the Quick and the Dead (1983) (5 page)

"I know. They're watchin' us." Vallian paused. "You got a Bible?"

"A Bible. Of course."

"Get it out, stand there in front of us an' read. Read, an' take in the sky an' all. The Injuns," he added, "may not buy it, but they like a good show."

Duncan McKaskel went to the wagon and got his Bible. He straightened his coat, stretched his neck out of his collar. He walked out and faced them. "I think this is nonsense," he said, self-consciously. "And I am no minister of the gospel."

"Right this minute," Con Vallian removed his hat, "you surely are. You're a gospel-shoutin', fire an' brimstone preacher. Now when they come, don't none of you turn a hair. Pay them no mind."

McKaskel opened the Bible and turned the pages. Suddenly from behind him there were shrill, piping yells. Involuntarily, he started to turn.

"Read!" Vallian spoke sharply. "Read, if you want to live!"

Behind him there were pounding hoofs, and the wild, shrill yells. He read,"For the waters of Nimrum shall be desolate: For the hay is withered away, the grass faileth, there is no green thing."

He paused just a moment and he saw Susanna's face go pale. The horses were thundering down upon them and suddenly they halted, dust drifted forward and over them, and he could smell the hot sweat smell of horses, and he could hear their gasping right behind him, and he continued to read,"Therefore the abundance they have gotten, and that which they have laid up, shall they carry away to the brook of willows."

Slowly he turned to face the Indians. His heart was pounding, but he said quietly, "Would you care to join us?" he gestured at the ground around bun, and indicated they should be seated, but one Indian, with a strongly-hewn face and an eagle beak of a nose said, "No! We are hungry! You must feed us!" He waved his coup stick in the air.

Susanna spoke softly, "Duncan? Maybe--"

"No!" Con Vallian's hat was still in his hand, held near his belt, in his left hand. "We will give you nothing! There is meat out there! The Arapaho are great hunters! Let them hunt!"

The warrior's eyes turned to Vallian, measuring him with care, then to Duncan McKaskel, who had lowered his Bible to his side. He stood close to the wagon, and there was a rifle there, ready at hand.

"We are hungry," the warrior spoke harshly. "What you have, we will take!"

"Our wagon is small," Vallian said, "and not worth the warriors who must die to take it. If you wish to come, then come, but sing your death-songs before you do, for many will die."

He lowered his hat, and in his hand he held a gun.

"Mac," he said quietly, "put the book on the tailgate of the wagon and take up your rifle. Keep your eyes on 'em, but do it slow.

"Tom?" he spoke a little louder. "Show 'em your piece. Just show 'em ... don't shoot."

The muzzle of the gun came through the drawstrings at the rear of the wagon.

"We come in peace. We do not stop in your land, but we have little food, less than we need to get where we go, and the Arapaho are hunters, great hunters."

The warrior waved a hand over the country. "There is no game. We have killed nothing. We are hungry. Our papooses are hungry."

Vallian spoke again. "You have young ones? How many are they?"

"Nine?" The warrior held up nine fingers, hesitantly.

"Mrs. McKaskel, go to your wagon and get out twenty pounds of flour, as near as you can get to it, and put out a little salt, some sugar, and that haunch of antelope."

"It is starting to spoil," she protested.

"Makes no mind. You lay it out. Half the meat they eat is spoilin'."

She did so, working swiftly. She brought the meat, flour, sugar, and salt to the Indians and placed the packages on the ground.

"We have no war with the Arapaho, who are brave men and great warriors. We cannot feed warriors, but we will not see your children grow thin and cry in the night for hunger.

"Take this for your children, and go with God. Walk with the Great Spirit upon the good grass, and be not worried."

Duncan McKaskel spoke suddenly. "Be not worried," he repeated, "the buffalo will come, and the antelope. You will hunger no more."

The Indians dismounted, took up the food, and wheeled and dashed off, leaving only dust behind. They raced away, vanishing over a low line of hills, and Duncan McKaskel turned and stared at Susanna.

Her face was white, and she was trembling. She looked at Con Vallian. "Would they have killed us?"

"Likely. Like I said, Indians are notional. Stand up to 'em and they like you, knuckle under and you're beneath contempt, lower than a dog's belly."

"That was kind of you, to think of their children."

Vallian shrugged. "Kind, hell! I was thinkin' of my scalp. Injuns think a sight of their young uns, and offerin' to feed them taken us off the hook."

"I didn't know you had that gun."

"Out here you better have a gun, and a gun in the wagon ain't good for nothin'. I believe what the old Quaker said, 'Trust in the Lord, but keep your powder dry.'"

Swiftly, they harnessed the team and moved out on the plains. Before them, not over a mile away, they saw a wooded creek.

Vallian pointed. "Stop there an' load up with wood. You'll be needin' it. Your next stop is Lost Spring, sixteen, seventeen miles west, an' there's nothing there, nothing but a few buffalo chips, far out on the prairie. Everything close by has been used."

"What about the Indians?"

"If they want you, they'll find you. I say load up with fuel. From here on you'd better sling a canvas underneath your wagon. Let your wife an' boy walk behind an' pick up buffalo chips--"

"Pickthem up? With ourhands ?"

"Yes, ma'am. They're dry ... if you're careful which ones you pick, an' they'll be the only fuel you'll have for miles. You sling that canvas underneath and when they pick up the chips they can toss them into the canvas along with any sticks they can find. You'll be needin' fuel."

The sun was up now, although just above the horizon. The sky had hazed over and a wind kicked sudden gusts that flapped their canvas top and blew the horses' manes.

Duncan McKaskel walked beside his mules, and Vallian rode close to the wagon seat, near Susanna. "That was a good thought, he had," Vallian commented, "telling them the buffalo would come. Injuns set store by medicine men. Him carrying on with the Bible like that ... they'll think he's a preacher."

"And if the buffalo do not come?"

Vallian chuckled. "Now, ma'am, that never unsettled no medicine man, nor preacher, either! He can just say it was their fault, that there was sin in their village, that there was no faith."

"You are a cynic."

"No, ma'am, but when a miracle doesn't come off you don't just expect to set by, do you? You got to have a reason. Sin's the reason they'll buy ... you can just bet, ma'am, that somebody was doing something he shouldn't have, so they'll blame him, not the prophet."

"Why did they charge us like that?"

"Scarin' you. Seein' if you had backbone. They weren't a war party ... just travelin' with their folks. You got to judge them according to their lights, ma'am. Injuns think different than us, but that doesn't say they are wrong ... just different."

"It would have taken all we had to feed them! Why, there must have been a dozen of them!"

"No, ma'am, there was eight, but when it comes to Injuns that's too many. They'd have taken all you had, then searched your wagon. If you'd let 'em have it all, they'd have taken it all and everything else they wanted, but when we stood fast and showed our guns, they were willin' to talk. They're good folks, ma'am, but they just don't think like we do. You got to allow for that."

Twice they stopped to rest the mules. At their nooning, Duncan said, "Susanna, I think you and Tom had better walk some more. The mules are making hard work of it."

"Throw out that chest," Vallian said, "or the dresser. You're going to kill them mules."

"I will do no such thing!" Susanna said sharply. "Why, the very idea! My grandmother owned that dresser! She had it from her husband's mother. Why, it's been in our family for years and years!"

"Maybe," Vallian commented dryly, "but it sure won't pull your wagon when those mules are played out, and the way you're usin' 'em those mules won't last another week ... maybe ten days. And in ten days, ma'am, you just aren't going to be anywhere. Not anywhere at all!"

Lost Spring was nowhere. It was bald prairie all around, not a stick of wood, not even a buffalo chip. There was not a bush or a tree anywhere within sight. During the night the wind blew hard and before daylight it began to rain. It was a spitting, doubtful rain at first, then after an interlude, a brisk but brief shower.

Duncan led the mules to water, then the horses. Tom helped to make camp. It was not easy in the rain. Vallian scooped out a small hollow in the earth, gathered a few stones, and using dry wood from the tarp slung under the wagon, he got a fire going.

With a canvas over the fire they broiled some antelope steaks and ate their small meal and drank coffee standing in the rain.

"How far to the next camp?" Tom asked.

"Sixteen miles ... maybe a shade less. There's wood there, and grass. It's a good camp."

"Well, that will be a help. At least, we can pick up some more wood tomorrow."

"Not you."

They turned their heads to stare at him. Vallian returned the look. "You ain't goin' to be there tomorrow. Maybe not the next day."

"What do you mean?" Susanna demanded sharply.

"Your mules are tuckered. They just made it to here, and when you come in it was dry. Tomorrow those wheels will be cuttin' into mud. With luck you'll make that camp on Cottonwood Creek in three days."

"Three days! For sixteen miles?"

"Maybe not even then. Maybe not at all." Tom's face was white, and for a moment Susanna thought she would cry. Duncan stared then looked at the ground, feeling empty and sick.

"I don't believe that," he said, "we'll make it."

"If the mules die," Vallian said, "you can always ride out on the horses. Of course, you can't carry much. An' you surely can't carry that dresser."

He emptied his cup. "See that hill yonder? Tomorrow you'll start fresh. You'll roll down the slope pretty well, then you'll start up. If you make it to the top, that's where you'll camp tomorrow night."

"That's ridiculous! Why, that's no more than six or seven hundred yards!"

"That's right. And maybe you won't even get out of the valley. I told you, mister, you're fixin' to kill them mules."

Vallian walked to his horse. "You'll be needin' meat to ride out."

"Mr. Vallian?" Tom asked suddenly. "Can I come with you? I can shoot."

"I've got no time for youngsters. You stay with your ma."

Susanna spoke quickly. "Mr. Vallian, my son must learn to hunt. Won't you teach him?"

He started to refuse, a foot in the stirrup. Then he swung into the saddle. "All right ... saddle up."

"Thank you, Mr. Vallian," Susanna said.

"Don't thank me. If he can't keep up, he'll get lost. If he comes back with meat it'll be his doin', not mine."

Susanna stared at him. "I do not think I like you, Mr. Vallian."

He smiled, slowly, exasperatmgly. "No, ma'am. I reckon not. But then it doesn't matter very much, does it?"

They rode away, and she stared after him, then stamped her foot. It made no sound on the wet grass and that made her even angrier.

Chapter
VI

Con Vallian rode straight away from the wagon without turning to look back. His eyes swept the long grass levels, alert for movement or change in the grass. Tom McKaskel rode one of the sorrels, a larger, stronger horse than Vallian's mustang.

In the distance a rainstorm marched across the flat-land. There seemed no break in the vast level of the prairie. Thunder rumbled.

"Not a good time for hunting," Vallian commented. "Game holes up when it rains."

Tom was silent. They knew little of this man who had come so suddenly from nowhere, and who seemed to have no ties, no loyalty but to himself and what he believed. Yet there was a strength in him and an awareness that fascinated Tom.

"Buffalo can't hide, an' we're cuttin' sign in buffalo country."

"Will those men come back?"

"Likely."

"You don't think much of us, do you?"

"I don't think about you at all. You come out here loaded like you was going to a city market. You got enough on that wagon for four, five families. Your pa ought to have more sense."

"Pa knows what he's doing."

"Back east, maybe. What you learn in school cuts no ice out here. You started out to get across the plains. Well, you got no choice now. You're on your way an' the only way you're going to make it is by chucking half your load."

"Half/"

"Boy, you keepin' your eyes open?"

"Sure I am! Why--"

Tom felt guilty. To tell the truth he had been arguing and not paying attention. Now he looked quickly around.