River Bend

by Barbara Shepherd

  “I’ve seen these,” Jake said, “but never had one. The seams where the pieces of wool blanket meet almost disappear. Do you want to trade this?”

  “Yup.”

  “How’d you make it so far south to our little rendezvous?”

  “Wanted a change. Beaver’s beginning to get scarce up there with so many company trappers, and lots of Indians trapping for them, too. Big rendezvous of the north’s getting crowded. Must have been close to a couple thousand men the last few years.”

  “Rotates between Wyoming and Utah,” Jake said.

  “Yup, sometimes. And Idaho.”

  Jake and Mosely bartered and talked for more than an hour.

  When Belle got to the hotel, she was greeted by Burcham and the two husband-hunting sisters who grinned like children at a birthday party. “May I serve you something to drink?” Burcham asked.

  “No, thank you, Burcham,” Belle said. “It’s good to see you. How are you and your family?”

  “We’re all fine,” he said. “I’ll leave you ladies to visit.” He went to the kitchen.

  Belle turned to Old Bailey. “You have time to talk with Absalom if he’s around.”

  “Calls me, missy, when you needs me,” Old Bailey said and left.

  Belle heard Burcham and Old Bailey speak to one another and go out the door to the back porch before she said, “Tell me. I can see you can’t contain your news any longer.”

  “About to bust a gut holding it in,” Catherine said. “We’ve had the most splendid time here. They played a dance last night. We danced. Almost all night.” Her words continued to come in a rush. “I met a big man—a big, big man—like a bear—but gentle. Amelia danced with more than a dozen men.”

  “More than two dozen,” Amelia said.

  “Two men got in a fight over her—a knife fight,” Catherine said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” the sisters said.

  “Tell me more,” Belle said, “but please catch your breath and let’s sit.” All three women took a seat in the parlor.

  “I’ve never had anyone fight over me,” Amelia said. “Sometimes, I don’t even get noticed.”

  “That’s because they’re staring at me,” Catherine said. “My height shocks them.”

  “Not here, sister,” Amelia said. “We actually saw tall men—one who’s taller than you.”

  “I know,” Catherine said, her voice changing to soft and her expression like a dreamy princess in a child’s storybook.

  “She wouldn’t dance with any other men,” Amelia said. “Just that one.”

  Catherine let out a deep sigh. “That was after I taught him to dance. I couldn’t believe how bashful the man was.” She sighed again. “That’s what I love about him.”

  Belle leaned forward. “Love? Already?”

  “I think so,” Catherine said. “I’ve never been in love before, but I have never felt like this either.” She clasped her hands together and held them to her chest. “He is such a sweet man, and his name is Samuel—just like in the Bible.”

  “Samuel? I know him,” Belle said.

  “You do,” the sisters spoke in unison.

  “Yes. He traps down here instead of up in the high country and might be the one who kept fresh meat at my door when I lived in the dugout. I never saw him leave it, but I had a feeling he could be responsible.”

  “See,” Catherine said. “A sweet man. How often do you encounter a giant of a man who has that quality?”

  “Never,” Amelia said. “Of all the men I met, I like Benjamin the most, but I’m not like Catherine when it comes to love. She’s smitten. I’m not.”

  “Not yet,” Catherine said.

  “Although I’m excited for you both,” Belle said, “this is happening so fast.” Remembering how she had little time to decide to marry Michael Strong, she didn’t want her new friends to have second thoughts. She frowned. Second thoughts. They could have deep regrets if they made wrong decisions.

  “I know,” Amelia said. “Isn’t it wonderful to have so many men to choose from?”

  To deter Amelia’s eagerness, Belle tried to redirect her focus. “What about land? That’s important to you. Trappers don’t settle down. They go where the game is, or so I’m told.”

  “If they’re good at trapping, they have money to buy land,” Amelia said.

  “Maybe,” Belle said, frowning. “But owning and working the land would be quite a change for a true mountain man. What if he doesn’t want to be a farmer?”

  Amelia and Catherine looked at each other. “We never thought about that,” Catherine said. “You realize, Amelia, if I married Samuel, and you married someone from way north of here, we’d be separated.”

  “I know.”

  Benjamin came into the hotel, clutching his hat in both hands. “Ladies,” he said, “pardon me for interrupting. Miss Amelia, there’s going to be another dance tonight. Would you go with me?”

  “Another night of dancing? Of course, I’ll go,” Amelia said. “I mean, yes, I’ll go dancing with you.”

  “I’ll be by at eight for you.” He turned on his heel, plopped his hat back on his head, and almost danced his way out.

  “I’d say someone else is smitten,” Belle said.

  “Seems so,” Amelia said. “Maybe I can dance with three dozen men tonight.” She laughed and did a twirl. “I love America.”

  “Will you stay for the dance, Belle?” Catherine asked. “Oh wait, where’s your child?”

  “Johnathan’s at River Bend, playing up a storm. Lizzie, the marvelous cook out there, gave him a little, wooden mallet from her kitchen. He loves to break small sand rocks into pieces and load them into his wagons. He was having a great time when I left him in the hands of a caring staff. I did not want to expose him to the mass of people expected here for rendezvous.” She shook her head. “Mercy, I think twice as many people are here compared to previous ones.”

  “And the dance?” Catherine tapped her finger on the arm of her chair.

  “Probably not,” Belle said. “I danced little in the Carolinas and none since I came out west. I don’t think I remember how.” She twisted in her chair. “If Burcham can scare up a cot, I may spend the night since it’s getting late, but no dancing for me. You two get all gussied up. I want to see how you look before you get lost in the crowd of dancers.”

  The sisters left for their room, and Belle stepped out on the back porch. “Old Bailey,” she said. “I believe we’ll spend the night.”

  “Yas, Missy,” he said. “I’ll see to the horses and bunk down with ’em.”

  “Do that at the livery,” she said. “Thank you, Old Bailey. You’re a treasure.”

  He ducked his head and left with Absalom trailing him.

  Belle went for a walk along the same path where she and Jake used to stroll. On her way back in the pleasant weather, she watched a family of eagles soar overhead. She heard water splashing but couldn’t remember a stream close to that path. When she rounded the last corner, she stopped short.

  “Liking the view?” Jake’s voice startled her but not as much as his bronzed body when he rose from a wooden bathtub to face her.

  She covered her eyes with her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  “Oh, yes. You certainly did. All of me.”

  “Don’t taunt me.” She turned away from him, uncovered her eyes, and marched to the hotel. She slammed the door behind her, but his laughter rang loud enough for her to hear inside.

  After sunset, Catherine and Amelia entered the parlor where Belle visited with Mrs. Burcham. The sisters wore light makeup and long dresses with gathered skirts.

  “How lovely you both look,” Belle said. “Ready for dancing with a fine beau.”

  “I remember dances back in Wales,” Mrs. Burcham said. “Come, Amelia. Let me straighten that comb in your hair.”

  Amelia leaned down so Mrs. Burcham could adjust the comb. “Why don’t you and Mr. Burcham come with us?”

 
“Oh, dear, we haven’t danced in years.”

  “It would be fun for all of us to go,” Catherine said. “You, too, Belle.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not looking for a man.”

  The two sisters gave each other a wink. “You don’t have to look,” Catherine said.

  Wrinkling her brow, Belle said, “Explain yourself.”

  “Well,” Catherine said, “it doesn’t take a fortune teller to see what Trader Jake’s thinking when he looks at you.”

  Belle huffed. “That man. Don’t mention his name and mine in the same sentence.”

  Catherine, Amelia, and even Mrs. Burcham giggled.

  “No matter,” Amelia said. “Please come with us, both of you.”

  Mrs. Burcham stood. “I’ll speak with my husband. You three go on ahead.”

  Although Belle sat rigid in her chair, not planning to go, she could not win against the sisters. They picked her up, chair and all, and deposited her on the front porch of the hotel.

  “If you sit here, Belle,” Catherine said, “every man in the country will come up here and ask you to dance. You’ll be much safer if you go with us.”

  Belle rose from the chair to dart back into the hotel, but the women grabbed her. With one woman on each side of her, she was escorted down the dirt street until they could all walk on a wooden sidewalk. They stopped just shy of the saloon.

  As if on cue, the music started. Samuel came up, bowed to Catherine, and whisked her out into the middle of the street to dance. Benjamin asked Amelia to dance, but she declined.

  “Not right now,” she said and clasped Belle’s hand.

  Benjamin looked like he might tear up.

  “I will dance with you soon, Benjamin,” Amelia said. “First, let me find a good spot for Belle to sit.”

  Belle jerked her hand away. “Don’t treat me like a child. I can take care of myself.” Realizing how curt she’d been, Belle smiled. “Go. Dance and amuse yourselves. I look forward to watching you twirl in that skirt.”

  Amelia and Benjamin joined the group out in the street. Before long, they were lost in the crowd.

  The sun went down, and Belle decided to return to the hotel. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  Men blocked her way. They formed a line, side by side, in front of her, each one asking her for a dance.

  Goodness. The way they’re lined up, they look like a firing squad. My firing squad.

  As polite as she could, she declined, each man requiring his own no. They did not budge.

  Near them, a man hopped up on the saloon’s porch and started calling a square dance. “Grab your partners, men. Let’s dance ’til the morning light.”

  One of the men Belle had turned down stepped forward and reached for her hand. Before he could pull her to him, he let loose and stepped back. Just then, Belle found herself looking up at the darkening sky. Someone had picked her up and turned her upside down on his shoulders. She recognized the loud laugh.

  “You’re my partner,” Trader Jake said. He carried her out to the middle of the street, tipped his hat to the Burchams, and joined another couple for a four-square. They danced until the caller finished the tune.

  Furious at Jake, Belle stomped off, heading back toward the hotel. Muttering angry words to herself, she never heard footsteps behind her. Rough hands grabbed her and covered her head with a smelly, rough-textured hood. Whoever it was held a hand tight against her face, muffling her screams, and put her in a bear hug. Belle tried to get loose and was able to kick her captor.

  “Keep her quiet,” a man’s voice said.

  “She shore is a fighter,” another one said.

  “Good. I like a strong ’un.”

  “Help me. Gonna take both of us to load her.”

  Belle smelled a horse just before the men jerked her body up and threw her, belly down, on the back of the animal. “Umph.” The impact knocked the breath out of her. When she could, she screamed, but her scream died when they gagged her by tying the hood on with a leather strap lashed across her open mouth. She heard them run beside the horse, her body thumping against its back.

  “Belle! Belle!” Jake’s voice rang into the night.

  That was the last sound she heard.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As soon as she opened her eyes, Belle wished she hadn’t. Pain shot through her right temple. She reached for it, but someone grabbed her hand. After struggling for a few seconds, she stopped and tried to make her eyes focus.

  “Belle, it’s us,” Amelia said. “Catherine and me. Don’t move.”

  Belle turned her head to look at them. “Oh, that hurts. What happened? Where am I?”

  “Don’t you remember anything?” Amelia patted Belle’s hand. “You were kidnapped.”

  Belle took a moment to think. “Yes. I remember. I was thrown over a horse, and we were running. I smelled smoke, like a campfire, and the forest. We must have been running to the tree line.”

  “And then what?”

  “It was almost dark. They put something over my head, and that made it darker. When I smelled the trees, everything went black.”

  “That’s correct,” a familiar voice said. Doc walked up and stood by the bed she lay on. “Mrs. Strong, that goose egg you’ve got on the side of your head probably came from an encounter with a blackjack tree. I was told you were knocked out when that pack horse ran too close to it.”

  She tried to get up.

  “No.” Doc made her lie back down. “Since you have swelling, you probably didn’t suffer a concussion. However, I want you to stay still for a few more hours before I let you go.”

  Fussing with him didn’t change his order, so Belle relaxed.

  “We thought the dance would be the highlight of the night,” Catherine said. “Until you stole the show, that is.”

  “Me?”

  “Uh-huh. All the dancing stopped. Didn’t you hear Trader Jake yelling for you?”

  “I sort of remember hearing him call my name.”

  “Sort of. He yelled it loud enough for the stars to hear him. When he caught up with those men, he had to fight—not just to get you back—but for his life.”

  Oh, my. Now the whole crowd thinks he’s a hero. He’ll be strutting like a peacock when it flares out its tail feathers.

  “You ladies can go now,” Doc said. “She needs to rest, and I have other patients to tend to. Come back about the middle of the morning. I’ll let her leave then if you can help steady her when she walks.”

  “Thank you, Doc,” Catherine said. “We’ll be back tomorrow, Belle. Sleep tight.”

  Amelia and Catherine left the doctor’s office, and Belle fell asleep.

  Hours later, she woke to the sound of hushed voices—men’s voices. Doc held a lighted kerosene lamp. He and two men stood beside a bed where a patient lay.

  “What’re his chances, Doc?”

  Belle recognized Benjamin’s voice and Samuel’s bulk.

  “Knife wound,” Doc said, “wasn’t so deep. That tomahawk blow is another story.” He paused. “Did he get justice?”

  “Shore did,” Benjamin said. “Those two won’t never see ’nother sunrise.”

  “Good,” Doc said. “I hope our friend wakes up to see many of them. You boys might as well get some shut-eye. There’s nothing any of us can do. I’ll send for you if anything changes.”

  The two trappers mumbled their thanks and left. Although they tried to be quiet, the outside steps creaked when they stepped on them.

  Belle wondered about the rest of the story and who the patient was, but her head started hurting again. She fell back asleep.

  When daybreak came, she still had pain in her temple but felt a lot better. She got out of bed and tiptoed past Doc, who slept in his big chair. She sucked in her breath when she recognized the patient in the other bed. Slipping into the straight-backed chair beside the bed, she held her head in her hands and resumed breathing.

  I’ve been here before. Right here, in this doctor’s office, I stoo
d beside a man who looked this pale—a man I loved. He died.

  She looked at Trader Jake—asleep or unconscious—she didn’t know and didn’t want to wake Doc to tell her.

  Are you going to die on me, too? This wild place eats up men, leaving us women alone. Or, is it just me? Men should avoid me if they want to stay alive.

  She tiptoed back to her temporary bed and crawled in.

  Did he really save my life? Will it cost him his?

  She closed her eyes, prayed for the man who upset her so often, and let sleep claim her.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  By midmorning, River Bend bustled with activity. Phineas Grayson had returned from the cotton and corn fields, leading one of the slaves behind him. The overseer dismounted, jerked the slave to the ground by the leather strap around his neck, and sneered. He dropped the reins, and the horse stood in place.

  “Don’t you ever question my authority, boy.” Phineas kicked the slave before pulling a long bullwhip from his saddle horn. He unwound the weapon of braided cowhide with slow precision while the slave cowered. Showing no mercy, the overseer whipped until the man’s blood sank deep into the sandy soil. Turning his back, Phineas walked away with a swagger to his step and blood dripping from his whip.

  Birdie and Lizzie ran to help the injured man, but he pushed them aside. He rose, took the reins of the overseer’s horse, and led him to the stables.

  “Never would’ve happened when Masta was here.” Lizzie shook her head.

  The women continued their trek to the chicken coops. Birdie gathered eggs and placed them in Lizzie’s big apron.

  Lizzie pointed to the back of one of the coops. “Any eggs in that back box?”

  “Nope. Nest’s empty,” Birdie said.

  “They’ve had ’nough chances,” Lizzie said. “You catch them two old hens and ring they necks.” She watched Birdie separate the white leghorn and the gray one with white spots from the rest of the chickens. Lizzie left for the kitchen with her apron full of warm eggs. After a while, she returned to the chicken coops.

  “I cain’t do it,” Birdie said. “Them hens don’t want they’s necks wrung.”

  “Lawsy, Birdie, you pulled wrong. They’s necks all stretched out, but they ain’t dead. Poor old hens.” She grabbed one up by its feet, laid it on the ground, and stepped on its neck. With one fell swoop, she pulled hard on its feet and threw the headless chicken over to the grassy lawn where it flopped around. She repeated the process with the other hen.