The Traherns #1 (2 page)

Aunt Edith protested until he
threatened to throw off the rest of the furniture. He wasn't going to kill the
mules pulling that over the prairie; their health meant our lives. It made for
a lot more room and I spent the morning re-arranging things so as to make a
place to lie down in there, just behind the driver's seat. That way Aunt Edith
and I could take turns driving and resting.

Uncle Dem had loaded the stove and
piano on last, so as he could get them off easily. He hadn't planned on
carrying that stuff very far. Looked like he knew how to handle his wife after
all.

We were on good roads, traveling
through beautiful country along the Kansas River and soon got used to seeing
Indians. There were many about, most of them following the wagons begging food.
Someone would throw them a piece of bread and they would run after it and pick
it up, then someone else would throw some, till they looked like little
chickens after an old hen.

One lady laughed at the many
Indian stories she had heard, not believing they would give us any bother. Web
reminded her that the plains Indians were a different lot than these we were seeing
now, and to wait judgment until the trip was ended.

Web was a western man, probably in
his forties, a lot more quiet and cautious than most of those making the trip.
I just naturally took to him, watching and listening and trying to figure out
why he did what he did.

Some things I already knew, for we
had Indian friends back in our mountains that used to come see Pa. I was also a
quiet person, and I know I was a puzzle to Aunt Edith who talked whether there
was anyone around to listen or not. When my ears got to hurting from her
chatter, I just dropped off the wagon and walked along beside, falling back until
I was out of earshot.

Now every group needs a leader and
after we had been out on the trail for three days and kinda got acquainted, we
stopped to rest, wash up and have us an election. The men had worked out shifts
and duties among themselves, but they wanted someone in charge as wagon master.
They had a little discussion and finally chose Mr. Hayes.

He was a hard man who would take
no sass from anybody. He'd been a colonel in the war, used to giving orders and
expecting others to obey them. Right away security was tightened up and guards
were mounted, putting an end to the haphazard methods we were using.

The first thing he had us do was
to commence circling our wagons at night. Web gave a long speech—for
him—on how to react if Indians attacked as we traveled. The lead wagon
changed every day as each took turns, so if there was time, whoever was in the
lead needed to head for a knoll if any were in the immediate vicinity and
circle the top so as to let us fire downward. The wagons were to be left hitched,
with the stock headed inward, except for the lead wagon. Then if we had to run
for it, we could.

At night after we had formed our
circle, the teams were to be unhitched and the wagons pulled close together by
hand. The stock were to be herded out on the best grass, then brought in and
tied to the outside wheels for the night. In the morning the stock was allowed
to graze again until it was time to hitch them and leave.

Web said the stock was always to
be closely guarded. We found out the reason for this two days later when our
train came up to a group where the women were sitting around crying and the men
were standing in groups talking very earnestly and not a hoof in sight. They'd
left their stock out a little way from the wagons to feed without any guards,
and the Indians had seen their opportunity and run between them and their stock
and run them all off.

We had to travel on and what
became of those foolish people we never heard. No one had as yet complained
about the tighter security, and after that it was for sure no one would.

It took about three months to get
to Oregon, and the trains leaving early in the year found good grass along the
way and hit the passes as they were clearing of snow. Late trains went short of
feed and were in danger of not getting across the Rockies.

With the weather being bad and
all, I had kept pretty well wrapped up and nobody paid me any mind, but the sun
began to dry out the land and heat up the days and one morning I took off my
coat and scarf and tossed them into the wagon. It felt nice, walking along
without that heavy coat making two of me to every step.

I shook out my hair and was
stepping out lively when Web rode by. He was on his way out to scout ahead of
the train for good grass and water for the stock, which he did every day.
Anyway, he just reined in his horse and stared at me.

CHAPTER
TWO

I squinted up into the sun,
looking back at Web.

"Mallory?"

"Hi, Web."

He was looking like he couldn't
believe his eyes. "You been hiding that hair all this time? You best cover
it up again, girl."

He didn't make sense. "Why?
What's wrong?" Even as I said it, I thought of Pa.

"Injins see that, we'll be
fighting 'em off the whole trip."

"You really think I
should?"

"Other folks see it, there'll
be a heap of trouble."

"What other folks?"

"Too late," he muttered,
as Calvert Smith rode up and smiled broadly at me.

Mr. Smith was a young man, around
twenty-three, traveling alone with a nice outfit. He had hired an old soldier,
Joe Peters, to drive his rig, while he himself rode a fancy stepping Tennessee
Walker stallion. He had nice clothes and two pearl handled revolvers, stovepipe
boots and a long black coat that he had discarded today also. He was all
dressed up with white shirt and a velvet vest. A handsome man and he knew it.

He had taken to riding out ahead
with Web, scouting for grass, but today he didn't seem interested in going and
Web called out Burt Hayes' boy, Eliot, to go with him. I watched them ride off.
Mr. Smith was still beside me and trying to make his presence known. I strode
off after the wagon, paying him no mind so as he had to move that Walker out to
keep up with me.

It was the first time I'd ever had
a man interested in me, but I could feel it and knew it for what it was; a
sudden awareness, an intensity in the air that wasn't there a moment earlier.
My hair was man-bait and I realized that this must have been enough in my mind
to cause me to keep it covered for so long. Good thing I had looked like a bum
while out on the trails, alone.

"Pretty woman like you
shouldn't have to walk, Miss Buchanan," he said and I turned my head and
eyed that there stallion horse of his. I'd ridden mules mainly, and preferred a
good mule to a horse. But one of those Courtney boys had come to our place
riding a Tennessee Walker and let me ride it for a spell.

Gage Courtney. He was the oldest
of the boys, at least ten years older'n me, and was headed off for the western
lands when he left. I don't know which side he fought on, seems half those
Courtney boys fought for the North and the other half for the South.

They never could agree and were
always fighting amongst themselves anyway. But if anyone tried to do mean to
one of them, the whole passel would band together. Anyway, riding Gage's horse
had been as smooth as setting in a rowboat in the middle of a pond. So I took a
look at that Walker of Smith's and temptation hit me hard.

I wasn't one to bat my eyes and
try to sweet talk my way into anything; truth was I didn't know how. So I just
up and said, "Why thank you kindly, I'd appreciate riding your
horse."

"Oh, well...I was thinking
of—"

"Just for a short time, of
course. I'll bring him right back."

"This is quite a horse,
Ma'am. Perhaps—"

"Thanks. I won't take him far
then." His face was turning red but I ignored it. I knew he wanted to ride
beside me, him on his stallion and I on whatever he could find for me. But
being mountain bred, I liked to walk and unless a horse had some spunk in him,
I didn't want to be bothered. "Hold his head please, while I mount."

I didn't need anyone to hold a
horse for me, but it made him dismount and kept him from putting his hands on
me to help me mount. I stepped up, swinging my right leg through in front of me
and settled down with my knee hooked over the low sloping pommel.

He wasn't going to see any leg if
I could help it and I had been making do with men's saddles for as long as I'd
ridden. Since he was a short man and I fairly tall for a girl—I was over
five-seven—the stirrup didn't even need to be shortened any.

"What's his name?" I asked,
touching the stallion's dark gray coat.

"Jupiter," he answered
and had to step back as I nudged Jupiter forward. I knew better than to run a
horse past the wagons, so I put that Walker in his mile-eating pace and walked
right away from them.

Uncle Dem gave me a wide grin and
waved his hat as I went by and I could see many of the men set up and take
notice. Oh, well, as I wasn't planning to hide under that scarf the whole trip,
they might as well get used to seeing me.

As soon as I was a safe distance
away from the wagons, I put Jupiter to a lope and caught up with Web and Elliot
Hayes. Elliot looked happy to see me, he being a young man about two years
older than me. Web just shook his head, eyes dancing.

"That certainly wasn't what
he planned," Web commented.

"I know. That's why I did
it."

"Did what?" Elliot was
puzzled.

"Nothing," I replied,
for it was none of his business.

"That's sure some
horse," Elliot remarked, looking enviously at the Walker. "Reckoned
he'd let me ride it?"

I shrugged. "You can
ask." I wouldn't, if it were my horse. I'd seen Elliot's horse with a
bleeding mouth and deep spur marks. When he wasn't neglecting his horse, he was
abusing it, and I wondered how a military man like Burt Hayes managed to
overlook that feature in his son.

Web glanced around. "You
high-tail it back to the wagons and stay there. No use inviting trouble. Any
Injin see you, he's gonna want that scalp. Cover it up."

"Will do," I said,
having intended to start right back anyway.

"There ain't no Indians around,"
Eliot protested.

"The most dangerous ones are
those you don't see," Web said, sharply. "Now get going. We'll watch
you back. And if you have to make a run for it, straddle that horse and move.
Modesty don't count when an Injin's after you."

"See you," I said, and
cantered back to the train. I gave Calvert back his horse, thanked him nicely
for the ride and climbed back into the wagon. Uncle Dem was driving and I
settled beside him, mumbling to myself.

"What the matter? Didn't
Calvert take kindly to being set afoot?"

Calvert had looked dusty and put
out when I brought his horse back. It was no way to treat a man, but I wasn't
ready to give any man the time of day and the condescending way Calvert had
treated me, when I'd just been a bundle of clothes walking along, didn't make
me take kindly to him.

I had a hill-person's suspicion of
anyone dressed up too fancy. Especially one who had about run me down one
morning because I hadn't stepped out of his way quick enough.

"No, he didn't, but that's
not what I was muttering about."

"What then?"

"Oh, Web told me to cover my
hair up. It's going to be a long trip if I have to wear this old scarf the
whole way. He says it'll cause trouble."

"Uh huh."

"What'd you think, Uncle
Dem?"

"I agree. That hair is like a
red blanket to a bull. You'll have all the young bucks, white and red, swarming
around this wagon."

"Do you think I must cover it
like Web says?"

"Mallory, Web don't give no
orders unless there's a mighty big reason to give them. You do as he
says."

"All right, but I hate that
heavy scarf."

"Ask Edith for one of her
sunbonnets."

"That'll only cover the top
part."

"Then wear a loose shawl or
jacket and tuck in the rest of your hair."

"Good. I'll do it. But just
'cause you think I should."

I started to crawl back into the
wagon when Dem called me back. "Mallory." I waited for what he had to
say. "Anything happen to me...you go to Web for advice. He knows the
country out here and how to survive in it. But even more important, he can read
men. He's mighty choosy who he calls friend."

Web was Uncle Dem's friend. I had
seen them laughing together. "He can read men?" I asked.

"Yes. For instance, we all
chose Burt Hayes to lead us, but Duncan Ashley would have been a better
choice...or even Gunther."

"What's wrong with Mr.
Hayes?" Aunt Edith asked. She had finished the work she was doing, putting
all the morning things away, and moved out to sit next to Uncle Dem. She had
heard the part about the sunbonnet and had one in her hand. I took it and put
it on, wondering how he would answer her question. Mr. Hayes had done fine so
far. I had thought everyone was pleased with his leadership.

"There's no give to him. A
leader has to have a little give, a little mercy in some cases. I can't see any
of that in Burt. The point is I didn't notice that when we elected him. It
seemed a fine thing to have a military officer leading us. Web just shook his
head and didn't say anything; he would've if we'd asked."

It wasn't going to help us any,
bemoaning the fact now. He sure had a lot of give to him when he let Elliot get
off with treating his horses like he did. Or maybe Elliot's rough treatment of
his stock was just an extension of his father's nature. That could be it.

It could also answer for the way
Hannah acted. She was Mr. Hayes' wife, a quiet, subdued person, afraid of
stepping outdoors lessen she had his permission. I had thought it just her
nature, but now wondered what she'd been like before he married her.

Uncle Dem had been eyeing the low
mounds of dirt we were passing more and more often, some with makeshift crosses
on them, others simply a heap of stones. A lot of things could kill a person
out in this country. River crossings, snakebite, accidents with guns or axes,
as well as Indians.

Two days ago we'd passed a huge
group of such mounds near the remains of a train, the burned wagons still
carrying the smell of smoke. The unfortunate victims had been buried by another
train passing through ahead of us, the earth so fresh it had just started to
crust over. No one spoke as we passed through, but the warning was there for
all to see.

Only a fool would think that he
could live forever; and out here one began to feel quick-like, that unless he
took care, he wouldn't last until the next week.

There was a big commotion going on
up further along the wagons and Uncle Dem kept looking forward to see what it
was all about, but a slight dip in the prairie hid all but the two nearest
wagons from us. We were the last in line and were looking forward to being the
leaders tomorrow. Cordell Knast's wagon was in front today. He was a big strong
man, kind and gentle, a hard worker, but a slow thinker.

The commotion continued, a ripple
of voices, and finally Uncle Dem could take it no longer. He handed the reins
to Aunt Edith and swung down to untie his horse from the back of the wagon and
ride up to see what was going on.

Curious, we watched as we cleared
the rim of the dip, but even then could see nothing unusual. We must have been
going through an old buffalo wallow for we were in a small crater-shaped area
and already the lead wagons had gone on out. There was certainly nothing to
cause so much excitement that we could see.

A few minutes later Uncle Dem
appeared, turning his horse to ride alongside of us. "Web and Elliot just
brought in a man the Indians had caught. They'd staked him out on an anthill
and were so busy watching the fun they didn't see Web until he was right upon
them. He shot one, and Elliot was shooting from behind some rocks so they
didn't know how many were there and skedaddled."

"Is the poor man still
alive?" Aunt Edith asked.

"Yes, barely. They were
cutting him up to make the ants more interested and I guess he was laughing at
them and insulting their courage... trying to get them to kill him
quicker."

The shudder that ran through Aunt
Edith also ran through me. "Did you see him?" I asked, wondering how
anyone could stand thousands of ants biting him.

"Yes. He's a big man. They
put him in Cordell's wagon. I'll give him some of my clothes if he
recovers."

"Why?" Aunt Edith wanted
to know. "What's wrong with his?"

I could've answered her, but Uncle
Dem did, bluntly. "He ain't got none."

She opened her mouth to speak, but
gasped instead as something hit with a thud. It was an arrow, and it had caught
Aunt Edith dead center. She slid off the seat, the reins still clutched in her
hands.