Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) (12 page)

The Rangy chestnut under Arc played out as the little man pushed him up and down alongside the different teams. The animals that would work hardest this day were not necessarily the oxen but the horses that the Wagon Master and the Ox Master rode. Already they were changing ponies and would throughout the day.

One of the wagons was giving them fits with a wheel that seemed out of alignment. The hub had decided to hide its malformation until they were well toward the top of the summit and was now beginning to drag instead of turn on its axis. Had this been the wagon in the rear, they might have chocked the wheels and left it behind to be repaired, but it was the front wagon with two behind.

With under a mile to go before level ground, the Wagon Master suggested they should unhitch and fix the damage, sending the teams back down for the next set of wagons. But Arc was in charge of the pull, and he overrode Till and admonished the men to continue on.

Different teams and various loads determined the speeds at which each hitch moved. The wagon with the bad wheel was being passed by others and would soon be passed by the first independent wagons. In his ego-driven haste, Arc valued getting to the summit more highly than he valued his men, the wagons, or the animals, and he yelled angry obscenities as he urged the crew driving the crippled wagon to stay ahead of the independents.

There is always a weak link in any chain. In this case the weakness was not the men or the oxen. It was the wagon. Two things failed. The first was the axle. It snapped as the dragging wheel hit a clump of concrete forced up by frost heaves in winters past. As the rear corner of the conveyance twisted and dropped to the ground, the load behind was put under sudden strain, the shackle holding the tongue of the trailing wagon coming free. Two wagons, heavy with trade goods, were loosed on those below.

Coming up on noon, Edge had consulted with Occam and the Vintner over when to rest the hitch and stop for lunch. Everything had gone so well, they decided to continue to the top and have a late meal at the summit. Another hour should see them there.

Passing one of the long teams from Reno on their left, they had come abreast of the other and stayed with them for some time. There was no passing anything quickly with oxen. The cart with the single ox, and Muffy and Jody, were alongside their own team, also to the left. With the broad expanse of old highway, there was room for at least three others across the road, but there was no place to be safe from the cascading wagons picking up speed down the hill, especially as they had unhitched from each other and were now two deadly missiles.

With wagon tongues dragging, the Conestogas tended to stay well focused on whatever path water would follow. But any bump could change their trajectory suddenly.

Seeing what was happening uphill, Edge understood the danger. He had seen the destruction caused by an out-of-control load before. He yelled to warn the others and in an effort to get out of the way started to crowd his front team to the right and into those beside him.

From all indications the loose wagons would careen to their left, but one suddenly hit a small undulation in its path and seemed to target the lead animals with Edge standing alongside. He looked to his left and noticed the women wrenching their ox away in an effort to get it out of the path of the hurtling, wheeled projectile. The other wagon following would make their effort like threading the eye of a needle. They would be caught between the two and in great danger. He yelled for them to abandon the cart and find what shelter they could as he tried to decide where he, himself, should go. The distances were too great, the wagons too close and fast, and there was no time to do anything but jump aside at the last moment.

The wagon aiming at the head team changed course, taking a direction more downhill and missing the entire hitch and the wagons. Passing between Edge and the cart, thundering downhill, he tracked it as it looked like it would pass the next wagons behind as well. A loud noise brought his attention back to the second wagon.

The wagon had hit something hard and changed course dramatically and across the face of the hill. As it skidded sideways to the slope, the downhill wheels caught and levered it into the air. When Edge looked back, it was already elevated several feet in the air and spinning as it tumbled sideways toward the two women and the cart. Boxes, once secured tightly with heavy rope, were being flung in wide arcs to land heavily. Shattering on impact, they spilled their contents as they made contact.

Recognizing in the last instant what was happening, Jody tackled Muffy to the ground as the wagon bounced just ahead of them. Passing over the prone women, it took the ox chest high.

Exploding on contact with the large animal, the wagon and what contents it still held filtered in pieces through the air to land in scattered chunks across the hillside. The front two wheels, still attached to each other by the steering mechanism, tumbled and bounced until they came to rest loudly against the front wagon of Occam’s hitch.

The ox that had been hit landed a good twenty feet beyond the point of impact. It lay, unmoving and apparently dead within the splintered and flattened remains of the handcart.

Edge looked to the women and saw Jody try to rise. She collapsed as though injured. Muffy lay silent next to her.

Remembering screams, Edge recognized that this time they were not his own. The big Smithy, Occam, ran to kneel beside his wife.

“G
et the Apothecary, now!” bellowed the Master of the wagon train. “Bring up those trailing wagons, and get them hence. And bring a carriage to transport these women!”

The Master had arrived just as the dust was settling. His pony had followed the unguided and out-of-control wagons at a full gallop down the steep incline, sliding dangerously to a stop at the point of impact. Till stayed mounted high in the saddle, his horse pivoting and up on its hind legs, until he saw the still careening wagon pass the last of the caravan members and knew them to be safe. Then he dismounted and started to yell instructions at the top of his lungs.

Responding, Edge turned over the lead rope to the Vintner’s apprentice who just arrived. He ran downhill and grabbed the reins of the appaloosa.

As he spurred the horse violently past and up to the head of the column, Master Till shouted one last thing. “Get me that son of a bitch, Arc!”

Riding in a light buggy pulled by horses, the two women were transported to Coalville ahead of the rest of the train. Even though the community was small, it had a medical practitioner. An older woman who split her duties between extracting teeth, mixing powders, and birthing babies, she pronounced that they would both live. But she made the determination only after they were both conscious, and that would be two days for Muffy. The old woman was relieved. She also acted as an undertaker, and these two women were lucky they would not require that service.

A chain swinging wide as the wagon spun in the air overhead had wacked both women as they lay prone on the ground. Jody, having caught the whipping chain across the back, had cracked ribs and the air knocked from her and was conscious for most of the ride into town. Muffy had gotten the flying chain across the side of her head. Along the line of her jaw and up over her ear was a clear imprint of the metal links. She lay unconscious and unresponsive as people tended to her. Never leaving her side, Occam hovered as though he could keep the angel of death from her by his presence. Perhaps he did because as he was sleeping for the first time, dozing off while holding her hand on the second morning since the accident, her eyelids fluttered, and she opened them.

She lay quietly, trying not to move as much for the pain that shot through her every time she did as for the comfort of the big man sleeping against the bed and gripping her fingers. She reveled in his sleep as though it was her own and in the deep rhythmic snores that emanated from her husband’s form. Not sure what had happened, on awakening she knew she was in good hands.

The wagon that was broken and scattered on the hill had been carrying boxed rifles, the pride of Roseburg’s industry. The one that had ended at the base of the pull was full of linens and clothing. Between what was left of the two and the wagon that had broken its axle at the top of the hill, all of the parts and pieces would make two good wagons. The loss of one of the Conestogas was a hard blow to the Company.

After a swift consultation with the Master Carter, Till made the ride into town to discuss the issue of the lost wagon with Occam. He hated to do so in this time of the man’s burden, but Occam was the only one with a wagon not loaded with finished goods. Occam heard Till out and agreed immediately to the leader’s request. They would unload the old wagon acquired in Reno and being used for inexpensive raw iron and reload it with what expensive goods could be salvaged from the hillside.

In the meantime, and after a thorough ass chewing, Arc had overseen the rest of the train up the hill successfully. The single day of effort that proved dangerous to save time, had turned into two days that would have assured safety to begin with.

Between the trade in Coalville for an extra day due to the injured women, the extra day taken in completing the pull, and the Carter and his apprentice working through the nights to repair the wagons, everyone was busy. When Muffy awoke, all breathed a sigh of relief.

The wagon with the linens provided a softer ride for the healing Jody and Muffy. Making a soft nest of unpacked linens, they felt the jolts and lurches of the road but were much more comfortable than being on an unpadded surface.

Muffy was feeling well, other than a stiff jaw and vertigo every once in a while. The welts across Jody’s back burned like fire, though, and she tensed at every sudden motion.

In order to take the younger woman’s mind off of her pain, Muffy ignored her own painful jaw and spoke of home. They discussed their local weather, specialties within the communities, and people they knew and appreciated… or not. Eventually, Jody asked Muffy about the strange practice of polygamy.

“I just don’t get it, Muffy. How do you get over being jealous?”

Muffy chuckled to herself. The young woman had touched on the most common and justified issue in sharing a husband.

“Well, we be raised in homes with multiple wives, Jody. It’s not like we be introduced to it without prior thought. Besides, the ones that come after, the later wives, are come to a union with the full knowledge that there is already another woman in the home. It be most difficult on the first wives. But they are chosen well. For their toughness, and their loyalties, too.”

Knitting her brows, Jody frowned in thought. “So you are saying that those tough women don’t object? That they just go along with it? That doesn’t seem very likely from where I come from.”

“Well, it be a matter of contention in some houses, that be sure. But there be a shortage of eligible men. No woman of any intellect wants to go across the river.” Muffy hesitated. She realized that the reference was something Jody was unfamiliar with. “In our society, our city, those in town have advantage. Those across the river live outside of the laws that make for social order and that which provides for our children and our posterity.”

Taking hold of a phrase that Muffy had used, Jody asked, “You said that there is a shortage of eligible men. Why is that? Aren’t there as many boys as girls born?”

“Aye, there be so in number, but all boys don’t manage well.” Trying to make things clear, Muffy wondered about how the girl’s ignorance could be illuminated. “…and those that don’t manage well get no training. They must fend for themselves and have no resources to support a wife or children. Boys that be hard working, be they intelligent, they rise and establish worth. When they do, they be accepted as apprentices and potential mates for the girls coming up. A man must make a living and possess a craft to deserve a family.”

“What about the ones who choose to have only one wife? What about wives who don’t want to share their husbands?” asked Jody.

“There be those,” admitted Muffy, “but they are few, indeed. If the man be the instigator, then there is little to be done. He is seen to shirk his responsibilities and is all but shunned. But he can live within the community if he wish it. It happens little. I’ve only seen it once, myself, and that man lives across the river, now, by choice. A woman that takes a husband and decides to take issue finds herself divorced and ends up across the river by necessity. She is given no sanctuary within the community. With no place to stay and no means of support, she makes her living as best she can on the other side.”

The implication was clear, both from the words and the look on Muffy’s face, what “making her living” might often entail.

Studying Jody’s face as she thought about the conversation, Muffy reached out her hand and laid it on the younger woman’s arm. She could see the wheels turning in the girl’s thoughts.

“Be not aggrieved, Jody. It happens so little that it is barely worth the discussion. And those that make the choice do it of their own accord. They get what they choose.”

Jody pulled away. She was horrified. How could this good woman say there was any decision being made? And the least of which was to live outside the community? That someone born and raised inside the society was forced to either accept multiple wives or to break tradition and seek their own path and that the act led to being banished. How was all of this justified?

What really bothered Jody was that Muffy accepted the practice without thinking of the alternatives. She did not see other options as possible, much less acceptable, so failed to see that the consequences for failure to embrace polygamy were mean and small minded.

The days rolled by, much as the wagon rolled along its path. As Jody healed, she became Muffy’s caretaker. The younger woman was bruised and battered physically in the accident, but the elder was injured internally. Muffy had her good days and was always cheerful, but she had a difficult time being on her feet. She was often dizzy, too dizzy to stand unless supported by something solid. Many of the people in the wagon train sympathized and understood, but there were others that saw her as taking advantage of her injury and thought her healed but faking her infirmity.

On learning that the wagons loosed from above had been the result of a bad decision by Master Arc, the Master Smith smoldered. He was not a man quick to be enraged, though he had been in his youth. Discussing the evidence with the Wagon Master, Occam registered the fact that his wife was threatened with death and now disability at the whim of a man intent on bad priorities. He was overwhelmed with protecting his wife and watched for the opportunity to damage the man that had caused her injury.

After bringing all of the rest of the wagons to the summit and being instrumental in the clean-up of the accident, Arc felt maligned. There was a schedule to be kept, and in making the effort to keep to that schedule, he felt he was now being castigated unnecessarily. Doing his best and sure that any Master would have done the same, he justified the resulting calamity to himself. If the damn women had not been in the way with their damn handcart, there would be no harsh feelings. Even the Wagon Master had expressed that the wagon was an understandable loss, but he had snarled at the women being injured. Now Master Arc was going through a mild shunning. Nothing official, but he could feel those in the train pulling away from him. Swaggering even more than usual, he did not realize that people saw his denial as further evidence of his guilt and uncaring attitude. He took out his angst on his own young wife and his apprentice because it made him feel better to be in control of something.

Muffy and Jody had a continuing conversation. After Jody was fit to walk, she did but always at the beck and call of Muffy inside the Conestoga. The benefactors that she had been sharing a wagon with released her from their service so she could care for Occam’s wife.

On a seat of soft fabrics, the Smithy’s wife sat next to the tailgate as she rode. Taking hold of the metal brace at the rear of the gate, Jody walked alongside in order to be available. She felt terrible for her friend and guilty for getting well while Muffy languished in a limbo between injury and health.

One day they were rehashing their previous conversations, and the topic of polygamy came up again. Muffy had made a comment about how there had once been a different system run by women.

Jody asked, “So you are saying that men use this marriage stuff to keep power? That’s why they do it? They make sure that the men loyal to the establishment have access to wives and will provide loyal children as well?”

Not caring for Jody’s tone or the implication of what she was saying, Muffy’s following remark was more curt than her normal tone. “Well, that’s not being what I meant. I just said that women’s reasoning be different. A woman desires other than a man. I said not that men are in the wrong.” Even as she said it, she wondered at the thought that had come unbidden into her head. She did think it better for women to control their own marriage decisions. Still, the thought was foreign, and she was uncomfortable with it. She would have found a distraction and kept from thinking further, but Jody forced her back into investigating the idea.

“But you said that back in the old days, the women made the decisions. That they started the polygamy because there were so few men that made good husbands.” This was a different kind of issue for Jody, and she wanted to learn of this other woman-inspired practice.

Muffy thought about the stories told to her as a child. “Yes, in the early days, before the city grew, there became a different kind of marital execution. In those days, it is said that a woman killed a man that had abused her sister of the marriage bed. She, in protection, made sure the man to be unable to perform against her sister. It being a time of gathering, there be many women looking to find the good in men, and finding naught or little, they determined to share those that did conform to being of the best in husband and father. In this way they protected themselves from strife and their offspring as well.”

Understanding from the stories of the past that there had been more women that survived the ancient plagues than men, Jody understood immediately there were going to be men unsuited to being husbands and fathers. Since it was a time of lawlessness, the surviving women would have gravitated naturally to men who were protective and nurturing. A sharing arrangement might even be valid if circumstances were demanding enough.

“So in that case, a woman would make the decision?” asked Jody.

“Aye, and invite those they would to them that they felt could contribute. Friends and others that they could establish worthy and conducive to the betterment of the marriage.”

“So what happened?” Jody asked. “Why don’t women make the decisions now?”

“The Founder, in his wisdom, changed the custom. He knew well the necessity for growth in the new world and that numbers be power. With the change, women produced more children and became more productive members for the community. Once the next generation reached the fullness of maturity, our nation became powerful and never threatened by anything of serious intent. We be strong due to numbers.”

For the first time Jody purposely expressed her own feelings, bluntly, with the beliefs she had been brought up with.

“Well in my home city we don’t raise children to be fodder for those in power. We see the world as limited and resources as precious, and we don’t want the population of the earth to get out of control again. We have a saying from the past that we consider to be one of the most important lessons people can learn…‘If we don’t learn from the past, we are condemned to repeat it.’ And we don’t use our women as brood mares to increase our profits or power.” She hesitated. “And we are still strong, but through the strength of our learning and our purpose.”

Walking away from the wagon in disgust, Jody fumed in her anger. In looking about her at these people she saw as good and industrious and honest, she now saw them in a different light. They were twisted by the practices within their society. It was one thing to practice plural marriage as a way of protecting women from men who were abusive, unproductive, or unwilling to take on the responsibilities of a husband or father. But it was something else entirely to practice polygamy as a way to sustain power or profit and in the process to promote unbridled overpopulation after the lessons of the past. Knowing that the lesson needed to be brought forward through each generation lest it be forgotten to time, she seethed.

Shocked by the younger woman’s reaction and sudden firm words, Muffy was speechless and glad to have some time to think. She considered the talk within the female community of Roseburg and the anger many women felt. Personally, she had always considered herself lucky to be betrothed to a good man she found attractive. But she knew there were many women who were in situations they abhorred. One of her own sister wives had expressed in an unguarded moment that she had once been in love with a young man who was now across the river. And there were wives who strayed. If and when they were caught, the husband had all the rights in determining the outcome. Most husbands would separate the woman from her children at the least, using them as a wedge between her indiscretion and proper behavior. And they were the lucky ones. Some were taken by force across the river and flogged at a whipping post in an open area within view of the town. Then they were left there to be freed by any of the lower caste society who would take pity on them. The flagellation was deemed to be, by the women of Roseburg, the least of the punishments that they would endure. The loss of contact with children and loved ones and the loss of status were equally abhorrent and longer lasting. Thinking on this, she wondered if many of the women she knew were living a life of misery and putting on a good face. She was one of the lucky ones and knew it. But in thinking these thoughts for the first time, she wondered about the rest.