A Man for Temperance (Wagon Wheel) (14 page)

“Is that all he said?”

“Not all,” Brennan admitted. He saw that the women were waiting for him. “He said be careful. He saw a Cheyenne war party a few days ago. Nothing to worry about. They’re not likely to get this close to the fort.”

Belle was smiling at Brennan. “Don’t you even want to know what the squaw looked like?”

“Maybe I passed up a good deal, but I reckon I got enough to take care of with two women and a wagonload of kids.”

Belle stared at him, shook her head, and said, “I’m going to bed. Wake me if the Cheyenne get here.”

Temperance was still shocked about the Indian. He had appeared almost like magic, and she admitted, to herself at least, that she was frightened. The Cheyenne could come as Little Bear had and kill them all.

Brennan was studying her. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“I am a little.”

“It’ll be OK. The wagon trains are pretty thick around here, and the fort’s not too far away. The Cheyenne aren’t likely to make a raid this close to the soldiers.”

He looked down at the fire. “I had a good time with Little Bear and his people, but it was a long time ago.”

Temperance felt better merely by his presence there. He stood so close she could have reached out and touched him, and finally her curiosity caused her to say, “Would you have taken the squaw if we hadn’t been along, all of us, I mean?”

“I don’t think so.”

Brennan’s form was tall and angular, outlined by the flickering fire that cast shadows over his face. “Did you ever have a special feeling for one woman?”

Brennan turned to stare at her. “I did once, but she didn’t feel anything for me.”

For a moment Temperance tried to imagine what that situation had been like, but then, without thought, the question that had been at the back of her mind for some time came to her and she asked it. The words almost tumbled out of her mouth. “Do you—do you ever think of me as a woman, Thaddeus?”

The question obviously caught Brennan off guard. “Why, Peabody, we haven’t done anything but argue since we met. We’re too different. One of us would have to change before anything like that could happen.”

“I can’t change.”

“No,” Brennan said slowly, “I don’t reckon you can.”

For a moment the two stood there, and then something whirled rashly between them, something that neither of them could explain. Brennan reached out, brought her to him like a man reaching for something he was not sure of.

When he pulled her close, it seemed that a temptress howling like the winter wind went through Temperance. She had never felt such a thing before, and for that moment she understood what it meant to be a woman. It frightened her but gave her a feeling such as she had never known before. She waited, saying nothing, and Brennan was suddenly aware of the strength and honesty of this woman.

For that one instant Temperance did not move away from the pressure of his hands. He didn’t move forward. He pulled her to him, looked down at her face and he saw her lips tremble, and then something came to him. He was a man who had known women, and she was a woman who had never known a man, but at that moment by the flickering fire, he realized she was there waiting for him, and it was her innocence, perhaps, that caused him to stop. He suddenly dropped his arms and said, “I guess I’d better go back on guard.”

His words caught Temperance like a blow. She hugged herself and thought,
I wanted him to kiss me, to tell me that I was
a woman to be desired.
A bleakness came to her then, and she shook her head.
I’ll never have anything like that.
The darkness seemed to close about her, but it was a darkness inside her more than the darkness of the heavens above or the prairie. With a soft meaningless cry, she turned and walked blindly back toward the wagon.

A GUSTY BREEZE STIRRED the air with sweet, musty, and pungent odors as Rena plodded along beside the wagon. Sunlight ran fresh and fine across the prairie and on the surface of the Sweetwater River bordered by the road. From far up ahead she could see a wagon train approaching, and a queer twinge rose in her—a stray current of something painful from her past. A sharp regret brought a furrow to her forehead, and her mouth twisted in a grimace. Rena often had these moments of remorse that amounted almost to a psychic pain as she thought back over the tangled skeins of her twelve years. Sometimes she would think of girls her age who had pleasant, fine, warm memories of a home with a loving mother, a faithful father, and a life of stability. None of that had been hers, and there was an inner longing she could never subdue, try however hard she might.

Far off to her right, four antelope appeared almost magically, so it seemed, created for that moment. They stood motionless in their private tableau, watching the passing of the wagon, and Rena wondered what sort of thoughts went through an antelope’s mind. She knew they were intensely curious, for Thad had once put a flag on a bush and told them to watch. She and Bent had waited, and sure enough the antelope, attracted by the white flapping cloth, moved closer and closer. Thad could
have shot one of them easily, but they already had food and he passed up the opportunity by saying, “We’ll save them for another day.”

A slight cadence of sound caught her ear, and, turning quickly, she glimpsed a small bird with white stripes on its back. It was perched in a shrub watching her, its eyes like living beads, and it made a small syncopated sort of song as she passed. Her mind made a sudden leap and she thought back to the time when she was only five years old or six, she could not remember which. Her parents had gotten a calf, and in the dead of winter, one freezing night, the cold laid its iron grasp on the earth—and on the calf. Rena had gone out the next morning and found it lying stiffly. She had wept over it, but then a sign of life appeared in a mere flickering of its eyelid. She had run and gotten her father, and they had pulled the animal into the house where it revived. They nursed it back to health, and it became a pet for Rena. She remembered as she walked along, her eyes fixed on the horizon, how she had cried for days when her father sold the calf and then he and her mother spent the money on whiskey.

Suddenly a movement caught her eye, and Bent, who had been riding on Babe, slipped to the ground and came running to her, stirring up small clumps of dust under his feet.

“Where’s Thad?” he demanded.

“Out hunting, I guess.”

“I wish he had let me go with him.”

“Don’t try to make a friend out of Thad,” Rena said shortly and watched an expression she could not quite define wash across her brother’s face. It was almost as if a curtain had been pulled aside, and she saw there some of the pain and disappointment she herself felt.

“Why not? I like to be friends with Thad.”

“He’ll be gone soon. There’s no sense making friends with somebody you know you’re going to lose.”

Bent lengthened his steps to keep pace with Rena. He glanced up in the wagon where Temperance was making cooing noises to Bess, who lay in her lap. He did not speak for a time, but his silence was eloquent. Finally he said, “I don’t care what you say. I want to have friends.”

Rena shook her head. “Don’t get too close to anyone.” Bitterness rang in her tone. “You’ll get hurt.”

“I can’t help it. I’ve got to have some friends, don’t I?”

“You’ve got me and Bess, but we’re going to lose everybody else.” Suddenly she heard Bess crying and shook her head. “I’m going to ride in the wagon awhile.” She looked at him and suddenly reached out in a rare gesture of affection and ruffled his hair. “Maybe we’ll find friends when we get older.” She left him then, not looking back, for she knew she had hurt him and it grieved her. He and Bess were all she had now. The future was tinged with darkness, and a sense of fear touched her as she crawled up in the wagon.

“I think she needs changing,” Temperance smiled.

“I’ll do it.”

“What were you and Bent talking about?”

Rena expertly stripped the diaper from Bess, and her hands were nimble as she fastened another one on. “I was telling him not to make friends with Thad.”

“You don’t like Thad?”

“It doesn’t matter whether I do or not.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because, after you dump us in Baton Rouge, we won’t ever see you again.”

Temperance tried to think of a response. She had none and finally said gently, “Maybe it will be better than you think.”

“No, it won’t.”

Temperance shook her head, then stepped out of the wagon. She made her way to where Bent was walking along, his eyes on the ground in front of him. “What’s the matter, Bent? You look like you bit into a sour pickle.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on now. You can tell me.”

Bent looked up at her, and she saw the pain in his green eyes. The summer’s darkness was on his skin, and a line of freckles crossed his cheeks and dotted his nose. “She said I can’t be friends with Thad.”

“Well, she may be right about that.”

Instantly he looked up at her. “Don’t you like Thad?”

“He’s—he’s not a steady man.” She tried to think of some way to put it without completely destroying the boy’s faith in Thaddeus, and finally she shook her head and lifted her eyes to the far distance. “I can’t understand a man like that. Unreliable. You can’t count on him.”

“He takes me hunting sometimes.”

“That’s no trouble to him. He looks out for nobody but himself.”

“I don’t care what you and Rena say. I’m going to be friends with Thad. But when I get to Louisiana, I’m going to run away when I get old enough. I’m not going to live with those people.”

Temperance started to speak, but before she could, Bent suddenly broke into a dead run. He ran lightly as a young deer, and she watched as he separated himself from the wagon. Pain came to Temperance then. She had had an unhappy childhood
herself, but nothing like the Overmeyer children were facing.
God, help them,
she prayed.
They need You.

* * *

NOON CAME, AND THADDEUS had not appeared. Temperance had walked beside Babe and stopped the big animal with a firm word. Belle came up and asked curiously, “I saw you talking to Bent. What was that all about?”

“Rena told him that he couldn’t be friends with Thad, and I guess I agreed with her. He’s not a steady man. I never could understand a man like that.”

“I can,” Belle said. She was wearing one of Temperance’s dresses, and being a larger woman, she filled it out almost to the point of immodesty, which did not bother her in the least. “I guess Thad and I are a lot alike.”

“He’s not a man that Bent and Rena can depend on.”

“He’s steady enough for me.” Belle grinned suddenly, and despite the remaining marks from the beating, a sensuous beauty was etched across her features. “He wouldn’t do for you, Temperance. You and him just would never make a match.”

“Of course we wouldn’t. I’d have no man who wasn’t reliable.”

Belle did not answer for a moment. Her mouth twisted in a hint of a smile, and her eyes sparkled. “Preacher lady, you’ve got some funny ideas in your mind about a man. This man you think of is perfect. He doesn’t have any faults. He always does what’s right, he never makes mistakes, and he’s a perfect gentleman at all times.” She suddenly laughed aloud. “The trouble is, there’s not any man like that, and you’d never be happy unless he was perfect. You better learn to take people as they are.”

Temperance turned quickly and saw that Belle was laughing at her. She was so different from this woman. The two of them had followed different pathways, had different values. She knew that Belle was immoral, that she had sinned against God in every way a woman could, yet despite this, there was a liveliness in the woman Temperance knew was lacking in her own makeup. It bothered her, and she suddenly felt an impulse to talk to Belle about her soul.

“Don’t you ever think about what it’ll be like to face God on judgment day, Belle?” she asked urgently.

“I don’t think about things like that. Just make it through the day. That’s all I’ve got to do.” She waited to see if Temperance would preach her a sermon, and when she got no reply, she nodded. “You’ve given up on me. Good!”

“I haven’t given up on you, Belle. I just don’t know how to talk to anybody like you.” Temperance paused before returning to the business at hand. “We need to get busy. I’ll cook the stew if you’ll take care of the kids.”

They fell into the routine of work. Rena milked the goat, and Temperance soon had a stew simmering in a black iron pot over a quickly built fire. Rose was playing with Billy when suddenly she called out, “There comes Thad!”

“I declare, honey,” Belle said, “you’ve got sharp eyes. You can see farther than any of us.” She stood up and waited until Thad came in, then smiled at him. “We thought you’d left us.”

“Not likely.” Thad dismounted, and when Judas tried to bite him, he struck him in the nose with his fist.

“You’re hard on horses,” Belle remarked.

“Women and horses need a firm hand.” Thad grinned. He glanced over at Rena, who was watching him. “Kids too. When I get married I’m going to have six kids, and I’m going to keep
seven switches. One for my wife and a special switch for each youngun. I’m going to start out every day”—he pulled out the makings of a cigarette and started to roll it—“by whipping them just to get ahead of the game. That way if they do something I don’t like, they’ve already had their beating.”

Belle laughed. “I’m glad you told me about all that. You know, if you marry me and you whip me, I’ll wait until you go to sleep. Then I’ll pour boiling water right where it hurts.”

Temperance had been listening. She was accustomed to Thad’s mild teasing and wished at times she had a lightness about her that Belle had—without Belle’s other qualities, of course, that bothered her. “The stew’s ready.”

Thad came over, squatted before the fire, and took the bowl of stew she handed him. He began to eat noisily, and Rena said in disgust, “You eat like a pig, Thad. Don’t you have any manners?”

“I’m saving them until I need them. You’ve got manners enough for all of us. You ladies can give us the manners.”

“Your hands are filthy!” Temperance snapped.

“If you think my hands are dirty, you ought to see my feet.” Thad grinned, pleased that he had irritated her, then slurped the stew noisily. When Temperance asked if he wanted more, he shook his head. “No. Going to have something better than stew meat tonight.” He waved his arm toward the horizon on his left. “Found a small herd of buffalo. Kind of surprising. Most of them have wandered off to get away from the trail and the wagon trains.”

“Why didn’t you bring one back?” Bent asked.

“They’re too darn big. We’ll go where they are. I’ll shoot one, and tonight we’ll eat high on the hog.” He was in a good mood although he had been drinking. His cheeks were flushed,
and he leaned back and made a smoke, and when he blew a puff in the air, he waved it around. “The best part of a buffalo is the tongue and the liver. I’m going to give the liver to you, Peabody. You need to eat it raw. It’s a lot better that way.”

“I’m not eating any raw liver,” Temperance insisted.

“Well, you’ll miss out on a blessing then.”

“You really eat the liver raw?” Bent said. “What does it taste like?”

“Raw liver.” He laughed and said, “Come on, Bent, you’re a mite small for a buffalo gun, but I’ll show you how it’s done. When you get a little bigger, you can shoot your own buffalo.”

Bent immediately got to his feet, his eyes shining. He watched as Thad swung into the saddle and whispered to Rena, “You see, Rena, he does like me.”

“It don’t cost him anything to take you with him,” Rena said.

Bent ignored her, however, and when Thad kicked his foot out of the stirrup, he scrambled aboard the horse behind him. “Just head right over that way, Peabody. It’s not too far. I’ll keep an eye out for you so you won’t get lost.” He kicked his heels against Judas’s side, and the big horse leaped into a dead run.

“I’m not eating any raw liver,” Temperance said defiantly.

“You ought to try it, Temperance,” Belle laughed, her eyes shining. “You need to try new things. Get out of the rut you’re in.”

* * *

BENT LOOKED AT THE six buffalo that had found a small spring. He saw two of them wallowing in it, and Thad shook his head. “Buffalo can sure mess up a spring. Just imagine driving
to get to a spring and there’s a thousand buffalo done messed in it and wallowed in it.”

“A thousand! You ever see that many, Thad?”

“Oh yeah. More than that. Sometimes there’s just too many to count. Not like that anymore. Buffalo don’t stay around where the wagon trails are. Still, up north you can probably find some big herds.”

“How close do we have to get for you to hit one?”

“We’re close enough. Jump down.”

Bent slipped off Judas’s back, and Thad nodded. “Here, you hold on to the horse while I bring one down.”