Fair Land Fair Land - A B Guthrie

by A B Guthrie

  Higgins let out "Ah-h" without meaning to. Culbertson regarded him with curiosity, but Potter broke in. "Yes, I must meet this man, if Brother Higgins will take me to him." His eyes asked the question.

  Higgins shied at the idea. Towing a saddle-sore preacher over the miles? Listening to the talk-talk about the good Lord? He wouldn't be in the hands of the Lord. He would be in the hands of Higgins, who was a long shot from grace. But Preacher Potter was so oncoming. And Summers did want to be married.

  He said, "I guess all right."

  "Probably day after tomorrow," Culbertson said. "I believe I can have your horses by then, Hig."

  Higgins lingered after Potter and Dawson had gone. "I been thinkin', Major. You know, our manners ain't high class. Horn spoons and a common pot to eat out of."

  "I"ve done the same."

  "But this with the preacher is special. In our order could you throw in some spare tin stuff, like knives, forks and spoons and maybe cups?"

  "I'll do it, Hig."

  "And some red cloth for Teal Eye?"

  Culbertson put a hand on his arm. "All that will be my gift. Good night, Hig."

  16

  Higgins looked over the four horses Culbertson had bargained for. They were on the small side, as Indian stock usually was. From their teeth he judged that the oldest was about eight, a good useful age. One of them, the one that caught the eye, wasn't quite to his liking. It was a pinto, and to his way of thinking a solid color meant a solider horse. They were all a mite skittish.

  They were gathered outside the fort, he and Potter and Culbertson and half a dozen Indian men who stood watching off to one side.

  Culbertson asked, "Satisfied, Hig? They were the best I could do on short notice."

  "Thanks. Plumb pleased." The horses ought to be shod, but he had given up that idea. They had never known a shoe and wouldn't take kindly to having any tacked on. On each of them he would have had to use a rope and pull up a leg and anchor it, raised, to the horse's neck. No thanks. Not now. Anyhow, the way ahead wasn't too rocky.

  The broken pack horses were ready. He had put the untried ones between the older horses. They weren't carrying anything and should lead along all right. He shied a look at Potter. The man had on his long coat and wore a hat with a small brim and a domed, undented crown. He would find soon enough how the wind liked it.

  Right now the air was still, and a glow in the east, above the far, deep-sloping bank of the Missouri, showed the sun would be peeking up soon.

  He set to work bridling and saddling the new horse that looked gentlest. Against emergencies he would have to lead away with the trained horse he had ridden in. This new one was for Potter. Culbertson had gone over to the hitch rack and came back leading the pack string.

  "Ready?" Higgins asked Potter.

  "Don't worry about me, Brother. I have ridden before."

  "We head west. Up the hill and due west."

  Higgins helped Potter get his considerable bulk in the saddle and handed him the reins.

  The horse got its head down, crow-hopped and jumped, its back arched like a bow. Potter's hat sailed off first, spooking the string. Potter followed it and hit the ground with a bump. Potter didn't need Higgins' outstretched hand or answer the question, "You hurt?" He got up, smiling, and said, "A lesson in humility."

  The Indian men were bent over, laughing.

  Potter went on, " ‘Blessed be the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." He rubbed his right ham. "It was a rough introduction to inheritance, if any." He still wore his big smile. "The earth hereabouts has no give to it."

  Culbertson had caught up the saddle horse. The pack string had quieted. Higgins said, pointing, "Maybe you'd better try that horse."

  "No, Brother Higgins. No, indeed. If I am taught to be humble, I am taught to have faith."

  "And hang on to your hat."

  Potter regarded the stiff hat on the ground. "Without it I'll sunburn." He ran a hand over his bald head.

  "I got somethin' might do," Higgins said. "Might do if you don't mind sweatin' some." He dug from a pack his old coon-skin cap, which he had brought along just in case. Potter put it on. "Thank you, Brother Higgins. I shall not complain of its warmth." Higgins put the stiff hat in a pack, denting it some. Potter mounted his horse again without hesitation, saying as he put his foot in a stirrup, "Be good, Dobbin, or invite the Lord's wrath." The horse snorted, took a couple of steps and stood still.

  Higgins swung up on his own horse. Culbertson handed the lead rope of the string to him, then offered his hand. He shook hands with Potter, too, who said, "Thank you, Brother Culbertson. I shall return the saddle you've loaned me. The Lord loves you."

  Spring on the plains was a high old time, Higgins thought after they had climbed out of the valley. Wildflowers starting up. Grass greening. Birds mating. The songs of meadowlarks sounding. Gophers standing like soldiers, then diving into their holes with flirts of their tails. Jack rabbits bounding from bushes, then sitting straight, their ears up. It was the time of new things, of old things born again.

  Midmorning now and the sun high, not burning, and the sky like a still lake, upside down, its shores the far skylines. Laze along, horse. Just laze along.

  A jack rabbit bounded up, almost under the feet of Potter's horse, and the horse shied and reared and set off on a high lope. Potter's butt bounced in the saddle. He clutched the saddle horn with both hands. His long coat, unbuttoned, flapped out at the sides. He was a big bat, hanging hard to a horse.

  Higgins kicked his horse and yanked at the string. He couldn't leave the pack horses, not with untried ones in the string. He kicked and yanked again. Potter, still more or less in his seat, disappeared over a swell of land.

  It took a while to catch up with him. The horse stood quiet and spent, its belly heaving, its sweat drying. Potter was still in the saddle.

  You couldn't scare that man or make him mad, Higgins thought, seeing the big smile.

  "A spirited ride," Potter said. "One I'll remember."

  "You stuck the horse."

  "By a miracle."

  "And kept him pointed west to boot."

  "I fear I had nothing to do with that. Thank the horse. Shall we proceed?"

  "If you're ready."

  A thunder shower came up before they made camp, a warm shower that was more noise and flash than rain. It passed over, and they reached a small gulch that ran with water, and here Higgins decided to make camp.

  Potter got off his horse stiffly and held on to the saddle horn long enough to get his legs under him.

  Higgins asked, "Stove up?"

  "A little sore in the knees, a little galled where I sit, but nothing more than that. It was a grand day."

  He looked to the west, and Higgins followed his gaze. Low clouds were banked there, slow-moving, on fire, and the fire blazed up and touched off higher clouds, and against the flames a lone eagle soared. Potter murmured, "Majestic," and bent his head.

  Higgins turned away. He led the horses to water and put the new ones on picket, driving the picket pins deep. He unloaded the two old pack horses.

  While he was doing that, Potter asked, "Where are the buffalo, Brother Higgins?"

  "Most of "em's down south, I reckon. They'l1 be showin' up. There's some that stay the year round. You'll see "em."

  "I don't aim to make a fire," Higgins told Potter, who had taken a seat on a piece of dry canvas. "Just a small fire inside, I'm thinkin' on. Is a drink against your religion?"

  "Some would say so. Not I. The love of the Lord should be a joyous thing, not a long list of ‘don'ts.' Bring the jug, Brother Higgins."

  Potter knew how to drink out of it.

  They ate cold buffalo roast that Culbertson had insisted they take.

  Afterward, smoking, Higgins asked, "Just what brung you here, Brother Potter?" He wanted to say Preacher Potter, it sounded so good to the ear.

  "Why, the wish to save souls."

  "Ain't there lost souls everywhere?"
r />   "Yes, but the Lord called me here. Called me to minister to the untutored children of nature."

  "Meanin' Injuns?"

  "To be sure."

  "They got their own religion, I hear tell."

  "Not the true, saving religion. Not the love of Jesus."

  "Savin'. Savin' from what?"

  "The fires of hell, of course."

  "They been here a long time, the Injuns. You think the dead ones that never had a chance to know Jesus, you think they're in hell?"

  Potter shook his head slowly and put a hand to it. "Brother Higgins, who knows the way of the Lord? I can't answer your question. What we can be sure of is that all of God's judgments, all his manifestations, are right and true, no matter that we often can't comprehend them. Of one thing I am certain. Those who have been introduced to Jesus and love him not are doomed. Are you a believer, Brother Higgins?"

  "In some things. In quite a bunch of things."

  "Look about you. Everywhere is plenty. The beasts of the fields, the birds of the air, all put there for man, for his food or his delight. Look at the soil that grows food for us. Look at the skies that give us sunshine and rain. It is all God's bounty, his gifts to mankind."

  "I don't see much use in gnats and rattlesnakes."

  "Ah, to test us. To make sure that our love and faith don't falter under adversity."

  "I ain't of a mind to argue much, but it sounds wrong for true love to be so tormented."

  "The Lord knows best. Be sure of that."

  Potter got up stiffly and put a hand on Higgins' shoulder. "You are a good man, Brother Higgins. You will come to see. I pray that you will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll say my prayers and go to bed."

  Higgins smoked for a while longer. So everything was made for man, was it? Seemed like the other critters ought to have a vote in the final say. They were here, and along comes Mr. High and Mighty Man and says you're all mine. You were made just for me. Talk about being meek.

  What would Dick Summers say to that? He'd probably grin and answer, "Every man to his own way of thinkin'. You can't change that. Just remember, Hig, says I who has no right to say it, frettin' your mind binds your bowels."

  17

  HIGGINS" horse wanted to drink, but he curbed it and kicked it and splashed across the stream, dragging the string along with him. He put a hand over his eyes against the slanting sun and yelled, "Hey, Dick. Company."

  Summers came from behind his tepee, an ax in his hand. "You caught me onexpected," he said, but Higgins knew that he hadn't. Summers was too keen to be caught.

  Higgins turned. "Come across, Brother Potter. Your horse can drink later. Come on."

  Potter came on. The spray of water under hoof blinked like crystal in the long light.

  Higgins grinned down at Summers. "I reckon I done pretty good, Dick."

  Potter almost fell as his feet touched the ground. He hobbled over, his hand out. "Brother Summers, isn't it?"

  Higgins had to laugh, but didn't, at Summers' face. The preacher went on, "I am Brother Potter of the Methodist Episcopal Church."

  Summers got out, "Welcome. Long way from home."

  "Not really, Brother. Not at all. Not where I'm welcome."

  Teal Eye came out of the tepee. Summers waved her to come on, and she did, acting bashful. Summers said, "This is Teal Eye."

  Potter held out his hand. "Bless you, Sister."

  She touched his hand and turned to the fire and the pot over it. The two boys weren't in sight. It was likely they were hiding, being bashful, too. One thing for sure: they were together.

  "I hope you like the four nags I bought," Higgins said. "We got a credit at the fort."

  "They look passin' good. What say we unpack? No, no, Mr. Potter. You just set on that log there and rest yourself."

  They left him sitting and stepped to the horses. As they fiddled with ropes, Higgins spoke softly. "Dick, I tuck it on myself to get knives and forks and them things. All tin, of course. Special occasion, seemed to me." He looked at Summers, a question in his eyes.

  A smile touched Summers' mouth. "You shine, Hig. You shine for a fact. I can tell Teal Eye just what to do, me bein' high born."

  "Culbertson, he threw in some beads and red cloth, present for Teal Eye."

  They got the horses unpacked and the goods stowed away.

  Higgins said, "I'd best hobble or picket the new horses."

  "I aim to do that. You look some fagged, I'm thinkin', and I want to look over the stock you bought. So far, so good, seems like."

  "Dick, the preacher don't object to a snort."

  Summers nodded and led away.

  At the fire Potter said to Higgins, "This is a smiling valley, Brother. A man forgets his aches and pains."

  Higgins cast his eye around. The ripples of the river ran red, catching the beams of a sun soon to set. Eastward the valley flowed yellow and warm until the far banks rose to benchlands. The mountains were darkening, black purple as the sun slid behind them. For once no wind blew, not even a breeze, and the campfire smoke lifted lazy and straight. A fish jumped in the stream.

  "Clad you like it," Higgins was saying. "It ain't too bad a place for a fact."

  "What do you suppose — I mean at what hour Brother Summers might prefer for the ceremony?"

  "It's his to say, I reckon."

  "Of course. For myself, I suggest sunrise, the beginning of a new day, of a new way."

  "Suits me all right. I ain't one to lie abed."

  Near them, Teal Eye stirred the pot and added some sticks to the fire. The two boys were staying out of sight even now. Summers came back and said, "Them new horses ain't bad."

  Potter cleared his throat. "Brother Summers, I hope I'm not mistaken, you do want to be married?"

  Summers looked him in the face. "Have for a long time. Been waitin' to find me a preacher, that I have."

  "Fine. What time, Brother? I have suggested sunrise."

  "Whenever you say. We'll be ready." Summers walked off, beckoning to Teal Eye. Likely he wanted to tell her about high-born manners. When he came back, he brought buffalo robes and spread them on the ground.

  Potter said, "These old bones of mine can't get used to sitting as you men and the Indians do. What is it called? Yes, a tailor's squat."

  "You set right on that log," Summers told him. "I got somethin' might ease your miseries."

  That was the signal for Higgins to get up and fetch the jug.

  "We're froze for glasses," Summers said, meaning they didn't have any.

  "He" — Higgins pointed — "knows how to drink from a jug. Done it before."

  Summers uncorked the jug and handed it to Potter. Potter put a forefinger in the handle, rested the jug on his elbow, put his mouth to the opening and lifted the elbow.

  Summers' teeth showed in a grin. "Reverend, you been places."

  "That I have. And seen things and drunk worse spirits than this." He passed the jug.

  They had one drink each. Then Summers rose, saying, "Nigh time to eat."

  With a horn spoon Teal Eye ladled food into a tin cup. Summers took it, put it on a tin plate and added knife, fork and spoon. He handed the plate to Potter. He did the same then for Higgins and himself. Teal Eye tended to her own.

  Higgins felt laughter in him and held it back. For God's sake, Summers, that old mountain-man son of a bitch, playing waiter and being dainty about it!

  "Please, let me ask the blessing before we eat," Potter said.

  The blessing was full of thanks and didn't ask much. He was, Higgins thought, a man satisfied with what had been given. That wasn't a bad way to be.

  Potter took a spoonful of stew, rolled it around, chewed and swallowed. He raised his eyes high and then looked at Teal Eye. "What a tasty dish! What flavoring! What's your secret, Sister?"

  Teal Eye looked at Summers who answered for her. "She knows a sight of things, wild things to eat, like roots of cattails and balsam root and stuff you wouldn't think. Main thing is good buffalo meat
."

  "Indians have to know," Teal Eye said. "Know or go dead."

  Those were almost her first words to the preacher. The shyness was wearing off.

  "Far better than fort victuals. Tell me, where are the boys? Two of them, aren't there?"

  "You'll see 'em in time," Summers answered. "They're small and wary as animals, not used to seein' anybody but us."

  As if acting on the words, Teal Eye rose, filled two more cups and took them inside the tepee. Their meal finished, they sat back. Potter patted his stomach. Higgins and Summers lighted pipes.

  "Crack of dawn, you say?" Summers asked.

  "Sunup, yes." With his hand Potter kept congratulating his stomach. "A new day. Did you ever pause to think every morning was a new beginning?"

  "And every night, you're glad to be rid of that day, huh?" Higgins asked just for the hell of it.

  Summers said, "Please to quit that pickin. Hig."

  "Every night, thanks, I would hope. Goodbye to a day well spent."

  The sun had sunk long since, but the sky was still filled with

  afterglow. Overhead was the sound of a wing.

  Potter yawned. "Speaking of sleep — "

  Higgins told him, "You can crawl into my tepee. I'd as soon sleep outside."

  "No, Brother Higgins. I have my own bedroll, and I like to sleep under the stars."

  "Your choice. I'll get your roll."

  "If you would. I confess to a certain stiffness of limb."

  They saw Potter bedded down on a robe. The fire was dead. Teal Eye had disappeared. Pretty soon Potter began snoring, snoring in praise of the Lord maybe.

  Higgins was tired himself and so said good night and went to his tepee.

  * * *

  Teal Eye sat on a robe inside the tepee, waiting for Summers.

  The boys were asleep. Before bedtime Summers liked to step away from the camp, look at the stars, sniff the air and listen to the sounds of the night. She told herself not to be moody. A woman ought to be cheerful with her man, cheerful and helpful, not anxious, not worried. But here, tomorrow, came the day of a proper, white-man marriage, and she drew in on herself. Before now Summers had talked of a preacher and a wedding, more often since she had borne him a baby, but she had shied away from his words, saying inside herself that the time never would come.