Ride the River (1983) (10 page)

"Come! There's fresh coffee and you can have a bit before the stage comes." She put a cup and saucer on the red-checked cloth and poured coffee. "There were two men just here, one with his knuckles all skinned and a bad welt on his cheekbone, as well as a split lip. Were they the ones?"

"I heard them talking. It was an Irishman at Loudon who fought him."

"Ah, that would be Rory! What a lad! And a brawny good lad, too, if he did not nurse the bottle so much! Always ready for a fight, he is, and all for the sport of it. There's no meanness in him!"

She bustled off and I sipped the coffee, thinking. Timothy Oats and Elmer were somewhere ahead of me, and they would try to catch me. If not on the road, then in Pittsburgh.

It was unlikely they would expect me on the stage, for they would be sure I had gone on ahead of them. I was finishing my coffee when the stage rolled in, but only three people came to eat. Three and the driver.

He looked at me, startled. "You, is it? Well, you've still your fare paid to Pittsburgh, so get aboard." He glanced down at my bag. "Did you get yours back? Or is this the other?"

"It is mine," I said.

"We're changing horses, but will be off in a minute."

Before he could go to the kitchen, where he was headed, I stopped him and explained about the attempt to steal my carpetbag and the two men on the road before us.

"If they hail you," I pleaded, "do not stop for them. They'll just be looking to see if I am aboard."

"Rest easy," he said. "I'll be stopping for nothing if I can help it, although it is a slow climb up Sidelong Hill, and a narrow road."

With so few people traveling, I put my carpetbag on the seat beside me, where I could rest an elbow on it and where my second pistol was close. I opened the neck of my reticule a mite to have an easier grasp on the pistol there.

People got into the stage. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. A whip cracked and we went off with a lunge, rumbling over the rough road,, headed for the mountains again.

I was very tired.

Chapter
10

In Pittsburgh I stopped at the same rooming-and-boarding house as on my way east, and Mrs. O'Brien had a fine large room for me in the old house where she lived. Her maid brought a tub and hot water to my room and I bathed, washed my hair, and meanwhile she did the best she could with my traveling dress. It came back to me looking like new.

No steamboat was leaving that day or the next, so I made inquiries. Mrs. O'Brien suggested I go by way of Wheeling and save some miles of travel. I said nothing to her about Timothy Oats or Elmer.

Yet she was puzzled by me, for after breakfast I remained in the parlor, looking frequently out of the windows to see if the place was watched. It was unlikely they would find me so soon, but I dared take no chances.

"What is it, Miss Sackett? Whom do you watch for?"

For a moment I hesitated, then explained that two men had tried to rob me, and I feared they had followed me. Nevertheless, I must be about my business, and the sooner I returned to my hills, the better.

"If you wish to go by way of Wheeling," she suggested, "there is a coach leaving from an office on Water Street. It is a new line, but they have several stages."

"They will be watching the stages," I said, "and the steamboats too, I am afraid."

A thought came to me. "Coming here, I saw a number of wagons bunched in some vacant lots."

"Movers." Mrs. O'Brien's tone was disparaging.

"We all were movers at one time, Mrs. O'Brien," I said. "Even you when you left Ireland."

"I suppose so, but somehow it seems different."

"Settled folks always look down upon the unsettled," I said, "but somebody has to open the new lands. When they are settled in their homes, they will feel just as you do." A thought came to mind. "I am going down and look them over."

"Please! Be careful! A young girl like you! And you have to walk right past Mr. John Irwin's ropewalk. There are some mighty rough men thereabouts."

"I shall be all right."

Despite the smoke of the factories, which often hung low over the town, Pittsburgh had a beautiful site. I walked along, my reticule hanging from my shoulder to an inch below my hand.

At the ropewalk, men were busy making ropes, and although some of them glanced my way, they did not speak. One young man close to the street tipped his cap to me, and I bowed slightly to acknowledge it but did not smile or meet his eyes.

Beyond were at least two dozen wagons drawn up, where some children were running about, playing. A woman was hanging out her wash, several clothespins in her mouth. She looked very neat despite the work she was doing, and the two children playing nearby were clean and bright-looking.

I stopped. "Ma'am? May I speak with you a moment?"

She took the pins from her mouth and made a quick gesture to straighten her hair. "Why, of course. What can I do for you?"

"You are traveling. Would you by any chance be going toward Wheeling?"

"As a matter of fact, we are going that way."

"Ma'am, I want to go to Wheeling, and I can pay you a little." Before she could suggest it, I said, "I do not want to take the stage." Adding, "Some men are following me."

"It is very crowded, but - "

"I'm a mountain girl," I said. "I'm used to making do. I'll sit wherever you put me, and I'll help with the cooking. I'll tell stories to the youngsters - "

"Here comes Ralph, my husband. We will ask him."

He was a strongly-built man of about thirty-five, a man with a strong, determined look about him, but there was kindness, too.

"As far as Wheeling? Yes, we can take you." He had given me a quick, searching look. "It will cost you nothing, but if you could help with the children ... ?"

"I'll help, but I will pay, too," I said. "I will give you three dollars, and two more when we arrive."

"That's too much," he said. Then he grinned. "But we'll take it. Lord knows, living is expensive. I had hoped to find a job here but have had no luck, and it is too expensive to live here.

"Why, a simple room would cost me one hundred dollars for the year! One hundred dollars! Can you imagine? And beef is seven cents the pound ... even cornmeal is a dollar the bushel! I can't afford to stay on."

He glanced at me again. "We have no comforts, you know. It is just wagon travel, and we are loaded."

"She says she is a mountain girl, Ralph. She may be used to roughing it."

"Oh, I am! You need not worry about me. I shall try to disturb nothing and keep out of the way. One thing I ask. Don't mention the fact that I am going with you, and I shall join you before daybreak."

He looked at me again. "These men who are following you. What do they look like?"

My description was brief, but enough, I know. He nodded. "You'll not worry," he said. "You can stay inside the while, or get out and walk when you wish. I doubt if they will expect you to take that road."

Mrs. O'Brien was drinking coffee when I came into the kitchen. She gave me a quick look. "There's nobody about. I just looked. Drink your coffee. I've some soup heating up, so you can have a bit before you go."

"I'll just have time. You've been very kind."

"Think nothing of it. Just be careful."

Dark it was, and still. I donned my poke bonnet and peeked from the window. No light showed. It was very dark. Taking the bag in my left hand, I loosened the knot on the reticule and let my fingers grip the Doune pistol.

The room behind me was dark, and Mrs. O'Brien opened the door very quietly. "Go now, and the good Lord with you!"

A floorboard in the porch squeaked, and I stood very still, surveying all that was about me. Nothing moved. The air was damp from the river and there was a smell of wet cinders in the air. Tiptoeing down the steps, I started at once. It was three long city blocks to where the wagon waited. The first block was houses, all dark and still at this hour; the second was the ropewalk and a lumberyard with a stable adjoining; then the open area where the wagons waited.

It was going to be all right. I let go of the pistol and walked swiftly, gathering my skirts, not to let them rustle too much, for I wished to hear any small sound. The reticule dangled from my shoulder again. My carpetbag was heavy. I switched hands with it, but after a half-block, as I came up to the ropewalk, I changed hands again.

Far ahead of me I could see a faint glow from what must be a lantern. Ralph, harnessing his horses, no doubt. The shadows worried me. A body simply could not see -

The movement caught my ears too late. Rough hands seized me, and there was bad breath in my face. "Don't you scream, or I'll kill you sure. Now, you just listen to me.

"Tim is across the town watching at the stage station. You just be a good little girl, and I'll not tell him I found you."

He spoke softly. "I don't know where you figure on goin' this time of night, but I know what we can do, you an' me. We'll just - "

Lifting a boot, I stamped down hard on his instep and at the same time smashed back with my head into his face. He was taller than me, but my skull caught him on the chin and he let go, staggering back. Swinging the reticule by its strings, and it carrying my pistol, some shot, and a few coins, I caught him alongside the head. Small I may be, but I've worked hard my life through and am strong. The swinging reticule laid him out in the dust, pretty as you please. He groaned once, started to rise, then fell back. A moment I looked at him, not in the least sorry for him; then I went down and joined them at the wagon.

Several wagons were all ready to pull out, and Ralph said never a word, just motioned to the back of the wagon, and I climbed in and we were rolling.

Among the piled-up packages and rolls of bedding, I found a place to settle my back in a niche, and soon fell asleep, awakening to find it daylight and to see two round-eyed children staring at me.

"Well!" I said cheerfully enough. "My name is Echo, what's yours?"

The little girl looked away, twisting her fingers, but the boy said, "Jimmy. I am Jimmy Drennan, and this is my sister, Empily. She's scared."

"Empily?" I asked.

"Emily!" she said sharply. "Empily! He always calls me that!" Then she looked at me. "Is Echo a name?"

"It's my name," I said, "but, yes, it is a name. We use it for the echoing sounds we hear, but it was a name before that. Echo was the name of a nymph, a sort of sprite, I guess you'd say. She was always chattering, so Hera, who was a goddess, ruled that she should never speak first, and never be silent when anyone else spoke. But Echo fell in love with Narcissus, and when he died she pined away until only her voice was left."

"That's just a story!" Jimmy said.

"You're right, it is, but a very, very old story. When I first went to school, my teacher told me all that."

"Are you going to pine away until you are just a voice?" Jimmy asked.

"Probably not," I admitted. "I have never met Narcissus."

"You will," their mother said. She sat up. "I am Laura Drennan. I hope they aren't annoying you."

"You know they aren't. We don't have any young-uns where I live, and I miss them."

"Where is your home?"

"In the mountains of Tennessee. Away back in the hills. We have lots of bears back there."

"Do they eat people?" Jimmy demanded.

"Not often," I said, "although I suppose if they got really hungry, they might."

"You'veseen a bear? A wild bear? Up close?"

"Several of them. In fact, my uncle is laid up right now because of a fight he had with one. He was without his gun and he disturbed a bear that turned on him."

Ralph Drennan looked over his shoulder "You mean he fought a bear? Without a gun?"

"He had a knife and later a double-bit ax." She glanced at Jimmy. "That's an ax with two blades. He had to fight with what he had, but he killed the bear."

Ralph glanced at me, unbelieving, then turned back to his driving. There was silence in the wagon. Jimmy was the first to speak. "Did the bear bite him?"

"Several times. He clawed him pretty bad, too. Regal killed the bear, then dragged himself almost home. We found him by the spring when we went for water."

By midday we were winding along a very rough road through a dense forest, the trees so thick overhead that it was shadowed and still. Ours was the lead wagon, but Ralph Drennan's team was a good one and they moved steadily on, bumping over logs, squeezing past fallen trees, stopping occasionally to give the horses a breather.

His rifle lay in a corner of the wagon, and it looked to be almost new. I could not see the make of it, but it was a Lancaster rifle, I was sure of that.

"Do you hunt much?" I asked.

He looked over his shoulder. "I have hunted scarcely at all. Not since I was a boy. I have been working in the city," he added, "and decided there was little future for me there, so we decided to try pioneering. We are going to Kentucky," he said, "and probably to Missouri."

We moved on again, and I fell asleep. When I awakened again it was almost dark and the children were asleep; moving carefully, I worked my way to the front of the wagon.