Santa Fe Woman (6 page)

“There was some liquor involved and a fight, and a man got shot. I ain’t sayin’ he didn’t deserve it, but he had some influential friends. If you go see Sheriff Oswalt and explain it all, I think he’d be willin’ to put Rocklin on probation.”

That was the essence of Blanchard’s visit. He had offered to write a letter to the man called Rocklin if someone decided to go look into the matter, and just before he left, he cautioned them. “I’m warnin’ you, the Staked Plains ain’t like Little Rock.”

As soon as Blanchard was gone, Jori said, “My head’s swimming. I don’t know how to think.”

“Well, I do,” Kate said. “I still believe God wants us to go.”

“You may be right, Kate,” Leland said. “It’s a big thing, and it’s so—so unorganized.”

Kate suddenly laughed. “You think like a stockbroker, that everything has to be organized.”

“Well, someone has to make plans.”

“Of course they do, and that’s what we’re doing. But it’s not going to be like a trip to Central Park,” Kate said. She thought for a moment and said, “You know, I imagine when Moses struck the rock and the water poured out; some folks were complaining because he didn’t use a fancier stick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Aunt Kate?” Mark asked with irritation.

“It means we’re gonna have to use any kind of stick we can get to keep this family together, and this is the one that I see is in front of us.”

The talk went on for over an hour, and finally Leland shook his head. “Remember the preacher last week preached on Moses, how that he prayed for his people when they were in battle. He held his hands up, and as long as he held them up, Joshua and the soldiers won. But when his arms grew tired and he dropped them, the army of Israel failed. Well,” he said in a weary voice, “I’m like Moses, only it’s my thoughts that are so tired that I can’t seem to hold them up.”

At that instant Jori Hayden knew she had to step to her father’s aid. Mark was too unstable. She was the oldest child and the strongest in many ways. She said strongly, “I think Aunt Kate’s right. We’ve got to do this. I’ll go to Fort Smith at once and talk to the sheriff there about getting this man Rocklin.”

“But he’s an outlaw, or an almost outlaw,” Mark protested.

“I’d use Blackbeard if I had to to make a new life for ourselves, Mark,” Jori said. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning!”

THE NARROW-GAUGED, WOOD-BURNING ENGINE that had pulled the four cars from Little Rock to Fort Smith had passed out of the flatlands into mountain country. Jori ignored the cinders that came in from the window that some of the passengers opened despite the cold and enjoyed the green forest of firs and pines that covered the sides of the Ozarks.

The train pulled into Fort Smith emitting a shrill banshee scream, and when Jori saw Fort Smith itself she was disappointed. The town was a rough collection of false wooden fronts, and a wide central street had been churned to a sea of brown mud by late rains. Getting up from her seat, Jori moved stiffly down the aisle, thinking grimly
How could anything good come out of
this mudhole?
The conductor, a bulky, red-faced individual with a pair of piercing blue eyes, reached up to take her hand, grunting, “Watch your step, miss.” She took his hand, placed her foot on the steel portable step, and gave him a brief smile of thanks as she stepped down.

A quick look revealed a shabby building that had once been painted a brilliant turkey red, but time had weathered it to a faded brown. She waited until her suitcase was tossed off by a tall brakeman, then looked around to find someone to carry it,
but there was no one. Only two people had gotten off the train, an elderly woman who was greeted by a younger couple and a short, rotund soldier wearing a rumpled private’s uniform. He gave her a careless glance, then headed for town.

“Can I help you, miss?”

Jori turned to see a tall individual who was bundled up in a heavy overcoat. His Adam’s apple was the most prominent feature, and he had a rather foolish grin.

“Can you tell me how to find the sheriff’s office?”

“Why shore, ma’am. Go on down to that big street there, and you take the second turn. Ain’t no trouble to find. Anybody can tell you. You in trouble that you need a sheriff?”

Jori smiled at the man’s curiosity. “Not really,” she said. “Thank you very much.” Stepping inside the station, she found herself facing a small man with a face turned blue by the cold who greeted her at once. “Help you, miss?”

“I’d like to leave my luggage here, please.”

“I’ll take that for you.” The agent took Jori’s bag, but before putting it way, he cocked his head to one side then asked, “Staying long in town, are you?”

“Not too long,” Jori smiled, wondering if everyone in Fort Smith examined newcomers. Stepping outside, she followed the wide cinder path that led to the main street. The two lines of false front stores and shops were flung out apparently without thought, for they did not align themselves with the main street. As she moved forward she found herself depressed by the town. The people she passed, both men and women, were roughly dressed, and most men, it seemed, chewed tobacco.

As the train bellowed shrilly and left the town behind, Jori made her way down to the boardwalk that lined the edges of the streets. She passed by a hardware store, a blacksmith shop, and a
milliner’s with delicate hats in the window, which surprised her.
What woman living in this mudhole would buy fancy hats?

As she drew even with one of the saloons, a sudden explosion startled her. A man sitting in a chair tilted back against a storefront had just fired down the alleyway at some sort of target that she could not see. Twisting his head, he grinned at her and lifted the rifle. “Howdy, ma’am. You’re new in town, I reckon?”

Does everybody want to know your personal business in Fort
Smith?
Jori thought with some irritation. The man turned his head slightly and loosed a flow of amber tobacco juice. Some of it hit the ground, some ran down his beard which was already crusted.

“I’m looking for the sheriff’s office.”

“Why, you want me to take you down there, sweetheart?”

“No, thank you. If you could just tell me how to find it.”

“Go right down that there street and take the next turn to the right. If you’re stayin’ in town, they’re havin’ a dance tonight. Maybe me and you can do some fancy dancin’.”

“Thank you, no. I won’t be here that long.”

Jori continued down the street until she reached the intersection. She turned right and at once saw a sign across the street: JAIL AND SHERIFF’S OFFICE.

“Hey, there, honey, come on up! You look like you need a real man!”

Startled, Jori looked up to see two barred windows, both of them outlining men who were staring down at her. They called down with crude remarks, and she hurriedly entered the office.

“Well, ma’am, you caught me off guard.”

The speaker was a rotund individual but appeared hard as a rock. He was sitting in a chair with one bare foot up on the desk and a pair of huge shears in one hand. He held the foot
steady with the other hand and took a cut. The toenail sailed off, and the individual grunted with satisfaction. “Pardon me, ma’am. Didn’t expect no visitors. I’m Sheriff Oswalt.” He stuffed his foot into a boot and came to his feet. His eyes were an unusual shade of gray, and he had a huge sweeping mustache that almost hid his mouth. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“My name is Jori Hayden. I need to speak to one of your prisoners, Sheriff Oswalt.”

“Well, now, which one would that be, Miss Hayden?”

“His name is Rocklin.”

“Oh, yeah, Chad. You be wantin’ to see him?” For a moment he struggled, and Jori was certain that he was attempting to keep himself from asking,
Why would you want to see him?
He managed to overcome the temptation, and suddenly Jori decided it would be best to talk to him first.

“Do you have a few moments, sheriff?”

“Why, certain I do, ma’am. Here, take this cheer.” Oswalt came around the desk, moving quite quickly for such a big man. With one hand he swept a calico cat off of the cane-bottom chair saying, “Git, Ginger!” then dragged it around in front of his desk. He waited until she was seated then went back and took his seat behind the desk. “Exactly whut is it you’d like to talk about? Is it official business?”

“Oh, yes. I live in Little Rock with my family….”

As Jori told the story—at least all that she thought the sheriff might want to hear—she noticed that he had a habit of twisting his mouth to one side as if he were trying to shake off a fly. There was no fly, so she assumed it was purely nerves. Finally she ended by saying, “… so you see our friend Mr. Blanchard believes that your prisoner would be the best man to lead a wagon train to Santa Fe.”

“Wal, now, you know he’s been arrested and waitin’ trial?”

“I don’t know much about the details, sheriff. Is it serious?”

Oswalt rocked back and forth in his seat, and his mouth twitched rapidly. “Wal, yes—and no. It was an argument over some whiskey that somehow got sold to some Indians. That’s against the law around here, don’t you see? I ain’t been able to get the right of it yet. As far as I know Chad ain’t never been in the business of sellin’ liquor to nobody, but he was there. There was a shootin’, and they’s about half a dozen different stories. A fellow was shot up and died—and there’s gonna be a trial of everybody that was mixed up with it.”

“Would it be possible at all for Rocklin to be released in my custody?”

Oswalt shook his head thoughtfully, then took out a cigar from his inner pocket. He bit the end off, spit it on the floor, then struck a kitchen match on the desk leaving another track on the scarred surface. He held the tip of the cigar in the glowing flame until it was puffing nicely then finally he said, “I reckon that might be done. I think myself Rocklin was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Judge Chatham, he’s liable to think different.”

“But do you have the authority to turn him loose?”

“I guess I can do that. The other fellers might holler some.” A faint humor stirred in Oswalt’s eyes. “Don’t reckon as how you’d want to take the other three, too? Save the taxpayers the cost of a trial.”

Jori smiled. The sheriff seemed an amiable enough man. “No, but I would very much like to have you release the prisoner to my father. He’s a very respectable businessman in Little Rock. You could check with the governor there. They’re good friends.”

“Wal, now, I’ll tell you what, Miss Hayden. I’ll let you talk to Rocklin, and if he agrees, I’ll take your word for it and we can work
out the details.” He got up suddenly from his chair, saying cheerfully, “We got a room down here where you can talk private like.”

Jori followed Sheriff Oswalt down the hall saturated with the odor of old cabbage and rank bodies. He opened a door that had a hasp and a padlock on the outside. “I’ll have to lock you in when I bring him, you understand?”

“Of course, sheriff.”

Jori entered and found that the furnishings consisted of two battered chairs and one table even more dilapidated. She sat down cautiously in the chair and waited. One small window admitted a pale shaft of light that touched a battered cuspidor, which had been overused it seemed to her. She waited nervously arranging in her mind the speech that she would make to Rocklin. It was a task that she had not looked forward to, but something that had to be done.
I must be crazy coming here like this. How can we
put our trust in a man we know nothing about—except that he’s in
jail.
Finally she heard steps coming down the corridor, then the sheriff opened the door and said, “Here he is, ma’am. Chad, this here is Miss Hayden. Miss Hayden, this is Rocklin. Like I say, I’ll have to lock the door.”

“You sure I’ll be safe with her, Billy?”

Chad Rocklin was not what Jori had expected. She was prepared to see someone more brutal, but Rocklin appeared pleasant enough. He was a tall man, over six feet she guessed. His face was wedge shaped and topped by thick tawny hair roughly cut. His eyes, deep set and wide spaced, were a startling shade of light blue. He had a straight English nose, a cleft chin, and she noted a scar along his left jawbone going down into his shirt collar. He wore buckskins, dirty and shrunk until they fitted his lean body almost like a second skin, and he wore moccasins such as she had never seen before.

His eyes were fixed on her, and he had a slight smile on his broad lips. For some reason this made Jori nervous—and this angered her. She had expected to dominate the man, but she could tell this was not going to happen.

“You behave yourself now, Chad, you hear me?”

“You know, Billy, I think it’d be better if you gave me one of those good cigars of yours. It’d calm my nerves down, and I wouldn’t be as likely to attack this young woman.”

Oswalt suddenly laughed, reached into his pocket, and came out with a cigar and three matches. “If I thought givin’ you a cigar would make a respectable citizen out of you, I’d of given you one a long time ago, Chad. Miss Hayden, you just holler when you’re ready to leave.”

The door closed behind the sheriff, and Jori heard the lock go into the hasp. She found it difficult to think of a way to talk to the man, and finally blurted out, “I need to talk with you.” It sounded inane, and she saw Rocklin stare at her curiously, then move over to the window where he stood looking out without saying a word. He seemed to have forgotten Jori, and she tried to think of some way to speak of her mission.

“I miss birds in this place.”

“I’m sure. Rocklin, I would like to—”

“I saw a bird die once.” Rocklin’s voice was soft as a summer breeze and had a hint of the South in it.

The sentence seemed senseless and had absolutely nothing to do with what was in Jori’s mind. “What’s unusual about that? Lots of birds die,” she said with asperity.

Rocklin turned to face her. He leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms. She noticed that his hands were square and very strong looking. “It was on the Missouri in the headwaters. I had been trapping beaver, and I looked up and saw this
bird straight over my head not over fifteen feet up, flying as hard as you please. I was about to look back at the trap I was baiting when suddenly he just fell out of the sky.”