The Women in Pants

by Stan Himes

  He held out the reins for her, and her eyes misted.

  “Pa? Are you sure?”

  “He’ll go where you tell him, and the other horses will follow.” As Katie took the reins, Jonas put a hand atop Pitch’s head and said, “You take care of her.” Maybe it was just twitching away a fly, but I swear the horse nodded.

  Except for the undesirable Sean and Brute, not another man came to the ranch until a day we saw a wagon on the horizon. It was the day before the drive and we were out for the final roundup of cattle and horses. The wagon headed for the house, where Jonas was. We’d have to find out about it later.

  Jonas watched from his chair on the porch, squinting to make out the wagon in the distance. “Right on time.”

  It was a sturdy chuckwagon with a fresh canvas top. Jonas frowned and grabbed his crutches as the driver brought the wagon, led by mules, to a stop in front of the house. The driver was a grizzled old man, but spry. He hopped from the wagon and used his few remaining teeth to smile at Jonas.

  “Howdy. Name’s Homer Edwards, but everyone calls me Clean Through.”

  “I was expecting Homer Edwards, but a much younger man.”

  “I’m his father. Came in his place.” He extended his hand to Jonas.

  Jonas took it. “Let me guess. He’s off prospectin’ in Leadville.”

  “Leadville, yes. Prospectin’, no. Gone to sell picks, shovels and meals. I raised him a dern sight smarter than them dirt-diggers,” he grinned with pride. “Don’t worry. I cook better’n my boy. And I’m as healthy as they come, if you’re worried about my age.”

  Jonas could only smile to himself. “No, seems fittin’ at this point. Come on in and let me acquaint you with our situation. Be awhile before I have company again.”

  “Maybe I ought to go out and meet the hands.”

  “Better you get a drink in you first.”

  We were doing well with the herd, I thought. We had them gathered in a draw. Ernestine, Prudence and Pearl circled the herd, keeping it together. Katie and I kept an eye on the horses, counting to make sure we had four mounts for each rider as Jonas had ordered. Mary and Ruth were trying to count the herd.

  “Be easier to count if they’d stay still,” said Ruth.

  “Got to be over 400,” said Mary. “More than we need.”

  All of our heads turned at the sound of the oncoming wagon. Clean Through was driving and Jonas rode beside him, his splinted leg jutting out to the side. Clean Through saw us, pulled the wagon to a stop, rubbed his eyes, and looked upon us again.

  “It really is girls. You weren’t joshin’. That skinny one’s about as big as my arm.”

  “You tell her that, you might lose your arm. The one beside her is my wife, Mary. She’ll be your trail boss. If you’ll go.”

  Clean Through considered. He’d thought Jonas was pulling his leg, but sure enough this cattle crew was all females. “You say you’re not coming?”

  “Wish. About an hour in a wagon is all my hip and leg can handle. Even if I tried to go, I think my wife or old Doc would shoot me to make me stay put.”

  “They any good?”

  Jonas was a little surprised by the confidence that sprung from inside him. “Let me show you.”

  He waved us over and we gathered by the wagon.

  “This here is Clean Through. He’s about to sign on as cook once we show him what you cattlehands are capable of. So it’s time for your final test.”

  Up went the hand. “What test is that, Mr. Bartlett,” asked Prudence.

  “Hand me your mom’s pistol.”

  Ruth gave the gun to Prudence, who gave it to Jonas. He pointed it to the sky and fired three shots, startling us but especially the horses and the cattle, which scattered. We were baffled why Jonas would do such a thing, but Mary understood and her shout cleared up the matter. “Well go bring ’em back!”

  We snapped into action and though our training had been short, we’d been good students. Even more, we had good insights into our talents. When Mary bellowed, “Go Ernestine,” she knew exactly what to do. The rest of us raced our mounts to cut-off positions on each side of the herd while Ernestine rushed to the front.

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!”

  That bone-chilling shriek of hers was like putting up an iron wall. The lead cattle turned and we began guiding them back into the draw.

  “That’s a strange girl,” Clean Through commented.

  “No argument here. But it works.”

  Clean Through gave a firm nod. “Guess I can cook for women as well as men, long as I get paid. But I ain’t dryin’ tears if’n they start crying. I cook, but I don’t wipe noses.”

  “Welcome aboard.”

  By the time we’d finished securing the herd and corralling the horses, Clean Through stood by his wagon handing out biscuits and beans. Katie was impressed with the wholeness of the biscuits but whispered a concern of a different kind to Prudence.

  “What kinda name is Clean Through?”

  “Hope it don’t describe the effects of his cookin’.”

  Jonas waved us over to where he’d drawn a map on the ground with one of his crutches. “I’m pleased to say that Clean Through is a veteran of the trails and he agrees with Mary and me that your best bet is to take the Western Trail.” He pointed at the middle trail on his artwork. “It’s the shortest one from here, almost straight north into Dodge City.”

  Up went the hand.

  “Yes, Prudence?”

  “If it’s the Western Trail, how come it’s in the middle?”

  “It used to be the most west until the Goodnight-Loving Trail, this one here, got made. It swings around to Pueblo. And before you ask, the eastern-most trail is the Chisolm, which goes up to Abilene.”

  I didn’t raise my hand, but I had a question. “Isn’t Dodge a pretty rough town?”

  “They all are. What’s a lot rougher, though, is the 400 miles between here and there. For those of you planning to return, about 50, 60 days ought to see you back.”

  Fifty days. That meant maybe seventy if conditions got rough.

  Every time we’d get to feeling good about the progress we’d made, a thought would come along to remind us of the harsh reality ahead. I could see shoulders sag a bit and felt added weight on my shoulders as well. But Mary, who’d known nothing but cooking and cleaning for a couple of decades and whose leadership experience had previously amounted to sending the dog out of the house, perked our shoulders back up. “We’re ready.”

  A born leader, whether she knew it or not.

  “Fifty days.” The whispered words hung in the air. Mary and Jonas were together on the bed, Jonas propped up with pillows to ease his hip, Mary’s head on his shoulder. A small beam of moonlight reflected in the moisture of Mary’s eyes.

  “Thought you’d be the one waiting for me to come home,” said Jonas. “Not the other way around.”

  “Don’t take it wrong, but it ain’t loneliness that worries me, yours or mine.” She rose onto her elbows and faced him. “Maybe… maybe Ruth should be the trail boss. She can lead.”

  “She’s bossy, but no leader. Likely shoot Pearl.”

  Mary gave a chuckle, but her eyes saddened. She lowered herself back to the mattress and rolled over, her back to Jonas. “Followed Ma and Pa to Texarkana. Followed you here. Never been out front.”

  “Out front’s good. First one there. First one home.” Jonas caressed her shoulders. “Whether my leg’s mended or not, I’ll rush to meet you.”

  PART THREE

  UNDERWAY

  Chapter 9

  They started arriving before sunup. Edward, Doc and my father arrived together. Charlie made it shortly after. Against the rising pink sun, serenaded by lowing cattle, little pockets of goodbyes were scattered about the field. It was too late for arguments or persuasions or pleading or any this-is-just-foolish talk. It was a time to open up hearts joined through blood and love and history and friendship.

  Edward gave Ernestine
a pewter necklace in the shape of a cross. “Your ma asked me to give this to you when I thought the time was best. Guess that’s now.” Ernestine, misty-eyed, took off her hat and looped the necklace over her head. She touched the cross as it fell into place. She embraced her grandfather.

  Not far from them, I stood with my father. We had always had both a closeness and a distance between us. The distance was because our dreams and our views had never quite matched up. The closeness was because we loved each other despite the distance. I’ve likely given his caring side short shrift in this story while stressing his business ways. Maybe it’s natural to poke that way at someone we’re close to, maybe because their light ways aren’t as interesting as their dark. Just as Jonas had braved the frontier to build a ranch and a home and a family, my father had braved it to build a bank and a home and a family. He will always be the finest man I know, and saying goodbye was no easy task.

  “Mother?”

  “She couldn’t bear to part,” he said. Then he gave me a knowing smile. “Couldn’t bear to see you wearing britches.” I giggled and teared up at the same time, then raised my eyebrows as he held out a small package. “It’s a sheaf of paper and some writing utensils. I hope you’ll write me and your mother. Often.”

  “I promise.”

  We hugged. His warmth and his cigar aroma triggered a flood of memories. Feeling him look around to see if anyone was watching our public display triggered many more. There would always be that closeness. There would always be that distance.

  Doc was simply moving from person to person, shaking hands, wishing well, offering reassurance. He never missed an opportunity to remind many of us that he’d brought us into the world. “But it’s your responsibility to stay in it,” he said to each of us in turn. “So doggone it, be careful.”

  Charlie stood a few steps from Pearl, their relationship hard to define and impossible for anyone who hasn’t walked in their shoes to appreciate. He pointed a lecturing but kind finger at her. “New lives have a way of not working out, so if you get into trouble you go see Madam Smith at the Dodge City Home for Women, and know that you’ll always be welcome to —”

  “I know,” she cut him off. She started to tell him she’d die before she ever returned to that life, but decided there was no point to it. As men who used women go, Charlie’d been kinder than most. She could let him have his goodbye.

  Prudence, Ruth and Sally were mounted and in place. Only Doc had offered goodbyes to them. Ruth held the faintest of hope that her husband would ride over the ridge to see her, though she had no idea if she’d go home with him or tell him off and leave. Prudence was still too sleepy to worry about goodbyes. “Let’s get moving,” Sally mumbled to no one. She wanted to move. Every second standing still was another second that Henry might drift back into her life. She wanted distance, both physical and emotional.

  What Jonas, Mary and Katie shared with each other that morning I do not know. It’s among the rare items none of them would pass along. “Some things are nobody else’s business,” was all Jonas would say. I suspect that tender words were spoken, the kind that might embarrass Jonas if read back to him, and the kind that Mary would want to cling to in a private place of her mind, words she could call upon for strength in bad times—those moments when a Bible verse brings comfort, but a loved one’s words bring peace.

  The time had come.

  Mary climbed upon a blue-gray roan. Katie mounted Pitch. The rest of us took our places.

  “Ain’t no more to say, no more I can guide you on,” Jonas said for all to hear. “It’s time for doing. God be with you all.”

  He nodded at Mary. She pushed on her stirrups, rising high in her saddle. “Ernestine! Move ’em out!”

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!”

  The rear of the herd jerked forward, sending out a reddish-brown ripple from back to front. The cattle were moving with Mary in front to lead them. All of us chipped in our own versions of “Hi-yah!” and “Hooooo!” and “Come on!” and more, adding to the impetus to stir the cattle forward. The goodbyes were behind us.

  So I thought.

  I had concentrated on my role during all of our training and, as such, hadn’t paid attention to how slowly a cattle herd rumbles along. Minutes after we’d cajoled the cattle into motion, as the yelling died down and I settled into my gentle ride, I glanced back for a final wave to my father, who would be a small dot in the distance. But he was right there, still within shouting distance. We hadn’t yet moved fifty feet. Starting the herd was like starting one of those large riverboats. It took a while to get it up to speed.

  We could’ve moved them faster, of course, but running meat off their bones was the same as running money out of Mary’s pockets. So an easy, steady pace it was. Our goal was twelve miles a day—about 14 hours of forward movement, allowing the cattle a mid-day graze and allowing a lunch rotation for each of the hands. Bedding down the herd and rotating night duties meant still more hours in the saddle. So it was a little unsettling to have the ranch remain in view close to two hours after we’d started. It didn’t feel like progress until the men and buildings we were leaving behind faded out of sight.

  Perched on a wagon, his back against the seat and his mending leg extended outward, Jonas watched us until the last steer and rider was over the ridge and out of sight. Charlie had taken his horse back to town earlier, and Doc, Edward and my father had followed shortly after. For a moment, Jonas felt everyone in the world was moving except for him, but he chastised himself for thinking like a selfish schoolgirl and snapped the reins for the ride back to the house. His duty now was to wait, hope and pray. Especially wait.

  During our steady progress, Mary often looked back at us and the herd as if wondering if all would still be there. To the front and on the right, away from any dust stirring in the gentle breeze, Clean Through chewed on a blade of grass as he guided his mules and wagon. After about five hours, with the noon sun high and hot, Mary broke from her position at the lead and rode to Clean Through.

  “About time to let ’em graze, don’t you think?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Ride up ahead and get the food going. I’ll spread the word.”

  Clean Through snapped the reins and quickened the pace of the wagon. Mary rode to Ruth’s point position and told her we’d be stopping the herd soon. Then she made a complete circle of the herd, giving the word to each of us, ending with me at the point on the other side. When the herd was stopped and grazing—a far easier accomplishment than getting them moving—Sally, Pearl and I rode in a circle around the herd to keep it in place while the others ate. Then they relieved us. From that first day on, it would all become routine.

  Dinner the night before had been the last time we’d see a table for a while. For the mid-day meal, Clean Through handed us a plate with beef and beans wrapped in a tortilla alongside a slice of corn bread. The drink of choice was water from our own canteens. We could eat on the ground or on our horses—up on my horse seemed cleaner to me.

  Late in the afternoon, the process was close to repeated. Instead of circling round to talk to us, though, Mary rode to scout a place to bed down for the night. It wasn’t difficult this first night as Jonas knew the territory and had told her where to camp. Within two days, though, she’d be handling the duty on her own. Riding back, she described the location to Clean Through and sent him on ahead to prepare dinner. In the fading light of the evening, we brought the herd to a stop, took care of the horses, and dragged ourselves and our saddles into camp. Ruth and Prudence took the first watch with the herd.

  Clean Through prepared a fine beef stew with biscuits. He ladled it out as we came by and it was the first of many evenings where his cheerful ways and trail experience eased the burden of the drive. We were sore and moving slow, but his near-toothless smile propped us up. “Fine first day, ladies,” came his sing-songy voice. “Fine. Don’t worry about feelin’ stiff and pained. Pretty soon you’ll be numb all over and it wo
n’t matter no more.”

  Katie picked up her biscuit and was both impressed and jealous that it hadn’t fallen apart. “He sure cooks better than I do,” she said to none of us in particular. Sally nodded as she gobbled her food and used her biscuit to sop up every bit of the stew.

  “’Course,” continued Clean Through, “this grass’ll soon turn to scrub and dust. And sleepin’ on the ground tonight is something you’re gonna feel until the numbness sets in.”

  “Right,” Katie brightened. “We’ll be camping out from now on. Maybe sing, tell stories.”

  “You don’t want to spook the cattle, you’ll keep your voice low,” said Clean Through. “And keep in mind that morning comes mighty early on the trail.”

  “How far you think we went today, Mary?” asked Ernestine.

  “Twelve, thirteen miles.”

  “Might be the farthest away I ever been.”

  “Me, too,” said Katie.

  Mary lowered herself to the ground, wincing as her tired bottom hit the earth. Despite the soreness, her face had a wistful glow. “I was farther once since coming here, when Jonas took me to Lubbock to find a preacher.”

  “Yes,” said a grinning Katie. “That’s the kind of story I was talking about. Tell ’em how Pa proposed to you, Ma.” She turned to Ernestine with an ear-to-ear smile. “It’s the most romantic thing you’ll ever hear in your life.”