A Man for Temperance (Wagon Wheel) (2 page)

“What happened to them? They ain’t around here anymore, are they?”

“No, that settlement kind of fell to pieces. Miss Temperance lost her parents, and the rest of the bunch wasn’t as strong as her pa was.”

“Well, I’ll run down and tell the judge to give her a break—though I don’t know if Brennan would be of much help. He’s a whiskey bum as I see it.”

“Do what you can, Joe. She’s a good woman. Works herself into a frazzle helping all these sick folks around here. This cholera, it’s going to kill off half the population!”

* * *

THADDEUS BRENNAN WOKE UP, lifted his head, groaned, and put it back on the thin, corn-shuck mattress. The hangover did what it always did, gave him a splitting headache. He cursed feebly, then pulled himself up and peered around the room with a dismal expression. As he did, the door opened, and Benny Watts came in. The jailer was a rather dim-witted young man with a long, skinny neck and a prominent Adam’s apple. He had a tray in his hand and said, “I done cooked you breakfast, Brennan. I hope you like mush and fatback meat and coffee.”

Staring bleary-eyed at the young man, Brennan spoke in a husky whiskey voice. “I need some whiskey. Go buy me a bottle.”

“Buy you a bottle with whut?”

“There’s money in the leather bag in my saddle.”

Watts grinned broadly, and his Adam’s apple joggled up and down as he said, “You ain’t got no saddle nor no horse neither.”

Brennan stared at the young man. “What are you talking about?”

“You wuz out cold when they had your trial.”

“Trial? You can’t try a man when he’s unconscious!”

“I reckon you jist don’t know Judge Henry, Brennan. When Marshal Meek drug you in, he jist laid you down on the floor right smack in the judge’s office. The judge was sore as a boil that you wrecked his saloon. He claimed he wouldn’t wait for no trial, so he found you guilty. Fined you two hundred dollars for wrecking the Dancing Pony.”

Brennan stared at the horse-faced young man. He got to his feet, then swayed dangerously. “He can’t do that!”

“He done it all right. Told the clerk to sell your stuff.” Watts giggled. “And he sentenced you to work out the rest of the damages for a dollar a day, building roads. Take about a year,” he said.

Brennan once had a fiery, uncontrollable temper that had gotten him into all sorts of trouble. Now at the age of forty-one, he had learned to control it. However, it broke out again. He reached out and slapped the tray from Benny’s hand. The contents sloshed all over Watts, who stared down at the wreckage of the breakfast. “Well, there went your breakfast,” he observed, then turned and left, locking the door behind him.

Brennan stared down at the food scattered on the floor. “That was a fool thing to do,” he muttered thickly. He sat down on the rickety cot and felt so bad that he lay down again on
the rank mattress. He felt as bad as he always felt when he was coming off a drunk, but when the door opened again he sat up. Watts was there, grinning foolishly, as usual. “This here lady wants to see you, Brennan. Her name is Miss Temperance Peabody.” Watts turned to face Temperance and put his hand on the gun on his hip. “You want me to stay? This here’s a dangerous outlaw.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, jist holler when you’re finished. I’ll let you out.”

As soon as the door closed, Brennan stared at the woman. His mouth was dry, and he had difficulty speaking. He cleared his throat, spat on the floor, and then said, “What do you want?” in his raspy voice.

“I want you to work for me.”

For a moment Brennan could not understand the woman. “Work for you?” he said. “What are you talking about?”

“I just lost my hired hand. I don’t have anybody to do spring plowing. I’ve got to have a man right away.”

Brennan scratched himself and stared at her. He made a rough-looking sight, tall and lean but with broad shoulders. He had a wiry-looking, ragged beard and coarse, black hair that needed cutting. His heavy-duty features had two vertical creases beside his mouth that gave him an odd look. Everything about him was rough and durable, made for hard usage.

“I ain’t working for no woman.”

“I’ll pay you four dollars a working day.”

Brennan cursed, spat again, and threw himself on the cot. “Get out of here, woman! I ain’t working for you and that’s final!”

Temperance stared at the man and then raised her voice. “Jailer, open the door please.”

The door at the end of the hall opened at once, and Benny stood there, grinning. “I heard whut he said. He wouldn’t do you no good anyhow. He’s jist a whiskey drunk.”

Brennan cursed, reached over, and looked for something to throw but satisfied himself with cursing Benny and the woman.

Temperance moved down the hall and stepped into the marshal’s office. She found Meek waiting there, his black eyes laughing at her. “I heard him cussing back there. I guess he turned you down.”

“He says he won’t work for a woman.”

Meek chuckled deep in his chest. “Let me go talk to him. You go on home, Miss Temperance. I guarantee you’ll have a hired hand before the sun goes down.”

“I don’t think so, Marshal.”

“Leave it all to me,” Meek grinned. “I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse. He’ll be out at your place later today. If he gives you any trouble, just let me know and I’ll tend to it.”

“Thank you very much, Marshal.”

“I heard about another family down with the cholera. Their name is Dutton. You know ’em?”

“Yes, I know where they live anyway.”

“They got a baby too. I thought you might like to go by and see if you could help.”

“I’ll do that, Marshal.”

Meek waited until Temperance left the room, then winked at Benny Watts. “Come on and see how I handle that drunk, Benny.”

The two men walked down the hall. Meek unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Well, Brennan, I hear as how you got an offer of employment.”

“Who hit me over the head?”

“In the fracas at the Dancing Pony? That’d be Al Sharpless. He’s a bad fellow to tangle with.”

“I’m going to bust him when I get out of here.”

“You ain’t getting out of here—not for a year at least. Didn’t Benny tell you? The judge said you’re working out that fine at a dollar a day. May take more than a year. You’ll be doing road building.” Meek was enjoying the situation. He winked at Benny and said, “This man likes road building. Myself, I never cared for working twelve, fifteen hours a day, but Brennan here, he’s a tough one.”

“I never worked for no woman!”

“You never built a road for Judge Henry neither. Me, I’d rather eat cactus than work for that man.”

“Who is that blasted woman?” Brennan said. His mind was not working at full speed, but he was at least alert enough to see that building roads for a year was not the most appealing thing in the world.

“She’s a good Christian woman and she needs help, but the choice is up to you. I’ll make you a deal. I won’t sell your horse and your gear, and I’ll get the judge to cut back on the fine. A couple of months’ work won’t hurt you none.” Meek grinned at Brennan, adding, “But it’s your say. If you’d rather bust rock for a year, that’s fine with me.”

Silence prevailed for a moment, then Brennan cursed loudly and said, “I’ll have to do it, but it don’t go down good.”

“Well, now you’re getting smart, but let me make this clear to you, Brennan. You try to soldier on the job, I’ll be out, and you’ll think the roof fell on you. You try to run, I’ll run you down. You ask around town what Meek is like when somebody crosses him. You got me?”

Brennan took a step closer. He was an extremely tall man, two inches taller than Meek, who was a big man himself. “I’ll do the work without any sermon from you, Meek.”

“Now you’re being smart. I’ll work out the deal with the judge. You’ll be out at the Peabody place in time to do the afternoon chores!”

BRENNAN STEPPED OUTSIDE INTO the sunlight, followed by Joe Meek and Benny Watts. Meek gestured with a thick hand toward the livery stable. “Your stallion is there. I talked the judge out of selling him.”

“That’s good because I’d have to steal him back again,” Brennan remarked sullenly. He started toward the livery stable, and Benny trudged along beside him. “That horse of yours bit Hank Avery. Took a plug out of his butt.”

“Should have known better than to get familiar with a strange horse. He try to bite you too? His name’s Judas. He tries to bite everybody.”

“You took his name out of the Bible?”

“Worst man I could find, just like he’s the worst hoss I ever had.”

“Why do you keep him then?”

“’Cause he’s the fastest and got more stamina than any horse I ever had, but he’d bite my arm off if he got a chance at it.”

The two reached the livery stable, and Hank Avery, the blacksmith and owner of the stable, scowled. “I ought to charge you extra for that plug this hoss of yours took out of my behind.”

A rare smile lit Brennan’s face. Dryness rustled in his voice as he murmured, “A man ought to be more careful around a Kiowa stallion.”

“How in blazes am I supposed to know he’s a Kiowa hoss?” Brennan didn’t answer but entered the stable. Judas was in a stall, and his eyes fastened on Thaddeus at once. He lashed out with his heels striking the wall behind him like a thunderbolt.

“That’s a good hoss! I’m glad to see you’re in good humor today,” Brennan remarked. He plucked the bridle off the nail and struggled until finally, after a heroic battle, he got the stallion bridled. “Open the gate there, Benny.”

Benny looked askance at the horse whose eyes were white and wild. He opened the gate, then scampered out of the way. Brennan led the horse out of the stable into the yard and tied him to the hitching post. As he left to get his saddle blanket and saddle, Judas swerved around and made a kick. He missed Brennan by the most narrow of margins.

“If that hoss had kicked you, it would of broken your knee, brother,” Avery remarked.

“Ain’t no horse gonna kick me on Tuesdays. Nothing bad ever happens to me on Tuesdays. Monday is my bad day. Everything bad happens on Monday.” As Brennan marched in to get his gear, Benny Watts said, “Why does a man want to have a horse that contrary for, Hank?”

“Match his own moods, I reckon. That Brennan’s pretty much like that stallion. He’d kick anybody that gets in his way.”

The two watched as Brennan returned. He kept the saddle in his right hand and eased toward the horse. Judas made an ineffectual effort to reach Brennan to take a plug out of him, but Brennan had snubbed the horse too tightly. Brennan laughed roughly, put the blanket over the horse, then the saddle, and drew the cinches as tight as he could.

“You’re cinching up too tight,” Avery remarked.

“No, he swells up. Then he can let his breath out and get some slack. This is the most intelligent horse I ever had.”

“Oh, you want intelligence in a horse? Not me!” Avery shook his head. “I want a stupid horse that will just get me from one place to the next.”

“He shore is a beauty though,” Watts said. “Where’d you get him? I bet you paid a pretty for him.”

“I stole him from a Kiowa war chief. They chased me halfway across the territory.”

Leaving Judas snubbed to the post, Brennan turned and headed toward Satterfield’s store. “You gonna leave him all tied up like that?” Benny demanded.

“Yep.”

“Well, he’ll be uncomfortable. Might make him mad. He’ll try to bite you.”

“He always tries to bite me whether he’s comfortable or not. I’d stay away from him if I was you.”

Stepping into the store, Brennan looked around. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what money he had there and said to Satterfield, “I’ll get my necessities first and then the fancy frill.”

“What’ll you have, Brennan?”

“I’ll have a gallon of raw whiskey, the meanest you got.”

Satterfield frowned. “Miss Peabody don’t allow no drinking out on her place during working hours.”

“That’s her policy, is it?”

“That’s it.”

“Well, she’ll just have to readjust her rules. Trot that whiskey out.”

Reluctantly Satterfield produced a jug of whiskey and then at Brennan’s direction added three plugs of chewing tobacco,
a pouch of smoking tobacco, and two boxes of snuff. “You use all of these?”

“A man ought to get what enjoyment he can out of life while he’s able. What else do you have? I want some of that sweet, hard candy, a sackful of it.”

“You got a sweet tooth, have you?”

“It goes with my personality. I need some ammunition for this hog leg.” He pulled a huge Navy Colt out of his holster, checked the loads, and then slipped it back in the holster. “I need some cartridges for my Henry rifle.”

When Satterfield totaled up the bill, it came to fourteen dollars.

“I ain’t got but ten. Put the rest on Miss Peabody’s account.”

“Why, I can’t do that, Brennan.”

“Yeah, you can. I’m working for her. She’ll pay for some of the supplies. Go on and charge it. You can fuss with her over it.”

Reluctantly Satterfield jotted down the amount and watched as Brennan left the store. His wife came up and said, “Is that the man that’s going to work for Temperance?”

“Well, he’s headed that way. I don’t know if they’ll make a match or not. He’s pretty rough-cut.”

“He doesn’t look like a man that would make her happy.”

“Well, she ain’t marrying him, Helen. He’s just going to do the spring plowing and the chores, but you’re right. They wasn’t made for each other.”

Brennan moved out to where Judas was tied to the snubbing post. He filled his saddlebags with the candy and tobacco and tied the jug onto his saddle horn. Keeping his eye on the stallion’s heels, with a swift movement he put his foot in the stirrup and swung aboard, catching him off guard. He grinned.
“Caught you that time, didn’t I?” Leaning down, he undid the rope, recoiled it, and put it over his saddle horn. Turning the stallion, he started out of town.

But when he got even with the Dancing Pony, he saw Al Sharpless standing outside, grinning at him. Sharpless was a big, bruising man who considered himself the toughest man in the territory. It galled Brennan that Sharpless had hit him with a pool cue and brought him down. For a moment the temptation was strong to get off his horse and go whip the man, but he saw Meek standing down the street, watching his movements carefully. He nodded at Sharpless and said, “I’ll be seeing you later, Mr. Sharpless. We’ll have a few things to talk about.”

“Come on in any time, drunk. We never close,” Sharpless laughed.

“Which way to perdition, Marshal?” Brennan asked as he came even with Meek, leaning against the wall of the apothecary stall.

“Go straight down that road for four miles, take a left, and just keep going until you see it on the right. A big log cabin. It’ll be neat, which is different from most around here.”

“Sure appreciate your kindness and courtesy.”

“You just mind your manners. You treat that woman right, or I’ll put you where the dog won’t bite you.”

Once again Brennan was challenged. The marshal was a burly, strong-looking man, well known as a terrible roughhouse and saloon fighter as well as a deadly shot with rifle and six-gun. Brennan studied him, and the eyes of the two men met. Joe Meek had the gift of mind reading, it seemed, for he said, “You don’t want to take me on, boy. You just go on out and do your plowing. In a couple of months, you can get out of here and go your own way. Don’t make me come after you.”

“Wouldn’t think of it, Marshal.” Brennan turned his horse down the middle of the road, but his mind was still on Meek.
Why, I could whip him if I had it to do. He’s big, but he’s bound
to be slow. If I had to, I could take a pool cue to him like Sharpless
took to me. Always a way to whip a man if a fellow knows just the
right way.

As he cleared the town, Brennan passed the wagon train that was made up there. He carefully studied the children and the settlers. As always, when he saw families like this, he felt sadness. He had been a loner all his life, but the sight of a family touched a nerve in him that he could not understand. Since he had never known the joys of home life, it was mostly a dream. Watching the children play ring-around-the-rosy, he was tempted to stop. But he was a man who didn’t waste time on dreams that could never come true. Kicking Judas in the side, he said, “Come on, you handsome devil, get me out of here!”

Judas snorted, tried to turn his head to bite Brennan’s leg, and was jerked roughly back into place. To get his revenge, he broke into a dead run. Brennan laughed and said, “Go on. Run yourself to death. See if I care.”

* * *

THE HOUSE WAS BUILT with logs, all exactly the same size. They were fitted together so tightly that the house needed practically no chinking. Many of the cabins in Walla Walla were roughly built with the corners fitting so badly the mud used for chinking fell out and the wind whistled through. But as Temperance moved about the kitchen, a sudden memory came to her. She remembered her father and the other men of the
group taking great pains with all of the cabins. They were the finest cabins in the settlement—snug, strongly built, and able to survive anything except a fire.

Temperance looked at the tintype in the oval frame on the wall. It featured her father and her mother looking deadly serious, her father sitting, her mother standing beside him with her right hand on his left shoulder. Something tightened in her throat, and she moved closer remembering them.
I wonder why
they never smiled for pictures? You’d think they were miserable.
She knew that was the way portraits were made, a totally serious business. She turned back to check the dinner, which was finished except for frying the chicken. She liked to do that last and to get it fresh out of the hot grease.

Sitting down in the rocking chair beside the woodstove, she picked up her Bible and began to read. She rocked back and forth, and finally her cat Augustus, in one smooth easy jump, landed in her lap. “Gus, you shouldn’t sit on the Bible.” She pulled the Bible from under the huge cat and stroked his fur. She had found him when he was merely a kitten, and he was the strangest-looking cat she had ever seen. He had tufted ears, enormously long hind legs, and a mere stub of a tail. His eyes were golden, enormous, and his mouth was red as flannel. He had long, silky, gray-black hair that he loved to groom. At night he shared her bed, forcing her to the edge at times, demanding a space of his own.

For a time Temperance stroked the silky fur, and soon Gus was purring, making a noise like a muted engine. He also gave off heat like a furnace. She was stroking his fur and wondering about the man she had hired. Something about him disturbed her, but there was no way she could get out of the situation now. Gus lifted his head and then leaped from her lap. Going
to the door, he looked through the screen and began to growl low in his throat.

“What is it, Gus?” Rising from her seat, Temperance went and stood at the door. She saw Brennan riding a fine-looking horse. She also spotted a jug of whiskey tied to the saddle horn. “We’ll have to talk about that!” she said, biting off the words.

He rode up to the house, got off, and dodged the horse who tried to bite him. He snubbed the horse tightly, tying the reins three times. “I see you found your way here,” she said pleasantly. She waited for him to reply, but he didn’t. His hat was pulled down over his face, and the smell of whiskey was strong as he stepped up on the porch. “I’ll show you where you stay.” He still had not spoken, and she took him to the barn. Opening the door, she led him to the room her father had built for the hired men. It was actually a comfortable room with a good bed, a real mattress, a washstand, and an old chest of drawers that had belonged to her grandmother. The room was filthy now, because her last hired hand had left it a total wreck.

“I hope you’re a better housekeeper than my last man.”

Brennan gave the place a careless look. He threw the remains of a cigarette on the floor and didn’t bother to step on it. “I never set myself up or made no claims about keeping house.” He spoke in a surly way, and his speech was slurred.

“You can come and wash up now. I’ll have supper on the table when you get cleaned up.” She waited again for him to respond, and when he did not, she turned and left. Anger touched her.
It seems I’m going to have to put up with a sullen
drunk. Not what I would really like!

* * *

AS SOON AS BRENNAN entered the house, Temperance saw that he had not changed his clothes and had not washed. She knew he was trying her out. “Brennan, get out on the back porch. There’s a wash basin and a pitcher of fresh water. Wash your face and hands and comb your hair. If not, you can do without supper.”

Brennan glared at the woman. She was not tall, and he towered over her. But she was not intimidated by the difference in size. “I guess I’m clean enough.”

“You might be clean enough for that jail, but you’re not clean enough to share my table. I’ve got chicken, beets, green beans, fresh biscuits, and I made a sweet potato pie. You don’t get any of that unless you act like a human being. Which will it be?”