Ride the River (1983) (13 page)

He was more the gentleman than anybody I'd ever met, knowing all the ways of them, and it was mighty fine, being treated like a lady, like you were something special. All the boys I knew treated me like one of them - I mean, not as if I was special. Although they were respectful enough, it just wasn't their way.

"Mr. Chantry," I said, "that Timothy Oats has something in mind. He means to have that carpetbag from me and I've got to outguess him. If I let him do as he's planned, he'll win, I know he will. Pa used to say, and Regal says the same, that a boy should never play the other man's game. If I stay on this steamboat I will be playing their game, and I think he's got a wheel turning with that Essie Buchanan, who shares my cabin. They've been talking, and - "

"I was going to speak to you about that," he said then. "You should not be sharing a cabin with a woman like that. It's a disgrace."

"It won't be for long," I said.

"It has been too long already. I shall speak to the captain."

"Don't you do it." I had looked up to see a man come into the main cabin. I saw him look around and I saw his eyes meet mine.

"We've troubles enough," I said. "There's Felix Horst!"

Chapter
13

For a minute or two I just sat there. Timothy Oats and Elmer did not worry me much, but Felix Horst was something different. I was afraid of him.

A body could see at a glance this was not only an evil man but a wily one. I would never have tricked him as I had Oats, nor would he have bothered to fight with that young Irishman. He would simply have killed him and chased after me, wasting no time. He wanted that money I carried, and meant to have it.

Oats had no doubt gotten Essie Buchanan to keep an eye on me, so if I got away, I had to slip away from her.

"Mr. Chantry," I said, "you have to help me. I am going to leave the steamer. I am going to get away. You can help me."

"How?" He was cautious, not trusting me or my ideas.

"You've got to ask me out to take a walk on the deck after supper. I mean" - I blushed a mite - "like you were courting me."

He studied me coolly. "And then what?"

"I slip off the boat. I get ashore and take off up the Big Sandy. I figure I can rent a horse or buy one. Or maybe a mule. Then I head for home."

"Not without me."

"Are you up to it? That there's rough country, Mr. Chantry. It won't be like riding to hounds. You'll be sky-hootin' it along ridges, dippin' down into hollows, you'll be pushin' through woods and brush and maybe have a mite of Injun trouble."

"Indians?What you are talking about isn't exactly the far west!"

"No, sir, but there's Indians. The Cherokee mostly know us Sacketts. Some of the others do, by reputation. The ones that know the Sackett name won't do us harm, but there's Shawnee around, too, and they aren't friendly with the Cherokee right now. The Creek, too, sort of go their own way."

I tried my coffee and it was still hot. "Have you got a rifle, Mr. Chantry?"

"A rifle? No, of course not. Not here."

"You'll need one, and so will I. I left mine at a tavern on the way, but it is some little distance. Regal an' Ma, they convinced me young ladies in Philadelphia do not carry rifles as a reg'lar thing."

"Can you actually shoot a rifle? You're serious?"

"Yes, sir, I have shot a rifle."

He did not take that seriously, I could see. In his world womenfolks danced, rode to hounds, partied around, and wore pretty clothes most of the time. Well, that was all right, but in the mountains things weren't quite like that.

"Mr. Chantry," I said after a bit, "we should smile more, like we were enjoying each other's company. Let Horst and them think something's going on betwixt us. If we act too serious, they are apt to get suspicious."

He smiled beautifully.

"There! That's better! A body would think you'd never courted a girl before."

"I am not exactly courting you, Miss Sackett. If you wish to deceive them, of course - "

"We've got to. We can't let them guess we're going to duck off this boat and head upcountry. I've got a map coming to me. A young officer promised he'd find one for me, or draw it."

"A young officer?" He raised an eyebrow. "You do get acquainted, Miss Sackett."

"Yes, sir, when it's necessary. He's a right handsome lad, too."

"You've talked to him?"

"Of course. Several times. He's the tall blond officer."

"I haven't noticed," he replied somewhat sharply.

"No reason why you should. You noticed Essie Buchanan, though, didn't you?"

"She intends to be noticed. She dresses to draw attention."

"And she gets it." I swallowed some coffee and then added, "She wanted me to meet some men. One of them, she said was very well-off."

"You didn't accept, I hope?"

"Well, no. But a girl has to think of her future, and most of the boys back in the hills are spoke for. You see, I am sixteen, and where I come from, that's almost an old maid."

"As I have said, I do not think Essie Buchanan is fit company for a young girl." He glanced at me in a very professorial manner. "She's what is known as a shady lady."

"Well, what do you know? I always wondered what one of them would look like. Regal's told me a good bit about them."

"And who is Regal?"

"I thought I told you about him. He's my uncle, and he goes round and about from time to time and is quite a man with the ladies. Right now he's laid up. Had him a little go-around with a bear."

"You mean he shot a bear?"

"Not exactly. This was a notorious bear, a trouble-making bear, and he tackled Regal, not knowin' he was a Sackett, so Regal had to kill him. Not until they'd disputed the subject, however."

"Killed him? How?"

"Mostly with a knife. He's got him one of those Tinker knives and he cut that bear up considerable. Finally did him in with his ax but not until the bear chawed on his leg and arm and clawed his ribs."

"You mean he killed a full-grown bear with a hunting knife and an ax?"

"Wasn't no other way. The bear wouldn't wait for him to fetch his shootin' iron, so they just had at it, an' Regal fetched him."

She looked at him seriously. "You ever eat much bear meat, Mr. Chantry? Grandma Sackett, she says there's no other way to raise a boy. Got to feed 'em bear meat when they're young. Ever' two, three days she'd take down her rifle-gun and fetch home a bear from the woods. Got so we had to move."

"Move? Why?"

"No more bears. She either killed 'em all or they just got tired of dodging her and taken off out of the country. Grandma, she was a caution.

"If you do come to the mountains with me, we'll feed you some bear meat. Good for you. Puts hair on your chest, Regal says."

He looked shocked. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything about hair on his chest. Young ladies didn't talk that way, I guess. No doubt where he lived young ladies weren't supposed to know that a man grew hair on his chest.

"I got to go now. I have to meet that young ship's officer. He should have that map for me."

He stood up, his features stern with disapproval. "I could have gotten a map for you," he protested.

"Here? On this boat? A chart of the bends and of the places they will stop?"

Walking forward to the rail which was just above the steps leading down to the cargo deck, I waited, watching the river. Suppose there was no stop? Could we leave the steamboat while it was moving? We would need a boat, of course, or a raft.

Robinson came along shortly. Hewas good-looking in his uniform coat and cap. He glanced around to see if we were watched, but there was nobody in sight.

"Here's the Big Sandy, right after we make the bend, after passing the Guyundat. The Indian Guyundat is a creek on the right side." He gave me a sharp look. "What d' you want to know all this for?"

"Mr. Robinson, you must tell nobody.Nobody , do you understand? I have to leave the boat and I do not want anyone to know.

"Mrs. Buchanan will certainly be asking. Tell her I've gone forward, tell her anything, but try to make her believe I am still aboard."

"But, ma'am, there's nothing there at Big Sandy! I mean, there's a landing. We'll nose into the bank there and load some freight, but it won't be more than five minutes."

"That's all I need. But please! Don't tell anyone! Not even the captain!"

"Somebody will see you."

"Maybe, maybe not. I hope not."

He had drawn a dark line on paper showing the river and where the various creeks came into it. I studied it for a few minutes after he was gone, and then returned to my cabin. Essie Buchanan was not there, so I looked through the carpetbag to make sure everything was all right. I did not know what they intended, but suspected they planned to rob me when I left the boat in Cincinnati.

Our arrival at Big Sandy would be very late. If I could I would smuggle the carpetbag out of the cabin when Essie had gone to supper, passing it through the outer door to Dorian Chantry.

What did the arrival of Felix Horst mean? Had he received some knowledge that the others had failed? But how could he know that?

No, Horst must have some plan of his own. Perhaps he wanted me to be far enough away from Philadelphia or Pittsburgh and in a place where it would take time for word to get back, if it ever did. People were often lost on the river, and the Cave-in-the-Rock had been a hideout for outlaws for years.

Horst was no fool and he would not want to risk being taken by the law again. He would know how much money I was carrying and he would choose his time very carefully.

The day passed slowly. Green Bottom Ripple, a dangerous place, was negotiated with care. I watched the creeks to check them off in my mind; then I went back to my cabin and lay down on my berth. I wanted to rest before the coming night.

Essie Buchanan came in. "What's the matter, dearie? Not feeling well?"

"I've a headache," I lied, "Just not feeling well, I guess, or maybe it's ague. I've had fever an' chills all the morning. I think I'll just lie here."

"Want me to bring you something?"

"No, thanks. I'll just rest."

At suppertime I went to the main cabin, and as Essie was at another table and could not observe, ate well enough. Dorian Chantry sat across from me.

There were folks sitting close by, so we could not talk of what we planned, nor about ourselves. There was time to look around and see those who traveled with us. One was an Englishman, interested in western America, who wanted to know everything. He asked a sight of questions and it seemed like he was suspicious of answers. He evidently had a different idea in his mind than what he was discovering to be true, and was uneasy about it.

He was surprised to find so many people reading Dickens, Scott, Thackeray, and the lot, although I don't know why. A lot of western folks were readers, and books were precious things, hard to come by and much treasured.

"Miss Sackett? Do you read? I mean for pleasure?"

"Of course."

"You have books in your home?"

"Mighty few. Pa used to lend books, and somehow they never seemed to come back. My Uncle Regal, he took to Scott. When I was no bigger than a button he was always recitingLochinvar or something fromMannion ."

"From memory?"

"Of course. We Sacketts all have good memories. Part of it comes natural, part of it is from learning. When folks don't have many books, they have to learn their history by heart. We learned the way ancient people did, like the bards of the Irish or the Welsh.

"It is a good deal like traveling across country. A body lines up on a peak or a tree or something in the way of a landmark, then as he walks, he checks the backtrail, which always looks different. We learn to pick out a tree here, a rock there, or something of the sort to guide us. Once seen, we don't forget it.

"Pa, he started teaching us that when we were youngsters, as his pa did before him. It was the same with history or the folks in our family. We learn about the principal Sackett of a time, and all the folks connected to him. You mention any one of the family back three, four hundred years and we can tell you who he or she was married to and what happened to their get. Their children, that is."

"I never heard of such a thing!"

"You mention Barnabas, now. He was the first of us in this country, and any Sackett can tell you what ship he crossed on, who his friends were, where he settled, and how."

"It must have been some such means that was used by the druids."

My eyes were wide and innocent. "I suspect so." I purposely sounded vague. I had talked as much about that as I was going to.

Dorian asked me many questions, and I noticed he was listening carefully. From time to time he glanced at me curiously, as if wondering about some of my answers. Ginery Wooster was setting back in his chair, seeming to pay us no mind, but he was listening, too.

"We all remember that way, after a fashion," I said. "Somebody says 'George Washington,' and right away you think of Mount Vernon, of 1776, of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, Valley Forge and all that, and each one of those things tips you off to another set of memories.