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.
“We
ll 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.
Chapter 13
With the scrap wagon being used to transport Company goods, Edge had some relief from the daily grind of continually training. Making sure his apprentice had something of value to do every day, Occam became more imaginative in his instruction. But still the young man had an overabundance of time on his hands.
His immediate reaction was to spend time with Jody, but she looked at him differently lately. At first she seemed glad to see him on the occasions he rode past on his appaloosa, but the more miles they made, the more days they left the accident behind, the more she seemed to distance herself from him. He did not know that the conversation Jody was having with Muffy had shined a light on him and his potential from her point of view. Jody had no intention of being one of several wives. It was better to sever ties early.
Hurt by the neglect and failing to understand the reason, Edge moved away and found other pursuits. Soon he was asking Occam to double up his training every other day so he could spend the odd days with the outriders. He and Cable renewed their friendship as though there had never been a lapse, and Cypress welcomed the personable young man into their circle.
One late evening, as Edge was getting ready to hit the sack, he was approached by someone he did not expect. Making his way back into camp after a short trip to relieve himself, a shadowed form stepped from behind the wagon.
“Pardon, young Edge, but a word, please, before you retire.” A deep, strong voice spoke softly.
Recognizing the Wagon Master immediately, Edge was surprised. Used to direct orders, if anything, he had no real experience with the man in conversation and wondered what he could want.
“Aye, Master, I be at your service, sir,” Edge answered politely. “What would you?”
“All of us here be of one concern, Mister Edge, and that be the completion of our journey in the best manner.” The man spoke as if he were afraid to be overheard, and Edge understood immediately that this was a private conversation. “The least injury to all is the worthiest goal, as you have heard me say in days past, but I have concerns of one in our company that holds sway over decisions he may make unwisely. We require a man of care, and he has shown some undue attraction to risk in my opinion.”
Suspecting that he knew where the Wagon Master was going, Edge offered nothing. He would not put a name to anyone of his own accord. It was the business of the Master to clarify his apprehension.
“I’ve watched you as any Master in command of a train watches those in his charge,” continued Till, “and your care of the animals you use has made me aware of the shortcomings, even greater, of the Company-employed man in charge of our own.”
Hearing this, Edge was confirmed in his understanding that Till was speaking of the Ox Master, Arc. He still kept silent, as he was unsure of what that had to do with him.
Knowing that Edge understood of whom he spoke, the leader of the caravan seemed suddenly uncomfortable. His sense of loyalty to another trained adult, a Master in his Trade, made him uneasy. Somehow it felt wrong to speak negatively of him.
“I have no desire to embarrass a Master in his Trade but would put the question to you,” he peered intently at Edge even though they were in shadow, “if you would consider discussing the upcoming obstacles with me prior to my consultation meetings? If it be possible to wring your thoughts, I might be better prepared to enforce my will, as I will have foreknowledge of possibilities.”
Tempted to deny himself worthy, since he was still a year from becoming a Master in his own right and almost a year now removed from training, Edge contemplated what Till was asking. All of the men on the train had experience with oxen, wagons, and loads, but he was the only one as far as he knew with the specific training to challenge the little ox man. He recognized the need but was uncomfortable with the request. Edge felt he had no right. Still, the man asking was surely thoughtful in the matter and was not taking the issue lightly.
“Aye, sir. I can do what I can. I shall ask my Master Occam first and make sure he be willing but then be at your beck.”
Offering his hand, the Wagon Master accepted Edge into his confidence. “You shall find that I have already spoken with your Master, young Edge, and he be agreeable. He suggested that your work will be managed to allow time to go forward with the scouts before any challenge be approached and that we will have opportunity to converse before each meeting.”
With nothing further to discuss, the big man smiled. His teeth winked in the moonlight within his sun baked face, and he spun about and retired to his own wagon, disappearing in the gloom.
The conversation had been unexpected, and Edge stood for several minutes looking in the direction where the man had vanished into the darkness. The amount of confidence the Wagon Master had expressed made him feel good, but the idea of questioning a man fully vested in his Trade made Edge queasy. This could help the train, or it could end badly. Arc may be small, mean, and without many friends due to his personality, but the Guild Association made him powerful. And a mean-spirited man under pressure could be vindictive.
Contact with Cy and Cable became a welcome duty as Edge was required to ride with them. Between the unslackened duties of his Smithy training and the new concerns of his clandestine task, the young traveler was too busy to see much of Jody, though she weighed on his mind more often than he expected.
Their brief flirtation had been severed, on one side by an increase in the requirements of time and on the other by a young woman
learning the reality of what a man in Roseburg would expect of a woman.
§
The old road surface of Highway 80 rose to meet them, and the wagons trundled on through a spate of changing weather. The winds would blow hot from the west one day and then turn and blow from the east the next. Any rain they got was barely enough to wet the ground, and any clouds would appear suddenly and disappear quickly. When shadowed under clouds the temperature was tolerable, but as the clouds passed and the sun shone down, the heat sapped the moisture and life from those below. On those days that they were blessed with a tail wind, the air was so forceful that the members of the convoy cursed the elements. On the days spent in a headwind they remained silent as the force allied against them drew the strength from their bodies with its incessant pressure. Neither man nor ox had the energy to complain on days when the air drove at them from the front.
Small towns provided some respite from the tedium of the long trail. The occasional chance for trade broke the consistent plodding but not enough to make the journey tolerable.
The scouts riding to the north reported a human shadow. Nomadic peoples, the present native tribesmen, followed at a distance and made every attempt to stay invisible.
Within the confines of the wagon, Muffy was getting worse. Headaches came over her, sometimes rising slowly from beneath her damaged ear and sometimes sudden and so intense that she would vomit. Jody wondered why the vomit looked so intensely dark brown. It did not seem normal.
Whenever he could, Occam would trade places with Jody so he could stay close to his wife. The strain of his concern was telling on the big man. He lost weight, and a haggard, grey color came into his complexion. He silently blamed Arc for his wife’s infirmity, and several people noticed malicious glances coming from the Smithy and directed at the Ox Master. The normally jocular and forgiving man became morose and brooding.
Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) Page 12