Sweetwater (18 page)

“Why Hiram if you’re naming him after President Grant?” Jenny asked.

“The president’s original name was Hiram Ulysses Grant. He evidently didn’t like Hiram. I prefer it to Ulysses. Everybody knows how to spell Hiram. Hardly anyone knows how to spell Ulysses. I don’t like him. He may have been all right as a general of the army because he had a lot of help from experienced military men. But he was a sorry president.”

“I never knew his real name was Hiram.”

“He was born in Ohio and christened Hiram Ulysses Grant. Later he changed his name to Ulysses Simpson Grant. Why, I don’t know.”

The adults at the table were relieved to learn that there was something this child
didn’t
know.

“If you don’t like him, why honor him by giving the puppy his name?”

“The way I see it, Virginia,
he
should be honored that the puppy has his name after the mess he made of the government while he was in office. Besides he’s a
Republican
.”

“Oh, dear,” Jenny said in mock horror.

Later in the morning, Trell fastened the pulley he had brought from his ranch to the crosspiece over the well, ran the rope through it and attached a bucket. Ike was working on the smokehouse. When Trell needed help holding the crosspiece, he called for Colleen. Jenny and Cassandra were at the schoolhouse. Beatrice sat on the doorstone holding Hiram.

“Are you and your granny gettin’ along all right here?” Trell asked Colleen.

“We’re doin’ fine. We miss Papa—”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I want to thank ya for bringin’ us here. Jenny and the girls has made us welcome. Granny’s in heaven havin’ the girls to fuss over.”

From the door of the school, Jenny saw Trell and Colleen talking and laughing as they worked. They looked good together—like a team. Colleen still wore her overalls. Jenny had never imagined a woman could look feminine in men’s attire, but Colleen did. Ike was right; she was the kind of woman Trell should have.

“Do you like him, Virginia?”

“Mr. McCall?” Jenny answered quickly and whirled away from the door.

“Who else?” Cassandra signed.

“Of course.”

“Would you consider marrying him?”

“Flitter! I hardly know the man.”

“You wouldn’t say so if you did. I think he likes you more than he likes Colleen. He looks at you a lot. Poor Colleen. It’s possible that she’s in love with him. I can’t tell … yet.”

“Cassandra! Don’t say anything like that to Colleen or Trell. Promise me.”

“Virginia!” the child replied in the same shocked tone. “I’ve not completely lost my mind. But at times I think you have. If you like Trell, set your cap for him. You’ll not find many men who would put up with me and Beatrice. I’ll not do anything to scare him off.”

Jenny looked at the ceiling. “Lord, help me.”

Later when Cassandra had gone to the house, Whit slipped silently in the door and stood looking around.

“Whit, I was hoping you would come today.”

“I not come till squawker go.”

“Oh, my. I wish you and Cassandra got along better.”

“Sneaking Weasel hides in the bushes and watches to see who comes here and if I cross over the line.”

“Is he out there now?”

“Under the bushes with white flowers.”

“I know the place. From there he can watch the door of the school as well as the house and report to Mrs. Havelshell.”

“She does not care who comes here. Havelshell cares.”

“Does Linus have family around here?”

Whit shrugged. “He come about time Havelshell come. He tell everything to him.”

“Granny gave me a bar of lye soap so I could scrub the floor.” Jenny picked up a heavy bucket. “Excuse me, Whit. I must empty this water.”

Jenny marched out the door, leaning to one side because the bucket she was carrying was so heavy. She went straight to where Whit said Linus was hiding and threw the dirty, soapy water into the bushes.

Linus came out of the bush as if he were shot from a cannon, rubbing his eyes and swearing. His head and face were wet and he was trying to wipe the water from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Forevermore!” Jenny exclaimed. “What in the world were you doing under that bush?”

“Ya goddamn bitch! Ya tryin’ to put my eyes out?”

“Call me that name again and I’ll … smash your face with this bucket.” The humor suddenly went out of the situation and Jenny shouted. “You lowlife, sneaking … little weasel! Don’t you have anything better to do than crawl on your belly in the bushes and spy on people?”

“I’ll wring yore neck—”

“No!”

Jenny heard Whit’s voice behind her and held her arm out to prevent him from passing her.

“Don’t dirty your hands with him, Whit. He’s not worth it. He’s a poor excuse for a human being.”

Jenny’s scorn lashed Linus like a slap across the face.

“I ain’t no goddamn red-ass Indian lover!” he shouted.

“You’re pitiful. I feel sorry for you.”

Linus was fairly dancing with anger. Nothing had gone right since this prissy woman had come here. Alvin, in a sour mood, had left at dawn, and Arvella was like a bear with a sore tail. This morning Moonrock had disappeared. He had looked all over for her and wanted to go to her camp, but instead he had to come spy on the teacher.

“Ya ain’t goin’ to stay here. Alvin ain’t goin’ to let ya. Ya ain’t nothin, but a town-but—”

“Watch your mouth!” Trell’s voice came from beside Jenny.

“What’er ya buttin’ in? Air ya hopin’ ter get ya—”

“Shut up! If you wasn’t just a wet-eared kid, I’d give you the thrashing you deserve.”

“Ya ain’t got no say-so here.” Linus was as defiant as a cornered wildcat.

“And you’ve got no manners. But I’ll not argue with you, boy. Stay away from the school. Next time you may get something a little stronger than a pail of water.”

“She’s ain’t goin’ to be learnin’ them heathens nothin’. They ain’t comin’ to no damn school.” His hate-filled eyes settled on Whit.

“You’re wrong,” Jenny said kindly. “They’ll come and I’ll teach them to read. I would teach you, too, if you’d come to school.”

It was as if Jenny had handed him the ultimate insult. He spit in the grass at her feet.

“I ain’t hobnobbin’ with no red-asses!”

“You’d better go before I brand your butt with the sole of my boot.” It infuriated Trell that the stupid kid would throw Jenny’s offer back in her face.

Linus found his hat under the bush and slammed it down on his head. He turned his angry eyes on Trell.

“Ya’d better watch out, is what ya’d better do. I ain’t forgettin’ this.” It was his parting shot as he disappeared behind the thick screening of bushes.

“I get angry at him, but I can’t help but feel sorry for him, too.”

“Ahhh—” The sound came from Whit. “Offer him a hand and he bite you!”

“I know. Whit, this is Mr. McCall. He has a ranch across the river and is a friend of ours.”

Trell smiled and offered his hand. “Hello, Whit.”

The boy hesitated, then stuck out his hand.

“You helped bury Murphy. I watch … from reservation land.”

“You’ve been a help to Miss Gray. It took guts to take out Havelshell’s dam.”

“Guts? Took strong back.”

“That too.”

They walked back to the schoolhouse. Whit hesitated until Jenny put her hand on his back and gave him a gentle nudge. The boy needed a friend like Trell.

“Did Linus have a horse? I didn’t see one.”

“He have one. I untie and set on trail to agency. Sneaking Weasel walk.”

“You did good, boy.” Trell put his hand on Whit’s shoulder.

Jenny saw Whit flinch when Trell touched him. Trell appeared not to notice. He looked around the schoolroom. A map of the world and a picture of George Washington were on the wall. The room was clean … and bare except for a couple of broken benches.

“You need a table and a chair.”

“I’ll bring a chair from the house. Whit tells me my students won’t mind sitting on the floor. It would be nice to have a table to put the slates and books on.”

“I’ll see what I can do … if you can wait a while for the extra bunk.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Colleen brought in a cot. Cassandra claimed it, leaving the bed for me and Beatrice.”

“Then you’ll have your table.”

For the next couple of hours Jenny sorted pieces of the torn books and tried to salvage as much of them as possible. Trell and Whit worked on the table. Trell skillfully maneuvered Whit into sharpening a hatchet on a small grindstone from the Murphy wagon. Whit smoothed the uneven plank with the hatchet while Trell shaped others with the axe. When finished, the table was rough, but sturdy. They moved it to the front of the room.

“Oh, thank you. Thank
both of you
.” Jenny looked from the tall man to the boy and her heart took off like a runaway train.

“We could have done a better job if we’d had the right tools, huh, Whit?”

“Good, strong table.” A rare smile flickered across the boy’s face.

“It sure is. I’ll cover it with a colorful cloth and put the books on it. I want the room to be attractive so the children will want to come.”

Jenny was surprised that her voice was so normal because she certainly didn’t feel normal. For goodness sake!
Why did she feel so absurdly nervous in Trell’s presence?
His physical nearness almost paralyzed her thought process, but she was foolishly happy when she was with him.

While working with Whit, Trell became aware of the boy’s quick mind and his skill with the hatchet. The legs he shaped for the table were far better than he himself could have done. Trell wondered if someone had taught him to use the hatchet. Later, he had asked him.

“Whit, how come you’re so handy with that blade?”

“Father taught me. He made things with a knife and a hatchet.”

“What sort of things?”

The boy hesitated, then said, “I show you. Come.”

They followed him out the door and into the woods. A dozen yards from the school, the boy stopped at a fir tree whose spiny branches swept the ground. He hesitated for a moment, then dropped to the ground, crawled underneath and came out with a large bundle tied with a thong. His eyes surveyed the area before he started back toward the school, staggering under the heavy load.

Trell and Jenny followed both knowing that this was something very important to the boy and that he was honoring them by sharing it with them.

Whit was breathing hard by the time he got to the school and placed the bundle on the table he and Trell had just made. He untied the thong and pulled back what appeared to be a bear skin. He lifted one of the individually wrapped items and carefully removed the rabbit skin to reveal a wood-carved bust of a woman. It was nearly life-size, and the detail was so fine you could see the arched brows over her eyes. Noticing the curve of the high cheekbones, the small straight nose and sensitive lips Jenny knew immediately who the subject was.

“Your mother! Oh, Whit, she was beautiful.”

“Yes.” The boy rubbed his finger lovingly over the dark wood that had been polished to a bright sheen. “Father made another one and one of me, but they are gone.”

He unwrapped another skin and revealed a bird in flight, its wings extended, its long neck stretched. You could see the downy feathers on the bird’s breast. One after the other Whit showed them a dozen of his father’s carvings; bear, deer, buffalo and even a fish.

“Little ones were left. Big ones taken except this one.” He touched the bust of his mother with a gentle finger.

“Who took them?” Jenny asked, but she knew.

“After Father die, agent and Havelshell come. Havelshell not agent then. They told me and Father’s wife to go. When I come back, all gone but these.”

“So you took them.”

“They are mine!”

“I know. They’re very good, aren’t they, Trell?”

“They are. I don’t know a lot about these things, but I’ve seen a few pieces in Denver that sold for a lot of money.”

“I never take money.” Whit began to rewrap the pieces in the rabbit pelts.

“Was your father teaching you how to carve?” Jenny asked.

“With the hatchet. We made bear head out of stump. Gone now.”

“The injustice makes me furious!” Jenny’s flashing green eyes caught and held Trell’s. “How dare they run roughshod over the rights this boy has to his father’s estate? He is as much white as he is Indian. Even if he were not, it would still be wrong, wrong, wrong!”

“They’re holding all the cards, Jenny,” Trell said. “In order to get things changed, you’ll have to go to the higher-ups.”

“That’s just what I’m doing. I’ve written a full report to the Bureau.”

“When I leave here I’ll go straight to Forest City and mail it.”

“I’ve asked them to send my mail there.”

“When I pick up mine, I’ll get yours.”

It was early evening when Trell saddled up to leave. He didn’t want to go, but wanted to be across the river before dark. He stood by the corral fence talking to Colleen for what seemed to Jenny a long time. Not wanting to intrude in their conversation, Jenny remained indoors until he came to the house, Colleen walking beside him.

“I was telling Colleen that if you womenfolk decide to go to town, all of you should go. There’s safety in numbers.”

“Do you think we should? I’m afraid to leave the house and the school without someone here.”

“I spoke to Ike. He’ll stay while you’re gone.”

“Oh, but—”

Trell laughed. “Don’t underestimate that old man. He’s a ring-tailed tooter when he’s riled up.”

“What’s that?” Cassandra asked. “You Westerners have some peculiar expressions.”

With a look of real affection in his face, Trell looked down at the child.

“Cass, if I had half your brains, I’d be rich.”

“I’m glad you’re not. Being rich and being corrupt often go hand in hand. Besides, being happy is more important.”

“You may be right.”

“I
am
right. I was rich and miserable. Now I’m poor and happy.”

Trell looked quickly at Jenny. She hugged her sister and then extended her hand to him.

“We thank you—all of us, for the cow and the puppy and all you did today.”