by Pamela Morsi
Eben laughed delightedly.
Buell looked ready to spit.
"I wanna go. Lemme go." Baby-Paisley continued his pleading as he bounced enthusiastically up and down. "I wanna go huntin'!"
Oather appeared both perplexed and unhappy. Eben's laughter had taken on a taunting quality and his father's machinations and prodding had pushed him square into a corner.
"I don't like hunting," he said finally to Jesse. "I don't find it relaxing, but I can hunt." He emphasized the last words and directed them to Baxley. "If Mrs. Winsloe would like another deer for her winter meat, I can certainly get one for her."
Eben hooted. "I'd like to see that. I'll bet you ain't got nothing bigger than a rabbit in your life.
"A bigger animal is an easier shot," Oather argued.
"So speaks one who ain't shot it."
"I wanna go. I wanna go huntin'," Baby-Paisley continued to beg.
Eben nodded to the boy. "I want to go, too," he said. "How about it, boy, you and me tag along with Jesse and Oather here. We'll see who can get a deer and who cain't."
"Yep, let's see who can get a deer and who can't," Baby-Paisley agreed loudly.
Jesse's brow furrowed. "Miss Althea don't want him hunting yet," he said. "She thinks he's too young."
"Oh, Jesse, please," the little boy begged.
"I'll ask her," Eben promised. "I'll ask your mama myself," he promised.
"Whoopee! I'm goin' huntin'!" the little boy hollered.
* * *
It was after much discussion, purchase of ammunition, and agreement to meet at the Winsloe place at dawn, that Jesse and Baby-Paisley finally got to speak with the drummer about Miss Althea's Christmas present.
As he'd promised, Oather introduced them. The man's name was Hiram Huckabee, and after being questioned by Baby-Paisley, he admitted that his mule's name was Sweetheart.
Oather whispered to Jesse that he had a very good hide and not to take anything less than what he wanted for it.
Jesse nodded solemnly as Oather added, "Don't let him talk you into anything and dither about the price as much as you can."
"Dither."
Jesse repeated the word to himself as often as he could think about it. But it was hard to keep thinking about it. His mind was still filled with the morning's talk. He was uneasy about the hunting trip.
He loved hunting and he always wanted to go. As soon as he'd seen that big rub up in the Sweetwood Meadow, he'd thought about taking the dogs up there to peruse the place. The excitement of the tracking, the pleasure of the dogs, the cool bite to the morning air, he wanted to go. But, Jesse couldn't help thinking, this particular hunting trip was not a good idea.
Eben and Oather were not happy with each other. In fact, Oather's sentiments seemed pretty close to downright hatred. Jesse knew that men hunting together, if not family or friend, should at least be neighborly. These two were openly fractious and quarrelsome. They seemed as intent on getting each other as getting the deer.
And Eben's near promise to Baby-Paisley was also troubling. After his last outing, Jesse was almost certain that Miss Althea would be raked over hot coals before she'd let her baby boy go out in the woods on a deer hunt.
Jesse had suggested hopefully to the boy that maybe they should ask instead for him to go with Jesse one day to check the snares. Miss Althea might not like that too much either, but at least there would be no guns and a specific destination. Baby-Paisley was not easily turned. Eben Baxley said that he could go deer hunting with them. The little fellow was certain that it was going to happen. He even had the opportunity to mention the upcoming adventure to Gobby Weston, who happened by the store with his father, picking up supplies. Jesse was pretty sure Miss Althea's answer was going to be no. He was also fairly certain that Baby-Paisley would not take that decision too well.
So it was with a worried mind and more than little distraction that Jesse finally rolled out the newly cured buckskin for the traveling drummer.
The fellow was sharp and city-dressed with shiny shoes and a fancy straw hat. He smoked a long smelly cigar that made big plumes of blue gray smoke everywhere and tainted the fragrance of every piece of merchandise he carried. Jesse could tell that the man was strictly a lowlander by the way he carried himself. But it was obvious as he ran his hand appreciably across the deer hide that he'd been through the woods a time or two.
"It's a fair hide," he said, damning with faint praise. "For a winter hide, it's right fair."
"We want to trade it for a Cwissmas present for my mama," Baby-Paisley told him. The little boy's mouth was full of licorice. The formerly swallowed penny had been retrieved and spent for the candy that was the favorite of he and Jesse both.
"Now that's a fine idea," the drummer agreed, smiling through the teeth that clenched the cigar. "Did you shoot this buck yourself, little feller?"
The drummer chuckled at his own suggestion.
"Jesse shot it," Baby-Paisley answered proudly. "But we was on the hunt together. So the hide is half mine."
"Is that so?"
"Yep," the little boy answered. "When they's two a-huntin' the deer is shared by halfs."
"That's a fact," the man agreed.
Baby-Paisley was bright-eyed and warmed up to the subject. ”Tomorrow, I'm goin' huntin' agin. With Jesse and Mista Oaffer and Mista Eben. I gonna go huntin' for another deer."
"Another deer?"
He nodded eagerly. "Jesse done seen his rub up in the Sweetwood Meadow, so we goin'. See this deer tail on my cap? My daddy done kilt dis deer. Mista Eben was with him when he done it. I gonna kill lots of deer just like my daddy."
"Well, and good luck to you," the drummer said. "Maybe when I pass this way again, you'll have another hide to trade."
"Probably so," Baby-Paisley agreed seriously.
"So what kind of thing does your mama like, boy?" he asked. "Does she crave piece goods? Or maybe something to lighten her chores."
The child looked puzzled and shrugged. "I doan know," he admitted.
"We'll know what we want when we see it," Jesse assured the trader quickly. "We're sure to recognize the perfect thing right off."
The traveling man nodded, pursing his lips in thought. "Well, all right, boys. I got lots of things any female alive would just love to have," he told the two of them. "I got dress goods and ribbons. I got perfume and rouge—just like city women wear."
"Miss Althea ain't no city woman," Jesse told him.
The drummer smiled and deftly rolled up the buckskin, stowing it with his own things, as if the trade for its worth had already been made.
"I got jewelry," the man told them. "Fine things. Fine things, for certain. And I'm sure a man can't get a woman far enough back in the woods that she don't crave jewelry."
To illustrate his point, the trader opened a slim fabric covered box that was loaded to the brim with bracelets, necklaces, rings, and spangles of all kinds.
"This is pretty," Baby-Paisley said as he held up a shiny locket. "Look, Jesse, it's got shiny rocks in it."
Jesse did look and gave a little sigh of awe, as entranced with the glittering object as Baby-Paisley.
"Them stones is genuine cut glass," the trader told them. "Ain't no way you can dig something like that up and shine it. No, sir, those are made by man and no other way."
The man pulled out a ring, wearing it on the first knuckle of his index finger. "See this, boys?" he said. 'This is real pewter. As fine a ring as you're liable to find west of the Mississippi."
"Mama ain't got no ring," Baby-Paisley told him. "You think we should get her a ring, Jesse?"
Jesse shrugged uncertainly. "What else you got?" he asked.
"Lots of things, boys," he answered. "More wares and whatits and wahoos than you ever laid eyes on in all your life."
The drummer didn't lie. He opened his pack and let them look at his merchandise. The two went through it, slowly, painstakingly. They didn't find what they wanted. Later he unloaded his mule. They went thro
ugh all of those goods, too. Jesse and Baby-Paisley, each as curious as a coon, examined every strange pot and bottle, every length of piece goods and metal button, every bristly hairbrush and box of face powders.
"Look at this!" Baby-Paisley would squeal with delight.
"Ain't that something," Jesse would answer with sincerity.
The drummer began to scratch his head and check his pocket watch.
Baby-Paisley liked and wanted to buy almost everything that he saw. Jesse was just as fascinated, but had yet to see the one thing, that one exceptional thing he knew that Miss Althea would want more than any other.
As the morning dragged on into afternoon, they divided all of the drummer's wares into two piles. The potential purchases in one and the cull list in the other. The cull list was large. But the potential purchases were plenty, too. They began to go through the items once more.
Closely they examined a gold-filled lady's watch with a pretty pattern of birds and flowers on the front.
"Mama could pin this to her dress for Sunday-go-to-meetin'," Baby-Paisley pointed out.
"Or she could tie a ribbon to it and keep it in her pocket," Jesse suggested.
Momentarily they both looked enthusiastic.
"Can you tell time?" Baby-Paisley asked Jesse.
He shook his head.
"Me neither," the little boy admitted and added the watch to the pile of discards.
A fancy sash buckle with a rose-colored finish caught Jesse's eye. "What kind of animal is this?" he asked the drummer.
"It's a dragon."
Jesse's brow furrowed. "We don't have any 'round here like this one," he said.
"It's a mythical beast," the drummer explained with a little chuckle.
Jesse nodded solemnly. "Don't know the place. And I don't expect Miss Althea's ever been to Mythica either."
Baby-Paisley was delighted to find a huge stack of cards with pictures on them. Each card had the same picture printed on it twice.
"These are mighty fine," Baby-Paisley exclaimed.
"They're stereoscopic pictures," the trader told him hopefully. "It's a series called the Wonders of the World. Does your mother have a stereoscope?"
"What's a scaryoscoach?"
The drummer sighed. "Obviously she doesn't have one," he said.
Jesse found a mouth organ and Baby-Paisley eagerly blew in and out on it trying to make music. He was not too successful, unless one considered success getting spittle dripping down his shirt. But he enjoyed himself very much and danced around happily.
"We could trade for this. You could play the fiddle and I could play the mouth organ," the little boy suggested.
"Would that be a present for your mama?" Jesse asked.
Baby-Paisley shrugged. "Sorta," he said hopefully.
He looked at Jesse. He looked at the mouth organ. With a sigh of defeat, he put it in the pile of the unwanteds.
With fervor, they continued rummaging through the ladies' goods. They examined numerous rolls of nine-cent wallpaper, some had unusual designs and patterns, most had flowers.
They were appropriately amazed at the newfangled spring-loaded clothespins. They looked at white bonbonet lace and a china silk fan.
There were a requisite number of corsets, wire bustles, and black cotton stockings. Jesse hurried Baby-Paisley through these, thinking him too young to wonder at the mysteries of women's underwear.
"Hey, what kinda bullets is these?" the little boy asked, holding up an open box of strange looking cartridges, wrapped in papers.
"Those are ladies' antiseptic suppositories," the trader answered hurriedly, taking the box out of the child's hands. When both his customers continued to eye him curiously, he added simply, "They are not quite the thing for gift giving."
The two oohed and ahhed over a celluloid comb with genuine rhinestones, considered the practical uses of a huge tin of boot blacking, and discussed at great length the possibilities of the pretty pair of four-hook lacing chamois gloves.
The trader, who was now chewing on his second cigar, was becoming short-tempered. Originally he'd intended to out-dugan the simple man and little child from a good hide. He no longer thought about cheating. He only wanted to get the transaction over with so that he could get on with his business. He had still to show his wares to Phillips and he hoped to be off the mountain by daybreak the next morning.
"What's in this jar?" Jesse asked.
The trader sighed heavily and read the words on the label below the picture of the voluptuous woman with the very tiny waist. "Bust Food. Developed in France."
"Bust food?" Jesse grabbed back the jar curiously. Twisting off the lid, he peered down at the white, creamy substance inside. It smelted like lilacs, but it looked a lot like lard.
"Women are supposed to eat this?" he asked, astonished.
"Not eat it," the man said, testily. "They rub it on their . . . their ..." He glanced uneasily at the little boy. "They just rub it on. See," he said, pointing to the words on the side. "It says, 'Feeds, plumps, and nourishes scrawny tissues. What nature has denied, Bust Food will endow.'"
"They rub it on." Jesse shook his head disbelieving. "That would be something to see."
"Yes indeed," the man agreed and then cleared his throat a bit nervously. "So what is it you fellows want?" he said. "I can't be here worrying with you all day long, you know."
Jesse sighed heavily. "What do ye think, Baby-Paisley?" he asked. "Have you seen just the right thing yet?"
"I like everything," the little fellow answered honestly. "What do you think, Jesse?"
"The combs are real nice," Jesse said thoughtfully. "And the locket really shines in the sunlight, don't it?"
The little boy nodded in agreement.
Jesse sighed and shook his head at the drummer. "I don't think real fast, mister. Can we just look at things a little bit longer?"
The man checked his pocket watch in exasperation. "Boys," he said, "I'm here to sell my goods to Phillips. I need to do that today, 'cause by morning I'm riding my mule out of here. I'd love to spend the rest of the day just letting you riffle through my wares, but I got to be up on the White River country day after tomorrow."
"You're going to the White River country?"
"That's where I'm heading."
Jesse's brow furrowed. He closed his eyes tightly trying to think. The words, thoughts, and memories jumbled inside his head like the wild rush of a flooding river. And his heart was suddenly beating like a drum. Then he knew. He just knew. It was just what he'd hoped would happen. He'd find the perfect gift and he'd know it when he saw it. Jesse became so excited he forgot about dithering completely.
"How about if we trade that hide for you delivering a message for us up there," he said.
Chapter Twenty
It was worse than Jesse imagined it would be. Althea was adamantly opposed to Baby-Paisley accompanying them. All of Eben's sweet talk and reassurances didn't move her resolve one bit. Baby-Paisley threw a rip roaring tantrum, throwing himself upon the ground, kicking, and screaming.
In truth Jesse felt sorry for the little fellow. He'd been more or less promised that he'd get to go, and he'd even bragged to Gobby Weston about it. It was a loss of stature. Jesse understood that. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself as he helped Althea get the boy in the house. His bad behavior was getting him "bedposted." Jesse lifted up the corner post on the bed and Althea slipped the child's shirttail under it. The little fellow would be sitting right there until his mother decided differently.
By the time Jesse reached the door, Baby-Paisley's anger had turned to tears of frustration. Jesse fought the desire to go back and hug the boy. He glanced over at Althea and saw in her anguished expression that she wanted to do the very same thing. Without thinking about it, Jesse held out his hand to her. When she placed her own in his, he squeezed it comfortingly.
"You're doing what you think is right," he whispered. "That's what good mamas do. He's lucky to have a good mama."
She managed to smile, if just a little bit. Jesse wanted to hug her, too. He managed not to do that either.
"We'd best be going," he said. "I don't know if we'll bring you back more meat, but we can sure try."
"Be careful, Jesse," she said.
He released her hand. Unexpectedly she straightened the front of his coat and buttoned the top button for him. It was an intimate, loving gesture. And she was standing so close. The fragrance of her was upon him again. It was all her, uniquely her. It was heaven. Jesse swallowed.
"I'll be back soon," he promised.
She nodded and he hurried away. He was trembling.
"Well, finally!"
He heard the exclamation as soon as he got outside.
"We thought you were going to take all day," Eben complained.
"Baby-Paisley was upset," Jesse answered.
Eben huffed. "A good bit of hickory limb would have done that situation a lot of good."
"For him, or for you?" Jesse asked, still shaking from the emotions that had assailed him in the cabin.
Oather hooted with laughter. "He got you there, Baxley. This whole thing was your fault. If you hadn't told the boy he could go, we wouldn't have even had to start out at the Winsloe place."
Eben had the good grace to look chagrined. "Let's get on with it," he said gruffly.
"You don't have to come along, Baxley," Oather said venomously. "You aren't really that welcome."
"Oather Phillips, I wouldn't miss the sight of you making a fool of yourself for anything in the world," he answered.
Jesse just shook his head and turned his attention to the dogs. At least he could count on them to do what they were supposed to do. He gave a familiar whistle and they hurried up ahead, ready and eager. He'd been working with them every chance he got and was more than pleased with the way they'd come around.
Sawtooth was still, by far, the best. But Queenie had lost a good deal of her lying-around fat and she was hunting better every time they went out. Runt was learning. And Old Poker kept up as best he could and was willing and ready to back the two other dogs whenever and wherever.
The dogs were his now. Althea had told him that he could take them home with him. He hadn't done so, partly because of the boy. He hated to separate Baby-Paisley from Runt. And partly because it took away any reason for him to show up at her place. There were three days to go before she married up with one of the two men beside him. Those were three days Jesse Best was not willing to waste.