Authors: Nancy Radke
“I’ll make them better,” he said.
We got on our horses and left the town. We made camp as soon as
we could, and had us a whing-ding wedding night. I figure I got pregnant, cause
we had our first child, a boy, nine months to the day later.
We returned to the town, gathered a few supplies, and headed
west. It was still early spring, and cold, when we passed into the Blue
Mountain region, headed to the Willamette Valley. There was a well established
fort in Walla Walla, and we stopped there.
Luke looked up the Captain and asked him about the conditions
downriver.
The Captain was a burly man, bald, with a handlebar mustache,
and a big smile. “What did you say your name was?” he asked.
“Luke Trahern. Luke and Mahala Trahern.
“You got you a brother named Trey?”
“That’s my cousin. Do you know him?”
“Know him? We have a few skirmishes with the Indians now and
then. He pulled me out of the middle of a war party that was fixing to lift my
scalp. I was a young lieutenant at the time and didn’t realize the trouble I’d
gotten myself into. I figured we were facing a primitive tribe, not warriors
who made fighting a way of life. Trey came in and offered them two steers for
my hide. They could just as easily have killed him, but they figured he was
brave to ride into their midst like that and they all sat down and dickered
with him. He threw in one knife, but no more. They respected that, and we all
went away happy. Me most of all.”
“Sounds like Trey,” Luke said.
“You know he and his wife have a spread east of Walla Walla,
don’t you? It would be a shame for you to be so close and not stop by and say,
“Howdy.”
I looked at Luke. “You never said you had a cousin out here.”
“I was thinking gold fields, then Willamette Valley.”
“You’ll have to go through town and out the other side a ways.
Maybe thirty miles from here. Not far at all. Trey will be glad to see you, I
reckon. Someone went through two weeks ago, said they were kin, by the name of
Courtney.”
“We don’t have any kin by that name.” Luke looked at him,
puzzled. “Are you sure that was the name?”
“Gage Courtney. I’m sure of it.”
“Gage was a neighbor of ours. Not kin. This is strange. I wonder
why he claimed he was kin.”
“Not him,” the Captain said. “His missus.”
“He’s married?”
“Yes. Her name was Ruth. She said Trey was her brother.”
“Ruth, and Gage?
Ruth
?”
“You know her?”
“She’s my cousin. But Ruth and Gage? I wouldn’t have figured on
that in my lifetime. Ruth and Gage. Well, I’ll be horn-swallowed.”
“They said they were newlyweds. Acted like it. And they had a
dog with them that looked like he could take out a regiment all by himself.”
“Gage and Ruth.” Luke just shook his head.
“What about them, makes you so perplexed?” I asked.
“Those two. They’ve known each other for years, and never let on
they were interested in each other at all. We are going to have to go to see
Trey just to meet his wife and find out about Ruth and Gage.”
Luke turned to the Captain. “Do you know if they’re still
there.”
“Haven’t seen them return, but they could’ve just passed by.
This area is already starting to produce more food than it can eat. Why don’t
you think of settling down here?”
“I was going to the Willamette,” I said.
“To farm?”
“Yes.”
“It’s good land, but it’s just as good here. Drier, too, I
think.”
“How dry?”
“Not bad. The mountains bring the rain, so we’ve never had a
drought. People are planting fruit trees. Wheat and barley do just fine.
Grazing on the upper slopes.”
“Let’s go take a look,” I told Luke. “I’d like to meet your
cousins.”
We changed our route and rode through Walla Walla. I stopped at
one of the stores and bought me a dress before we went to meet these kin folks
of Luke’s. I’d have to wait until we got there to put it on, but at least I now
owned one.
It was a growing town, and thriving. There were settlers along
the Walla Walla River and along the little creeks that fed it.
We enquired about Trey and Mally and found they were well known.
Evidently Mally was filling in for a doctor, since the country didn’t have one.
She rode one of her mules when on doctor calls, and people would know if a baby
had come, or someone else was sick, just by the presence of the mule outside
the door. Everyone was helpful.
We arrived at Trey and Mally’s new log home at suppertime. Gage
and Ruth were there, and we enjoyed quite a reunion. We heard Gage’s story,
about how he couldn’t get Ruth to look at him until he chased her clear across
the country. We also met their dog, Travers, who had very good manners,
although he was large enough to scare the pants off anyone.
Trey was the oldest, in his early thirties, strong looking,
although not quite what you’d call handsome. Gage was almost his age, then
Luke. Mally, Ruth, and myself were almost the same age. All of a sudden I had
four cousins, just like two sisters and two brothers, and was told there were
more back in Tennessee.
“Trey’s family is bigger than mine,” Luke said.
Trey started immediately into changing my mind about going to
the Willamette.
“Look at our view,” he said. “And wait till you see our
sunsets.”
I helped Mally and Ruth put the food on the table. There was
plenty, and a variety.
“This is just starting. People barely make it the first few
years as their apple trees and wheat crops are small. Each year they plow up
more ground, and the little fruit trees get bigger. Our first year would have
been harder, but I’m in the foothills here. I get deer and elk and bear, and
usually shoot enough in the fall to see us clean through the winter. I bought a
cow when we first arrived, and Mally got some chicks as payment for saving a
boy’s life, so we have both milk and eggs. And chicken.”
I glanced at Luke. I could see he’d like to settle here, and
although I could be as contrary as all get out, I most certainly wasn’t going
to take him from here. Kin like this are hard to come by, and mighty nice to
have handy.
“I don’t have to go on to the Willamette, Luke,” I told him. “I
am footsore and weary. This here area is mighty fine. I’m ready to stop.”
“I’ll help you find a
place,” Trey said. “We just found land for Gage and Ruth. We’re not only
building strong, we’re spreading out.”
True to his word, Trey helped us find farmland. We got five hundred
acres for a down payment of some work Luke did, Rosie, and the money that I
carried in my belt. The flood of immigrants followed a month later and the land
price tripled. We lived in a small cabin on Trey’s land, while Luke worked off
the down payment for our land. Our first child, Hayden, was born there.
We raised enough steers to be able to sell some to the miners,
and made good money on them. It didn’t hurt that, while coming back from one of
his trips, Luke picked up a rock lying on the road that he was tired of bumping
over, and found it to be a fairly large gold nugget. We cashed it out and sent
the money to John, along with some of the proceeds from selling cattle.
John used the money for schooling and became a lawyer, and later a representative
of Alabama, where he lived with his wife, Judith.
The people soon discovered that this soil and climate was ideal
for growing wheat. Its golden grain brought a different kind of gold to our
land.
Luke never did go hunting for yellow gold. He said he had found
it in his land, his wife, and his eighteen children.
We loved to spoon.
THE END
I turned the letter over in my hand, considering the words.
“Please come see me, Brynn,” Lizzie had written. “I so miss you and all my
friends in Baltimore! You must come and bring your sunshine! It is so dreary
here!!!” Every other word was underlined two or three times.
Lizzie, my best friend, had married a man who promptly moved
west. Not just slightly west, like Ohio, but west, west. Clear across the
continent to a place called Walla Walla. The letter had taken part of a week to
arrive.
My mother knew Lizzie well and sympathized with her. “Poor
Lizzie, out in the wilds. You should go visit her, Brynn, and cheer her up.”
“But Mother. I have no desire to go there. Indians. Cowboys.
Endless plains. You read her letter.”
“I’m sure Lizzie is only feeling lonely, so things seem bad to
her. She always makes out that things are worse than they are. You know that.”
She lifted her finger to beckon Midge to come finish doing her hair. It looked
perfectly groomed to me, but she had evidently found some flaw.
“Your father wants you to go,” she said. “It will broaden your
horizons. Make you more aware of the world. He will get you a separate sleeping
car, and Nell can go with you. Would you like to have Edna too? Nell is only
sixteen, and an older woman might be more help.”
Two maids were better than one, so I nodded. “Yes. We can keep
each other company.” I wondered if I should take my other friend, Justine, with
me, but Lizzie and Justine didn’t get along very well, so I decided against it.
I wrote back and let her know I would come. And then father
announced he would make use of my trip. He asked me to wait a week and I found
out why.
A man who lived in Walla Walla, named James Trahern, had ordered
a bull. My father raised Herefords, a breed he had brought over from England,
and Mr. Trahern asked that one be shipped out to him on the train. Father shipped
his bulls all over. He even had a special cattle car fitted out with doors at
each end so the attendant could reach the bull easily. It had a padded stall
and a manger built in. The bulls were expensive, and Father refused to ship
them any other way. The week’s wait was for the car to return and to be cleaned
and made ready for this bull.
I was used to overseeing their care, making sure the feed was
measured out correctly by the stable hands, and that they were properly
groomed. One bull in particular had taken a liking to me, whom I had named Sir
Galahad. I had raised him on a bottle when his mother died, and halter broke
him almost as soon as he could stand. He would do almost anything I asked him
to.
“Dad, you can’t sell Sir Galahad,” I protested, when he told me
of his plans.
My father gazed at me over the top of his glasses. “I already
did. You knew he would have to be sold someday. Don’t you want to take him to
his new home? I’ll send a groom with him, if you like. Francis could go.”
“No, thanks. I’ll care for him.” I couldn’t stand Francis and
neither could Sir Galahad, and Father knew it. Francis was a shiftless worker,
but he was also the son of one of our oldest and best grooms, and father kept
him around just because of that.
If Francis came, I would constantly be having to check that he
had done something right, and hadn’t hurt Sir Galahad with his slipshod work. I
might as well do it myself.
I didn’t know what to take with me, so in the end just packed
everything. I had a steamer trunk and five cases. Jeremy, our butler, took me
and my maids to the train, and made sure we were settled before he left. A
grand adventure. By this time I looked forward to it. Conditions out west
couldn’t possibly be as bad as Lizzie said. She did tend to exaggerate.
I supervised the loading of Sir Galahad. He didn’t want to walk
up the ramp and I finally had to lead him up myself, with the promise of some
oats when he got into the special car. I stayed with him during the first few
miles, getting him used to the motion of the train. It jerked and puffed and
soon we were moving. I would have waved to Jeremy, but couldn’t see anything
outside the special car. Mother had a headache from helping me get ready, so
hadn’t come.
Nell was excited. It was her first train trip. I had traveled
with Mother to see Aunt Agatha in upper New York, so knew what to expect.
I didn’t expect Nell to get extremely sick the first day out. We
decided it was something she had eaten before we left, then became worried that
she had contacted some disease.
I put her and Edna off in Cincinnati, telling Edna to take Nell
back to Baltimore on the next train. The conductor assured me that the station
workers would help them get on it. I bought them each a ticket and wished them
well.
So I stayed and they left, and all of a sudden I was alone. Just
me and Sir Galahad.
Now a bull isn’t much company, but he does attract attention. I
tried to pay someone to clean out his stall during the trip, but found I had to
do it the first half, as those men were afraid of him.
He was a big bull, and when he snorted and rolled his eyes, they
ran. I think he only did it to make me stay around and humor him.
“You’re a big fake,” I told him. “Stop chasing off my help.”
Things changed when I reached St. Louis. A group of cowboys got
on and the conductor told me about them. He sent one of them to see me.
It was a tall, lanky gent who looked as if he couldn’t pull up
his own weight. Somebody hadn’t fed him for a long time, I decided. He wore
pants that looked too tight and high heeled boots that were worn down thin, a
floppy hat and a shirt with buttoned cuffs. Also a belt with a handgun stuck in
it. I had never seen anything like him before.
Did I dare let him near Sir Galahad? I didn’t want him shooting
my bull if he got scared.
“Hello,” I said.
“Howdy, ma’m. I’m Shorty.”
“You’re a cowboy?”
“Durn tootin.”
I took that for a “yes.”
“So you’re familiar with cattle?”
Shorty nodded.
“Well, I’m taking one out to Washington Territory. I’ve been
feeding and watering him, but I need someone to muck out the cattle car.”
He shook his head. “I’m a cowboy, not a stable hand.”
“It would just be a few times,” I pleaded.
“I don’t work unless it’s from the back of a horse.”
“Oh. Well, would you just come and see Sir Galahad? Maybe you could
ask one of your friends to help me. I’ll show you what I need, then you ask
them. I’d pay two dollars just to get it done.”
He shook his head, but followed me to Sir Galahad’s special car.
“That’s a bull!” he said.
“Yes. Didn’t the porter explain?”
“I don’t think he knows a bull from a turnip. He said ‘cow.’ But
Ma’am, this here is unlike any bull I ever saw. He’s huge.”
“He is that. And I’ve tried to hire different folks to take care
of him this trip, but he scares them. I was hoping a cowboy wouldn’t be
afraid.”
Now that I was appealing to his manliness, he changed his tone.
“What do you need done?” he asked, careful-like.
“Just to have his stall cleaned out. I would stay here with him,
while you did it.” I walked over and scratched Sir Galahad behind his ears,
which he always liked. He tossed his head appreciatively.
Shorty stared at me. I only stood five-foot-three on my best
day. Sir Galahad was as tall as I was, and I hate to think how much he
outweighed me. I wore the clothes from one of Baltimore’s finest shops, as it
was the only place my mother would go. I hadn’t expected to be doing so much of
the work, or I would have brought my apron along. So I guess we looked an
unlikely pair.
The cowboy walked gingerly over to Sir Galahad and patted him on
the rump. “This bull is pure steak,” he said. “The cows I’ve been droving are
more bones and horns than meat. Do you mind if I bring the rest of the crew to
see him?”
“Not as long as I can get someone to help me out.”
“We’ll all help you, Ma’am, and be happy to do it. If any of
them objects, I’ll shoot him. They need to see this car too. I’ve never seen
anything so grand, just for an animal.”
He left and I hoped he didn’t mean what he said, about shooting
his friends. I didn’t know if he was kidding or not. I didn’t have too long a
wait.
There were six of them, two looking like they should still be in
grade school, and all dressed in tight pants, with a gun stuck in a holster.
All looking like they needed feeding. Same hat, same style shirts, and a
colorful bandana.
There the similarity ended. They were tall and short and
in-between. Several different nationalities. Shorty was the tallest and seemed
to be in charge.
“Fellows, this is Miss Brynn Porter, out of Baltimore, and this
is Sir Galahad.”
I had given Galahad some oats, and he was munching away at them.
Flicking his tail now and then at an imaginary fly. When they moved closer, he
tossed his head at them and shook it.
Unlike the other men I had tried to hire, these didn’t back off,
but came closer and admired him.
“Would you look at the weight on him?”
“As square as a box car.”
“He’d give a buffalo a good fight.”
“Naw, I think the buff would win. Have you seen the heads on
those things? They’re twice as wide as his.”
“Where’d you get him, Ma’am?”
“My father raises them,” I said. “This one lost his mother when
he was but a calf and I hand-raised him. So he knows me.”
“Bulls can be unpredictable,” one said. “Kill a lot of people.”
“Dairy bulls,” I agreed. “Herefords are much easier to handle.”
They looked over at the door, where I had thrown the manure in a
heap. It needed moving.
“Short straw loses,” Shorty said, with a wink at me. “Long straw
gets dinner with the lady.” He picked up a handful of straw, took out a knife
and cut it into pieces. Arranging them carefully in his hand, he made a fist so
just a small part showed, and held it up. They each drew a straw.
“Long one!” a young cowboy exclaimed.
“Short one,” soon came the disgusted grunt from another. He
looked at me. “What do I do?”
“The train will stop for water in a half hour. Be here with Sir
Galahad. I’ll come, too. They will bring by a wagon and check all the cattle
cars. Some horses are being shipped, and I think other cows. They’ll open the
door and give you a few minutes to throw the waste into the wagon. That’s it.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. I’ll pay—”
“No, you don’t,” Shorty said. “He lost short straw. No pay for
him.”
“But—”
“Pay is long straw. Dinner with a lady.”
“Then dinner it is.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.” Shorty said. He was not the one who had
drawn the long straw. I looked at him puzzled, but he just grinned.
They stood around for a few more minutes admiring Sir Galahad
and trying to figure out how many steaks he had in him. They reminded me of
some of the kids I’d seen around the college in town, poking fun at each other,
but secure in their group.
Their attention then turned to the lad who had won the long
straw. They tried tricking him out of it, then betting on things, making his
bet the straw, but he wouldn’t do it. Finally Shorty offered him a dollar for
it.
“No. It’s my straw.”
Smart kid. But it was Shorty who showed up afterwards for
dinner. He’d changed his shirt and shaved and looked much more presentable. I
met him just outside the dining car.
The steward seated us at a table covered with a monogramed,
stiff white tablecloth, with china plates and matching, monogramed silverware.
I had been having my meals brought to my car, as I didn’t want
to eat alone, but I wasn’t going to eat there with a strange man. I had the
steward add my name to the list of persons eating there tonight. Consequently,
we were among the last ones seated.
“What did you do to get the straw from that boy?” I asked after
we sat down and ordered our meal.
He just smiled, a secret kind of smile and said, “It was easy.”
“What?”
“I made him an offer.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to know. He thinks he came out ahead. That’s
all.”
“Did he?”
“He did. And I did. Dinner with a lady didn’t mean anything to
him, but he knew the straw was valuable, so dickered pretty hard for it.”
I found Shorty the easiest man to talk to I’d ever met.
Everything was a joke to him. He didn’t take life seriously.
He told me about cowboy’s work, and how dangerous it was
droving, and I realized why money and clothes didn’t matter to him. He didn’t figure
on living very long.
So I threw etiquette aside and quizzed him on things. Like the
clothes he wore.
“The tight pants are more comfortable in the saddle. Shirt cuffs
are tight so they’ll fit into your gloves and out of the way for roping. You
don’t want extra clothes flapping around when you have to move fast. The heels
keep you from getting a foot caught in the stirrup and drug to death if your
horse throws you. They also help you dig in, if you’re standing on the ground
with a horse on the other end of your lasso, trying to leave the country.
You’ll find all things have a reason, Ma’am. The bandana keeps dust out of your
face and the hat is an umbrella.”