Fair Land, Fair Land (12 page)

He rode by the fort and watered his string, then came
back and tied the string to a tree. He unlashed the two bundles of
furs he had brought. They were heavy but not beyond carrying.

A small door opened in the sally port, and the guard
said, "Hiya there, Hig. How'd you winter?"

"
Saved all my parts anyhow. Major in?"

"
Yep. You know where."

He walked into a big yard with storehouses right and
left and behind him. An Indian was dickering at one. At another two
men were stacking buffalo hides. A clerk or some such was watching
and counting. The hides made a stink. The agent's quarters were in
the rear. Higgins knocked and was told to come in.

Major Culbertson sat at a rough desk. Papers with
figures on them lay on it. He got up and moved ahead to shake hands.
"Welcome, Hig. Put those furs down." Culbertson was a
large, friendly man with a mustache and beard and a high forehead. He
had a look of good faith about him. "Glad to see you. Take a
chair."

"
Open for trade, Major?"

 "
That's what we're here for, but why be so
sudden? Hard winter, you had?"

"We made it through. Had meat enough. You ask me
what's hardest, campin' out way we do, and I would say keepin'
clean."

"
I can imagine, lice and all."

"
No, sir. No lice in Teal Eye's camp. You can
bet the whole fort on that."

"Go on."

"
Hands, face, the whole hide, that's what's hard
to keep clean. Without soap, I mean."

"
It's not much of an item of trade with us. The
staff uses it mostly. I think we can spare a few bars. It's harsh,
you know."

"
Not nigh as rough as sand."

Culbertson smiled. "How about a drink?"

"
I wouldn't want to hurt your feelin's by
refusin'."

Culbertson reached in his desk and got out a bottle.
From a shelf he took two glasses. He didn't believe in dinky drinks.
Sipping, he asked, "What all do you need, Hig?"

"
I could leave the order with one of the men?"

"
Nonsense. When you or Dick Summers come in, I
want to see you. Now what do you need?"

"
Tobacco and whiskey, first off."

The items went down on a piece of paper. "And?"

"
Meal or flour if you have any. Dried beans,
too. The quiet kind."

"
I believe we have a few pounds of beans. I
can't guarantee the silence."

"
Put saleratus down, then."

"
Saleratus? Lord, we're not exactly a grocery."

"
A pinch or two in the pot quiets the beans
down."

"
Maybe we can find some."

"How about horseshoes?"

"
I'll speak to the blacksmith."

"
A couple of blankets. Teal Eye wants 'em. And
some beads. She does purty beadwork."

"
All that's not so much."

"
I'm comin' to somethin' else. We need horses,
good ones, four of 'em."

Culbertson looked at the furs on the floor and shook
his head.

"
I'm afraid — "

"
Not for them. Here." Higgins reached in
his pocket, got out the two gold pieces Summers had given him and
handed them over.

"
Hum," Culbertson said. "It's enough,
but you know our Indians attach no importance to gold. It has to be
translated into goods."

"
I figured that. Will you do it?"

"
It will take time. Minimum two days. I must get
in touch with some men that I trust. But, sure. I'll tackle it."

He poured another drink. "Now back to your
order. What else?"

"
I might think of somethin' while we wait."

"G
ood enough. Let's look at the furs."

"
Beaver and mink."

Culbertson left his chair and stooped and, one by
one, felt of the pelts. "Those were the days," he said as
if speaking to himself. "Fine furs. Not coarse stuff. Not
buffalo hides and tongues."

"
Summers would as lief bring in his own skin as
bring in a buffalo hide."

"
Yes. Yes. These, you know, aren't worth what
they were, but they'1l more than cover your order. You'll have
something coming back."

"
Make it credit. And, hey, before I forget it,
how about scissors?"

Culbertson smiled. "Scissors, too?"

"
Handier than a knife sometimes."

Culbertson returned to his chair and asked after a
swallow, "How is Summers?"

"
Same as usual. Damn good man."

"
No doubt about that."

"
He still wants to get married. He's set on it."

"
I ought to know. Every time he's here, maybe
half a dozen times altogether, he badgers me about it, as if I could
produce a preacher out of thin air. Too bad he won't have a priest."

Culbertson sipped at his whiskey and smiled, looking
satisfied as he spoke. "This time I just may be able to oblige
him."

"
You got a preacher in stock?"

"
We don't deal in that kind of cloth, but it
happens there's a minister here. Methodist. He's out exploring or
teaching the Gospel right now. I'm expecting him for dinner."

"
Wil1 you make it so's I can talk to him?"

"
Easy. You'll eat with us, too. There'll just be
four, you, the minister, Major Dawson and I. My wife and the children
are visiting her people, the weather being nice for a change."

"
Dick'll thank you. So do I."

"
Fine. Now where are your horses?"

"Tied to a tree outside."

"
Turn them into the
corral. Safer that way. We have a little feed left."

* * *

Higgins tended to the horses. He bought a towel and a
comb on credit and then, seeing no washstand, went down to the river
where he washed hands and face and combed his hair. The river ran
clear, as it wouldn't when the rains came. It was time to chop off
some of his hair.

He looked at the sun, almost out of sight behind the
big hill. Time for supper? He didn't want to be early or want to be
late. He asked the guard at the door when the major's suppertime was.

"About now," the man told him.

Two men were in the office with Culbertson.
Culbertson waved a hand and said, "Cood timing, Hig. I want you
to meet Brother Potter and Major Dawson. Gentlemen, Mr. Higgins."

The one he called brother stepped forward, saying,
"Bless you. Brother Culbertson has told us about you." His
hand was big and solid. He was a stocky man, not quite fat, with a
bald head and a long coat, which told the world he was a preacher.
Major Dawson smiled as he held out his hand. He was thinner than the
other two and looked more used to the weather. Shaved smooth, his
face was a little pinched up between nose and chin as if he found
things to laugh at.

"
Major Dawson is the actual agent here, I'm so
often away," Culbertson said. "Business in St. Louis and
elsewhere."

Dawson shook his head, a small smile on his lips.
"The de facto factor just in his absence."

The men were all dressed in town clothes — cloth
coats, cloth pants, cloth vests, neckties. No place for buckskins,
Higgins thought. No place for worn and soiled leather. But what the
hell?

Culbertson opened a door and said, "Dinner is
ready."

There was a table in the room with a white cloth on
it. There were knives and forks, spoons and glasses. Culbertson asked
them to be seated, showing them where. A woman came in with a bottle.
A part-blood, she wore a skirt and a blouse. "A little wine for
thy stomach's sake, Reverend?" Culbertson asked as the woman
started to pour.

"
How can I refuse when the words are in the
book? But first, brothers, please, the blessing."

He had a passel of things to say to the Lord before
he came to amen.

The woman brought in a hump roast on a platter. Next
time in, she carried a big bowl of hominy and a saucer of sliced
onions in vinegar.

"
The Lord's bounty," Potter said, eyeing
the food. "His infinite bounty."
 
"
It
will be more bounteous when the boats start arriving,"
Culbertson said while he carved. "Meat and hominy, that's
standard winter fare. And this is the last of the onions."

"
There'll be a slew of 'em growin' wild in
two-three weeks," Higgins said, just to be part of the talk.

Dawson smiled at him, nodding. "Right."

"
I suppose you live mostly on straight meat?"
Culbertson asked Higgins.

"
Only kind of. Summers' woman knows a lot about
wild stuff, roots and leaves and berries and such. We live pretty
good."

Potter swallowed a mouthful of meat, chased it with a
drink of water and said, "The man's wife, you mean?"

"
Well —— "

Culbertson came to his rescue. "You pitch us
into a subject I had thought to talk about later. Perhaps it's just
as well. The man, Dick Summers, I count with our better men."

Higgins said, "Count higher."

Culbertson smiled and went on. "For a number of
years he has lived with an Indian woman. They have a child now. He
wants to be married, but not by a priest."

Potter said, "I see."

"
Pity you're not a Presbyterian," Dawson
put in.

"
Let not us Protestants quarrel," Potter
told him. "I wouldn't say the same of the Papists." He went
back to his plate.

"
To go on," Culbertson said, "it would
take most of a week for Summers and his family to get here. Can you
wait, Brother Potter?"

Potter passed his plate for more meat. He chewed and
thought. "I could perform the ceremony there."

Higgins took a long breath. "It's a long ways. I
been makin' cold camps."

"
I wouldn't advise it," Dawson told him.

"
I would go in the hands of the Lord and fear
not."

Culbertson put his folded hands on the table. "You
wouldn't have to be afraid of our Blackfeet with Higgins leading you.
He is by way of becoming a legend. May I tell him, Hig?"

"
If you want to."

"
The Blackfeet call Higgins Broken Mouth, the
Friend of the Great Bear. And his friend, Summers, he is the Bear
Maker. Come a pinch, he can summon the white bear out of the ground,
out of the air, out of nowhere, but there it will be."

Higgins said, "That was a long while ago."

"
That's why it's a legend. Tell how it all came
about, Hig."

"Summers does better."

"
Belief in miracles is not restricted to us,"
Dawson said, not as if it mattered.

"Go ahead, Hig."

So he told them about Old Ephraim and the meeting
with the Blackfeet and Old Ephraim towering up just in time.

Potter had cleaned his plate. He leaned back and told
them, "I must meet this man Summers."

"
You won't be disappointed," Culbertson
said. "Say, Hig, what's his interest in a killing that occurred
four or six years ago?"

"
You got me."

"
It seems that two men friends, white, coveted
the same Blackfoot girl. Or maybe one just suspected the other of
playing him false with the woman. It didn't happen near here, and the
truth is hard to come by. Anyhow, the one man killed the other and
took off, never to be seen again hereabouts."

"And the woman?" Higgins asked.

"
All I know is she wouldn't stay with the
tribe."

Higgins let out "Ah-h" without meaning to.
Culbertson regarded him with curiosity, but Potter broke in. "Yes,
I must meet this man, if Brother Higgins will take me to him."
His eyes asked the question.

Higgins shied at the idea. Towing a saddle-sore
preacher over the miles? Listening to the talk-talk about the good
Lord? He wouldn't be in the hands of the Lord. He would be in the
hands of Higgins, who was a long shot from grace. But Preacher Potter
was so oncoming. And Summers did want to be married.

He said, "I guess all right."

"
Probably day after tomorrow," Culbertson
said. "I believe I can have your horses by then, Hig."

Higgins lingered after Potter and Dawson had gone. "I
been thinkin', Major. You know, our manners ain't high class. Horn
spoons and a common pot to eat out of."

"
I"ve done the same."

"
But this with the preacher is special. In our
order could you throw in some spare tin stuff, like knives, forks and
spoons and maybe cups?"

"
I'll do it, Hig."

"
And some red cloth for Teal Eye?"

Culbertson put a hand on his arm. "All that will
be my gift. Good night, Hig."

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