anxiety-filled long time, Lena saw Carl with his hand on the lead rope and his arm under the horse’s head, sort of cradling it, appear in the door opening of the boxcar. Kermit was on the other side, just his hand against the horse’s neck, for moral support. Carl let the horse stop and look at the wagon and the step he had to take.

Lena asked, “Did he drink?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Kermit. “He’s really thirsty.”

“Hand me the bucket, then.” She climbed up into the wagon, took the bucket that was still three-quarters full, and let the horse see and smell that she was putting it in the wagon. She hoped he was still thirsty enough to want to get to it and strong enough to try. “There now. Let him come.”

The horse stepped down, his knee buckled and Lena stopped breathing while she willed him to stay on his feet. His other leg came down and held. His back legs followed, wobbly, but he stayed up. She let him have another short drink and took the bucket away, handing it down to a very dirty Jack. She watched the men climbing down from the boxcar to the wagon to the ground. Don Grode was limping, but not bad. Hank was rubbing his shoulder and grimacing. They were all covered in muck and slime and smelled godawful, as did the horse. “Tell your wives I’m sorry for the extra washing. But I thank you fellas. The Lord loves a man who’s good to a horse. And that’s no lie. I’ll drive,” Lena said.

Carl and Kermit stayed in the back on either side of the horse, who looked like he could collapse at any moment. Dennis mounted his saddle horse and followed.

They left the conductor muttering to anyone who would listen, “Now what am I going to do with this mess? Out west, there’s a drought...somebody was shipping them east to save them. I didn’t come on until...” then Lena was out of earshot.

She drove slowly and tried to give the animal as smooth a ride as possible. She heard Kermit ask, “Daddy, how we gonna get him out of the wagon. He can’t jump.”

Lena thought quickly. Over her shoulder she said, “Carl, you’ll have to use the cellar door. Will’s tools are in the small shed. Take it off its hinges. It’ll hold him.”

Lena pulled up in front of her own barn and stopped the team. “Carl, can Kermit stay with him while I clean up?”

“We’ll both stay, Mrs. Kaiser. You take care of yourself now.”

Lena stayed with the horse while Carl and Dennis removed the door of the cellar. She led the exhausted horse down the ramp with no difficulty and to the barn. Six of Lena’s nieces and nephews had gathered around wide-eyed to watch the procedure until they were called in sharply by their mothers.

“I got to get going, Missus,” said Dennis, covered from collar to boot-tip with horse manure and ooze. “I got to get me a bath and get back to work.”

“Did you get hurt, Dennis?” Lena gave him a worried look. He wasn’t limping.

“Well, I’ll be black and blue but no where you can see it.” He chuckled.

“Thanks, Denny. Thanks a million.” She watched him get on his horse, gingerly, she thought, then she got to the business at hand.

There was no time to heat water to fill the washtub for a proper bath. Lena filled a bucket with cold water from the pump and went to the house. Ella met her in the entryway. “Keep the children in the living room and bring me a towel and some clean clothes,” Lena instructed. “I can’t go take care of that horse smelling like death. And take out some coffee to Carl and Kermit, would you? They must be cold out there. Tell them I’ll be as quick as I can.” She closed the outside door behind her and locked it so nobody would walk in on her. “Then put some water on to boil and bring it out to the barn with my rag bag. Would you do that for me?”

When Ella brought clean clothes and a towel, Lena was already stripped and scrubbing herself from head to toe.
I won’t have to live with this,
she thought dismally,
because I’m going to die of pneumonia.
Her teeth chattered, her ears still rang, and she had a fierce headache. But after drying herself roughly with the towel and dressing in fresh clothes, she was at least warm again. Ella anticipated her next request by handing her a cup of coffee on her way out to bring two cups to the barn. Lena drank it down then emptied the bucket of bath water outside. The coffee relieved the headache somewhat.

Lena didn’t go inside her house again. Her sisters would make themselves at home and look after Gracia.

When Carl and Kermit were gone and Lena was alone with the horse in the barn, Ella came with the hot water and rags. Softer-tempered than Ragna, Ella did not berate Lena for her foolishness. She watched as the pitiful animal took more of the fresh water Lena had placed before him. Lena had drunk from it first with the dipper that she still held. Ella could tell by her shaking hands that her little sister had paid hell to do what she had done.

“I don’t dare leave him. If he goes down, I sure couldn’t get him up again by myself. Would you keep me in boiling water for awhile?”

“Sure, Lena.”

“I suppose Ragna’s fit to be tied. Wishin’ she’d stayed on the train and gone home.”

“You know Ragna.”

Lena alternately tended the horse’s wounds and gave him small amounts of food and water. When Will came home at noon for his dinner—he was working only a mile north of town—his sisters-in-law sent him to the barn.

Lena didn’t have to be in the house with them to know that her sisters had clucked and fretted all morning over her craziness―how the colt probably wasn’t worth a nickel on a good day and, if it was, the owner would sic the law on her, how one day she was going to lose that nose always putting it where it didn’t belong. She could hear them. She could quote them. But her husband only stroked the horse’s head and said thoughtfully, “Well, Duchy, he’s a pretty sick fella. But you done all right by him so far.” No one but Gustie understood why she loved Will Kaiser. In spite of his faults, and she knew better than anyone that they were many, it always came down to this: when he was sober, Will Kaiser was the only truly soft-hearted man, besides her pa, she had ever known.

“I’ve kept him standing, and he’s been taking a little oats and water,” she said hopefully.

“Well, give it a go. Are your sisters going to stay and help you out?”

Lena threw a disparaging gesture toward the house. “Nooooo, they won’t stay. Not for something like this. Ella might, if she was on her own, but she’ll do what Ragna wants. She boiled water for me and brought me my rag bag. She did that much. They think I’m fool-headed.” She dipped another cloth into the bucket of hot iodine water, wrung it out and placed it on a particularly nasty wound on the horse’s rump. He flinched. The hard one to clean out had been the long gash across his side. She thought that might need some stitching but she wasn’t skilled enough for that. “I used up all your iodine.”

“I’ll pick up some more. Don’t you worry.”

“We owe Willie for a telegram…” Will’s good eye filled with curiosity—Lena was the tight-fisted one in the family, “...and Joe Gruba for a train ticket. I telegraphed for Joe to find Jordis and give her the ticket to Charity. I need help here.”

Will shook his head and grinned, “Well, Duchy, I’ll be cow-kicked!”

“Do you think she’ll come?” Lena allowed a small doubt to creep into her mind, but she shook it out. Of course Jordis would come, because Lena was Gustie’s friend. Jordis would come for Gustie’s sake, and she would come for the horse.

“Yeah, Duch, I think she will. What about the other horses? Ella said there was a car full.”

Lena’s voice quavered and her eyes brimmed. “I shot them.”

Will regarded his wife steadily then opened his arms. She folded herself into them like a dove to her nest. After a few minutes she pushed herself away and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Go on in now and get your dinner. Ragna’s fried some chicken, I think. Tell Ella I’m about ready for another bucket of hot water.”

When Will left, Lena began to sing. Lena always sang when she was alone. Hymns mostly. It was a lifelong habit. After Gracia was born she sang to her baby. And now, she sang to the injured horse. Through the afternoon he suffered her cleansing soapy water, her warm compresses, and all the verses of “Rock of Ages,” “Pass Me Not Oh Gentle Savior,” “Jesus Calls Us O’er the Tumult,” plus lullabies and Christmas carols in Norwegian. She had done her best. He stood on his own, forlorn and trembling. She saw that, if his scars weren’t too bad, he would end up a handsome horse—a brown and white paint. If he lived. Lena covered him with a blanket. There was nothing more she could do.

When Ragna came out with another cup of coffee for her, she asked the time.

“It’s 3:30.”

“Train’s due at 4:00,” Lena commented. “Bring Gracia out here, will you?”

“You can’t keep a child in the barn.”

Tell it to Mary and Joseph
, Lena thought but said nothing.

“I’ve got your dress soaking.”

“Thank you.”

Ragna nodded.

Lena said, “When Jordis gets here, I’ll start supper and we can visit awhile before we go to bed.”

“You sent for that...?”

“Oh, shush! Go bring me my little girl. I haven’t seen her all afternoon.”

Lena was almost asleep, lying curled up on a blanket next to her daughter who was bundled up in two of Lena’s crocheted afghans. She heard the door slide open and looked up. Jordis came inside and behind her, the soft-stepping Moon.

Lena almost cried with relief and gratitude. She hadn’t been all that sure Jordis would come. She greeted her huskily, “They let you bring the horse on the train?”

Jordis was dressed in a long split skirt, moccasins and a yellow, high-necked blouse. Her hair was brushed neatly into a thick glossy braid that fell down her back. Moon had no saddle, just a small striped blanket on her white back, and no bit, just a halter and lead line.

“We rode with the baggage.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes.”

“You should have paid half fare then at least.”

“No fare. Joe let us ride. Said to tell you he would not take any money.”

“That was good of him.” Lena was suddenly out of words.

Jordis led Moon to the stall next to Old Tom’s. A large bag was slung over her shoulder. She put it down carefully on the floor. Lena watched her approach the paint with the confidence of someone who knows horses and the grace of someone who loves them. She rubbed his forehead and stepped around to his side, and lifted the blanket to examine him. “Did you really threaten to shoot the conductor?”

Lena busied herself smoothing down a lump under her own blanket.

Jordis re-covered the horse and faced Lena squarely. The intensity of her black eyes unnerved Lena, who was seldom unnerved by anything. She said, “You did a good job with him.” There was respect in her voice.

Lena relaxed. “Do you think he can make it?”

“We’ll see how he does through the night.”

Lena nodded and sucked on her forefinger. “I feel bad about leaving those horses to rot on the train.”

“They were not left there. Hank Ackerman and Carl Torgerson rounded up some men to unload them. They buried them out in the sand pit.”

“Really?” Lena’s eyes were wide and moist at this unexpected miracle of human thoughtfulness.

“I asked. Willie Mohs told me.”

“Oh. I’m glad they did that. Well, what can I get you? My rag bag is there. All clean cloths. I used up all the iodine. Will said he’d get some more. I’ll bring you out some coffee and bread and butter. Then we’ll have supper around six. I’ll call you and you can wash up…”

“I’ll stay out here, if you don’t mind bringing it out.”

Jordis looked down to pick up her bag and did not see Lena’s barely disguised relief that she didn’t have to sit Jordis at the same table as her sisters. Her sisters were staying the night. Tomorrow, she could do as she pleased.

Jordis joined Lena on the blanket. From her bag she took out a shabby blanket roll and placed it carefully at her side. She reached in again and drew out a packet of dried leaves. “Boil this in a gallon of water. I won’t need any iodine.”