A Man for Temperance (Wagon Wheel) (12 page)

Temperance knew there was a hurt in this big, rough man that no one knew about. She strongly suspected he had never mentioned his early life to anyone, and she knew that she could not feel the same toward him ever again. He was more than just a rough, untutored hooligan, and she knew she would never forget the story of how his mother had sent him away without even a kiss. She also knew why the mother could not kiss him; it was just too much for a woman to bear.

* * *

FORT HALL WAS BETTER than Fort Boise, though not much. There were drunken Indians outside the fort and drunken soldiers inside. They pulled up outside the walls, and Temperance said, “I’m going to buy a few things.”

“All right,” Brennan said. “I’ve got to find a gunsmith to repair the rifle.”

Temperance worked to get the kids clean. Rena, Rose, and Bent were all excited at what was happening. She had told them she would buy them a treat at the store.

The store wasn’t much, but at least it had hard candy, and Temperance bought the children some, telling them they shouldn’t eat it all at once but to keep it for the trail. She had purchased a few items and was enjoying simply looking around when suddenly Brennan came in. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

“But I’m not—”

“I said let’s go.”

Rena stared at Brennan. “What’s the hurry?”

Brennan ignored her and herded them out. They went to the wagon, and he seemed nearly frenzied to get away. Quickly they pulled away from the fort.

Brennan walked beside the oxen, urging them on, but he made camp earlier than usual for the day. He was nervous about something, Temperance saw, and finally after supper, he went out to stand with his rifle, looking often back toward the fort.

Rena walked over and stood beside him. “Why’d you have to hurry us away from the store? We was having fun.”

“You can go to the store at the next settlement.”

Rena glared at him. “You and me are a lot alike.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I heard you talking to Temperance about how your ma sent you away. I think that’s why you act mean sometimes.”

“Don’t be makin’ up stories. It ain’t right to listen to other people’s conversations.”

Rena shook her head. “My ma and pa were mean to me. That’s why I’m mean, I guess.”

Brennan studied the girl. She was staring at him with a challenge in her eyes. He tried to think what kind of a woman she would be when she grew up. At twelve, she was already hardened in many ways, having grown up in saloons, with a criminal for a father and a prostitute for a mother. She could be little else, or so she thought. “You don’t have to be mean. You can forget how they treated you.”

Rena stared at him. “You ain’t forgot how your ma treated you.”

“That was different,” Brennan said stiffly. “She didn’t have a choice.”

“Sure she did. She could have kept you. Better she had kept you and you all starved together than sending you off.”

Brennan shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I know one thing. I’m going to be no good just like they were.”

“That’s crazy talk,” Brennan muttered. “What about Bent and Bess?”

Rena suddenly bit on her lower lip. “I guess they got no chance either.” She looked up at Brennan, and he saw the pain in her eyes. “I always watch other kids who had a ma and pa that took care of them. They got everything, Brennan.”

“Maybe your uncle and aunt will be good to you.”

“No, they won’t,” Rena said flatly. Without another word Rena turned and walked off, her back as straight as a ramrod. Brennan watched her, and in a few moments Temperance joined him. She said nothing, but he commented, “That girl’s had a rough row to hoe, Peabody.”

“I know she has. It may be worse. We don’t know what kind of people her relatives are.”

The two stood under the twinkling stars, and Brennan cast a half-embarrassed glance at her. “I know you wanted to stay longer at the store, but we had to leave.”

“What was the rush about? I saw you were troubled.”

“I heard a fellow say that a federal marshal was coming to pick up some prisoners. He probably knows Joe Meek. If he saw me”—he shrugged—“I’d be one of them.”

“Well, of course we had to leave then. There was no other way.”

Brennan seemed troubled, and finally he said, “What if the people we’re taking the Overmeyer kids to are no good?”

Temperance said instantly, “God will get Rena and the others a good place.”

The remark struck Thaddeus Brennan with a force that Temperance could see. She watched his face change and waited until finally he spoke.

“I wish I could believe like you do, Peabody, but I’ve been knocked down too many times.”

She did not answer, and the two of them stood in the silence of the night until finally Brennan said, “Better get some sleep, Peabody. Be another hard day tomorrow.”

“WELL, WE MADE PRETTY good time,” Brennan remarked. He was sitting before the fire with Rena and Bent across from him. Rose was feeding Billy mush that Temperance had cooked.

“How far we got to go?” Rena asked.

“We may be a third of the way there, maybe a little less.” He glanced over at the wagon, and a puzzled look crossed his face. “It’s strange that Peabody ain’t up yet.”

“She’s sick,” Rena said at once. “She was sick all night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brennan demanded.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t care. You don’t care who gets sick around here,” Rena replied.

Casting a disgusted glance at Rena, Brennan shook his head. He walked to the wagon and looked inside. Temperance was lying under a blanket. He lifted it and saw that her face was flushed. “What’s the matter with you?”

Temperance did not even open her eyes. “Don’t know,” she whispered. “Sick all night.”

“Well, ain’t this a pretty come-off! What am I supposed to do with all these kids?” Brennan demanded. He waited for a reply and then shook his head. Stepping back from the wagon, he stood uncertainly for a moment, and Bent asked, “Are we going on?”

“Can’t go on until that woman gets better. We’ll stay here for a spell.”

“What if she dies?” Bent demanded.

“She ain’t gonna die.”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything, that’s what. You come over here.” Going back to the fire, he glanced at the two young girls, Rose and Rena. “We got to stay here for awhile, and you kids have got to help me.”

Rose said, “I’m afraid for her, Brennan.”

“She’ll be OK.”

“I wish there was a doctor here,” Rena said, “but there ain’t.”

“You girls take care of them babies. Bent, me and you will go hunting after awhile, but we’ve got to have some breakfast first.”

“I don’t know how to cook,” Rena said.

“Well, I do,” Brennan said. “I’m the best cook you ever saw.”

“Men can’t cook,” Bent replied stubbornly.

“You just watch my smoke.” Brennan rummaged through the groceries and found what he was looking for. He held up a glass jar and said, “Remember these quail eggs I brought in? We’re going to have them now for breakfast. After that I’m going to make some fresh bread.”

At that instant Timmy began crying.

“What’s the matter with him?” Brennan demanded.

“His diaper’s dirty,” Rose said. “We don’t have any clean ones.”

“Well, what are we going to do then?”

“We’re going to have to wash diapers, that’s what,” Rena said. “You hadn’t noticed that the diapers have to be washed every day?”

“Why, you kids start washing diapers. I’ll cook breakfast, and after that I’m going to make enough bread to do us for a spell.”

Rena sent Bent to milk the goat while she and Rose washed diapers at the small stream. By the time they had hung them to dry, Brennan said, “You got them kids all cleaned up; come and eat something.”

Rena went closer and looked into the big pan Brennan was holding out.

“What’s that?”

“That’s corn pone. I grew up on it, and it won’t hurt you. These quail eggs are just about right.”

He had also fixed a bowl of mush, and they all sat down and began to eat.

“Corn pone is good,” Bent said. “I never ate none before. What’s in it?”

“Cornmeal, salt, water, and some onions. You think that’s good, you wait until tonight. We’re going to have Cherokee bean bread.”

“What’s that?” Rena demanded.

“You ask too many questions. Just eat up.”

After breakfast, Brennan moved the oxen so they had plenty of fresh grass to graze on. Then he set up the Dutch oven, which they had not used since they started their trip. He had been against bringing it, but Temperance had insisted they had to have something to make biscuits in.

Finally Brennan heated some of the mush and walked over to the wagon. “Here,” he said, “you’ve got to eat something.”

“I don’t think I can keep it down.”

“Well, spit it up. We’ll keep pouring it down you. You’ve got to eat.”

Temperance said, “I want to get out.”

“Come on then.” He waited until she appeared, wearing a cotton nightgown. Ordinarily he knew she would not have
worn such a thing before him, but now she was too sick to care. Coming out of the end of the wagon, she faltered. He quickly reached up and scooped her up as if she were a child. He carried her away from the wagon, set her beside it, and arranged a blanket. “Sit down there and eat.”

Temperance thumped to the ground. She looked down and saw that her gown was wet with sweat and clinging to her, and it embarrassed her. “Get—get my robe. I can’t sit here like this.”

“It won’t hurt you. Here, eat this.”

Temperance took the bowl of mush and ate a few bites, and at his insistence she ate more. He squatted beside her and watched her. Finally, when she had eaten half of the bowl, he took it back and got water. “Drink all the water you can.”

She drank thirstily and then said vaguely, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never get sick.”

“Well, it ain’t cholera. Thank God for that.”

“No, I know it’s not that. What could it be?”

“Trail sickness.”

“Trail sickness? What’s that?”

“Don’t know what it is, but after a time on the trail, some people get sick. As long as this is the worst it gets, we’re all right. We’ll stay here for a day or two until you perk up.”

“What about the children?”

“I reckon they’ll make out.” With this cryptic remark he rose and left her. Rena came over at once and said, “How do you feel, Temperance?”

“Washed out. I never was so weak.”

“You better just be still.”

“What about the babies?”

“Me and Rose will take care of them.” She smiled suddenly. “Maybe we’ll make Brennan change their diapers a few times. He might learn something.”

* * *

BY THE NEXT DAY Temperance was better, and on the second day after the sickness hit her, she said to Brennan, “I think I can go on now.”

“All right,” he said. “I’d just as soon be on our way.”

Immediately he rose, and Temperance could hear his voice as he urged the kids to do the chores. Within an hour they were rolling along. Temperance stayed in the wagon, lying down. The swaying motion sometimes made her nauseous, but she steadfastly ignored it.

Early in the afternoon Brennan pulled up. He unyoked the oxen and came over to help Temperance out of the wagon. “I think there might be some squirrel or quail over yonder. I’ll take Bent with me. Maybe we can get a mess.”

Temperance was alarmed. She did not want to be left alone, but she did not say so. “All right,” she said. “I’ll get the fire started.”

“No need to do that. I’ve been picking up wood all day, throwing it in the box.” He turned and walked away abruptly. She heard him say, “Bent, come on.”

Rena appeared, asking, “Where are you going?”

“Going hunting.” He walked to his gear, pulled a small pistol out, and handed it to Rena. “If anybody messes with you, shoot ’em.”

Rena suddenly laughed. “You mean it?”

“Aw, nobody will show up. Come on, Bent.”

Bent was there at once. He watched as Brennan swung into the saddle and then kicked his foot out of the stirrup. “Come on. Get on behind me.”

Bent scrambled on quickly. He seemed a long way from the ground. He noticed that Brennan had brought the two shotguns, and now he handed the smaller one back. “That’s your gun. Try not to shoot me, will you? It’s Monday. It’d be just my dumb luck!”

* * *

BENT’S FACE WAS GLOWING. He felt the weight of the bag and said in awe, “We must have ten squirrels in here.”

“And about that many quail too. You’re a pretty good shot. You must have hunted a lot.”

“No, I ain’t never been hunting.”

“Well,” Brennan said, “I’ll just have to turn all the hunting over to you. We’d better get on back now. We’ve got to cook these critters up.”

By the time they got back to camp, Bent was bubbling over. He almost fell off Judas, holding up the bag of game. “Look, Rena, squirrels! I shot four of them myself and I got three quail.”

Rena came over at once. “You shot them yourself, Bent?”

“I sure did. He let me use the little shotgun.”

“That’s enough talk. Anybody know how to clean squirrels?”

“Not me,” Rena said.

“Well, shucks! I got to do everything myself. You and Bent get the fire going. I’ll clean all these critters. After supper I’m going to give you a special treat.”

Temperance offered to help, but Brennan shook his head. “You stay out of this. I’m the cook tonight. I got something that’s going to make you feel a heap better.”

Since she was allowed to do nothing, Temperance seated herself and watched Brennan and was soon filled with wonder at how quick he was. He had a way of cleaning the quail so they practically fell out of their feathers. With the squirrels it was the same way. He had a huge knife that was sharp as a razor; and with two or three motions and one quick cut, he put his hand on the squirrel’s head and ripped the hide off. He gutted them, tossed them in a pile, and then cut them into small pieces. He didn’t speak, but she was amazed, as always, at how handy he was. He rolled the quail in flour and cut up the squirrels into serving pieces. There was a piece of salt pork, and he put the pork in the skillet and cooked them until they were brown, adding water and simmering them until they were tender. He cooked the quail in a half inch of hot grease and made gravy by adding flour to it.

He opened the Dutch oven and said, “Everything’s ready.” He pulled out the pan of biscuits. “Let’s eat.”

They all gathered around, and Bent’s eyes were glowing. “I like to hunt. I’m going to hunt all the time. Maybe I’ll get me a deer one day.”

“Maybe you might even get a buffalo.”

“Really!” Bent’s eyes grew wide as half-dollars.

“Really. Now eat.”

They all ate hungrily. After they were through with the meal, Brennan said, “All right. I got a special treat going.” He took a large pot and disappeared. He was back in less than four minutes. The pot was brimming. “Everybody get a cup,” he commanded.

They all scrambled for cups, and he poured each a drink and said, “Here, add some of this to it.”

“What is it?” Rena asked.

“I mixed up some honey and some vanilla flavoring. Put it in that water.”

They obeyed his instructions and he said, “Drink up.” Temperance cautiously tasted it, and then a shock ran through her. “Why, this is like soda pop!”

“That’s where we are, Soda Springs. I don’t know what there is, something about this water, that’s all bubbly, like they say, champagne here.”

“It’s the best soda pop I ever had,” Bent cried. “Can I have some more?”

“Drink until you pop for all I care.”

Bent tried to do that, and Temperance asked Brennan, “How long have you known about this place?”

“Everybody that goes over the trail knows about Soda Springs. I always used to stop here to drink the stuff. Almost anything is good in it.”

It was growing darker now, and the sun was dropping into the west. The kids had followed his instructions and left the two infants on the pallet. They had gone to get more of the carbonated water. “Timmy’s crawling away.”

“I’ll get him,” Brennan said. He picked the baby up awkwardly and looked at her. “What do I do with him?”

“He just wants to be held awhile.”

He brought the baby and handed him to Temperance, upon which Bess started crying.

“What do I do with her?”

“Hold her for a little bit. She likes to be held.”

“I ain’t much with babies,” Brennan said.

“She won’t bite you. If she does, she doesn’t have any teeth.”

Brennan awkwardly picked up Bess and stood there looking helpless. It amused Temperance that this man, so handy at all things, could not handle a small child. “Sit down, Thaddeus. She just needs a little company.”

Brennan looked at the baby as if she were a foreign object. He held her at arm’s length and Temperance laughed. “Don’t hold her like that. Cuddle her like this.”

“I ain’t cuddling no baby,” Brennan muttered. Nevertheless, his arms grew tired and he sat the child on his lap and supported her with the back of his arm. She looked up at him suddenly and grinned.

“Why, she just grinned at me.”

“She’s quite a flirt.”

Cautiously Brennan stuck his finger out, and the baby took it and immediately tried to put it in her mouth.

“My hands are dirty.”

“It won’t kill her. She likes something to chew on.”

Brennan allowed the baby to gnaw on his fingers, and he studied her own tiny fingers. “Look at that. She’s got fingers just like a real human being.”