A Man for Temperance (Wagon Wheel)

by Gilbert, Morris

  “It goes against the grain, it purely does,” Quaid protested.

  “It’s what you need to do. I’ll come back if I can.” He wheeled suddenly and moved to where Judas was tied. Quickly he saddled the animal, took the hobbles off, and then filled two large sacks with grain, for he knew he’d find little grass for Judas. He swung into the saddle, paused, and looked at Temperance. In the pale beginnings of the morning, he saw tears running down her cheeks. “I’ve got to go,” he said. He struggled to find the obvious words, then shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Sorry.” He turned Judas and kicked his side. The big horse moved at once, and Thad did not look back.

  “How much chance does he have, Quaid?” Belle asked in a tremulous voice.

  “It’s a long shot,” Quaid said. “I feel bad letting him go alone, but I guess he’s right. Come on, I’ll get the animals hitched, and we’ll get out of here. We’ll get to Fort Kearny, and the commanding officer will send out a company to find Black Eagle.”

  “Do you think they can?” Temperance asked.

  “Most of them can’t find their nose with both hands, but a few of them know Indians. Come on, let’s go.”

  As Temperance turned, she found she could not control her tears. Noticing this, Quaid put one arm around her. He held her tightly and said, “I’ve seen Thaddeus do some things that looked impossible. Don’t give up on him yet.”

  “But they’ll be waiting for him to come.”

  “You and I’ll have to pray for him, that’s all. He’s on his own this time.”

  “What about Rena and Bent?”

  “Cheyenne like to take children captive. They’ll make Cheyenne out of them if they can.”

  His words chilled Temperance, but she knew there was nothing she could do. “We’ll ask God to guide him,” she whispered, then turned to the work at hand.

  * * *

  “BLACK EAGLE WAS TELLING the truth.”

  Thad murmured the words aloud as he bent over the saddle. There was no need to look closely at the ground because the Indians had made no attempt to hide their marks of passage. The sun was climbing in the sky, and Thad moved at a slower pace than he would like. It was obvious the Indians were going at full speed; the tracks showed that. Besides, they had extra horses, and it was hard to cover the tracks of the band.

  The land had broken up into hills that lifted themselves into the sky and soon gave way to washes and canyons, some of them large enough to conceal a war party. Thad had to follow the tracks, but he also had to sweep the horizon, constantly searching for a possible ambush. He knew Black Eagle was the best of war chiefs among the Cheyenne, and though the chief might have a low opinion of Brennan, he would take no chances.

  All morning he followed the obvious trail left by the war party, and with part of his mind he tried to anticipate what might happen when he caught up with them. One man attacking six Cheyenne warriors was not the best odds in the world, but doggedly he forged forward.

  At noon he stopped by a small spring and saw that the Indians had paused there too. He drank but had no hunger. After resting Judas for an hour, he mounted and continued his pursuit. All afternoon he deliberately built a wall around his thoughts. He attempted to block images of Bent and Rena that trooped through his mind vividly.

  Brennan had thought he was past the point of feeling responsibility for anyone else. His life as a loner had made caring for others of no account. But now a renewed sense of duty was driving him.

  The sun reached the meridian, then began its journey into the west, and it seemed that the Indian ponies were slowing down. Several times he dismounted and leaned down close, looking at the prints. They were not the prints any longer of horses traveling at full speed, and he was grateful for this. There was no letup in his pursuit.

  Finally the sun dipped below the mountains in the west, and it was too dark for him to follow the trail clearly. An impulse came to him to rush ahead, hoping to come upon the band, but that, he knew, would be futile. He unsaddled Judas, staked him out, and fed him some of the grain. He was not hungry, but he knew that unless he was lucky, the pursuit might take several days and he would need his strength. He fried bacon and ate it morosely, then washed it down with water from his canteen. He sat before the fire, his mind blunted by the tragedy. He had been in tough spots before with Indians, but never when the lives of two children were at stake.

  He fed the fire carefully, not needing the warmth of the blaze, but it made a cheerful crackling noise, and the orange dotting the darkness seemed to be a counterpart to his dark spirit. He could not sleep for a time, but finally he lay down on his blanket. Sleep did come but only in fitful snatches, and it was never deep, the kind that rested a man.

  He came awake from a fearful dream he could not remember and then sat upright and found himself trembling. The dream had been unlike any he had ever had. The details were vague, but in the dream he felt he was falling into a hole that got blacker as he fell. He remembered crying out with fear and terror, something he had never done in his whole life.

  He rekindled the fire and drew the blanket over his shoulders to ward off the chill. It was useless to make plans, so he gave up trying. But as he sat in the night’s thick darkness, he still felt the fear from the dream. With a shock he realized what it meant. Falling down the deep hole was what his life was like, and at that instant he could almost hear Peter Cartwright crying out with a voice like a trumpet: “Jesus died for sinners.”

  That was the beginning of the worst night Thad had ever known. He sat there, and as he did, a portion of the Scripture came to his mind: Prepare to meet thy God. He had heard a sermon on that when he was just a boy, and he was surprised that it had lodged in his mind. He tried to shove it away, but it was almost like a physical force. Prepare to meet thy God.

  “I reckon I need to prepare, but I’m too far gone for that.”

  His voice made an uneven sound, husky in the silence, but it brought no relief. The night was more than a physical darkness covering his eyes. It went down deep. There was something even deeper in his soul. And as Thaddeus Brennan sat there, he knew that God had found him at last!

  He never remembered afterward exactly how it happened, but he could remember vividly that he had struggled against God, crying out finally, “I can’t do it, God! I’m just no good!” And he remembered Temperance reading the story of the prodigal son one night. Twice he got up and walked stiffly around the small camp, once lifting his hands up and crying out, “God, I don’t know what You want. I just don’t know!”

  Sometime before morning he had begun to weep. It was something he had not done since he was a small child, but weep he did. And then finally, as he was weeping, something came to his mind, to his heart, or to his spirit, he could never know which, that said, “Just call upon Me and I will take the darkness away.”

  Brennan remembered later that he called on God, claiming the blood of Jesus. His memory was never very clear, but the peace that came on him was clear. It came at dawn when the sun had broken over the horizon in the east, and it seemed that the brightness that warmed and gave life to the earth entered into his own spirit.

  He finally rose, wiped his eyes, and muttered in a husky whisper, “Well, Lord, I’m a mighty poor specimen, but no matter what else happens, I’m going to do whatever You tell me. Right now, Lord, I know You love these children, and I’m the only one that can help them. And You’re the only one that can help me. So, You tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” He saddled his horse and broke camp. As he rode off, his face was pale and he felt weak after the struggle. But new strength came to him, and he knew, somehow, that life would never be the same for him again.

  * * *

  RENA AND BENT WERE huddled together, watching the Indians. From time to time one of them would come over and look down at them. A tall thin Indian poked Rena with his finger and said something to the chief, whose name they found out was Black Eagle. Black Eagle had answered shortly, but the tall Indian called No Horses was insis
tent.

  Finally Black Eagle shook his head and spoke sharply.

  “What’s he saying about me?” Rena asked.

  Black Eagle looked at her, his eyes dark. They had traveled hard on the second day, but he showed no sign of fatigue. “He says he wants you for his squaw.”

  Rena was frozen and could not break her gaze away from Black Eagle’s. She tried to think of some way to protest, but his gaze had the hardness of stone.

  “I will not give you to him,” Black Eagle said. “Maybe not now anyway. He has no horses to pay for you.”

  “What are you going to do with us?” Bent said in an unsteady voice.

  Black Eagle rose and came to stand in front of the two. “You will be Cheyenne.”

  “I won’t be no Indian,” Bent cried out.

  Black Eagle stared at the boy. He liked his spirit and said, “You will become Cheyenne or you will die.” He gestured toward Rena. “And you will be a squaw to one of my warriors.”

  Black Eagle waited for them to reply, but neither of them did. He left and walked past the fire where the others were feasting on buffalo meat. They had killed a buffalo, which had slowed them. Rena watched as Black Eagle paced around the camp, always alert as a cat.

  “I ain’t gonna be no Cheyenne,” Bent said. “Thad will come and get us.”

  “No, he won’t,” Rena said, her voice dead. “He won’t do it.”

  “Sure he will. He likes me.”

  “He doesn’t like anybody but himself. Well, I’ll kill myself before I let any of these Indians touch me.”

  Bent stared at her, fear showing in his face, but he held on to his one hope. “Thad will come! I know he will!”

  “No, he won’t. He’s nothing but a drunk, and he don’t care about nobody but himself!”

  * * *

  THAD MOVED CAREFULLY THE second day of the pursuit. He seemed to be two men. One was the relentless hunter on the trail of his enemies, and the other was the man he did not know, for in his mind was the strong memory of calling on God and promising he would be a servant, that he would follow God. Several times that day he paused and tried to pray, but his prayers seemed a failure. God, I don’t see You or feel You, but I’m just believing You’re there and what happened last night was real. I’m asking You to help me get these kids back. That’s the only kind of prayer I can pray right now.

  He followed the trail relentlessly and finally in midafternoon he became wary. A warning seemed to sound, and it was a familiar feeling. He had often had it when he and Quaid were fighting the Indians in their trapping days. He could never explain it, but immediately before trouble started, somehow, he felt a tingling along his spine. The sensation was mental as well as physical, and he was aware of it as the sun began to drift below the horizon.

  “They can’t be far ahead,” he muttered. “I’d better take it easy.” Dismounting, he led Judas forward for the next hour. The horses of the hostiles, he saw, were moving even slower.

  “They’ll be camping for the night,” he said. “Black Eagle won’t be looking for me to be coming this soon, so he might be careless.”

  He kept moving forward until finally it was dusk. There was still enough light to see by, but the tingling that warned him of enemies close by was stronger. He tied Judas securely to a tree, fed him, watered him from his canteen, then moved ahead. He could not go as quietly as the Indians, but he had no choice.

  After he had walked no more than twenty minutes, suddenly he stopped. A sound had reached his ears. It was not the sound of a wolf or a coyote or a night bird, and as he stood there, straining every nerve, he recognized voices.

  “Got ’em,” he said exultantly. He looked up. Thank You, Lord. You found them for me. Now help me to get those kids.

  He moved stealthily until the voices became plainer and he saw the orange dot of the fire. His nerves were alive, for he knew that Black Eagle would usually station a sentry, but he saw no one. The voices became louder and the fire larger. Finally he began crawling through the brush. He got within a hundred yards of the band, and with a shock he saw Bent and Rena sitting alone, unbound, and the Indians gathered around the fire. They had been drinking, he realized instantly.

  He had to think what to do. He studied the situation and counted all six Indians. Black Eagle was sitting by himself. The others were laughing, and their voices were loud and slurred.

  “They’re all drunk. Good.” He pulled his Colt from the holster and checked the loads. “Six shots,” he muttered. “Six of them. If I miss, they’ll get me.” He considered returning to his horse for his rifle, but if he fired from a long-distance rifle range, they would know he was coming. He knew it had to be a sudden surprise attack and that he could not miss.

  Give me a steady hand, Lord, he asked. Then he rose into a crouch. He advanced until finally he was only twenty yards from the Indians. He could see their eyes clearly and, with a wash of relief, noticed that Black Eagle had joined the others. Slowly he raised the revolver and steadied it on the Indian farthest from him. There was no turning back now. He put his left hand under his wrist and pulled the trigger. The Indian fell backward, driven by the shot, and instantly Brennan fired at the Indian who had turned to face him, stunned by the sound and the death of his companion.

  The air was full of the Colt’s roaring, and Thad shot three of them before they could regroup. Black Eagle jumped to his feet and scrambled for a weapon. He grabbed his knife and he must have seen the flashes for he ran straight at Brennan. Brennan then missed a shot but got the last two Indians. However, he had no time to face Black Eagle’s charge.

  Black Eagle crashed into Thad with a wild cry, and Brennan caught his wrist holding the knife. He pulled his own knife out, and the two rolled around the ground, slashing at each other. Brennan felt the keen blade of Black Eagle, slashing into his chest, and knew that he had to finish it quickly. He stabbed at Black Eagle and felt the knife enter. He pushed it farther, and Black Eagle uttered a guttural cry and made one final cut that caught Brennan on the side and raked his ribs. Brennan pushed the knife still farther and held on. He felt the body of Black Eagle begin to tremble and then grow still.

  Brennan rolled over and called, “Rena—Bent! You OK?”

  Then the two were there and Bent was holding on to him. “I knew you’d come, Thad! I knew you would!”

  Rena’s eyes were big. She could not say a word for a time, then she said, “I didn’t think you’d come, Thad.”

  “You didn’t think I’d let that devil have my kids, did you?”

  “Thad, you’re cut-up bad,” Rena cried.

  “I guess you’re right about that. We’ve got a long way to go. We’ve got to stop this bleeding.”

  By using some of their clothing, they managed to stop the bleeding, and Thad got to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.” The horses were tied out, and he put Bent and Rena on the two that seemed the most broken. He got on behind Bent and said, “Let’s go get Judas. And then let’s go home.”

  * * *

  “WELL, I’LL BE—” QUAID said. “Will you look at that?”

  “What is it, Quaid?”

  “Look who’s come home.”

  Shocked, Temperance saw three horses. The two children were riding on each side of Thad, and her heart gave a lurch when she saw that the big man was hardly able to keep his saddle.

  “He’s been hurt pretty bad,” Quaid said. “Come on.”

  “Well, you done it, partner. You beat the whole Cheyenne nation,” Quaid said. “It looks like they got their licks in too.”

  Brennan was pale and sallow, but he managed a grin. “You wasn’t there to mess it up.”

  Rena and Bent reached Temperance. Bent’s eyes were shining as he gasped, “You should have seen him, Temperance! He came charging in and he killed them all, and he beat Black Eagle in a knife fight all by himself! Just him!”

  Bent was holding Thad’s limp hand. “I knew he’d come. I prayed he would. Rena didn’t think so.”

&nbs
p; Rena’s eyes were shining too. “I was wrong. He came for us.”

  “Always nice to have a hero around,” Quaid said. “Now, let me get you off of that hoss. We have to get you patched up right.”

  Thad turned and said, “Hello, Temperance.”

  “I’m glad you’re back. I’ve been praying for you.”

  “I’ve got something to tell you.” Thad swayed in the saddle and licked his lips. “Out there on the prairie, God finally caught up with me.”

  A glad cry came to Temperance’s lips. “Thaddeus!”

  “Yep, I hit the glory trail,” he said, a faint smile turning the corners of his broad lips upward. “Preach all you want at me now. I reckon I’m ready.”

  Temperance took his hand and laid it against her cheek. “I’m so glad, Thaddeus,” she whispered and saw that, indeed, he was a changed man, and her cry went out in a prayer of thanksgiving to God.

  PART FOUR

  Rena and Bent

  Chapter Nineteen

  TEMPERANCE PULLED OUT THE wooden box marked “Ajax Soap Company” and placed it on the ground. Turning to Thaddeus, who was sitting with his back against the wagon wheel and watching her with bleary eyes, she said firmly, “Here, Thaddeus, sit on this box.”

  “What for?” Thad’s tone was surly and his voice slurred, for Temperance had dosed him liberally with laudanum thirty minutes earlier. “I don’t wanna sit on no dumb box!”

  Temperance did not answer but took him by the arm. “I don’t care what you want,” she said. “I’ve got to clean that wound of yours.” Thaddeus shot a baleful look at her, then struggled to his feet, pain shooting through his chest. Moving painfully, he made his way to the box and sat down. “Well, that shirt’s ruined,” she said and began unbuttoning it. Thad protested, “What are you doing?”

  “Why, I can’t see your wound with your shirt on, can I?”