The Traherns #1 (4 page)

The chairs I kept, the dresser and
rug, also, but the heavy four-poster bed had to go. The large feather mattress
would make a good bed by itself as it was light and could be easily moved
around, so it stayed.

Stepping down from the wagon, I
walked over to Axel's wagon and explained what I wanted to do. Hedda shook her
head at the decision, her woman's heart—like mine—saddened by the
loss of such beauty; but Axel agreed. "It's too heavy, Mama, you know
that. Mallory's only doing what Edith should 'a done."

You could see it brought Hedda
sorrow, but she hadn't been in that overloaded wagon today, watching the mules
fight gallantly to pull against the current. He accompanied me over to the
wagon and helped me lift the pieces out and replace what I had decided to keep.

"What should I do with their
clothing?" I asked. "Aunt Edith was smaller than I am; none of her
things will fit me."

"They might fit Hedda. I'll
ask her. And your Uncle Dem was a tall man, taller than any of us here, but we
could always cut it shorter. Most of us are well kitted out, but you could see
if some of his stuff might fit that there wounded man Web brought in. He hadn't
a stitch to his name when Web found him."

I'd forgotten about him.
"What happened exactly?"

"Injins stripped him and
staked him out in an ant hill. They were sitting around, watching, cutting him
up some to help the ants along when Web got there. He wasn't very pretty when
Web brought him in. We threw a blanket over him so as you women folk wouldn't
see."

"D'you think it was the same
group that attacked us?"

"Could've been. Don't rightly
know."

"He's still alive,
though?"

"Yeah. Web's got him in
Cordell's wagon. He was shot a couple of times. Web’s been fixin’ him up. Said
it'll take more'n that to kill that gent."

"Then if he can use Uncle
Dem's things, let him have 'em."

"I'll mention it. When he's
well enough, he can try 'em on."

"Thanks, Axel. I want to do
this while I still can."

"What does that mean?"

"As we were pulling out
today, I had to get Barney to help me re-hitch the mules. They'd gotten tangled
during the attack and I couldn't untangle them. I delayed the whole train.
Later Mr. Hayes stopped by and told me that with us being short-handed and all,
he expected me to handle my own affairs and not be calling on the men for help.
Said the women folk wouldn't like it, their husbands always running off to help
me, and that Barney's mother needed him now that Duncan was hurt."

"He told you that, huh?"

"Yes. I can see why. Already
I've had to ask you to help unload my wagon."

"I don't mind."

"No, but Hedda might, if I
keep asking you. And I don't really dare ask anyone else."

"I'll speak to Hedda. And to
Mr. Hayes."

"Don't, Axel, please. Let's
see how I get along first. Having the wagon lighter will mean I can ride in it
and save some strength that way. I won't have to help push it across gullies
the way Uncle Dem was doing and it should take the rivers better. I might not
have to call upon anyone very often."

"Alright, but you be careful.
Some things a woman just can't handle alone. Now come and have some supper with
us."

"Oh, Axel, I shouldn't."

"Hedda always fixes more than
we can eat. I usually get it again the next day, so come along and have some.
You don't eat much and you haven't even had time to get a fire going, much less
fix anything."

Hedda had some stew in the pot and
I ate hungrily. I thanked her and would've helped clean up but she told me to
hasten back to my own work. I filled a bucket with water and poured in lots of
dried beans. They could soak all night and I would cook them tomorrow evening.

I might have to live on beans for
the rest of the trip, but at least I would eat. I could reheat them in the pot
each time until they were a mash, then I would start frying them. Any meat or
vegetables I come by could be thrown in the pot. It would still be more food
that I'd had on my long walk out of the Tennessee hills.

The funeral had been quick and
short. I had removed my uncle's knife and gun and both their shoes, knowing
that the living could use them more. Other than that, I had buried them as they
lived, side by side.

The shock of loss was still in me
and I didn't cry until that evening, as I put away some of my uncle's things.
If that stranger could wear them, he was right welcome to help himself. I made
up a large bundle and set it aside and sure enough, Web came around, asking how
I was doing.

CHAPTER
FOUR

“We’ll see how well I do as we git
further on,” I told him, and handed him the bundle of clothes. “Here’s some
things for that there wounded man.”

"Thanks, Mallory. He'll
appreciate this. We tried to put some of Cordell's things on him and got a good
laugh."

"The rest is here for him.
He's welcome to all of Uncle Dem's things." I had no use for a razor or
any of Uncle Dem's personal items, come to that. I had my Pa's knife and guns,
although my uncle's rifle was better than Pa's.

"Wait a bit," I said and
reached over to where the weapons lay. I had never shot Uncle Dem's rifle and
wasn't about to give it up without trying it out first, but a man needs to be
armed in this land and a pistol and knife would see him until I had decided
which rifle I wanted. I added these to the pile.

"That's right generous of
you."

"He can have a rifle, too,
soon as I try Uncle Dem's out and see which one I'd want to keep myself."

"That was a fine piece of
shooting you did back there. Necessary."

"Thanks." Web wasn't a
man to be loose with his praise, so I knew he meant it and it pleased me to
have this frontiersman say that. It hadn't been difficult—men are larger
than squirrels—but I'd never shot a man before and shooting them had
brought an additional, sick feeling of loss that added to the empty loss of my
uncle and aunt. It had been them or me, but it still bothered me that I'd taken
lives.

Women were born to give life, not
to take it; to heal not to hurt.

Right now I felt like I had been
born tired. As soon as Web left, I flopped down on that feather mattress,
pulled a blanket over me and passed out.

Mr. Hayes called me at daybreak to
ride out with Elliot and him to guard the stock being herded out on the grass
again. I grabbed my rifle, pistol and hat and climbed out, realizing this was
one of Uncle Dem's jobs that I'd forgotten about. I wasn't even going to have
time to fix breakfast if this kept up. And for sure there'd be no chance to fix
a bait of lunch to eat as I went along.

I saddled Uncle Dem's horse,
Comfort, and swung on, having a harder time getting my leg over the horn but
knowing it'd be easier to stay on than it had been on Elliot's flat saddle. It
was almost as good as a sidesaddle, for the horn gave me something to grip with
my right leg. The stirrup was too long and I had to dismount to unlace it and
move it shorter. I didn't bother with the other stirrup, for the men were
untying the stock and I had to untie my mules and take them out, too. And all
the time Comfort was doing a skittish dance of his own, having never carried a
woman with skirts.

He would get used to them and I
spoke to him constantly, assuring him that all that cloth wasn't going to hurt
him none. Uncle Dem had used a slicker in the rain, so cloth things weren't
totally foreign to him, but it did make the ride out more interesting, with him
rolling his eyes around until the whites showed.

The stock had already put their
heads down and were making the most of the tall grass when I rode up. Comfort
started eating as soon as I stopped him and I sat there, rifle in hand,
watching the grass around us. I had found out the day before how little cover
an Indian needs to hide in and this tall grass could've hid a whole tribe. The
animals weren't paying no mind and they usually would raise their heads and
look if they were aware of anything unusual.

Elliot Hayes rode up and wanted to
talk, but I motioned him away. If he wanted to sit here, in this spot, then he
could and I'd go back to the wagons. He gave me a cheerful "Good
Morning" in spite of the grumpy look I gave him and made me feel right
ashamed before he rode off.

We let them eat for two hours
before bringing them back in. By the time I'd separated out my four mules,
hitched two of them to the wagon, and got the other two in harness and ready to
be hitched up when the other wagons pulled away and left me room, there wasn't
time left for me to fix anything to eat. Mr. Hayes was rushing everyone through
their chores and out onto the trail as if pursued by a swarm of bees.

I was hungry and my stomach
growling. Today was my day to lead, but I told the family behind me to pull out
and go first, putting me at the end again. There was no way I could move until
the others moved and when they did, I got the tongue straightened out and those
two mules hitched up right quick. It didn't take me long to close the gap.

It was a lovely day, not too hot
or too cold right then and I got to feeling if I could figure out how to eat on
the fly I might make it. I left those mules to follow on their own accord and
climbed back into the wagon to check what food I had. The beans were soaked and
ready to cook; I'd fix them tonight regardless of how tired I was.

For now I fixed up a mixture of
uncooked corn meal, water and sorghum molasses and drank it. It wasn't too bad
and made my stomach happy. I climbed back up front to see my mules were still
following the train but they had lagged quite a bit and had to be urged to
close up ranks again. I had brought my comb up with me and combed out that long
mane of hair I had before covering it over again with my hat and scarf.

People came by to visit on and off
all day and to offer their sympathy, so I didn't get much rest. To some folks,
visiting is relaxing, but I've never been that big on words and they don't come
that easy to me. But it was thoughtful of them to make the effort and I thanked
them for their words.

Even better, when Hedda came by at
the noon rest, she brought me a hunk of bread and cheese. And a message.

It seemed the word was out not to
help me any more than they would help another man. Thus I could expect help if
my wagon wheel busted and another needed to be put on, but I would have to pull
my own weight and lift my own burdens as I had claimed I could.

I would also have to hunt my own
meat and gather my own fuel. Axel and Hedda figured Mr. Hayes was planning to
force me into marriage, preferably with his son, Elliot, and they were very
upset.

Doing double work was wearing me
down already and I remembered how hard it had been on the mountain farm with Pa
gone and Ma sick. This was worse, for then at least there was time to eat. I
wolfed down Hedda's food, pondering the situation, and didn't like it at all.

"You could leave this wagon
and come with us, Mallory," she suggested. It was kind of her, but she and
Axel were overly crowded the way it was. I had learned that during our long
journey to the Missouri River.

Back then, with nothing, I had
been able to help them and them me. But now that I had possessions, I was tied
to them. I could give up the wagon and Uncle Dem's plow and seed and food, but
then I'd be right back to where I started.

A woman alone had a hard time of
it in the west, but a woman without any assets whatsoever would find it
impossible. I would be a constant burden to them that way. This way...well if I
had to, I could always trade or sell Uncle Dem's outfit for enough money to get
me started somewhere.

It would even buy me a husband, I
thought. There were several young men in that train driving beat-up wagons that
would marry me instantly to get their hands on that outfit. The wagon alone was
a prime possession, better than Mr. Hayes' and better than Calvert Smith's and
they were both well off.

Uncle Dem had been an artist with
tools and his work reflected it. He had built the wagon himself, over a period
of a year, making something that would last for years. I wasn't about to leave
it on the plains, and the man I sold it to would have to come up with enough
money to persuade me to part with it.

Cash money was scarce. There would
be no one in this train able to buy this outfit from me. If any of these lads
wanted it they would have to marry me. Knowing this helped me understand what
was happening over the next three days.

I wouldn't see nothing but dust from
those wagons all day long and no help either morning or night with any of my
labor. I'd gotten my beans cooked and was living on them, eating them cold all
day and cooking them anew at night. My mules were used to following by
now—trail broke—and I would pick up buffalo chips for fuel.

Trouble was, so was everyone else
in the train, and I was the last wagon. They would send their kids scampering
out for them and the women would pick up the closer ones and throw them into a
sling hung under the wagon. I ended up with slim pickings, barely enough to
heat coffee.

But worse...after all the work was
done and I was ready to turn in, the boys would come a’courtin', with wild
flowers or a sweet or just spruced up and talkative. They had plenty of time
for me, then, and I would have been flattered if it wasn't so obvious. What
with my flaming hair and Uncle Dem's outfit, I was the prize catch. Only I
didn't want to be caught.

But the idea had been planted by
Mr. Hayes and like a swiftly blooming desert plant it was beginning to grow and
then flower in my mind. It sure would be nice to have a partner take on his
share of the work.

I'm 'shamed to say I didn't last
long. The tireder I got, the better those men began to look. By the end of my
first week I was so exhausted I fell asleep driving, so sound asleep I didn't
even know that the mules had stopped and had started to graze.

Mr. Hayes shouted me awake as he
rode back to get me. I sat bolt upright, startled silly. If there had been
Indians about, I'd have lost my hair plus the wagon. It was time to face the
unpleasant facts and Mr. Hayes knew it as well as I.

Like Adam, I needed a helpmeet; an
answer to my problems. God didn't give Adam any choice at all and Mr. Hayes
wasn't giving me much of one either.

"I want your answer tonight,
Miss Buchanan. Marriage or else leave this wagon behind and join one of the
families. Let me know after supper."

"Yessir." I flipped the
reins and put those mules into a fast trot to catch up with the rest who were
already about a quarter mile away. It didn't take long to die in this country.
I'd been lucky. A wagon alone was fair game.

If I gave up the wagon, I would be
penniless again. If I could somehow hang onto it.... But I couldn't, without
help.

I could give it away to one of the
families in exchange for their helping me get out to Oregon. Most were well
supplied and not needing anything of mine, just a few had mighty poor outfits.
But those who did have poor outfits were a shiftless lot; careless and mean.

There was a man and his wife and
three grown daughters traveling in the train. They were always quarreling among
themselves as to who was to do the work. The man expected the womenfolk to do
most of it and he a big burly man. One time I saw one of the girls pitch out of
their tent headfirst and his booted foot visible in the air behind her.

I couldn't think of anyone I
wanted to give the wagon to; anyone I wanted to join. Except for Axel and
Hedda. But they were well equipped and needed what food they had for
themselves. Not one more mouth to feed.

So I shook my tired mind awake and
pondered on those men who had come to pester me each night.

I’d wanted to marry a handsome
man, and the smoothest talker and most handsome of the lot was Calvert Smith.
He was clean and neat and kept a good outfit. He was twenty-three; old enough
to be settled down. But I liked his Tennessee Walker better'n him. Maybe it was
the way he could twist words around. Maybe it was the insincerity of his
compliments. Maybe it was the sly gleam in his eye he sometimes got. Whatever,
he made my skin crawl, like when lightning is dancing on the hilltops. Or was I
just imagining it?

Cordell Knast was the same age as
Calvert Smith, kind enough, but a slow thinking, heavy, dirty and shiftless
man. Gareth Madison was a slow thinker too, about twenty years old. If he ever
took a bath so that I didn't instinctively step upwind of him every time he
came near, I might give him serious thought. Would I ever be able to get him to
clean up? He hadn't thought it necessary when he came a-courtin'.

Elliot Hayes was like his father.
Unforgiving and hard. I didn't want to turn out like Hannah. The more I knew of
her, the less I liked her husband, Burt. And if I married Elliot, I'd be
marrying into that family, for Elliot showed no desire to be independent of his
father.

That was about it. Barney was too
young. Charlie Web too old. Still, maybe Web was the answer.

Uncle Dem had said to go to Web
for advice. Web saw the men when they weren't putting on a front for the
women-folk. He would know them better'n I did. I'd ask him who to marry.

My mind had been struggling all
this time to fight off sleep. When I decided to get Web's advice, it just gave
up and lit out. This time the mules kept up for there wasn't any grass and all
were traveling slowly because of the rocks. Web woke me as he rode by and I
looked up to see the wagons ahead circling for the night.

I moved like a sleepwalker,
getting the mules unhitched and unharnessed. My cooked beans would only last
another day and I'd be back to eating cornmeal and sorghum again until I could
get the bean pot washed and a fresh batch soaked.