Part 5 (1/2)
Her voice was soft. ”You're the biggest fool, Lije.”
He knew what she meant. She meant it still struck her queer that he should bow his neck for Oregon and feel better all the time for doing it. Well, it was queer. An old plug didn't often prance.
She said, ”h.e.l.lo, there, d.i.c.k,” and Evans saw that d.i.c.k Summers was strolling up. In the old buckskin breeches and redchecked s.h.i.+rt he had put on, d.i.c.k was something. Tall, silverhaired, strong-looking in arm and leg and body, he was a man to catch the eye, different from anyone Evans knew, different from those who traveled the Santa Fe trail, from the Mexicans who dressed to show off. There wasn't any show-off in d.i.c.k. He was just himself.
”I'd think you'd melt to a grease spot,” Rebecca said, looking at the buckskins.
”I reckon I got ahead of myself, sure enough.”
She said, ”It's the sun got ahead of itself, d.i.c.k.”
”h.e.l.l of a mess,” Evans put in, making a wide sweep of his hand, to the wagons, tents, people, talk, horses, oxen, everything. ”Some'll be turnin' back.”
Summers put tobacco in his pipe. ”It'll straighten out, likely.”
”Tadlock's the big toad,” Evans said.
”Looks so. Got such a start n.o.body else'll stand.”
”Maybe he'll make a good-enough captain?”
Summers nodded as if he didn't quite agree. ”Have to keep a tight line on him.” He pulled on his pipe while his keen gray eyes went over the layout.
”Wants to kill all the dogs, down to my old Rock.” Summers went on smoking.
”That's what I hear on the quiet, anyhow. He won't come out for it open, I don't guess. Might cost him votes.” Evans put his words so as to be questions. ”They say dogs can't make it anyhow? Say they'd give us away to the Injuns?”
Summers looked at Rebecca, the faint tracks of a smile on his face. ”They make good meat if food runs out.”
”Ah-h!”
”The Sioux eat pup, and I've chewed a few. Taste like hog meat.”
”Sure enough, d.i.c.k,” Evans asked, ”you think we ought to kill the dogs?”
”Be h.e.l.l to pay.”
”I know, but you think we ought?”
”Dog can go where a cow can.”
”I hadn't thought of that.”
”And they won't give us away any more'n they'll put us on guard.” Summers was silent for a minute. ”Mighty hard thing to sneak into an Injun camp, on account of the dogs.”
”Tadlock wouldn't know about that. We got to ejicate him.” Evans got out his own pipe. He was filling it when the horn sounded high and strong above the clatter, calling the men to the election.
Evans and Summers walked toward the center of the camp, where the men were gathering. On the way, Evans saw the file of dogs again. A little boy, cotton-topped and thin, was following them. Evans heard a voice call, ”Toddie! Come here, Tod.” The voice belonged to Mrs. Fairman, a long-legged, well-turned girl with light hair and eyes as pale as pond water. She walked out and got the boy by the hand.
Nearly everybody in camp collected for the election, the men standing in front, chewing and spitting, and the women behind and the young ones open-eared on the fringes. Because he had been chosen temporary captain -or commandant captain, he called it- Tadlock brought the meeting to order. He stepped up on a wooden bucket and beat a spoon against a tin plate to gett silence. When the talk had toned down some, he pitched into his speech, standing square on the bucket. Everything about him was square, Evans thought -square face, square body, square way of standing. Evans wondered if he was square inside, too, while he admitted to himself that Tadlock made a figure, the teeth showing white, the face tanned on the cheekbones and blue-black at the jaw with the roots of beard, the eyes bold, the arms moving easy. He might be an all-right man. It bothered Evans to think maybe he wasn't. He didn't like to think bad of folks.
Tadlock was saying, ”Our company, I have reason to believe, will be the first out anywhere. The St. Joe trains, we hear, won't roll for several days. So it appears we'll be the trail blazers -and also escape the dust of the desert, find gra.s.s for our animals, and arrive first at the Willamette.”
Some of the men yelled at his words, and he closed his mouth, giving them time for their hurrahs. When they were finished, someone kept shouting, ”Chairman! Mr. Chairman!”
It was Brother Weatherby, crowding through toward the bucket. The old preacher had put on his rusty coat, though he must have been hot in it. The cracked voice rose: ”We had no prayer. We didn't open with prayer.”
Back of Weatherby someone said, ”Sit down! Christ sake!” and another voice answered, ”I kin remember my pap braggin' Sunday'd never cross the Mississippi.” Other men were muttering or just grinning, but the women, Evans noticed when he looked around, mostly were nodding their heads, thinking Weatherby was right.
Tadlock wasn't fazed at all. He said, ”I'm sorry, Brother Weatherby. It was an oversight. Will you lead us in prayer?” He bent his head.
Weatherby bent his head, too, and by and by raised his arms. He asked G.o.d to be merciful to poor sinners. He said they knew the way was long and dangerous, but they put their trust in Him. . . . We pray Thee to protect us against the elements and against the heathen and the wild beasts, and against sickness and accidents, and to give us strength for the journey and to make our hearts stout, whatever may come to pa.s.s. ... And make us grateful, too, 0 Lord, for all Thy blessings and lead us to know Thy glory and make the sinner to repent and the swearer to see his wickedness and the man and woman in adultery to understand their sin and do it no more. ... We pray Thee to breathe the influence of Thy spirit on us and make us all Christians. . . . G.o.d bless the little children whom Jesus said let come unto Him. . . . And may the storm hold back its fury as the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb, and may the earth give up its abundance. . . . Make us to fear Thee and to sing Thy eternal praise. . . . Amen. Amen.
What with one thing and another, Weatherby took a long time talking to G.o.d, time enough for an ant to crawl from the toe of d.i.c.k Summers' moccasin a distance of two ax handles, not counting the backings up and the side trips along spears of gra.s.s. Evans sneaked a look at Summers while the preaching was going on and saw his head hardly bowed and his eyes empty with distance. He wondered whether Summers believed in G.o.d at all. Not that it made any difference. Any G.o.d worth praying to would know d.i.c.k Summers for a good man, even if he didn't bow and sc.r.a.pe and make little of himself and beg for blessings regardless. Evans didn't guess Summers ever would beg for anything, not even from G.o.d.
When Weatherby was through, Tadlock said, ”We have rules to adopt and a permanent organization to set up.”
Another voice was yelling at him. Tadlock tried to drown it out and then to hush it with his hand, but it kept piping up. Finally Tadlock asked, ”What is it, Turley?”
Evans moved around so as to see Turley. Turley had joined the company late, from the hill and pine country of the Meramec. The words came high-pitched from his thin mouth. ”'Pears to me the first thing is to think again, do we want to go on or wait for some that ain't quite ready? This here's a small train. Ain't enough growed men in it, to my way o' thinkin'. Where we be, meetin' the p.a.w.nees or Sioux? There's a pa.s.sel of people comin', like we all know, hunderds of 'em. Doc Welch of Indiany said we could j'in him. Told me so hisself. I say let's wait. Be a hunderd wagons along directly.”
Hoots and hollers arose all around, more hoots than hollers.
”Quiet! Orderl” Tadlock roared, beating on the plate. His voice sharpened as the noise died. ”This has all been thrashed out. Anyone who joined this company knew we planned to start early to get there first. Our company's big enough. Twentytwo wagons, nearly thirty armed men.” His arm came out, pointing. ”Ask d.i.c.k Summers there. He knows. He'll tell you a company can be too big, so big that it's slow and hard to manage.” He looked at Turley. ”Anyone who's afraid can wait. We're going on. That's settled.”
Turley shuffled while more voices sounded out. Evans imagined it was Mrs. Turley who had egged him on. Tadlock was all business. ”Is the committee ready to report?” he asked as if he didn't know.
Mack answered, ”It is,” and stepped forward with the wrinkles of thinking on his face and said, ”Your committee recommends that Irvine Tadlock be elected captain and Charles Fairman lieutenant, and Henry s.h.i.+elds captain of the livestock guard, each to serve to the end of the trail.”
An Illinois German named Brewer made a motion to accept the report, and Hank McBee, speaking loud out of his mangy beard, seconded the motion.
Tadlock made as if to step down from the bucket, saying, ”Will someone preside? It isn't right for me to,” but the voices went up in yells of ”Yes” and ”Keep the stump” and ”Whoa, there,” and Tadlock put his foot back on the bucket and asked, ”Well, if it's unanimous?” He got more yells for an answer.
”Thank you. Thank you all. I'll do my very best. Is there a further report then?”
There was. Mack read it off. Evans, listening with just half his mind, heard it in s.n.a.t.c.hes. . . . Recommend the train be called the On-to-Oregon Outfit. . . . Recommend a governing council of six be elected.... Recommend tax to pay expenses, including two hundred dollars for the pilot. . . . Recommend no ardent spirits be taken, except for medical purposes. ... Require wagons be capable of carrying a quarter more than their load, teams of drawing a quarter more. . . . Death for murder. . . . Thirty-nine lashes for three days for rape. ... Thirty-nine lashes on the bare back for adultery and fornication (big-sounding words for something simple). . . . Council to fix penalty for indecent language. . . . Recommend train start at seven o'clock every morning and travel from ten to fifteen miles every day. . . .
A long list, that made Summers snort once. Evans' attention strayed off, to Mack, to Fairman, to McBee, to Brewer, and off to one side, beyond the men, to the girl, Mercy McBee, who wore a red poke bonnet and stood, her eyes fluid above the pale planes of her cheeks, like a young doe that had heard a noise. Sadness in the face, or maybe only emptiness. A look to squeeze a man inside. In animals you knew what you'd get, crossing scrubs. Question was, did the scrubs cross or a good stud get in the pasture? More likely she was scrub, too, underneath. Thirtynine lashes for fornication. That was a warning, aimed mostly by the married men at the single ones who'd been engaged to help out on the trip.
Brother Weatherby was wanting to add to the list, asking that the company go ”on the moral code written by G.o.d in the breast of every man.”
A little smile was on Tadlock's face. He knew better than to laugh, but he knew to smile, too, letting on it was best, if a little overdone, to give the preacher man some rope.
The man back of Evans muttered, ”Make the old fool shut up. Wants to make the rules, and him without a pot to p.i.s.s in.”
Mack read some more. . . . Require provisions in the following amounts . . . two hundred pounds of flour per person, except for infants . . . seventy-five pounds of meal ... fifty pounds of bacon. . . . Name three inspectors, to look over wagons and supplies. ... Move report be adopted.... Aye....