Higgins looked over the four horses Culbertson had
bargained for. They were on the small side, as Indian stock usually
was. From their teeth he judged that the oldest was about eight, a
good useful age. One of them, the one that caught the eye, wasn't
quite to his liking. It was a pinto, and to his way of thinking a
solid color meant a solider horse. They were all a mite skittish.
They were gathered outside the fort, he and Potter
and Culbertson and half a dozen Indian men who stood watching off to
one side.
Culbertson asked, "Satisfied, Hig? They were the
best I could do on short notice."
"
Thanks. Plumb pleased." The horses ought
to be shod, but he had given up that idea. They had never known a
shoe and wouldn't take kindly to having any tacked on. On each of
them he would have had to use a rope and pull up a leg and anchor it,
raised, to the horse's neck. No thanks. Not now. Anyhow, the way
ahead wasn't too rocky.
The broken pack horses were ready. He had put the
untried ones between the older horses. They weren't carrying anything
and should lead along all right. He shied a look at Potter. The man
had on his long coat and wore a hat with a small brim and a domed,
undented crown. He would find soon enough how the wind liked it.
Right now the air was still, and a glow in the east,
above the far, deep-sloping bank of the Missouri, showed the sun
would be peeking up soon.
He set to work bridling and saddling the new horse
that looked gentlest. Against emergencies he would have to lead away
with the trained horse he had ridden in. This new one was for Potter.
Culbertson had gone over to the hitch rack and came back leading the
pack string.
"
Ready?" Higgins asked Potter.
"
Don't worry about me, Brother. I have ridden
before."
"
We head west. Up the hill and due west."
Higgins helped Potter get his considerable bulk in
the saddle and handed him the reins.
The horse got its head down, crow-hopped and jumped,
its back arched like a bow. Potter's hat sailed off first, spooking
the string. Potter followed it and hit the ground with a bump. Potter
didn't need Higgins' outstretched hand or answer the question, "You
hurt?" He got up, smiling, and said, "A lesson in
humility."
The Indian men were bent over, laughing.
Potter went on, " ‘Blessed be the meek, for
they shall inherit the earth." He rubbed his right ham. "It
was a rough introduction to inheritance, if any." He still wore
his big smile. "The earth hereabouts has no give to it."
Culbertson had caught up the saddle horse. The pack
string had quieted. Higgins said, pointing, "Maybe you'd better
try that horse."
"
No, Brother Higgins. No, indeed. If I am taught
to be humble, I am taught to have faith."
"
And hang on to your hat."
Potter regarded the stiff hat on the ground. "Without
it I'll sunburn." He ran a hand over his bald head.
"
I got somethin' might do," Higgins said.
"Might do if you don't mind sweatin' some." He dug from a
pack his old coon-skin cap, which he had brought along just in case.
Potter put it on. "Thank you, Brother Higgins. I shall not
complain of its warmth." Higgins put the stiff hat in a pack,
denting it some. Potter mounted his horse again without hesitation,
saying as he put his foot in a stirrup, "Be good, Dobbin, or
invite the Lord's wrath." The horse snorted, took a couple of
steps and stood still.
Higgins swung up on his own horse. Culbertson handed
the lead rope of the string to him, then offered his hand. He shook
hands with Potter, too, who said, "Thank you, Brother
Culbertson. I shall return the saddle you've loaned me. The Lord
loves you."
Spring on the plains was a high old time, Higgins
thought after they had climbed out of the valley. Wildflowers
starting up. Grass greening. Birds mating. The songs of meadowlarks
sounding. Gophers standing like soldiers, then diving into their
holes with flirts of their tails. Jack rabbits bounding from bushes,
then sitting straight, their ears up. It was the time of new things,
of old things born again.
Midmorning now and the sun high, not burning, and the
sky like a still lake, upside down, its shores the far skylines. Laze
along, horse. Just laze along.
A jack rabbit bounded up, almost under the feet of
Potter's horse, and the horse shied and reared and set off on a high
lope. Potter's butt bounced in the saddle. He clutched the saddle
horn with both hands. His long coat, unbuttoned, flapped out at the
sides. He was a big bat, hanging hard to a horse.
Higgins kicked his horse and yanked at the string. He
couldn't leave the pack horses, not with untried ones in the string.
He kicked and yanked again. Potter, still more or less in his seat,
disappeared over a swell of land.
It took a while to catch up with him. The horse stood
quiet and spent, its belly heaving, its sweat drying. Potter was
still in the saddle.
You couldn't scare that man or make him mad, Higgins
thought, seeing the big smile.
"
A spirited ride," Potter said. "One
I'll remember."
"
You stuck the horse."
"By a miracle."
"
And kept him pointed west to boot."
"
I fear I had nothing to do with that. Thank the
horse. Shall we proceed?"
"
If you're ready."
A thunder shower came up before they made camp, a
warm shower that was more noise and flash than rain. It passed over,
and they reached a small gulch that ran with water, and here Higgins
decided to make camp.
Potter got off his horse stiffly and held on to the
saddle horn long enough to get his legs under him.
Higgins asked, "Stove up?"
"
A little sore in the knees, a little galled
where I sit, but nothing more than that. It was a grand day."
He looked to the west, and Higgins followed his gaze.
Low clouds were banked there, slow-moving, on fire, and the fire
blazed up and touched off higher clouds, and against the flames a
lone eagle soared. Potter murmured, "Majestic," and bent
his head.
Higgins turned away. He led the horses to water and
put the new ones on picket, driving the picket pins deep. He unloaded
the two old pack horses.
While he was doing that, Potter asked, "Where
are the buffalo, Brother Higgins?"
"
Most of "em's down south, I reckon.
They'l1 be showin' up. There's some that stay the year round. You'll
see "em."
"
I don't aim to make a fire," Higgins told
Potter, who had taken a seat on a piece of dry canvas. "Just a
small fire inside, I'm thinkin' on. Is a drink against your
religion?"
"
Some would say so. Not I. The love of the Lord
should be a joyous thing, not a long list of ‘don'ts.' Bring the
jug, Brother Higgins."
Potter knew how to drink out of it.
They ate cold buffalo roast that Culbertson had
insisted they take.
Afterward, smoking, Higgins asked, "Just what
brung you here, Brother Potter?" He wanted to say Preacher
Potter, it sounded so good to the ear.
"
Why, the wish to save souls."
"
Ain't there lost souls everywhere?"
"
Yes, but the Lord called me here. Called me to
minister to the untutored children of nature."
"
Meanin' Injuns?"
"
To be sure."
"
They got their own religion, I hear tell."
"
Not the true, saving religion. Not the love of
Jesus."
"
Savin'. Savin' from what?"
"
The fires of hell, of course."
"
They been here a long time, the Injuns. You
think the dead ones that never had a chance to know Jesus, you think
they're in hell?"
Potter shook his head slowly and put a hand to it.
"Brother Higgins, who knows the way of the Lord? I can't answer
your question. What we can be sure of is that all of God's judgments,
all his manifestations, are right and true, no matter that we often
can't comprehend them. Of one thing I am certain. Those who have been
introduced to Jesus and love him not are doomed. Are you a believer,
Brother Higgins?"
"
In some things. In quite a bunch of things."
"
Look about you. Everywhere is plenty. The
beasts of the fields, the birds of the air, all put there for man,
for his food or his delight. Look at the soil that grows food for us.
Look at the skies that give us sunshine and rain. It is all God's
bounty, his gifts to mankind."
"
I don't see much use in gnats and
rattlesnakes."
"
Ah, to test us. To make sure that our love and
faith don't falter under adversity."
"
I ain't of a mind to argue much, but it sounds
wrong for true love to be so tormented."
"
The Lord knows best. Be sure of that."
Potter got up stiffly and put a hand on Higgins'
shoulder. "You are a good man, Brother Higgins. You will come to
see. I pray that you will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll say my
prayers and go to bed."
Higgins smoked for a while longer. So everything was
made for man, was it? Seemed like the other critters ought to have a
vote in the final say. They were here, and along comes Mr. High and
Mighty Man and says you're all mine. You were made just for me. Talk
about being meek.
What would Dick Summers say to that? He'd probably
grin and answer, "Every man to his own way of thinkin'. You
can't change that. Just remember, Hig, says I who has no right to say
it, frettin' your mind binds your bowels."
17
HIGGINS" horse wanted to drink, but he curbed it
and kicked it and splashed across the stream, dragging the string
along with him. He put a hand over his eyes against the slanting sun
and yelled, "Hey, Dick. Company."
Summers came from behind his tepee, an ax in his
hand. "You caught me onexpected," he said, but Higgins knew
that he hadn't. Summers was too keen to be caught.
Higgins turned. "Come across, Brother Potter.
Your horse can drink later. Come on."
Potter came on. The spray of water under hoof blinked
like crystal in the long light.
Higgins grinned down at Summers. "I reckon I
done pretty good, Dick."
Potter almost fell as his feet touched the ground. He
hobbled over, his hand out. "Brother Summers, isn't it?"
Higgins had to laugh, but didn't, at Summers' face.
The preacher went on, "I am Brother Potter of the Methodist
Episcopal Church."
Summers got out, "Welcome. Long way from home."
"
Not really, Brother. Not at all. Not where I'm
welcome."
Teal Eye came out of the tepee. Summers waved her to
come on, and she did, acting bashful. Summers said, "This is
Teal Eye."
Potter held out his hand. "Bless you, Sister."
She touched his hand and turned to the fire and the
pot over it. The two boys weren't in sight. It was likely they were
hiding, being bashful, too. One thing for sure: they were together.
"
I hope you like the four nags I bought,"
Higgins said. "We got a credit at the fort."
"They look passin' good. What say we unpack? No,
no, Mr. Potter. You just set on that log there and rest yourself."
They left him sitting and stepped to the horses. As
they fiddled with ropes, Higgins spoke softly. "Dick, I tuck it
on myself to get knives and forks and them things. All tin, of
course. Special occasion, seemed to me." He looked at Summers, a
question in his eyes.
A smile touched Summers' mouth. "You shine, Hig.
You shine for a fact. I can tell Teal Eye just what to do, me bein'
high born."
"Culbertson, he threw in some beads and red
cloth, present for Teal Eye."
They got the horses unpacked and the goods stowed
away.
Higgins said, "I'd best hobble or picket the new
horses."
"
I aim to do that. You look some fagged, I'm
thinkin', and I want to look over the stock you bought. So far, so
good, seems like."
"
Dick, the preacher don't object to a snort."
Summers nodded and led away.
At the fire Potter said to Higgins, "This is a
smiling valley, Brother. A man forgets his aches and pains."
Higgins cast his eye around. The ripples of the river
ran red, catching the beams of a sun soon to set. Eastward the valley
flowed yellow and warm until the far banks rose to benchlands. The
mountains were darkening, black purple as the sun slid behind them.
For once no wind blew, not even a breeze, and the campfire smoke
lifted lazy and straight. A fish jumped in the stream.
"
Clad you like it," Higgins was saying. "It
ain't too bad a place for a fact."
"
What do you suppose — I mean at what hour
Brother Summers might prefer for the ceremony?"
"
It's his to say, I reckon."
"
Of course. For myself, I suggest sunrise, the
beginning of a new day, of a new way."