Joelle's Secret

by Gilbert, Morris

  to prove he’s as good a man as you are.”

  “Which way did they go?”

  “Up north, that way.”

  “Well, they may get by with it, but it’s dangerous.”

  Owen said no more about it, but from time to time that afternoon he kept looking toward the north. By three o’clock he made up his mind. He rode up to Ralph and said, “I think I’d better go have a look for Riker and Clyde. They should have been back by now.”

  “The fools shouldn’t have gone. I tried to talk them out of it, but you know how Riker is.”

  “They’re probably all right, but I’ll go take a look.”

  He mounted his horse, and Artie came over. “Owen, are you going to look for Pa and Clyde?”

  “They’re probably all right, but they may have gotten their directions confused. It’s easy to do out here in the desert.”

  “Can I go with you?”

  Owen hesitated. “It’s a little bit dangerous, Artie.”

  “I need to go. He’s my pa after all.”

  Owen looked at the young man, thinking how much better a human being he was than his father or brothers. After the beating Artie had taken from Sid and the indifference Lyman Riker had shown him, Owen felt the young man deserved a chance. “Well, come on.”

  They rode out but were joined by Chad who seemed to know what was going on. “Thought I’d take a little ride with you.”

  “Yes, you always did like to ride for pleasure, especially after riding all day, Chad.”

  Chad laughed, and Majors spurred his horse. The three moved at a slow trot across the barren land. They found nothing for a time until finally they crossed the trail. “They left the trail here and headed that way. They’re up over toward those bluffs, I reckon.”

  “No tracks coming back,” Chad murmured. “Better keep your heads up, fellas.”

  The three rode on, and thirty minutes later Chad stood up in his stirrups. “I heard something.”

  “I heard it too,” Owen said. “Shooting. Come on. They’re in trouble.”

  The three galloped across the level floor of the desert, and the sound of fire became more apparent. When they topped a ridge, Owen saw a group of Indians circling the two men who had taken refuge at the top of a bluff. “There’s only seven of those Indians. We’d better run them off.”

  Chad pulled his rifle from the saddle boot, and Artie did the same. “You want to sneak up on them or just charge them?”

  “I think they’ll run when they see us coming. We’ll try to knock one or two down before they see us though.”

  The three galloped hard toward the band, and when they were a hundred yards away, one of the Indians let out a yelp. Owen pulled up. He leveled his rifle and pulled the trigger, and the Indian fell to the ground. He kicked three times and then lay still.

  Artie and Chad were firing, too, and the remaining Indians ran to their horses. They disappeared quickly into the brush, and the three men moved up the bluff.

  Riker was sitting with his head down; an arrow protruded from his stomach. He looked at the body of Clyde, who had three arrows in him, and whispered, “They surprised us— put them arrows in Clyde before we could get our guns out. I kept them off, but one of them came close enough to put that arrow in me.”

  “Let me see how bad you’re hurt, Lyman,” Owen said.

  Lyman’s eyes were wide with shock. “They got me right in the stomach. Hurts like nothing I ever felt.”

  Chad and Artie approached the wounded man. The arrow hadn’t penetrated to Riker’s back. Owen said, “We’d better get you back and let the doc look at you.”

  “Pull this thing out of me!”

  “Can’t do that, Riker. The arrowhead might come off. We’ll have to let Temple take care of it.”

  They put the wounded man on his horse and tied Clyde’s body to another. As they left, Artie rode alongside Lyman to hold him steady. “You’ll be all right, Pa,” he said.

  Riker didn’t answer. He had lost a great deal of blood, and his face was pale. He looked at Artie as if he didn’t know him, and then he dropped his head again.

  “We’d better get back as quick as we can,” Owen said. “If it was in the arm or leg, we could push it through and cut off the head and pull the arrow out, but you can’t do that with it in his stomach.”

  “He’s not going to make it, Owen,” Chad said softly, shaking his head. “Nothing much the doc can do for a thing like that especially if it was poisoned.”

  Their eyes locked, and Owen shook his head. “We’ll let Doc have a try.”

  * * *

  “THERE’S NOTHING I CAN do, Edith.”Temple had been examining Lyman Riker, and Edith was watching.

  “Can’t you get the arrow out?”

  “I’m going to try. We can’t leave it in, but I’ll have to do quite a bit of cutting to get it out, and he’s already lost too much blood.”

  “But he’ll die, won’t he, if you don’t get it out?”

  Logan looked down at his feet and didn’t answer; he looked up again and said, “I think he’s going to die anyway, Edith.” His voice was gentle, and he was watching her face.

  “Do all you can, Logan.”

  “I know he’s your husband, but—”

  “I wouldn’t want you to do any less than your best for him. He hasn’t been a good man to me or even to himself, but he deserves a chance if you can give it to him.”

  “I’ll do the best I can. I’ll get someone to help me.”

  “I can do it.”

  He stared at her and said, “I wish you wouldn’t. I’d rather have Owen help.”

  She knew what he was thinking and said, “All right. I’ll tell him to come inside.”

  She stepped outside where a large crowd was gathered. “He wants you to help him with the operation, Owen.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Owen said. He stepped inside, and the flap of the tent closed. Edith could hear her husband moaning and crying out in pain. She stood beside Artie, and he put his arm around her. “Wish we could have got there earlier, Ma, to help them.”

  “You did all you could, Son.”

  * * *

  EDITH WAS WAITING AS Logan and Owen came out, and without asking, she knew the result. Others crowded around. “He didn’t make it, Edith. I’m so sorry.”

  Edith’s mind seemed to be frozen for a moment, and then she said, “I know you did your best, Logan.”

  Logan Temple, at that moment, wanted more than anything else to put his arms around this woman he had learned to love, to comfort her, but he knew that couldn’t be.

  “I’ll take care of him. Owen, will you have somebody open two graves?” He returned inside the tent, and Edith turned away. She saw Sid watching with shock etched across his face. He seemed beyond speech, and with an effort turned and walked away.

  Artie watched him go. “Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll take care of you.”

  Edith put her arm around Artie, feeling the young muscles that would one day produce a full-grown, strong man. “I know you will, Artie. I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  HARRY JUMP WAITED AWKWARDLY at the head of two shallow graves dug in the sandy ground. The blanket-wrapped forms of Lyman and his son Clyde were beside the open graves. It was early morning, and the sun had turned the eastern sky crimson. Every member of the train had gathered in a circle around Jump, and he ran his eyes over them as he thought about what he had to say. Edith Riker was wearing ordinary clothes as was everyone else. There was no funereal black on any of the women, for they had not brought such things on the journey across the country.

  Jump studied Edith’s face and noted that she shed no tears, which didn’t surprise anyone. I guess she might be a little bit sad that she had a breakup with her husband just before he died, but I always had the feeling the two of them didn’t match together well anyhow.

  His glance moved to Artie, and he could see traces of grief in the young man’s eyes, and he admired him for i
t. The son had received little attention from the father who had favored the older brothers, but even so, Artie seemed to be grieving for his father.

  To one side by himself was Sid Riker. His face was still puffy and bruised from the beating he had taken, and his eyes were fixed on the two blankets lying beside the open graves. He was staring at them as if mesmerized and still appeared as insensitive and brutal as always. The loss of his father and his brother had hit him hard though. Harry thought, I wonder what he’ll do now that he doesn’t have his father around to tell him what to do. It came to a bad end, I’m afraid.

  A sudden breeze moved across the open space, and a tumbleweed rolled in its odd, rhythmic way across the desert floor. The travelers had passed other graves on the way, and now Jump shook his head slightly and knew he had to say something.

  “Folks, you all know that I’m no preacher, and I haven’t even been a Christian all that long, but since we don’t have a preacher, I’ll do the best I can. What I’d like to do is to read some Scripture. We’re here to bury these two men who were our companions on the trail.” He hesitated for a moment and tried to think of something to say. How to eulogize Riker and Clyde had troubled him.

  “The ways of God are mysterious. He says in His Book, ‘My ways are not your ways, and your thoughts are not my thoughts.’ So we are gathered here today to say good-bye to Lyman and Clyde. I didn’t know them long, but my heart always goes out to anyone who leaves this earth and goes on to what’s beyond this life. This Book”—he held up the Bible, and his voice grew louder—“This Book is full of promises. It offers salvation, forgiveness of sins, a new life, and when we die the promise of a mansion in heaven. I don’t know what that mansion is like. I don’t reckon words could say it.”

  As Jump continued to speak, the men, women, and young people grew silent. There were only the sounds of the cattle lowing and a horse snorting and bucking in the remuda. Everyone was thinking pretty much the same thing. Is Jump going to preach these two into heaven?

  Harry Jump knew what was in the minds of his audience, and as his eyes touched the two still, blanket-wrapped bodies, he said, “As I say, I haven’t known these men long nor well. I know they made their mistakes as all men do. It is a grief when any of our number gets killed by hostiles. So I’m not going to say a great deal about these two men. Instead, I’m going to read from some of God’s words.”

  Harry read from Scripture of the death of Jesus and how that death redeemed all who came to Him. Finally he read from 1 Corinthians 15 in which Paul spoke of the resurrection of the dead. Jump raised his voice when he reached the words, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”

  Jump looked at the solemn faces and said, “And that is what I have to say today, not just to these two men but to all of us. Every man, every woman, every young person has one big decision in life. Not ‘Who will I marry?’ as much as that means to a person. Not ‘What will I do for a living?’ or ‘Where will I live?’ But ‘Will I come to God through the death of the Lord Jesus Christ to get my sins forgiven?’ Jesus said, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.’” Jump continued to read Scriptures, and his eyes fell on Owen Majors. Majors was watching him with a strange look on his face. His expression was tense, and Jump was astonished. A thought raced through his mind, Well, for once Owen is listening to the gospel. I hope it takes.

  Finally Jump prayed a short and simple prayer and then nodded to the men who were standing with shovels. They put the two forms in the graves and began shoveling the dirt in. Jump moved forward, took a handful of dirt, and scattered half of it on each grave. “A man comes from dust, and he goes back to the dusty earth,” he said. He would have said more but was constrained by the obvious lives of the two men who lay dead. He turned and walked over to Edith. “I’m sorry, Edith. I wish I could have done better.”

  “You did fine, Harry. Just fine.”

  “Artie,” Jump said, “it’s a hard blow for a young fella, but you’ll make it. You stick with your ma here. You two will be all right.”

  “I’ll take care of her, Mr. Jump.”

  “I’ll bet you will.” Turning then, Jump walked quickly to where Sid Riker stood. “I’m sorry, Sid. I know this is rough on you.”

  Sid’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “Pa wasn’t a man of God, but he was fair to me and to Clyde.”

  “I’m sure he was. You’ll be kind of alone now, won’t you?”

  “I reckon so.”

  “You’ll make it. Just learn to look toward Jesus.”

  Sid looked troubled. “I’m too far gone for that.”

  “No man is too far gone for the mercy of God.”

  Sid turned and walked rapidly away. Harry watched him go and shook his head almost in despair. “Hard for a man to turn to God. It purely is.”

  * * *

  “SID, WE NEED TO talk.”

  Sid had driven the wagon all day long, saying not one word to anybody. They had pulled up to their camp at night, and Edith had cooked a meal. “Come over and eat something.”

  “We can talk, but I don’t want anything to eat. Not now.”

  “All right,” Edith said. “Here’s what we’ll do. I don’t know whether you know it or not, but your dad turned everything he had into cash. He sold out the land he owned, and he didn’t trust banks so he brought it all along, hidden in the wagon.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s quite a bit of money, Sid, and here’s what I’d like to do. There are two wagons, and there are three of us, me and you two boys. Artie and I will take one wagon, and you take the other one. We’ll divide up the goods in a way that’s fair and divide the cash three ways, a third for you, a third for Artie, and a third for me.”

  “All right.” Sid seemed lifeless, and suddenly Edith felt a faint stirring of compassion. She had never felt affection for Sid, but she saw his empty expression and pitied him. “You’ll have to get over it, Sid.”

  “I don’t know if I ever will. I had bad dreams last night about Pa and Clyde being killed by those redskins. It’s going to be hard being alone.”

  “What do you think you’ll do?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going on to Sacramento. I’ll find something there.”

  “We haven’t been very close, Sid, but I want you to know that I’ll do anything I can to help you. The rest of the trip Artie and I will drive our wagon, and you drive yours, but we’ll take our meals together.”

  A surprised look washed across his battered features. “All right,” he said. “That’ll be mighty nice of you, Edith.” He hesitated. “What will you do?”

  “I think Artie and I will pool our money and buy a farm. That’s what he wants to do, and I’d like to help him all I can.”

  Sid glanced across the open space where Artie was talking to Jennie Pickett. “I’m sorry for what I done to Joelle and sorry I beat up on Artie. I hadn’t any cause to do that.”

  “Well, that’s over, and they hold no grudges, I’m sure. You need to find something good to do, Sid. Don’t gamble your money away. Buy yourself a ranch or a farm. You might get a piece of land near us, and we could see each other.”

  “Maybe so. I can’t think right now.”

  “All right. Here, I’ve divided the money. Here’s your third of it.” She handed him a wooden box and noticed that he didn’t ask how much it was. He nodded, murmuring, “Thanks” and went back toward his wagon.

  Edith watched him go and shook her head. He’s a miserable human being, and there’s not much anybody can do to help him.

  Edith turned back to cooking the meal, and when Artie returned, his face was bright. “Jennie’s folks are going to try to buy a place. Maybe we can move somewhere close to them. Might get a good buy on a good place and split it.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I sure would.”

  Edith said, “Look, here’s the money. I gave Sid his third and the wagon. You and I w
ill have this wagon and the goods, and we’ll have ten thousand dollars. That’s what he had. About fifteen thousand.”

  “Gosh! That’s a lot of money, Ma!”

  “Enough to buy a good place, I’m sure, and get started.” She saw Artie’s eyes go involuntarily back toward Jennie Pickett where she was helping her mother at the campfire. Smiling, Edith said, “Why don’t you ask Jennie to come over and eat with us tonight?”

  “I’ll do that, Ma. I’ll do it right now.”

  Edith watched as the young man nearly ran across the camp, and she smiled slightly. “I don’t need to be a gypsy to read your future, Artie Riker!”

  * * *

  THE NEXT WEEKS PASSED quickly, and the train was more than two-thirds of the way from Fort Ruby to Sacramento. Edith had expected Logan Temple to see her, but he seemed to be avoiding her. She didn’t seek him out, and she was filled with long thoughts wondering how life would be for her and Artie. Considering Jennie Pickett, Edith had a clearer idea of Artie’s future. She went about her work and drove the wagon while Artie helped herd cattle.

  When they were only three days out of Sacramento, she stayed up late one night. Artie was on night watch, and she was alone. Sid had eaten with them and said little, but she had done all she could to encourage him. She wanted to be able to help him, but the three Riker men had been difficult. Artie was cut from a different cloth.

  For a while she nursed the fire and made a pot of tea, which she had brought all the way with her. As she sipped it, she started to grow sleepy. Suddenly, she heard footsteps and turned to see Logan appear out of the darkness.

  “It’s late for you to be out, Logan.”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “I’m having trouble myself.”

  He pulled up one of the wooden boxes and sat down beside her. “Be glad to get somewhere we can sit in a chair and sleep in a real bed. I guess I’m no pioneer. I like my comforts.”

  “You’re used to them. Tell me about your family, Logan.”