A Man for Temperance (Wagon Wheel) (18 page)

“Don’t be foolish, Belle. He ain’t for her. Women like him. I don’t know why.”

“Why, I can’t understand it either,” Belle said mockingly. “All he’s got is good looks, fine manners, and a ton of money. Can’t understand why a woman would be interested in a man like that.”

“She don’t need to be going off alone with him.”

“Don’t be silly. He’s a perfect gentleman.”

“No, he ain’t. He ain’t respectful to women.”

“Oh, not like you, Thad?”

Thad looked at Belle and frowned. He had not been drinking that day, for a change, and his eyes were clear. “I know he looks pretty good, and he’s a good man to have at your side if we get trapped by a bunch of Cheyenne or Blackfeet, but
women ain’t got no sense about him. They just seem to—I don’t know—kind of melt.”

“I know what that’s like,” Belle said. “Some men can just make you do that.”

“Well, he’s one of them.”

“I heard you trying to warn Temperance. She didn’t seem to take it too well.”

“She’s too innocent. She needs to know that not all men are as trustworthy as—” He broke off.

She laughed. “As trustworthy as you, Thad?”

Thad stared at her. “I’m going to keep an eye on them,” he said. “She’s like a babe in the woods.”

* * *

QUAID AND TEMPERANCE HAD a good hard ride on the two horses. When Quaid pulled up and Temperance brought the mare to the halt, too, she said, “That was such fun.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. The wind had freed her hair, and she had a vibrant look.

“You’re a good rider.”

“I used to ride a lot. Not so much lately. Mostly in wagons.”

“How’d you wind up in Oregon?” Quaid asked, leaning over to pat his stallion on the neck. “You’re from back East, aren’t you?”

“Yes, from the coast in Maine. My parents went to Oregon to start a colony.”

Quaid listened intently and found himself more interested in this woman than he had been in others of late. She had a wealth of light brown hair with tints of auburn, but she had a blend of qualities that struck him. She had a pride
and an honesty and somehow a grace of heart and body that stirred him in a way he could not quite understand. The wind ruffled the edges of her hair, and her smile gently enhanced her appearance. He watched the slight changes of her face, the quickening and loosening of small expressions coming and going, and once, when a private and ridiculous thought seemed to amuse her, he saw the effect dancing in her eyes. When she finished telling her story, he studied her for a moment and then said, “You never married.”

“No.”

“Men in Walla Walla must be fools to let a woman like you get away.”

Temperance did not know what to say. She was unaccustomed to handling compliments. “I’m not attractive, not like Belle. Men want that.”

Quaid shook his head suddenly and abruptly. “You’ve got something I admire in women more than good looks, though you’ve got that too. That’s character.”

Suddenly Temperance smiled. “Thad tells me you’re good with women.”

“Used to be. Not anymore.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me about any of your romances.”

Quaid smiled briefly and then a sadness touched his face. “Well, just one maybe. I loved a woman and she failed me.”

Temperance perceived that the woman had brought tragedy to Quaid Mitchell. He was a cheerful man full of vigor and humor, but the woman had scarred him deeply. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Well, it’s all over. Funny thing. I found God after she left me. Since then I haven’t been looking for a woman. I guess
I wanted to get rich. Now even that doesn’t seem too important.” He moved his horse closer and looked into her face. “It’s a good thing you’re doing, Temperance, taking these children back. I hope you don’t mind my tagging along.”

“I don’t mind at all, Quaid,” she said quietly. The exchange hinted at a brief moment of intimacy, and she felt something stir within her. “Come on. Let’s try these horses again.”

* * *

LATE AFTERNOON WAS DRAWING its shadows across the trail, and Quaid and Temperance had returned from their ride. Quaid was trekking alongside Thad. They talked about the old days trapping, and finally Quaid said, “That time remembers pretty good. I don’t know why. Too much to eat or not enough. Scared half the time that the hostiles would be over the next ridge. Still, it was a good time.”

“It’s about gone now, Quaid.”

“I expect so.”

The two were silent for awhile, and finally Thad said, “Something I got to say to you, partner.”

“Say on, brother.”

“You got to understand Temperance Peabody’s not like other women.”

Quaid shot a quick look at Thad and saw his face was dead earnest. “I guess I figured that out for myself. We used to say of good horses they had bottom. Not a fitting thing to say about a woman, but you know what I mean. She’s a stayer. I admire her more than I can say.”

“Well, take this right, or take it wrong, Quaid, but I want you to leave her alone.”

Quaid was somewhat shocked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen you before with women. They fall for you. You’ve got a way that breaks down their defenses.”

“You don’t have a thing to worry about. I respect her just as much as you do, maybe more.”

“I’d hate to have to make this stronger than just a warning, Quaid. I ain’t forgotten that you pulled my bacon out of the fire more than once when we was in the mountains.”

Quaid did not answer for a time. He was considering Thad and finally he said, “Couldn’t be you care for her yourself, could it?”

“No, nothing like that. I promised to get her and these kids to where they’re going, and I aim to do it.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go along and give you a hand, Thad.” Quaid’s voice developed a sharp edge, and he said, “But let me tell you this. I see something in Temperance I’ve never seen in another woman. You’re a fool if you don’t see it yourself.”

“You remember what I said, Quaid.”

“I don’t forget.”

JULY HAD ARRIVED. THE hot breath of wind scoured bare earth and stirred up the dust in rising clouds that seemed to rise to meet those in the sky. The plains on each side of the Platte River were covered with short grass. Three miles away on both sides of the river, the land rose in sandstone cliffs, which became less and less broken as the trail moved east.

Temperance and Quaid had ridden every day, and the interlude had made the trip enjoyable for her. The long hours on the trail still offered plenty of time; except when they were stopped for nooning or camped for the night, there was really nothing to do. But buffalo chips still had to be gathered for the evening fires.

Temperance was amazed at the wildlife. Antelope and coyotes abounded, and once she even saw a grizzly with two cubs, which delighted her. Another day she saw black bears and, of course, the buffaloes came and went in small herds. The prairie dogs were a source of amazement as well. “I can’t believe there are so many of them,” she said to Quaid as they rode along.

“Some people like to eat them, but they’re pretty small game and not too tasty.”

“Their villages are just like big cities, aren’t they?”

“I expect they have fewer problems than folks in New York.”

“Is that where you’re going, Quaid, to New York?”

“No, I don’t think I’d like the East. I’m not even sure that I’ll like it in the South. I grew up there, but I left when I was only eighteen. What about you? Will you be going back to Walla Walla?”

“I suppose I will. My home place is there.”

“Reckon you’re pretty well tied to it.”

“I never even thought about it. It’s the only home I’ve known since we left Maine. I suppose I know every foot of it.”

“Sometimes a body needs a change. It might be good if you thought about staying somewhere in the South. Maybe Virginia. That’s good-looking country. Blue Ridge Mountains. The prettiest part of the United States, I do believe.”

“What would I do there?”

“Admire the mountains. The weather is good. Eat Virginia hams.”

“I don’t think that kind of life would suit me very well.”

“Don’t you have any people at all?”

“Just an uncle and an aunt. They live in Michigan. I don’t even know them.”

“You’re like me,” Quaid nodded. “Just rolling along. Nothing to tie to.”

They had talked for some time until finally the mare Temperance was riding developed an obvious limp. “Pull up beside the river. The closest thing to trees as there is for a little shade. Give the horses a drink. Us, too, maybe.”

The place was pleasant. The cottonwood trees that hugged the banks of the Platte were few, but here some had taken root somehow and had been spared the usual fate of being chopped
down for firewood. Temperance got off the mare and watched as Quaid had her hold up her foot. He poked around, pulled out his sheaf knife, and dug something from the horse’s hoof. “Sharp stone. This will make her feel better. Say, let’s tie the horses up and stay out of that sun for awhile.”

“All right.”

He tied the horses, and she went down to the river. “It’s not very deep, is it?”

“Six inches deep and a mile across the saying goes. Not much of a river after the Yellowstone. I wish you could see that, Temperance. The water’s so clear there that if it’s twenty feet deep, you could still see right to the bottom. I dropped a gold coin in once, and it was so clear I reached over to pick it up and found out it was twenty feet down. Don’t see rivers like that every day in the week.”

“You’ve had an adventurous life, Quaid.”

“Yes, but I’m ready to settle down now. I’m thirty-four, and it’s time to think about the real things.”

“What do you mean the real things?”

“Well, a fellow gets to be my age, he begins to think it’d be nice to have a son or a little girl, and a wife, of course.”

“They do come in handy, don’t they, for things like that.” Her smile crinkled at him, and he laughed aloud, saying, “Yes, they do.”

“I can’t tell you how much these rides have meant to me, Quaid.”

“Been fun for me too. I think Brother Thad’s a bit jealous.”

“He’s bothered by thoughts about God. I’ve seen it in him. The theologians, I think, call it conviction.”

“I know what that’s like. I wasn’t at a revival. I just started thinking about God, and the more I thought about Him, the
lower I got. It just struck me that here I’d found all this gold and had money and everything I ever wanted, but what if I died? It scared me more than the Cheyenne ever did.”

“I’m so glad you found the Lord,” she said.

After several seconds of silence, she decided to change the subject. “How much farther is it? What lies just ahead of us?”

“Why, we’ll be in Fort Kearny in a couple of days. After that another few days to Alcove Springs and then an easy road past Fort Leavenworth right into Independence.” He leaned toward her slightly and smiled. “I know you’ll be glad to get this trip over, but I’m enjoying it.”

“It’s been easier the last few days.”

“Is that a left-handed compliment to me?”

“I suppose it is. But you know, I’m really worried about handing the children over. Especially the Overmeyer children. Evidently their relatives aren’t very good people, but there wasn’t any other choice.”

“Well, something will work out.”

“But you won’t be there to see it. You’ll be on your way to Virginia.”

“Or maybe New Orleans. Oh, I’ll tag along. I’m in no hurry. I’d kind of like to see something work out. It’s kind of like a storybook.”

Quaid waited for her to speak, but she didn’t, and finally he said, “I’m wondering something, Temperance.”

“What’s that, Quaid?”

“I’m wondering if you trust me. I mean, after what Thad told you about me being a woman chaser, and, of course, he was right. I did have a bad reputation.”

She turned to face him and said quietly, “Yes, Quaid, I trust you, but I don’t know much about men. I have no experience.”

“You’re an unusual woman, Temperance. I’ve never known another one like you.”

She suddenly smiled. “You wouldn’t have noticed. You were after beautiful women.”

Suddenly he reached over and took her hand. The river made a sibilant whisper at their feet, and he turned her to face him. “Beauty’s a funny thing,” he said, his eyes thoughtful. “The most beautiful woman I ever knew was twisted and warped inside. A man’s a fool to chase after that—which is what I was for a long time.” His hand tightened on hers, and he saw her chin lift and a faint color stain her cheeks. “I’ve been reading the Bible lately,” he said. “I read something not long ago that reminded me of you. I was thinking about what I was going to do with my life, if I would ever get married, and it was in the Song of Solomon. I don’t understand that part of the Bible, but I understood this. It says, ‘Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.’”

“I don’t understand that book either, but I’ve always loved it. There’s a sweetness in it.”

“Some of the things are downright embarrassing. I was shocked to find out that the Bible spoke about love between a man and a woman in such blunt terms.”

“I don’t understand that either. One of my pastors said it was a book about Christ’s love for the church.”

“It may be that, but that fellow knew something about a man and a woman too.”

At that moment Quaid Mitchell saw in the woman who stood before him a goodness and a richness that unsettled him. He had known other kinds of women, but hers was the first good spirit he had ever really known or remembered. He realized this was because he was always after the flesh instead
of a woman’s spiritual qualities. Now as she stood before him, her smile was soft and shining, and he knew that this woman’s loyalty would be reserved for one man alone. This new awareness suddenly made him hungry to know more about her. He leaned closer to catch a better view of her face, and at that moment something seemed to cut a restraining cord. He put his arms around her waist and drew her closer, desperately wanting not to make a mistake with this woman. He felt no resistance, which surprised him, and then he lowered his head and kissed her.

Some kind of barrier had broken, and somehow Temperance knew they had stepped beyond a mere friendship. This was the feeling she had heard about from other women and had even read about. They were standing on the brink of the mystery that enters into a man and a woman when they face each other, not knowing whether good or bad would come of it. She stayed with him longer than he thought, and when she drew away, she whispered, “What did that mean, Quaid?”

“It means you’re worth kissing.”

“I—I don’t know how to act with a man.”

Quaid suddenly laughed. “That’s what I like about you.” For a moment they stood on the riverbank in an immense space stretching out in all directions around them, the sky overhead a bold blue. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. Time to get to know each other.”

For a long time she was very quiet, and then she looked him in the eye and said in a voice that was gentle, yet firm as granite, “Don’t play me false, Quaid. It would be easy for you.”

He knew exactly what she meant. “I won’t do that, Temperance. You can count on it.”

* * *

LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER supper, it was obvious Thad had been drinking. Quaid, as usual, kept everyone entertained with stories from his past, of which he had a limitless fund. He tried to get Thad into the conversation but without success. Finally, when they all began going to their blankets, Quaid said, “I’ll take the guard tonight.”

“No, I’ll do it myself. You’re too wore-out from riding around with the boss.”

Quaid started to answer hotly but got a warning look from Temperance. “All right. You’re the wagon boss. Maybe I’ll spell you after awhile.”

“No need for that.”

Thad sat there, ignoring the others. They all went to bed, and still he sat, drinking from the jug. He knew he was drunker than usual and finally stirred himself. He picked up his rifle and took the jug with him. He knew, as he walked away from the wagon into the pale moonlight, his thoughts were a million miles away from Indians. In his judgment there was no danger. They were too close to Fort Kearny for roving bands of Cheyenne or Blackfeet to risk a raid.

Finally he sat beside a rock and despite himself began nodding. What kept him from going completely to sleep for a time were memories that crept into his drunken state—memories of Peter Cartwright and the meeting. He had been caught completely off guard, and although he’d been very drunk, the voice of the minister had penetrated to the deepest part of his being. Even now, he could still hear it: “Jesus died on the cross for your sins.” Why this should trouble him he didn’t know. He had heard it before more than once. He tried to blot it out by taking another drink, and after a time the world became
dimmer. He dropped his rifle and knew he was drunk because the sound was vague and far away.

How long he sat there he didn’t know, but suddenly he felt a sense of danger. He tried to get up, but before he did, he was struck in the head, and the world turned into a wheeling kaleidoscope of flashing red and yellow stars.

* * *

BRENNAN CAME AWAKE WITH a tremendous headache. Blood was trickling down his cheek, and when he tried to sit up, he discovered he was tied hand and foot. Fear grabbed him, for he knew the worst; and his fears were confirmed as he saw outlined against the full moon a small group of Indians, all wearing war paint. This was enough to stir up terror for he had seen what Indians could do to white men, torturing them in ways beyond imagination.

And then Thad’s heart seemed to stop. He saw Bent and Rena both held by an Indian, rawhide gags over their mouths. He struggled to get up, but he was tied to a tree and a gag had been put in his mouth.

Before him he saw the figure of Black Eagle. Hope died within Thaddeus Brennan at that moment, for this was his deadliest enemy. Thad had killed this man’s son, and now he prepared himself the best he could for a terrible death. He had no hope that Black Eagle would kill him quickly and cleanly. Why he was tied up he could not know.

Black Eagle’s eyes were obsidian, and hate glittered in them. He spoke English roughly, but there was no doubt of the fierce bitterness that tinged his speech.

“You killed my son. You owe me a son, so I will take your son and your daughter too.” Black Eagle came forward and pulled a knife from his belt. It glittered in the moonlight, and he pointed it at Brennan’s chest. “You Christians—the black robes carried carvings of Jesus on a cross, but your Jesus will not save your son or your daughter. I will leave a plain trail. If you follow me, I will kill you slowly. I will still keep your son and your daughter. She will become a wife and the boy will become a Cheyenne. He is young enough we can make a Cheyenne of him.”

The moon seemed to hang high in the sky, throwing its silver light on the face of Black Eagle, outlining the high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the sharp delineation of muscles. “You will not follow me,” he said. “You are a slave to whiskey and you are a coward. You will not come, though I wish you would. Think of your son and your daughter, but you will not do that either, for you are a coward.” He turned and spoke suddenly to three Indians. Thad watched helplessly as two other Indians brought horses. He saw Rena’s eyes fixed on him in a soundless pleading with the rough gag cutting off her cries. Bent was the same. He had time only to receive that one look when Black Eagle, now mounted, stopped and aimed his lance at Brennan’s heart. “I will not kill you. You are a coward and a slave to firewater.” He turned then and led the band away. Brennan watched, and the most helpless and hopeless feeling he had ever known in his life settled on him as he sat in the light of the moon.