The Crossed Sabres (21 page)

“All right—Tom. What I want to say is that I try to make people believe I know how to teach school, but I’m really a fraud.”

Intrigued by the schoolmaster’s confession, Tom attempted to put the man at ease. “I guess we all put on a front sometimes.”

“I suppose so. Well, I’m not really a schoolteacher, Tom. Or at least, not for longer than I have to be. I’m about half a lawyer. As soon as I get a little more cash, I’ll become the other half. Another year here and Travis Long will take me
into his office to study with him.” Dutton smiled, adding, “He’s a pettifogging old fellow, but sharp as a needle.”

“I hear he’s the best trial lawyer in the state,” Winslow nodded. “He got those Catlin brothers off with a prison term.”

“Didn’t he, though?” Dutton sighed with admiration. “And they were caught red-handed and would have been hanged if it hadn’t been for Long.”

“A lawyer’s the last thing in the world I’d want to be,” Winslow said. “But I wish you luck if that’s the way your stick floats.”

“Well, it’s hard to make it without financial backing, but my mind’s made up.”

At that moment, Eileen Jennings entered the cafe, and Winslow called, “Eileen—come and join a lonesome pair.” When she came over, he said, “I suppose you two have met?” nodding to Dutton.

“Not really,” Eileen smiled. “I know you by reputation, Mr. Dutton. All the children from the fort come to tell me what a horrible ogre you are—especially Laurie.” She put out her hand, adding, “I’m Eileen Jennings.”

Dutton took her hand. “Sometimes I think
they’re
the ogres!”

Winslow waved the waitress over, and Eileen ordered tea. “Is Laurie in trouble?” she asked, and was surprised when both men laughed. When Winslow explained that he had mistakenly thought the same when he received the summons to meet with Laurie’s teacher, she said, “Well, that’s a relief.”

“Laurie’s fine,” Dutton said. “I was just about to tell Tom that I can’t do much for her in the one area she likes the best—which is literature. I can handle the other subjects, math and history—but literature’s always been my Achilles’ heel.”

“I’m not much along those lines myself,” Winslow admitted. “Maybe we can order some more books?”

Eileen sipped her tea as she listened to the two men discuss the problem; then when they seemed to have reached an impasse, she said, “Well, I could never get my arithmetic
problems to come out right—and my teachers all agreed it was because I read too much poetry and fiction. If you would like, Mr. Dutton, I’d be willing to help Laurie.”

Dutton’s face lit up, “Why, that would be excellent, Mrs. Jennings!”

“Hate to put you out, Eileen,” Winslow said. He shook his head, adding, “I’ve just dumped Laurie on you as it is—maybe too much.”

“She’s a sweet girl, Tom. I enjoy having her with me.” Turning to Dutton she asked, “Would you want me to make a list of books I have? Perhaps with some sort of schedule and even some quizzes?”

“Could you do that? I’d be glad to stop by and pick them up.”

“Why don’t you come with me now?” Eileen got to her feet and both men rose. “Some are just romantic novels, but we can sort them out and use what’s workable.”

“That would be great,” Dutton replied quickly. Like most of the other single men in Bismarck, he was starved for feminine companionship, and he had been covertly studying Eileen, appreciating her attractiveness.

“Can you come for supper, Tom?”

“Thanks, Eileen, but I promised to take Laurie out for a little hunting trip. We may even camp out all night. Could you extend that offer for another time?”

“Of course.”

When they left the cafe, Winslow went to locate Laurie, while the other two walked toward Eileen’s wagon, where Dutton tied his horse to the back for his return trip, then joined her in the wagon. Their ride to the fort was pleasant, and she discovered that he was a witty man, but rather shy, despite his profession. She thoroughly enjoyed his stories of disasters in the classroom; and when they reached her house, they spent so much time going over the books that she said, “It’s too late to cook a big meal, but if you’d like to stay, Mr. Dutton, I’ll fix some bacon and eggs.”

“Sounds good to me, but please call me Larry,” he said. After the meal, he insisted on helping with the dishes. When he was ready to leave, he lingered at the door, wanting to say something, but his wit seemed to have failed. Finally he said, “It’s been a fine evening for me. Thanks for the meal.”

“It was fun, Larry,” she responded, then hesitated. “I . . .get lonely sometimes.”

“So do I,” Dutton replied, feeling awkward. “Well,” he said, “thanks again. I’ll get at the books right away.”

When he was gone, Eileen thought of the help she could be to Laurie, pleased to have some work to do. The evening had been enjoyable. The supper with the schoolmaster had been pleasant, and she found herself marveling at the ease she felt with the young man. She had not missed the admiration in his eyes, but she was accustomed to that. Unlike others, however, he had not pushed his advantage, and it had been good to discover that there were still men like him in the world.

****

When Winslow told Laurie what her teacher had said, she was relieved. “I’m so glad!” she exclaimed as the two of them rode out of Bismarck. “I was afraid it was because I had a fight with Tommy Clarenton.”

“You didn’t tell me about that.”

“Oh, he was teasing me, so I got mad.”

“What was he teasing you about?”

She seemed embarrassed by his question, but finally said, “He likes me, I guess.”

Winslow glanced at her, caught off guard by her statement. She was boyish looking enough in her trousers and shirt, but he could see she was changing. She was growing into a real beauty, and in a few years she would pass out of childhood into that mysterious zone between child and woman. He hated to think of it, but was realistic enough to understand that it was inevitable. His mother had told him once as he had held Laurie in his arms, just a squirming red-faced baby:
Tom, enjoy this time. It will be the easiest of all. The older children get, the more pain they can bring you. Right now you can do what you will with Laurie—but as she grows older, she’ll move away from you. You’ll want to stop her from making bad decisions, to shield her from the hurts she’s headed toward, but you won’t be able to.

Now he felt the power of his mother’s words, and it brought a sadness. To cover it, he asked, “Did you have a real fight?”

“Oh no. He pulled my hair and I slapped him.” She grinned, looking at that moment very much like her mother. “Mr. Dutton paddled us both—but not very hard.” Then like the very young, she jumped to the next subject. “Are you going to take me camping, Daddy?”

“Yes. Maybe we can shoot something to take to Miss Eileen.”

When they arrived at the fort, he was greeted by Captain Algernon Smith and immediately saluted.

Smith returned the salute, then smiled at the girl. “Hello, Laurie.”

“Hello,” Laurie said. “My daddy’s going to take me camping, Captain, so please don’t make him go with you.”

“Laurie!” Winslow shook his head at the child. “You can’t say that to Captain Smith!”

“Oh, I guess she can, Sergeant,” Smith grinned. “I’ve had worse said to me. This camping trip, it’s just for tonight?”

“Yes, sir.” Winslow realized it wasn’t a routine question. “Something up, Captain?”

“Might be. Some miners got jumped this morning. Captain Moylan took some men out to check on it. He sent word that three men were killed and that he’d try to follow the Indians who did it. I’d like to take a squad in a couple days and relieve him. We’ll leave at first light. Like to have you come along.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.” When the officer walked away, he and Laurie rode to the house. It was growing dark, and after they finished supper, Winslow listened as Laurie read from one of the books Faith had given her. He sat there, sipping
coffee and enjoying the dramatic flair with which she read. Finally he tucked her in bed, saying, “Sleep tight. It’ll be a tough day tomorrow.”

They rose the next morning just before dawn and fixed a big breakfast of bacon and eggs. Winslow had persuaded the sergeant in charge of the mounts for the Seventh to lend him a mule for the trip, and he had packed blankets and food on the animal. He saddled the two horses; then they mounted and rode out of the fort. He skirted the river and headed toward the low-lying hills, the beginning of the plateau. By the middle of the morning, they came upon little hills and bluffs bordering the winding course of Heart River. By noon they were fifteen miles from the fort and stopped to eat the lunch they had packed.

Sitting on a fallen tree beside the river that purled at their feet, they devoured sandwiches and the remnants of a caramel cake Eileen had provided for the trip. Afterward they drank from the cold waters of the river, then sat leisurely, enjoying the warmth of the sun. A small furry animal swam into view, his sleek head making a V-shaped ripple. “Look!” Tom whispered, “but be very quiet.” They watched the furry animal scramble out of the water. He was eight inches long and another six in the tail. The tail itself was black and scaled, and was flattened vertically, like a belt stood on edge, not horizontally like beavers. They could see his water-slick coat that emphasized the smooth contours of his body, and the pale soft hair underneath, almost like rabbit fur.

He began chomping on a ten-inch weed, pushing it into his mouth steadily with both forepaws as a child feeds candy into his mouth. For at least five minutes, he moved among the weeds, totally unaware of being watched.

Then he stopped abruptly, his body quivering, and with a flash of movement dived toward the river and disappeared into the water.

Winslow looked up and motioned toward a red-tailed
hawk sailing overhead. “That bird just missed his lunch,” he commented.

“What was it, Daddy?”

“Muskrat.”

“And the bird would have eaten him?”

“Sure would. Hawks and owls—and minks and otters, too. But I guess men are their worst enemy. I had a friend in Virginia, years ago, who trapped muskrats. He told me that in ten years he killed 30,000 muskrats.”

Laurie’s lips grew firm. “I think that’s just awful, Daddy! They’re so adorable!”

“So is a young calf,” Winslow shrugged, “but both of us ate those steaks last week.” He saw that the concept bothered her but knew of no other way to introduce her to that grim aspect of the world. “Well, let’s get moving,” he said, and they mounted and moved toward the ridge, where they would camp.

He shot two rabbits later that afternoon, adding them to the pack on the mule. Later he downed an antelope and dressed it. “This will make a good meal for Miss Eileen,” he said, noting that Laurie had looked at the beautiful animal with some degree of sadness. He made a try at modifying this, by saying, “God made all the animals for man’s use. Pretty nice of Him to watch out for us.”

That thought pleased her, and by the time they reached a clump of timber, she was excited about making camp. He let her do as much as she was capable of—helping gather wood, putting the blankets down for their beds, getting out the food. He hobbled the horses, and by the time the sun fell, the cheerful fire drove the falling darkness back. He cut sharp sticks with his knife and let her roast one of the rabbits. When they were eating, he said, “Food always tastes better outside, doesn’t it? No matter how bad it’s cooked, I always gobble it down. But you did a real good job of cooking, Laurie.”

After supper they sat and watched the fire, adding branches from time to time. The firelight reflected the glow of pleasure
in Laurie’s eyes, and she talked excitedly about the day’s events. Once after a pause she asked, “What did my mother look like, Daddy?”

She had asked him this many times. “She was very beautiful, Laurie. When you’re a few years older, you’ll see her every time you look in the mirror.”

She thought about that when she drifted off to sleep later, wondering what it would have been like having a mother.

As they slept, the fire snapped and popped, and the logs settled with a sigh from time to time. A heavy silence muffled the land, broken occasionally by the cries of a timber wolf that floated on the night air.

At dawn they awakened and fixed a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon, saddled up, and moved away from the camp. This was not hostile Indian territory, but Winslow kept a sharp watch, for the Sioux were not shut in by boundaries. All morning they roamed the low hills, exploring small creeks and stands of timber. Often they saw deer, but Winslow took no shots, content to let Laurie enjoy their floating gait as they fled away.

At noon when they crested a hill, Laurie saw something on the horizon and asked, “What’s that, Daddy?”

“That’s the school, the one Miss Faith teaches in.”

“Oh, let’s go see her!”

Winslow agreed, but as they rode toward the buildings, he felt distinctly uncomfortable. He had seen Faith only twice since his encounter with her and Spence Grayson, both times chance occurrences in Bismarck. She had been civil enough, yet he had not missed the restraint in her manner—and could not blame her for it. When he had left her place that day, the anger the sight of Grayson always triggered had slowly faded, and it was then he realized he had been unfair to the woman. But there had been no way to speak of it to her; even now when the opportunity was before him he felt uncomfortable and wished he’d taken another route.

Faith had been reading a story to her pupils—twelve of
them, ranging from the ages of ten to fifteen. It was an awkward situation, for she read in English, and Gray Dove, the oldest girl, translated into the Sioux language for the others. At the sound of horses, Faith had gone to look out the window. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Why don’t you draw a picture of a buffalo on your tablets?”

Stepping outside, she greeted them with a smile. “Hello, Laurie—Tom. Nice to see you.”

Laurie slid off her horse and ran to Faith, beginning at once to tell of the camping trip. Winslow removed the antelope from the mule and held it up. “Brought your dinner.”

“Oh, that will be good,” Faith said. “Let me put it in the larder.” She waited until he halved the antelope, then led the way to the back of the house where a shed had recently been added. “The men thought this would be handy,” she said, opening the door.