The Handsomest Man in the Country (2 page)

Uncle Dem had been thinking of going west for several years and had been making inquiries into what was needed. He had him a solid built oak wagon, extra wheels, heavy canvas well tied down, large water barrels, six sturdy mules and a riding horse.

He'd planned to take only the bare necessities plus his plow and some seed grain, but at the last moment Aunt Edith wouldn't part with her belongings and had heaped them on the wagon till it pulled mighty hard. After the storm had passed, the mules could hardly move it through the mud, and right then Uncle Dem off-loaded her piano and cast-iron cook stove, giving them to some folks living nearby who said they could use 'em.

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 judgement 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.

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 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, snake bite, accidents with guns or axes, as well as Indians.