Powder River (16 page)

Jack Reshaw surprised everyone by taking a wife. She was a tiny, redheaded widow from Cheyenne, mother to a six-year-old boy. Billy and Nate were slack-jawed with astonishment when Jack brought mother and son home in his wagon, she sitting stiffly beside him on the bench and the boy riding in the back with their few pieces of furniture and several boxes of groceries.

“Hell, Jack,” Nate said after introductions were made and the bride had gone inside to survey her new home. “We didn't even know you was courtin.' How did this happen?”

Jack grinned bashfully. “It just did. Her name is Sara and the boy is Davey, and I aim to make a good home for us. A good, solid home. Nate, when he gets a little older I want you to teach the boy how to handle a gun and, Billy, you can show him how to ride.”

“Sure, Jack,” Billy said. But looking at Davey, Billy thought he'd have his work cut out for him. The boy was thin as a rail and jumpy as a flea in a skillet. Growing up with a ma like Sara, Billy could see why. What she lacked in size, she made up for in meanness. Jack's new wife was the queen of hair-pulling and name-calling, and neither he nor Nate could understand what their friend saw in her. One afternoon she boxed Davey in the ears for accidentally kicking over a pail of new milk. “You are a trial to me, boy!” she said. “A trial and a vexation, just like your pa.” Davey ran to the barn. Sara stormed into the house and slammed the door.

Jack kept his eyes on his boots, his face flushed with embarrassment. “She can be short tempered sometimes,” he said, “but she has other talents. You'll just have to take my word for that.”

Billy and Nate exchanged glances. “All women get cross now and then,” Nate said. “I never met one who didn't. Your Sara's a fine woman, anyone can see that.” It was true Sara kept the house neat as a pin, put curtains on the windows, swept the floors every day, and sanded them once a week. The grounds around the cabin and barn were free of litter, and she'd started a kitchen garden in the back.

“She does go hard on that boy, though,” Billy said. This was not the first time he had seen her strike him.

Jack nodded. “I know it. I intend to have a word with her about that, but I am not looking forward to it. The woman does not brook criticism.” He cast an anxious eye toward the house. “I swan, I ain't never seen such a temper.”

“And I bet you didn't see it when you was courtin', neither,” Nate said.

Jack turned on him with a face like thunder. “Have a care when you speak of my wife, Nate Coday. I'll hear no disrespect.” He walked to the house, carefully scraping his boots before going inside.

Nate shook his head. “It brings me no pleasure to say it, Billy, but Nate's wife is a termagant. I pity him. Jack will rue the day he swore his vows.”

“If a termagant is a mean, spiteful woman whose heart would get lost in a thimble, then that's what she is,” Billy said. “But I figure Jack will deal with her when he's had enough. It's the boy I feel for; he's had nothing but her meanness all his life. It's no way for a boy to come up.”

Nate mounted his horse. “I've had enough of this place. You coming back?”

Billy shook his head. “No, you go on. I'll be along later.” He walked to the barn and stuck his head in the open door. “Davey?” he called. “You in here?”

His greeting was met with silence, but he went in. The barn was dark and Billy's eyes had not yet adjusted from the bright sun. “Davey?” He heard a dry shuffling in the loft. “Come on down here,” Billy said. “I want to show you something.”

“What?” The small, pale face appeared above him, at the top of the loft stairs. The boy had his mother's red hair, though his was uncombed and full of cowlicks.

“Only a honey tree I found yesterday. Thought maybe you'd like to get some with me.”

Davey leaned out a little farther. “A honey tree?”

Billy nodded. “Ain't that far, neither.”

The boy hesitated, then pulled back out of sight. “You don't have to, mister. I'm all right.”

“I know that. Sure I do. Only I'm headed that way and I'd like company. Say, you know who else likes honey? Jack. Maybe he'll ride out there with us.”

“He won't,” Davey said glumly. “Ma wants him for chores, and he's afraid of Ma. Everybody's afraid of Ma.”

Billy shook his head. “Your ma has a sharp tongue, and that's a fact. My ma was the same and she was Indian. Why, her tongue was so sharp she could clean a buffalo hide with it.”

Davey's face appeared again at the top of the stairs. “You a full-blood Injun?” he said.

Billy pulled the grizzly claw necklace out of his shirt and held it out for Davey to see. “Pretty near. My Pa was white but I grew up Mountain Crow. That's why I'm so good getting honey away from bees. Like I said, I'm going and if you don't come down, you'll miss out.”

“Ma won't like it,” Davey said. “I got chores.”

“You bring honey home, and I bet she won't mind. Might even sweeten her up some.”

Davey considered, then scrambled down the ladder. “What's your name, mister?”

“Billy Sun.”

“You're a friend of Jack's?”

“Yes. We go back a ways.”

Davey offered his hand. “Okay then, let's go.” Billy was not expecting this; it had been a long time since he'd held a child's hand. When he took it, it felt like a bag of small, fragile bones.

* * *

They rode three miles to the fallen cottonwood where the bees had made their hive. Davey followed Billy and Heck on his calico pony, Dale.

“He's named for my pa,” Davey said. “He died when I was four. Pa cut his hand when he was chopping firewood and we wrapped it real tight but poison got in anyway.” Billy recalled a freezing winter night when an injured cowboy and his friend came to Dixon's surgery. The cowboy had an infected hand that the doctor could not save. He amputated but it was too late; the fellow died that afternoon. Later, Dixon explained to Billy the injury itself was not that bad, the flesh had mortified because the friend had bound it too tightly. “Sometimes an overabundance of good intentions is more dangerous than neglect,” Dixon said.

Billy looked back at the boy and saw sadness on his face. Remembering his pa had made him blue.

“I'm going to tell you a story about the first person to bring honey to my people,” Billy said. “It was a boy about your age who lived a long time ago. He was poor and had no relations. A bear had killed his mother and father and clawed the boy's face when he was a baby, so the people called him Scarface. He didn't care about that, he believed in himself anyhow. He knew he would do something great someday. When he grew up, Scarface fell in love with the beautiful daughter of a chief, but all the other young men wanted her, too. She liked Scarface but she would have none of them because the Sun-God decreed that she could not marry.

“‘This is a heavy burden,' Scarface said to her. ‘Is there no way you may be free of it?'

“She said, ‘There is one way only. I will be free only if a brave man goes to the Sun-God and asks him to release me.' Scarface said he would go to the lodge of the Sun-God immediately.

“The daughter said, ‘And when you see him, ask him to remove the scar from your face as a sign so I will know you truly spoke to him and he has given me to you.'

“So Scarface rode for many moons seeking the home of the Sun-God. He rode across prairies and deserts, rivers and snow-covered mountains, but he could not find the Sun-God's lodge. Then one day he met a handsome warrior sitting dejected on a rock. When Scarface asked what troubled him, the handsome warrior said he had lost his bow and arrows.

“‘I have seen them,' Scarface said. ‘I found them by the lake and they are there still. Although they were very fine, I did not take them because they did not belong to me.'

“The handsome youth praised Scarface for his honesty and asked where he was going. ‘I seek the lodge of the Sun-God,' Scarface said. And the handsome youth said, ‘I am Morning Star and the Sun-God is my father. Come with me.'

“But on the way, Scarface and Morning Star were attacked by the savage birds that lived beside the Endless Waters. Scarface saved them both from the monsters and together they traveled on to the lodge of the Sun-God, who was very grateful for the rescue of his beloved son.

“‘How can I repay you?' the Sun-God said. And Scarface told him of his love for the chief's daughter. ‘I shall free her,' the Sun-God said, ‘and as a sign of my goodwill, I shall make your face handsome and smooth.' Scarface thanked him and turned to start his journey home. But then the Sun-God said, ‘Stop!' and Scarface trembled for fear he had changed his mind. But the Sun-God said, ‘Take this also, for the chief's wife is a sour woman and this will sweeten her foul nature.' Do you know what the Sun-God gave Scarface?” Billy said, turning in the saddle.

“Honey?” Davey said with a smile.

Billy nodded. “So Scarface took the honeycomb to the chief's wife and she smiled on him, and all was good for Scarface and his beautiful bride for the rest of their days.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence until Billy reined in his horse and pointed to a downed tree in a dry creek bed. “There's our honey. It won't be long now.”

While Davey tied down the horses, Billy squatted next to one end of the hollow tree and made a smoky fire of old burlap bags and green pine needles. Davey approached cautiously for the bees were beginning to stir.

“Don't worry,” Billy said. “The smoke will quiet them. If one lands on you, keep calm. Bees are like horses and dogs; they sense your fear and take advantage of it. If you do get stung, scrape the stinger off but do not pull it. If you pull, the little sack of poison on the end will break and then you will feel it.”

Davey nodded. By now the fire was producing thick gray plumes of smoke. Billy gave him a saddle blanket. “Fan the smoke toward the opening.” As the boy fanned, Billy rolled down his sleeves and buttoned the cuffs, tied a handkerchief over the lower half of his face, and pulled on a pair of leather gloves. Then he took a small ax from his pack-along and made two holes in the tree about three feet apart. After this he connected the two holes with a series of shallow cuts, marking a long, rectangular slab. “Add more pine needles, Davey,” he said through the kerchief, “and keep the smoke coming.”

Very carefully, Billy pried loose the slab, exposing the colony. Bees flew up at him, landing thickly on his arms and face. He did not swat at them or fight them but kneeled and, with a small shovel, lifted out a thick sheet of honeycomb and placed it in a deep metal bucket, covering the top with a piece of cheesecloth. Davey noticed Billy left half the comb in the log. Finally, he put the rectangular slab back in place, recovering the colony. Together, he and the boy extinguished the fire, smothering the flames with dirt until there was no more smoke. Then they sat under a tree and ate honey with their hands, comb and all, until they'd had their fill. Still, there was plenty to take home.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time they got back to the house. The sinking sun struck Sara's red hair as she stood on the porch, looking for all the world, Billy thought, like a wooden kitchen match. She ran to meet them as they rode up. “Davey, you get down this instant!”

As soon as Davey's feet hit the ground she hauled off and hit him on the side of the head. “Ma!” the boy cried, cowering and covering his reddening ear with his hand.

“I been worried sick about you,” she said, her face contorted with fury. “How dare you take off without my say-so!” Sara was preparing to strike him again when Billy sprang from his horse and caught her hand.

“Don't hit the boy, Sara,” he said. “It was my fault. I asked him to come with me. He didn't do wrong.”

She wheeled on him. “And what do you know about it?” He realized he still held her hand and dropped it like a red-hot coal. In the midst of this confrontation Jack came out of the house.

“What's happening here?” he said.

“I'll tell you what!” Sara said. “Your Injun friend took Davey off without my say-so and now he's trying to tell me how to discipline my own son.” She lunged at the boy again, but this time Jack grabbed her arm.

“No, Sara,” he said. “I want you to stop hitting the boy. My feelings on this are strong.”

Sara turned her fury on her husband. “And since when do I take instruction from the likes of you on the business of child-rearin'?” They stood face to face in the gathering twilight, chickens scratching in the dirt at their feet.

“Since you became my wife and Davey my stepson,” Jack said.

“He's my boy, not yours,” she said, “and I'll do with him as I please.”

With his open hand, Jack struck her soundly on the face. Sara gasped and covered her cheek with her hand. Her face drained of color.

“How do you like it?” Jack said quietly. “I won't mistreat you, Sara, and I'll not let you mistreat the boy. I'm telling you how things will be.”

Sara stepped back but the fight was not out of her. “I love my son,” she said, “but I will not spoil him. Davey's got to learn the way of the world, the overall fitness of things. Otherwise, he'll turn out weak and shiftless like his pa.”

“He wasn't!” The three adults turned to Davey. They had almost forgotten him in their anger with each other. “Pa was not weak and shiftless!” His lower lip trembled, but he soldiered on. “He worked hard but you never thanked him—you never thanked him for nothing! He never did anything good enough for you. I miss Pa—I wish I was up in heaven with him.” With this the dam broke and Davey's face collapsed into tears. Again, he ran to the barn.