The Indifference of Tumbleweed (10 page)

But the value or otherwise of his nature was of secondary interest to the effect of his physical presence on my own recalcitrant body. The reasons for this continued to puzzle me as we walked and spoke of inconsequential matters. Was I a pawn in a great divine game of chess, manipulated by God into taking this Abel Tennant who was by a year or more my junior, as my lifelong mate, with no conscious choice of my own? Was I to meekly accept the pairing as inevitable, with an engagement announced and a wedding the moment we reached Oregon? My understanding was that the course was all too readily set for such a development by the careless utterance of a few words. There had been a hinted understanding that I, and even possibly Fanny, might well find ourselves husbands during the emigration, with so many eligible young men sharing the journey with us. But I had no concept of how that might be accomplished, or what it would entail. In the city, as I said, I had been
slower than other girls in such matters. My poor skin and rounded shoulders made me shy and reluctant to place myself in any situation that attracted the attentions of men. I had been dimly conscious of waiting for my sister Fanny to be old enough to take the lead, so that I might shadow her and perhaps learn some of her confident ways.

It seemed unreal to be walking alongside this handsome youth in the summer sunshine. Even inconsequential topics of conversation ran dry quite quickly, leaving us to step along in silence for some minutes. Where Henry had constantly shot worried glances from side to side, Abel was magnificently unconcerned as to who might be watching us. This alone gave rise to even deeper suspicions. It could be, I reasoned, that he
wanted
us to be identified as a future couple, that he had chosen me already, and in some mysterious way that choice was calling to my bloodstream and getting the very answer it sought. But Abel was so very good looking, and I was so disappointingly plain that such an idea had to be the product of an addled brain.

The afternoon was warm, with a pleasant breeze ruffling the surface of the river. We set camp somewhat early, having made good speed all day, and there was all the usual activity of releasing the oxen, collecting water and firewood, visiting other families for discussions of the day's progress and plans for the morrow. There were still a good three hours of daylight remaining and nobody yet set light to the fires. Hunger was allayed with tack from the stores, before the stews were even set over the flames. A group of our menfolk walked towards a stand of trees away to the right, where it was suggested they might bring down a few birds to augment the pot. Mr Franklin was amongst them, the only one carrying a rifle. The others had slingshots, except for Mr Fields, who always went on such hunting parties, and who carried an Indian bow with a quiver of arrows.

It was not difficult to kill pigeons, and mostly this is what came back with the hunters, but there was a bigger trophy to be had, in the shape of the turkey, which carried enough flesh to make a good-sized stew for a whole family. At sundown these birds would be plentiful amongst the trees, scratching and pecking at the ground, and sometimes perching in the branches. Their cry was a throaty warble that the children loved to mimic. They were also easy to catch with a degree of care and cunning, sometimes without the need of a cartridge or an arrow. The feathers made playthings for the youngsters, as well as being stuffed into pillows or used as writing implements. And yet there was seldom more than a single turkey hanging from the hunters' shoulders, blood dripping from the beak, upon their return. There would be
bickering as to who had claim to it, who would spend an hour on the plucking, how long it should be hung before eating. In hot weather, the meat quickly became unappetising, the need to prepare and cook it more urgent than the women liked. A pigeon was far easier, and better adapted to our circumstances. A child could pluck it, the dismemberment a simple matter, the taste a favourite with us all, and its death achieved with a single well-aimed rock. Small wonder, then, that every hunting party would return with a dozen or more of the plump creatures, dangling limply from a string. I once counted thirty-two shared amongst five men and boys.

Mr Tennant did not involve himself in such activities. As the weeks passed he grew more kinglike in his role as party leader. His beard grew longer and whiter, his voice more imperious. His daughters-in-law were treated as if they were his slaves and his grandchildren were wary of him. He would order his large rocking chair to be brought down from the wagon and placed on as flat a piece of ground as could be found. There he would sit, with a pipe, watching us all as he gently rocked. It should have been comical, out in the wildness of the plains, to see a man behave as if in a city house, but it was far from amusing. He would cast loud judgements on those he observed, not so much a king as a god, I thought. ‘That's a good boy, that Abel is.' Or, ‘What does that fool Jude think he's doing now? The brains of a jackass and a lot less useful.' But when I heard him say, ‘The half-breed's getting a sight too familiar. A man like that needs to know his rightful place,' I found myself thrilling to an anger I had hardly known before. I had to turn away and lower my head to prevent myself from making an injudicious response. The injustice was too stark to ignore. Mr Fields had never once been impertinent or sharp with anyone in the party. He was dogged and diligent beyond any of the others. Because his equipment was old and unreliable, he was forced to spend far more time on repairs than anyone else. I had seen his hands blistered and bleeding after a long evening spent stitching unyielding leather harness that had frayed and split yet again. Because he had lower stocks of food than the others, he had greater need to hunt down birds, rabbits, groundhogs – anything his wife could add to the pot.

So when the maligned man emerged from the woodland with a large turkey on his back, I was quick to scent trouble as Mr Tennant spotted him from his throne.

‘The villein brings tribute to his master, I see,' he said, with no hint of jocularity.

Mr Fields was slow to realise that he was being addressed. The heavy bird, with the shaft of the arrow that killed it still protruding from its breast, was tilting his slight frame a little. He shifted it, and took several more steps towards his wagon.

‘Fields!' Mr Tennant suddenly shouted, far more loudly than necessary. ‘Is it your intention to share your game with the rest of us?'

Now the hunter stopped, his head pulled down and forward, in a posture of belligerence. ‘You mean the turkey, sir?'

‘Indeed I do. A good meaty bird, I see.'

‘I intend it for my family, sir. My wife in particular is weak after her trouble, and one of our lads has a stomach sickness. It is my own kill, sir. I see no obligation whatever to part with it.'

‘Tribute, man. Regard it as a tribute.'

‘Under what regulation, sir? I am aware of no such provision in the agreement.'

Mr Tennant now had the attention of almost everyone in the party. Murmurs came from several directions. Mr Fields looked around for support and received it most plainly from my father.

‘Tennant – what are you saying?' he asked. ‘Where has this come from?'

Mr Tennant puffed out his chest, seemingly unconcerned. ‘I simply presumed that since I am burdened with the responsibility of decisions, the security of some dozens of souls resting on my shoulders, I could reasonably expect some modest contributions towards my requirements, when a clear surplus existed.'

‘Nonsense,' said my father. ‘Sheer nonsense. I should remind you, sir, that this land is a democracy. We have a duty to convey the doctrines of democracy and Christianity alike to the peoples west of here. We are required at all times to show an example to such peoples. Your choice of Fields as the object of your greed is particularly unfortunate, given his parentage. I am beginning to regret, Mr Tennant, that I voted for you as party leader, at the outset. I expected much better of you than this.'

‘Greed?' thundered Mr Tennant, fixated on that single word. ‘How dare you?'

Nobody else spoke up, but the mutterings grew louder. Groups were forming, comprised of the Tennants on one side, and everyone else a distance from them. I stared in confusion at this startling display of how men could develop such sudden animosities, with real anger flaring. I felt a fear that I could hardly explain to myself. Something in the air was full of threat.

My father was quite obviously in the right. Surely everyone, even Mr Tennant, could see that. My brother was standing stockstill, his jaw foolishly slack, the axe in his hand as ever. He looked from face to face in confusion.

‘What else would you call it?' My father spoke with calm reason, which served to inflame Mr Tennant further. What had possessed the man, I wondered. Had his wits turned in the weeks since the journey began? ‘I trust you will recall yourself to a better attitude, with a pause for reflection.'

My father had often told us that he had intended, in his youth, to become a priest. That he was now and then regretful at the change of mind brought about by an insecure vocation and a great desire to marry and have a family. But there was something priestly in his dealings with other men. He would gaze at them quietly, if he judged them to be misbehaving in some way, and compel them to consider their actions. More than that, he disciplined we children in something of the same fashion.

But it was not an effective strategem when it came to Mr Tennant. Our leader had persuaded himself, over the weeks, that he was rightfully elevated above everyone else. ‘I was properly elected,' he shouted now. ‘By virtue of all male persons above the age of majority, I stand as leader of this party. As such, I might expect a level of deference from those I lead. I warn you, Collins, that insubordination of such magnitude risks expulsion from the train.'

Some onlookers understood the import of these words well before others. There was a gasp which swelled as more people saw the significance of the threat. ‘No!' cried Mr Fields. ‘How can that be, for a simple disagreement?'

Mr Tennant turned slowly in his chair, to face the man who had originally angered him. ‘I merely remind all those present of my powers,' he said, his rage controlled with an effort we could all see. ‘These early weeks of our trek have proved deceptive in their ease. It will not always be thus. We face great heat, in the immediate future, and many risks of shortages, accidents, delays and hard decisions. Without due discipline, we shall founder. The sharing of bounty is a basic absolute of any interdependent group. I dare say that not one of you has been a serving military man, as I have been. You do not fully comprehend the importance of such practices. It is my duty to educate you. Therefore,
Mr
Fields, I ask you again to offer portions of your handsome bird to anyone wishing to avail himself of them.'

My father was confounded. He blinked and stared at the ground for a long moment. Then he said, ‘I cannot believe the hazards ahead are so great as to warrant this
injustice. We are not alone – far from it. The real decisions are made for us by those in the forefront of the caravan. We have managed to overcome accidents well enough so far. And your reasoning is flawed, sir. You choose to be undemocratic in order to spread democracy. Your demand on Mr Fields does not have the merit of consent from the whole group. If someone were starving, the case would be different. As it is, the most hungry and needy amongst us can be found in Mr Fields' own family. Therefore I say again, it is nothing more than greed on your part that impels your request. Furthermore, the threat to eject any family from this party is both cruel and entirely unjustified.'

Opinion swung transparently from one to the other and back again. The Franklins nodded their heads at almost everything that was said by either man.

Mr Tennant rested back in his chair and rocked a time or two. ‘Let that be an end of it for the moment, then,' he said, like a judge in a high court. ‘Points have been made by us both, giving the whole party much to reflect upon. Mr Fields, I merely wished to remind you and others of the basis on which we are all here. Independent action can be laudable, of course. This nation is built on men of character, individualists and pioneers. However, in these circumstances, thought must be given to the greater good, at all times. Is that understood?' He included us all in this final question, and with some mutters and head-scratchings, there seemed to be a fair level of agreement. Mr Fields, looking pale and unhappy, carried the turkey bird to his wagon, where his wife seized hold of it like the ever-hungry Melchior might have done.

I had been sitting near the river's edge, when the incident began, having collected a pan of water for washing, and paused to search for a place of privacy for the necessary and intimate ablutions I had in mind. It had been then that I realised there was a hunting party in the woods where I would have gone. Thwarted, I had put down my pan and simply sat idly waiting and enjoying the evening sunlight. For once there were no urgent tasks to perform – and even if my mother had summoned me, I would have made excuses based on my condition. I knew I was emitting odours that nobody would find attractive except for one or two of the dogs that were perpetually sniffing round for something of interest. The quest for personal cleanliness was a trump card amongst all the women and girls. Men could display sweat stains and gravy dribbles, smelling of beasts and worse, but none of the females would be tolerated in such a state. The monthly flux was a considerable nuisance, entailing constant washing and urgent disappearances behind rocks or shrubs along the way. While it was scarcely
ever mentioned, it became all too apparent when one of us was afflicted. An unspoken agreement existed to guarantee a lack of disturbance when required. Young boys would be cuffed by their fathers if they tried to sneak after one of the girls. But in the evenings, when camp was pitched, it became more difficult. Cover was not always generous, and from the whole train there could be a score or more females all seeking the same sanctuary for the same reason, but too modest to share a space, and certainly unable to speak aloud of the matter.