Joelle's Secret

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I just wanted to get away. I like to be alone once in a while.”

  “So do I. We’ll be in California pretty soon.” He tried to think of conversation that would keep her there. “I guess your folks will farm.”

  “We never had a place of our own.”

  Artie was aware of the Picketts’ situation. He had seen a hundred families or more like them—travelers failing at one place and moving on to the next failure. Somehow the failure had not marred this young woman. “Maybe your family is due for a break. There’s good land in California. I hear anybody can farm it.”

  “I hope so. Will you hunt for gold?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you want to be rich?”

  “No, not really, but Pa does.”

  She was studying him, and he suddenly met her eyes. There was silence. “Well, what do you want, Artie?”

  He answered easily. He knew exactly what he wanted. “I want a home place of my own. Not a big place. Just a small one that I can build up.” He had never spoken about it aloud. Previously, his future seemed set; he would work for his father as long as his father lived. But now Artie Riker felt a sudden desperate need to be on his own, responsible for himself.

  “Is that all you want?”

  “Well, I want a family, of course. A son maybe and a little girl.”

  Overhead, circling birds were making lazy arches in the sky. The thought came to him, and he nearly spoke it. I’d like to have a woman like you. But he didn’t have the courage. To his surprise she helped him out.

  “I guess you want to get married.”

  “If I could find a woman who would have me, I guess so.” Then he took a deep breath. He was a shy young man. “I—I’d like to have a woman like you, Jennie.”

  “No, not like me, Artie.” She turned to go, but he took her arm.

  “Don’t talk poorly of yourself,” he said almost sharply. She was aware of the strength of his hand and turned to face him. Artie saw tears in her eyes.

  You deserve better than me, Artie,” she whispered, then she turned and walked away.

  Chapter Twenty

  “HARRY, I’M GOING TO take Blackie for a ride out along the river.”

  Harry Jump looked up from the Bible he was reading and said, “You better be careful. Owen says we could get some Indians around this part of the world. Not likely, but it’s always possible.”

  “I’ll take my gun along.”

  Harry Jump grinned crookedly. “That little .38 you carry won’t be a good help against a band of marauding Indians, but I reckon it’ll be all right. Just don’t go too far.”

  “I won’t. I just want to see the river.” Joelle saddled Blackie quickly, swung into the saddle, and left the camp. She glanced backward and saw that the train was settling in for the evening. Having reached the banks of the Humboldt River, it had stopped early for the day, and the women had gone to the river to wash clothes. The poker games provided by Ash Landon had drawn most of the men. Joelle looked for Owen but didn’t see him and assumed he had gone out on an afternoon hunt.

  The river was actually a shallow stream, twenty feet across or thirty at the most. Still it gave Joelle pleasure as she guided Blackie along the banks. She wanted to get away from the crowd and all of the activities of the train so she could think. She had gone about three hundred yards, and the camp sounds had faded. She was surprised to see Cherry Valance walking toward her. She pulled Blackie up and nodded, “Hello, Cherry.”

  “Out for a ride, Joelle?”

  “Yes. I get tired of all the racket.” Cherry Valance was wearing a lightweight cotton dress that clung to her figure. No matter what clothes she put on, they seemed to be tantalizing. She now paused, crossed her arms in front of her, and looked up at Joelle.

  “Where’s Owen?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Out hunting, I suppose.”

  “Let me ask you something,” Cherry said. She was a straightforward, direct woman, and her good looks, while not yet fading, were starting to show the effects of her hard life. She paused, first considering what she wanted to say. “I’m going to come right out with it, Joelle. Have you been sleeping with Owen?”

  “No!”

  “Well, you didn’t have to think about that. Everybody thinks you have, of course. They think he knew you were a woman all the time.”

  “I can’t help what people think.”

  Cherry laughed. “You get upset when I talk about Owen. Women don’t get upset unless they got some kind of real interest. But I better warn you, Owen’s not much of a candidate for a husband.”

  Joelle stared at the woman. “I’m not thinking about that.” She felt suddenly as if she had lied, for she knew the thought had crossed her mind. She hadn’t admitted it to anyone, not even to herself, but now confronted by Cherry, she felt justification was necessary. “I was in trouble, and I had to get away from home.”

  “What were you running from?”

  “I had a stepfather who couldn’t keep his hands off of me so I lit out. When he started putting bulletins out looking for me, I had to do something so I dressed up like a boy. That’s all there was to it.”

  “How’d you meet Owen?”

  “He got sick and fell down in the snow. I took care of him until he was strong again.”

  “You don’t think he’s ever noticed that you were a woman? That’s pretty hard to hide, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think it ever occurred to him.”

  Cherry turned and looked across the river. For a moment the only sound was the rippling of the waters along the shallows. The sky overhead was blue and looked hard enough to scratch a match on. Joelle watched her. Finally Cherry turned and tried to smile, but she wasn’t successful. “I thought he might marry me at one time.”

  “Would you have married him if he had asked you?”

  “Of course I would. I’ve seen enough bad men to know a good one when I see one.”

  “We agree on that. He is a good man.”

  Cherry took a deep breath and turned to leave. After only a few steps, she stopped and said, “I don’t know why you are fighting it. It’s obvious that you’re in love with Owen.” She didn’t wait for an answer but walked quickly toward the camp.

  Joelle was troubled, for Cherry had brought up feelings she had managed to successfully bury deep in her subconscious. Now she dismounted and tied Blackie to a branch of a small cottonwood tree. She began to walk along the banks of the river, thinking about the encounter. It had struck deep in her heart, and she was arguing with herself. I’m not in love with him. He’s just been good to me. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

  She walked fifty yards from where she had tied Blackie and then sat down on a log whitened with age. The sound of the river was soft and soothing, but her thoughts were not soothing. What am I going to do when we get to California? Owen doesn’t have any idea how I feel about him, and he wouldn’t care if he did. He told me about getting hurt by a woman who deceived him. He thinks I’m just like she was.

  She shook her head, picked up a stone, and threw it into the water. A sudden sound brought her to her feet. Walking along the bank was Sid Riker. His eyes were fixed on her, and suddenly Joelle was aware of danger. She had witnessed the Rikers’ brutal nature and had heard how Sid treated women. She started to leave.

  “Wait a minute there, girl.” Sid came to stand before her, a big bruising man with a deep chest swelling out his thin shirt. The muscles of his arms revealed his strength. He had a short neck and his face was rough. The look of brutality frightened Joelle.

  “I was just going back.”

  “I followed you out here,” Sid grinned. He saw her fear, which pleased him. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said.

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Sure you are. You don’t know much about men. I can tell that about you, but you know enough about Majors.”

  Joelle turned to go. “I’m not—” But he caught he
r arm and turned her around. The strength of his grip was frightening. He was like a huge animal, and suddenly he put his arms around her.

  She began to cry, “Let me go!”

  “Sure, sooner or later. You need to know what a real man is like.”

  Joelle started to scream, but he put his hand behind her head and pulled it immobile, leaned forward, and put his mouth on hers. He held her so tightly she couldn’t move, and then he pulled her to the ground and began tearing at her clothes. “Go on and scream. Nobody’s going to hear you.”

  Joelle started to scream, and he cuffed her across the cheek, the power of the blow turning her head to one side. He tore at her shirt, and she cried, “Let me go, please.”

  “Go on and beg. It won’t hurt you. I’ve had my eye on you for a long time.”

  “Let her go, Sid.”

  For a big man, Sid Riker moved quickly. He rolled over and saw his brother Artie coming toward him. “Get out of here! This ain’t none of your put-in.”

  “Yes, it is. You let her alone.” Artie was wearing a gun, as most of the men did, but he made no sign he was aware of it. “Come on, Joelle.”

  Riker came to his feet at once. “Artie, get out of here before I break your neck.”

  “I’ll go, but Miss Joelle’s going with me.”

  Sid laughed—a crude, brutal laugh that revealed his nature. He shoved Artie backward, and the young man grew pale. “You’re crazy, Sid. They’ll hang you if you hurt this woman.”

  “That’s my business. You get on back to camp. Keep your mouth shut, you hear me?”

  Joelle started to back up, but Sid grabbed her arm and held her tightly. “You ain’t going nowhere.”

  Artie moved forward. He looked thin and slender next to the bulk of his half brother, but so did most men. With surprising strength he grabbed Sid’s arm and jerked him around. “You let her alone or I’ll—”

  Sid Riker suddenly roared and cursed. He swung, and his maul of a fist struck Artie square in the face. It drove the boy backward to the ground, and Artie lay still for a moment. Joelle saw that he was half-conscious. She watched in horror as Sid kicked the boy. “I ought to kick your brains out!”

  Artie got to his feet, and though his face was bloody, he threw himself against Sid. He caught the bigger man on the side of the cheek. Sid wasn’t hurt, but all of his life he had bullied Artie, and now his anger exploded. He began to beat the boy, and Artie went down again.

  Joelle cried, “Let him alone!”

  “You shut up! I’ll take care of you after I fix him!”

  He advanced toward Artie, and Joelle suddenly reached into her pocket and pulled out the .38. “You stop or I’ll shoot you!”

  Sid saw her holding the gun steadily. “You won’t shoot nobody.” He started toward her but pulled up as if he had run into a door. A bullet whistled so closely beside his ear he thought he could hear it. He reached for his own gun, but Joelle pulled the trigger again. He felt a burning along his shoulder.

  “You get out of here or I’ll kill you!” she said.

  Sid laughed. “Well, you got spirit. I like that. There’ll be other times.” He looked at Artie who was bloodied and in poor shape. “Kid, you need to learn to mind your own business.” He turned and walked rapidly away.

  At once Joelle went to Artie and saw that he was nearly unconscious. His face was battered, and his eyebrow had been split so it was bleeding profusely. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and pressed it on his face.

  “We’ve got to get you sewed up, Artie.” His mouth was bleeding, and she didn’t know whether he had lost teeth or not, but she knew he was hurt. Quickly she ran and untied Blackie. She led the horse to Artie who was regaining consciousness. “Come on, Artie. Get on the horse.” She helped him put his foot into the stirrup and then shoved him upward, but she kept the lines. “Hang on to the horn. You’ve got to be sewed up.”

  She led Blackie back toward the camp, glancing anxiously at the young man. He was holding the horn, and his face was pale under a mask of blood. She was only fifty feet from the camp when Edith Riker came running toward them. Her eyes were on Artie.

  “What happened?”

  “Sid beat him up.”

  “Why’d he do that?”

  “He was—bothering me, and Artie tried to stop him.”

  Logan Temple approached at a run. “Artie, you have to have stitches. Here, let me help you down.” He pulled Artie from the saddle, and supporting him on one side with Edith on the other, they led the boy away.

  “What happened to him, Edith?”

  “Sid beat him up. He was trying to take advantage of Joelle. Artie tried to stop him.”

  “Somebody needs to shoot that man.”

  “Somebody will someday. It may be me.”

  * * *

  OWEN CAME IN FROM the hunt, having shot nothing, and he saw the small crowd. He stepped off his horse and moved forward. He saw Temple bending over somebody with a bloody face, and as he came closer, he saw it was Artie Riker. “What happened?”

  “The kid got impudent, and I had to shove him around a little bit,” Sid Riker said.

  Owen stared at Sid’s face and saw his smirk.

  “That’s not the way it was,” Joelle cried out. “He was trying to—tear my clothes off. That’s how he got those scratches on his neck.”

  “Let’s see your neck, Sid.”

  “You go to the devil, Majors. You ain’t my boss!”

  “He was trying to hurt me,” Joelle said. Anger had drawn her face tight, and she turned to face Majors. “He would have killed Artie if I hadn’t been there.”

  “She’s lying. She’s been trying to get hold of me ever since this trip started. She was the one that got me to go down to the river with her. Said she was going to make it nice for me.”

  “You’re a liar and a bully!” Joelle cried.

  Edith suddenly moved forward and walked up to Sid. He watched her warily, not knowing what she intended. With a quick movement, she tore his handkerchief away. “There’s the scratches. You always were a liar, Sid.”

  Lyman Riker had been taking all this in. “Edith, you keep out of this. This is a family matter.”

  “Family!” Edith spat out. “This monster is no family of mine!”

  “Shut up, Edith!” Lyman said. It made him furious to be rebuked by his wife in public.

  Edith faced Lyman Riker squarely. “Lyman,” she said, and her voice was low and as cutting as a steel blade. “Either you make Sid answer for what he’s doing, or I’m done with you forever.”

  “You’re my wife. You’re my family.”

  “What about Artie? He’s your family.” She put her hand on Artie’s shoulder, and her eyes were blazing. “You’re a weak man, Lyman Riker.” She faced Sid. “You better watch yourself, Sid. If I were a man, I’d beat you half to death. As it is, I’ll probably shoot you when you’re not looking.”

  “She made up to me. She’s no better than any of the other dance hall girls. Just a prostitute. That’s all she is.”

  Owen moved forward to face Sid Riker. He was a powerful man, but the bulk of Sid Riker seemed monumental. “Sid,” Owen said in a steady, soft voice, “I’ll give you a choice. Either get on your horse and be out of this train in fifteen minutes or take a beating.”

  Riker blinked in surprise and then he laughed roughly. “You ain’t man enough to make me leave, Majors. You had that woman and everybody knows it. She ain’t nothing but a—”

  Riker didn’t finish his sentence for Owen Majors swung a blow and with every bit of his 185 pounds behind it caught Riker in the mouth and drove him back against the wagon. For a moment Sid was dazed. He reached up and touched his bleeding mouth, then stared at his hand.

  “I’ll kill you, Majors! I’ll kick your brains out!” Sid gave a terrible cry of rage and anger and threw himself forward. He was a fearsome man, strong as a bull, and his thick skull was nearly impervious to pain.

  His first blow would have ended t
he fight, but Majors moved to one side and caught Sid on the back of his neck with his forearm. The blow drove Sid to the ground and would have knocked a lesser man unconscious, but Riker was tough. He came to his feet with a bloody mouth, but his eyes glittered with a feral intensity. He approached more slowly this time, and although Majors had avoided one blow, he took the next one in his chest. It drove him backward, and he felt Sid’s power. It was all Owen could do to keep his feet.

  The two men circled, with Majors backing up and throwing punches that caught Riker in the face. Sid was an easy man to hit, but the punches seemed to have no effect. And Owen was taking several blows, all of them hard and destructive.

  As the two fought through the camp, the crowd parted, but nobody left.

  “Kill him, Sid!” Lyman Riker called out. He was grinning, for he had watched his son fight before, and he had never seen him lose. The fight went on until both men were exhausted.

  At one point Clyde Riker stepped behind Owen and struck him. Owen was staggered, but then Clyde Riker was driven to the ground. He looked up and saw Chad Hardin standing over him. Chad had used his gun to drive Clyde Riker down, and now he put it back in his holster.

  “You stay out of this, Clyde,” Chad said, “or I’ll stop your clock.”

  Clyde got to his feet. Blood was running down his face, and he said furiously, “I’ll get you for that, Hardin.”

  “You ain’t getting nobody! Now shut up!”

  Joelle was horrified at the violence of the fight. She saw no hope for Owen, for Sid had the strength of an animal. She gave a cry when Owen fell backward, driven by a blow. Riker shouted in triumph. “I got you now!” He threw himself forward, intending to pin Owen down and pound him senseless.

  But Owen raised his right leg and drove it forward. The heel of his boot caught Riker in the mouth and stopped him dead still. He gave a grunting, squealing sound, and blood flowed all around his mouth. He was gasping for breath, and there was a gap in his teeth. Owen got to his feet, and as Sid made a move to lift his hands, Owen picked up a handful of sand and threw it into the man’s face. Sid cried out and was helpless. Owen threw himself at Sid who fell into a small cooking fire. He screamed with the pain of the burns, and Owen would have held him there, but Chad pulled him back.