by John Legg
“Saddle the bay, Mr. Flake. Mr. Waters will round up your mules, won’t you, Mr. Waters?”
Waters glowered, but nodded.
Chapter Eight
Rhodes tied Clem Waters to a fence post, knotting the rope enough to keep him there for a while but not so tight as to leave him dead. Then Rhodes and the others pushed on, herding Flake’s mules. They moved as swiftly as they dared, hoping to get back before nightfall.
At their first stop—an hour after leaving—Rhodes called Flake aside. “This might be immodest, Mr. Flake, but I’d suggest have the missus ride astraddle,” he said in low tones.
Flake did not seem as horrified as Rhodes had thought he would be. Still, he was contemplative for a few moments. “Your reasoning, Mr. Rhodes?” he finally asked.
“Call me Travis,” Rhodes said. “Ridin’ that sidesaddle is slowing us down quite a bit. She rides astraddle, we can make better time.”
Flake stared at Rhodes a moment, as if looking to see a lecherous grin on the man’s face. He saw nothing of the kind. He looked up at the sky. “How much time before dark?” Flake asked quietly. “Two, three hours, as best I can figure it.”
“And it took us, what six hours, seven to get to that trading post?”
Rhodes nodded. “About that.”
Flake thought about that for a bit. The idea bothered him, since it was an indecent way for a woman to travel. On the other hand, he knew they must get back to the others as quickly as possible. He did not like the idea of leaving Hickman and the women and children on their own too long. Phineas Hickman was a competent, hard-working man, if a little hotheaded at times. Still, he was only one man, and after the Indian attack yesterday, Flake had turned much more wary. He had heard about Indian attacks, of course, but had discounted a good many of those accounts as the ramblings of frightened nonbelievers. Now, however, he could no longer dispute those stories.
“What will we do for a saddle?” Flake asked, still working the problem over in his mind.
“She can use mine. Or yours, if that will make you both feel more comfortable with this distasteful idea.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll ride bareback. It’s nothing new.” He regretted now not having grabbed an extra saddle at Water’s trading post, and he berated himself for not having the foresight to figure on this problem.
Flake needed to think no longer. True, this was an immodest thing, but sometimes sacrifices were forced on people. Such was the case now. “So it shall be, Travis,” Flake said firmly. “It’ll take some arranging, though, if you don’t mind. I believe Eliza will be much more comfortable using my saddle.” He paused and grinned weakly. “Or at least as comfortable as she can be under the circumstances.”
Rhodes nodded. “You go break the news to her. I’ll start moving saddles.”
It did not take long, and soon they were all back on the move again. A red-faced, embarrassed Eliza Flake rode astraddle on the Mormons’ horse. The two boys —six-year-old Hyrum Flake and five-year-old Heber Hickman —rode on one of the mules, looking a little worried, but excited at the same time. Flake rode Rhodes’s palomino, and Rhodes rode bareback on the Indian pinto.
They stopped only twice more, for less than ten minutes each time to give the animals a short breather, before all were riding again. Rhodes kept them all at a good, steady pace.
They found Hickman and the others a half hour after dark had come. Rhodes’s keen eyesight had picked out a flicker of flame against the spreading shadows of the night. Flake called out as the small group eased up on the horses, walking them into camp.
It was something of a joyous reunion. Hickman and the others had been certain that Rhodes was going to kill Eliza, Flake, and the youngsters. Hickman still believed that Rhodes was one of the ruffians who had brought them all this trouble. So it was with great surprise that he helped his son and Flake’s son off the mule. Though it was dark, and no one could see his face, he avoided looking at Eliza as her husband helped her down from the horse.
“Come,” he said, much relieved, “we have food ready.” He felt ashamed, and it sounded in his voice when he said, “We even took the liberty of making some of your coffee for you, Mr. Rhodes.”
“Obliged,” Rhodes said flatly. In the short time he had been with the Mormons, he had come to like Flake. The man might be a stiff, strict patriarch, but he had no give-up in him. Flake had shown little sign of the wound he had received just yesterday, nor had he let that slow him any. Flake also had the intelligence and common sense to know that sometimes one had to adapt to things that were strange or repugnant to them. He figured he would never have convinced Hickman to let his wife ride astraddle. Hickman was, as far as Rhodes could see, an unbending, holier-than-thou prig.
“If it’s not too much trouble, Mister Hickman, I’d be obliged if you were to bring me a mug of that coffee.”
“Where will you be?” Hickman asked, surprised and a little annoyed that Rhodes would consider him a delivery boy.
“Tending the animals. They’ve been hard used and need care.”
Hickman suddenly felt like a fool. “I’ll help you, sir,” he said contritely. “Have a seat at the fire, Erastus. You have been through much of late and need to rest yourself.”
“Thank you, Phineas,” Flake said gratefully Rhodes moved off toward the small herd of animals and began unsaddling his palomino. A few moments later, Hickman arrived, a cup of coffee in his hand. He handed it to Rhodes, who nodded his thanks and took a sip. “Obliged, Mr. Hickman,” he said as the hot coffee seeped from his stomach into his veins.
“Please, call me Phineas —or Fin,” Hickman said. He regretted having treated Rhodes so poorly. “And there’s no need for thanks. As Erastus has said more than once, we are so deep in debt to you that we’ll never be able to repay it.”
“Hell, anyone would’ve done the same,” Rhodes said lamely. Even to him it sounded false.
“Hardly.” He paused, looking at the dim blob of Rhodes’s face, which had only one side faintly lit from the fire. He did not know what he saw in Rhodes’s strong, hard face, but he knew it was not depravity. “I must apologize,” he finally said very softly, “for the way I’ve treated you, Mr. Rhodes.” He was embarrassed and sounded it. “There was no call for it.”
“Sure there was,” Rhodes said agreeably. “I would’ve acted the same to a stranger had I just been molested by some punks who I offered my hospitality to.”
“All well and good, Mr. Rhodes—Travis. But I didn’t need to continue my ill feelings toward you after you had saved us from those Injuns. We would’ve been dead for sure if you hadn’t come back.”
Rhodes shrugged and took another sip of coffee. He wanted to get off the topic of how wonderful he was. Such talk always made him uncomfortable. “It’s too bad,” he offered after a bit of silence, “that you don’t partake of coffee, Phineas. It’s right pleasurable at times like these.”
Hickman smiled weakly. “I have enjoyed it, Travis. Back before...until I became a Saint.” Rhodes nodded. “How long ago was that?”
“Five, no, six years ago.”
“I admire the strength of your faith, Mr. Hickman,” Rhodes said honestly. “I couldn’t have done it.”
Hickman was surprised. Rhodes seemed to be a man who could do anything he set his mind to. It was strange hearing him disparaging himself like that.
Rhodes took another drink of coffee and then turned and set the mug on a rock nearby. “Well, I’d best get back to work or I’ll never get over there to eat before the others chaw it all down.”
Hickman was horrified at Rhodes’s lack of tact— until Rhodes chuckled a little. Then the Mormon joined in the light laughter. With renewed spirits, Hickman threw himself into the work. He did not want to be outdone by Rhodes again.
It took a while to get all the horses and mules taken care of, but finally the work was done. Rhodes and Hickman headed to the fire. There was plenty of food left, and the two men dug in— after Flak
e said grace for the two —enjoying the fare.
Just after starting, though, Rhodes looked over at Flake. “This is delicious, and mighty filling. I’m obliged for it after such a long day.”
Flake nodded, then a question arose in his eyes. “But?” he asked, knowing that more was to be said.
“But I’d recommend you did without fires. If that’s not possible, then make the fire small, preferably in the light, and put it out quickly.”
“Why?” Hickman asked.
“Because,” Flake said, answering for Rhodes, “we found your camp by the light of the fire. If we could do that, certainly more Injuns could, too” He looked at Rhodes. “Isn’t that right, Travis?”
“Sure is. I’ve never been out this way before, but others’ve told me about it. Since many of those tales are stretched a mite, I didn’t know whether to believe them or not. This particular one was true enough, I found out today.”
Flake nodded. “Should we douse these flames right away, Travis?” he asked.
Rhodes shook his head. “I reckon once in a while won’t hurt.” When he finished eating, Rhodes pulled out a cigar. He did not smoke them often, but enjoyed one now and again. He held it up. “This against your religion, too, Erastus?” he asked.
“Alas, yes,” Flake said. He sighed. “There was a time, though, when I would have joined you.”
Rhodes nodded. “Phineas said he once drank coffee.”
Flake smiled. “As did I. And I drank to excess of spirituous liquors. But that was before we found the path of the Lord. Before we saw the light of truth. I regret those and other low amusements in which I had taken part.” He paused. “You know, Mr. Rhodes, you, too, could find the path of enlightenment. We would be happy to show you the way.”
Rhodes looked over the cigar he was lighting with a match, cupping it against the wind. The breezes whipped up the light smoke of the fire and swirled it around some before carrying it off. “As I told you before Mr. Flake, I don’t hold to any one religion.”
“But that should change. You’ll need to see the light in this life, it there’s to be a proper life for you after death.”
“I don’t subscribe to that, Mr. Flake. God’ll judge me when I get to the Pearly Gates. And I doubt he’ll be lookin’ to see how many times I sat inside a church, or how much preachin' I’ve done. No, sir, I figure he’ll take a look at what I’ve done here and judge me accordingly. I hope Saint Peter will recommend my entry into Heaven, but I don’t see that there’s a lot I can do about that decision now.”
“Yes, but...”
Rhodes held up his hand, indicating he wanted Flake to stop. Flake did, and Rhodes said, “I’m not going to convert to your way, Mr. Flake. And since I don’t want harsh words to come between us, I’d be obliged if you wasn’t to harp on it anymore.”
Flake suddenly looked like he was fighting a major battle within himself, but finally a serene look crossed his face. “My apologies, Mr. Rhodes.” He smiled a little. “Part of our way includes spreading the word of God to the unenlightened. Sometimes, though, I forget that not all the unenlightened want to be enlightened.” He paused. “Under normal circumstances, I might be a little put out by your abstinence,” he added, pausing to smile again to take any sting out of the words. “But seeing as how much you’ve done for us, I can’t with clear conscience keep proselytizing to you.”
Rhodes nodded, accepting.
Silence grew as the womenfolk put the children to bed in the wagons. While they were gone, Flake asked, “What’ll you do now, Travis?”
Rhodes shrugged. “Go back to what I was doing before, I suppose.”
“Searching for something you won’t know until you find it, eh?”
Rhodes smiled just a little and blew out a smoke ring. “I’ve been footloose since the war,” he explained. “Maybe one day I’ll find whatever it is I’m lookin’ for.”
Flake battled down the urge to preach again, and finally managed to succeed. Instead he said, “You’re free to travel with us, if you’ve a mind to.” He grinned. “And I promise not to preach to you anymore.”
Rhodes laughed. “That might be a mighty big promise to keep, Mister Flake,” he said, “considerin’ how big a sinner I am.”
“I’ll try to refrain then,” Flake said as he and Hickman joined in the laughter. “So,” Flake asked when the three had quieted again, “will you join us?”
The decision was not hard to make. He was alone in Indian country. The two Mormon men might not be Indian fighters, but at least it would be three guns against the Indians instead of one. He could put up with an occasional sermon for the comfort of a little safety. “I will,” he said with a firm nod.
Chapter Nine
The three men talked about their plans a while, but then Flake rose unsteadily to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, friends,” he said, voice distant. “I’m afraid my wound has left me in a weakened state, considering the exertions of the day. I feel a night of good rest will be beneficial.”
“By all means, rest, Erastus,” Hickman said, jumping up to help Flake get to the wagon. “Goodnight, Mr. Flake,” Rhodes said quietly. Hickman returned in a few minutes, after helping Flake. He sat by the fire. He cut a sliver off a small piece of board in the fire and picked at his teeth with it. “You think we’ll make it, Travis?” he finally asked.
“Make it where?”
“Deseret.”
Rhodes stared at the cherry-red tip of his cigar a moment. “Oh, I expect you’ll make it eventually —if the Indians or desperadoes or the weather don’t get you first.”
“Those are all too real possibilities, aren’t they?” Hickman asked. He did not seem worried, merely concerned, which was sensible.
“Yes, Mr. Hickman, they are.”
“Well, I don’t think we can do much about the first two of those possibilities, short of praying for God’s intervention, which we will do fervently, I can assure you, Travis. But what about the third? Can we do anything about that?”
Rhodes smiled. “I ain’t ever known a man who could change the weather,” he said with a chuckle.
Hickman, who had been serious, looked at him in shock, before the humor of it caught him. He laughed a little. “Indeed, sir, that has never happened to my knowledge” He sighed. “Can we do anything to beat the weather, then?” he asked.
“You askin’ my advice?”
Hickman nodded. “I am.”
“Was I you, I’d stop at the first town or fort I came to and plant myself for the winter.”
“But it’s not yet September,” Hickman said in a mild protest. “I know we were late in leaving, but there should be ample time to reach Deseret. Shouldn’t there?”
“How long did it take you to get here?” Rhodes countered.
“Two weeks, perhaps a day or two more.”
“Even you have to realize that this is the easy part. There’s enough grass for the animals, even game to keep you in meat. Most important, this land is, for most purposes, flat, and most of the rivers you needed to ford to get here were either narrow, shallow or both.”
“That has been the case, yes.”
“What’re you going to do when you hit the mountains? I’ve never seen them, but reliable friends have told me they’re unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Hell, half of them have to be gone around, or you’ll have to winch your wagons up and down. The rivers out there are killers, too, from all that’s been told me. They are deep, have large waterfalls and are fast-running. If it took you two weeks to get here, it might take you two weeks to make a few miles once you hit the mountains. Besides, winter sets in early in many places, particularly high mountains. I doubt if you’d like to get caught in a blizzard on the side of some mountain.”
“I should think not.” Hickman sat in thought, nodding. All that Rhodes, had said made plenty of sense, though it would go against the grain to not push onward with all dispatch. However, as the elder here, Erastus Flake must make the decision.
They covered
the same ground with Flake in the morning as they broke their fast around a small fire. Flake listened, nodding from time to time. Finally, he said, “I think such a decision is wise. But I’ll wait until we’re in the mountains, if possible, before making my final decision.” He nodded at Rhodes. “Thank you for your observations, Travis. They’re most helpful.”
Rhodes nodded and shrugged. “No thanks needed.” He pitched the last of his coffee on the fire. “We best get a move on if we’re to make any progress.”
Rhodes saddled his horse and loaded his supplies on his mule. Then he helped out where he could. As he worked, he sidled up to Flake. “A suggestion?” he said.
“By all means, Travis. All your advice has been top-notch so far.”
“You and Fin should ride. Your wife, too, maybe. Let Minerva and Sarah drive the wagons. Put the kids in back.”
“But there are no seats on the wagons.”
Rhodes shrugged. “Either nail a chair in place, or tie it in place, if you can. If not, just pile up blankets and such and let ’em kneel there.”
Flake pondered that. “It would make for faster times, wouldn’t it?” he asked, almost as if talking to himself.
“It would,” Rhodes agreed.
Flake nodded. “Yes, by God, we’ll do it.”
Rhodes grinned ruefully. “Wish I’d thought of it earlier, though,” he said.
“Such are the trials of life, Mr. Rhodes. We’ll make adjustments easily enough.” He paused. “If you would be so kind as to unload your mule while we take care of the other things, I’ll have Eliza ride, too.”
“All right. Dig out the sidesaddle and I’ll put it on the mule soon as it’s unloaded. I’ll have to store my things in one of the wagons, though.”
“Such a small amount will be no trouble.”
Flake went to tell Hickman about the change in plans, while Rhodes headed back to his mule. It didn’t really take all that long, but the sun—and the heat—was well up by the time they finally pulled out.