Around the River's Bend (16 page)

Sabrina followed the two men as they carried the luggage to a room on the second floor. When the baggage was outside, she asked Satterfield, “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, maybe a dollar.”

“How many dollars in a pound?”

“Don't rightly know,” Satterfield said cheerfully. “If I was you, I'd get all that English money changed. People would rather have American money, for the most part, unless it's gold coins. That'll spend anywhere.”

Sabrina negotiated the fare, and Satterfield promised to find out about the stagecoach. When he left, she gave Sion a coin, saying, “Buy something to eat and find a place to sleep.”

“Right enough,” Sion said cheerfully.

“I don't have money to stay in this place any longer than necessary. We'll leave as soon as we can find transportation.”

“I think Satterfield's a good man. He seems to be, anyway. I'll say good-night, now. If you want me, I'll probably be sleeping in the loft at the stables. All of these inns have stables, it sounds like.”

“Be here early, Sion.”

As soon as Sion left, Sabrina went over and looked out the window. The street was busy, and she marveled at the people as they moved busily by. Her land seemed a million miles away, and she said aloud, “I mustn't think of it. We'll get there. I know we will.”

****

Sion wandered the streets for some time, listening to the strangeness of the speech. He knew his own brand of English would identify him instantly. Some of the voices spoke almost harshly, cutting off their words before they were even finished. Others spoke with a slurred speech, rather languidly, and he knew soon enough he would discover which areas of this new country they came from. He grew hungry finally and entered an inn.

A black-eyed young woman, full-bodied and with a bold manner, put her eyes on him as he came in. She smiled as he stood in the middle of the floor and said, “Come and have a seat. You just in from off a ship?”

“That's right. How could you tell that?”

“Can always tell newcomers. My name's Frannie.”

Sion wondered if it was customary for tavern women to introduce themselves and decided that perhaps it was. He had already discovered there was a freeness in the mannerisms of Americans, and he followed the woman to a table.

“We have roast beef or venison.”

“Venison? What's that?”

“Why, it's deer!” Frannie said. “You
are
green, aren't you?”

“That I am. I'd like to try the venison. I've tried roast beef.”

She laughed at him. “Where are you from, handsome?”

“From Wales. It's next to England.”

“I see. Better be careful. There're still lots of men around who would cut any Englishman's throat.”

“I'll try to avoid such a situation.”

Frannie smiled and winked. “I'll be right back. And I'll bring you some good ale, too.”

The room was only half filled, and while he waited for his meal, Sion listened and studied the men. There was a similarity to them somehow. They all talked rather loudly and without inhibition. Most of them cursed rather fluently, and few of them were dressed in finery. The inn was evidently for workingmen.

Sion became aware that the man at the table next to him was watching him carefully. He was a tall man with gray eyes, and Sion nodded pleasantly and said, “How do you do, sir?”

“Hello. Welcome to America. Why don't you join me? I hate to eat alone.”

“It would be a pleasure, sir.”

Sion rose from his seat, and when he moved to take his seat, the man reached across the table. “My name's Nate Strother.”

“Sion Kenyon.”

“Zion? That's a Bible name, ain't it?”

“No, it's S-I-O-N. That's Welsh for John.”

Strother was a well-set-up individual with broad shoulders and a neck that was thickly corded with muscle. He appeared to be in his late thirties, and there was a wearied look about him. He seemed to be an outdoorsman for he looked a bit out of place inside. Now he said, “If you stay here long, you might as well call yourself John or else you'll be explaining that name to everybody you meet.”

“I may have to do that.”

“Just got off the boat, I heard you say?”

“Yes. We're headed west.”

“You married?”

“Oh no. I'm a servant to an English lady. She's inherited some land in a place they call Tennessee Country.”

“That's my part of the world.”

“Do you tell me that!” Sion said eagerly. “Maybe you can tell me a little bit about the area. I've heard some stories, but you Americans are—”

Strother smiled. “We're a little bit given to embroidering the truth. Is that what you're telling me?”

“Maybe I'll change my mind later on.”

“No. It's true enough. But I can tell you a bit about it.”

“Can you tell me how to get there?” Sion asked. “That's the first problem. A driver told me we could go by stagecoach.”

“I reckon he told you right. I just came from there. You can take the stage, but sooner or later it runs out.”

“How do we get the rest of the way?”

“Well, you'll have to buy wagons and animals and follow the trails.”

“That might be hard for me, Mr. Strother.”

“We're not much on the
misters
around here. Just Nate's good enough.”

“Well, I suppose I could get a map.”

“You can do that, but most of the trails ain't marked. How many of you are going?”

“Just me and the lady I work for.”

“Well, it's a big country and not entirely friendly,” Strother said. “I'd advise you to hire somebody to take you in.”

“Because of the Indians?”

“Always danger of Indians. Your best bet would be to buy a wagon, some animals, get in with a bunch on the way. The more wagons the better.”

The two men talked until the meal came, and they ate their first few bites in silence. Frannie managed to push against his shoulder with her hip, giving him a rather obvious invitation, and when he made no response, she gave him a disgusted look and left.

“She's lookin' for companionship, Sion.”

“She'll have to find it somewhere else.”

“You don't like women?”

“Not that kind,” Sion said.

“Well, that's a man's choice. Listen, it may get too rough for you out on the trail. You might want to quit this woman you're workin' for.”

“I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“I'm an indentured servant for five years.”

“Like I say, it's a big land.” Nate shrugged. “Once you get out of civilization, you could just take off.”

“I don't think I could do that, Nate.”

Nate Strother studied Sion. “No, I can see you're not the runnin' kind. Well, have you got a place to sleep?”

“No. I thought I'd find a place in the stable.”

“You can stay with me tonight. I've got an extra bed.”

“Thanks. I'll take you up on that. I hope I don't snore.”

“Won't matter. I do.” They laughed, and the two got up and left the inn.

No sooner had they stepped onto the street than they practically stumbled over Satterfield. “Say there, I've been looking for you.”

“I'm glad you found me. Did you find out when the post leaves?”

“Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, and my cousin says there's still room on it.”

“I'll let Miss Sabrina know, and we'll see what she decides. Thanks for looking into it for us.”

“You're welcome. Well, if I don't see you in the morning, I wish you good luck.”

“Thanks. You've been a great help.”

The men parted ways—Sion and Nate in one direction and Satterfield back to his rig. Tomorrow would be quite a day.

Chapter Ten

A Fork in the Road

The sound of voices brought Sabrina out of a fitful sleep. She had tossed and turned for hours and several times drifted off only to awaken as her mind flooded with doubts concerning the future. Now she sat bolt upright, startled by voices that seemed to be in the room with her. Ulysses, who had been sleeping with his head wedged against her, growled deep in his throat and tried to settle down to sleep again.

A thin gray light was filtering through the single window, barely able to pierce the dirty panes, and her back ached from the sagging mattress. She had examined it carefully for bugs and found none, but the thought of sleeping in a bed previously occupied by someone else had not aided her comfort.

A man and a woman were on the other side of the thin wall, and their voices rose as they engaged in a bitter argument. Sabrina had little choice but to sit there and try not to listen. Obviously the two had reached the point where they weren't happy with each other, or at least so it seemed to her. Finally, after an indeterminable time, the woman said in a voice deadened by weariness and utterly devoid of hope, “All right, Ed, we'll have to go on.”

“That's right,” the man said in an angry tone. “We're stuck with each other, Edith, and we might as well make the best of it!”

Throwing back the cover, Sabrina moved over to the rickety washstand made of cheap raw lumber, poured the basin full of water, and washed as best as she could. She longed for a bath, but there was no chance of that today. After she dried herself she put on a fresh dress. Finally she did the best she could with her filthy hair, which hadn't had a good washing since she left England. Staring at her image in the small, cloudy mirror fastened to the wall, she shook her hair and then said rebelliously, “I'll have a bath and wash my hair soon, you can believe that!” She then turned to the cat, which was watching her lazily. “Well, Ulysses, how do you like America?”

The big cat watched her with its enormous eyes as it lay at the foot of the bed. Suddenly it yawned, revealing white teeth and a red mouth, then got up, stretched, and leaped off the bed. It came over to her and tapped at her calf, saying,
“Wow!
”

“‘Wow' yourself,” Sabrina said. She picked the cat up, tucked it over her shoulder, and stroked its fur. “I haven't got time to fool with you today.” She put the cat down, finished dressing, and left the room. The stairs creaked ominously and sagged as she went downstairs, and for a moment she was afraid the whole structure would collapse. But she reached the first floor of the inn safely and found the dining room, where she saw Sion eating his breakfast.

When he saw her, he rose and said, “Good morning. The food's good here, miss.”

Sabrina sat down and thought,
This may be the first time I've ever sat down with a servant
. She gave Sion a brief good-morning, and when Mrs. Fredrickson brought her a plate, she began to eat hungrily. The breakfast consisted of thick slices of bacon with a strong flavor, spiced bread with a large bowl of butter, and battered eggs. The coffee was so strong it was bitter, but she had eaten little the day before and knew she needed all the strength she could get.

Sion spoke of America cheerfully as she ate. “The people here are rough, but some of them are helpful enough. I met a man last night named Nate Strother. He's been west.”

Sabrina asked, “Did he tell you anything about the best way to get to my land?”

“He said the best way would be to take the stagecoach, but it doesn't go all the way. After Nate and I had dinner we ran into Mr. Satterfield—remember our driver from yesterday? He said the stage leaves at ten o'clock this morning, and there's still room on it. Nate says the thing to do when the stage gets to the end of the line is to buy a wagon and some horses.”

“But we don't know how to get there.”

“He said there'd be plenty of people headed that way, and the best thing would be to join ourselves to a group already going. That way,” he added, “it would be more protection from Indians.”

The two finished their meal, and as Sabrina tried to think of what to do next, a big man entered the room. He was wearing buckskins and had on a strange-looking cap with a ringed tail hanging down from the back. He had a full set of black whiskers and a pair of bold black eyes. He spotted Sabrina and came over to say, “Well, howdy. My name's Zeke Thomason.”

Sabrina could not speak, she was so surprised. She gave the man one look, then coolly returned her gaze to Sion.

“Well, ain't you a pretty one,” the man said. He moved around the table so she would have to face him, and at that instant Sion stood up. He was not as large as the American, and the loose clothes he wore disguised the muscular strength of his body.

“Best move on, I suppose, friend,” he said quietly.

Thomason stared at him. “You tellin' me to leave?”

“I think it would be wise.”

Thomason laughed. “You don't know who you're talkin' to. I'm Zeke Thomason. Half man, half alligator. Most men with half a brain wouldn't be talkin' to me like that. I reckon I'll just carve myself a steak out of you, fancy man!”

“All right, Zeke, that's enough.”

Thomason turned to see the innkeeper, who was wiping his hands on his apron.

“Sit down and eat or git!”

Thomason seemed to be weighing the alternatives in his mind. Then he laughed. “Sure, Fredrickson. No problem. I just wanted to pass the time of day with these two limeys.”

As the man left, Sabrina turned and smiled. “Thank you. He was beginning to be a bore.”

“He's a rough one,” Fredrickson said, “but he won't bother you anymore.”

“The food was very good. Tell your wife I enjoyed it.”

“I'll do that. You two are headed out, I take it?”

“We're thinking about it.”

“You'll see lots of his kind out there if you head west. They're a pretty rough bunch, those hunters.”

Fredrickson turned and left, and Sion took his seat again. As he sat down, Sabrina was thinking of what she would have done if he had not been there or if Fredrickson had not come.