Lion merely laughed. “Pick it up, Quiet One, and do it again!” He had always believed that Bear Killer’s white wife expected to be rescued.
He stared at her with obsidian eyes for a moment, then said loudly, “Don’t think about anybody coming after you. The Silverhair and the Tall Man, they are dead.”
Moriah looked up at once and stared at him. Something she saw in his eyes made her say, “You are a liar. They are not dead.”
Instantly, Lion stepped forward and swung his hand. It caught Moriah on the cheek. She staggered but did not go down.
Loves The Night stepped between the two. “I will see if you will beat Bear Killer when he hears of how you struck his wife!”
Lion glared at her and would have said more, but she suddenly drew a knife and said, “Leave here, or I’ll cut your liver out!”
Lion stared at her with hatred but knew that he had gone too far. He turned abruptly and stalked away. As soon as he was out of the teepee, Moriah went to Loves The Night. She put her arms around the woman and said, “Thank you, sister.”
“He is a coward. Pay him no heed. I will tell Bear Killer when he comes back—and we will see what will happen!”
The two women were finished with their work, so they sat down and from time to time looked over at Ethan, who was asleep on his pad of animals furs. Loves The Night said warmly, “He is a fine boy. He will bring you much joy.”
“Do you think so, Loves The Night?”
“Yes. I have been watching him, and he has the strength of Bear Killer, but he has your gentleness.” The two women sat there silently, and finally Loves The Night reached over and put her hand on Moriah’s shoulder. “I’ve always watched you since you came. You are strong inside.”
“I feel very weak.”
“I want to ask you why you will not have our god.” From the time of her capture, Moriah had never made any secret of the fact that she was not at all interested in the vague gods of The People. “You are true to your Jesus God?”
“I hope I am. He is the mighty God above all gods.”
“Tell me about Him.”
Moriah felt a sudden warmth for this woman who had become her dearest friend in this alien world. “He loves you. He loves everyone, and He wants for you to love Him.”
“Tell me.”
Moriah talked for a long time softly and gently. It was difficult to tell what impression she made, for Loves The Night did not show her emotion openly. But there was a glow in the woman’s eyes, and Moriah prayed.
God, let her listen to my words and touch her heart.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Well, plague take it, Zane. You shore picked a sorry time to get piled up by a hoss!” Zane looked up from where he was eating his bacon and eggs and frowned at Clay, who sat across from him. “I didn’t exactly plan for it to happen like it did,” he said petulantly. “If I remember correctly, you’ve been piled up by a few hosses yourself.”
“Zane didn’t get hurt on purpose, Clay, so leave him alone,” Jerusalem said. She looked at Clinton, who was eating furiously, as if his life depended on it. “Don’t eat so fast, Clinton, you’ll choke yourself.”
Clinton said with his mouth full, “But, Ma, the Lord might come back before we finish, and I’d hate to miss out on this here good food you made.”
Mary Aidan was sitting next to Clinton and said, “You need to put on some more of that lotion you got from back east. It’ll make you smell better.”
Jerusalem said sharply, “If you’d take more baths, you wouldn’t need any lotion to make you smell good!”
Clinton swallowed an enormous bite of his breakfast and then looked around the table defiantly. “It ain’t scriptural to take baths.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Jerusalem said. “Of course it is.”
“No, the Bible says it ain’t.” He nodded vigorously, adding, “I got that out of the Bible.”
Jerusalem shook her head in dismay. “You must have got it out of the Bible because you didn’t find it in the Bible.”
“Did too!”
“Well, where is it?” Clay grinned. “I might use it myself.”
“It’s in the last book of the whole Bible, chapter twenty-two and the eleventh verse.”
“What does it say? I can’t remember the whole Bible,” Zane said.
“It says, ‘Let him that is filthy be filthy still.’ Now, I hope that settled this bathin’ question once and for all!”
Clay listened half-heartedly as Clinton defended his idea of not bathing, but finally he lifted his head and said, “I guess we’ll have to put off drivin’ that herd to New Orleans. You can’t go with that bad leg, Zane, and I can’t go because Rachel and Sam have both got the chicken pox.”
“I can take care of them. You can go,” Jerusalem said quickly.
“No, I don’t want to go off and leave ’em. We’ll just put the drive off for a bit.”
Clinton looked up from his plate and said, “I don’t see what the fuss is about. I can make that drive.”
Clay stared at Clinton. “Why, you’ve never handled a drive by yourself, Clinton.”
“No, but I’ve been with you and Zane. New Orleans is in the same place, ain’t it? I reckon I can find it, and there ain’t nothin’ hard about drivin’ critters. You just get behind ’em and holler and whoop, and you steer ’em in the right direction.”
Clay considered Clinton steadily for a moment and then said, “I just don’t know if you can take care of all the details.”
Clinton’s face grew red. “I don’t know why you don’t trust me. I’ve worked as hard as anybody on this ranch.”
“He’s right about that, Clay.” Zane nodded. “Clinton’s a mighty good hand.”
“I know he is, Zane, but he might make a mistake.”
“I ain’t never made a mistake,” Clinton said loftily. “And I don’t ever plan to.”
Jerusalem threw up her hands. “My land, what a boy!”
“Oh, come on, Ma. I’m twenty-one years old. If I can’t take a bunch of dumb cattle to New Orleans on a little old drive, I might as well give up ranchin’ and go and become an ol’ salesman.”
Clay had been thinking hard, and now he grinned. “I got to admit you’re a good man with critters, Clinton, and we need the money. I got my eye on a piece of land that we can get cheap.” He looked at Jerusalem and winked. “I guess we can trust him to get a bunch of cows to New Orleans. He ain’t likely to lose ’em. The worst thing that can happen is a bunch of Mexicans could steal ’em, or the Comanches might come in from the north and scalp him and take all the cattle.”
Clinton brightened up at once. “You just wait! I’ll dicker with them cattle buyers down in New Orleans and make ’em think that they been hit by a tornado.”
“They’re liable to skin you,” Zane said. “They’re pretty sharp dealers down there.”
“They ain’t skinnin’ me, not as long as geese go barefooted,” Clinton declared. “I got to hire me some Mexican drovers.”
Clay looked at Jerusalem and said, “Well, your baby boy’s growin’ up.
It’s time he learns to take some responsibility.”
“He’ll do fine, Clay,” Jerusalem said. “I’m real proud that you trust him enough to go.”
Clinton had hired four Mexican drovers to make the trip to New Orleans. He knew them all well, for they had made the trip twice before with Clay and Zane. Clinton had been busy getting things ready and listening to a great deal of advice from Clay and Zane, which he paid little heed to. The day before the drive was to start, he left the drovers holding the cattle in a bunch and rode over to see the Stuarts. He had promised his mother to check on Anne Stuart, and when he dismounted and walked up to the house, he found her sitting out on a cane-bottom chair. “Well, Miss Stuart,” he said, his face lighting up. “Good to see you up and around. Ma sent me over to find out how you were.”
Anne Stuart smiled and said, “I’m doing much better, Clinton
. You thank your mama also for all she’s done for us. She is one kind lady.”
“Where’s Mr. Stuart?”
“He went out to see if he could bag a deer.”
“What about Al?”
“She’s out back behind the house tryin’ to find some worms. She wants to go fishin’ in the river. I tell her it ain’t a good time, but you know Aldora. She’s gonna do what she says.”
Clinton grinned and said, “I’m leavin’ for New Orleans with a herd tomorrow. I’ll just go say good-bye to Al.”
He shoved his hat back on his head and walked around the house. He found Al out by the barn digging and turning over dirt. “Findin’ any worms?” he said cheerfully.
“No, I reckon they’ve went down deep. But I can use chicken guts.” Al turned to him and said, “What are you doing over this way?”
“I came to see how your grandma was. She’s doin’ a heap better, it appears like.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Did you hear about me takin’ a herd down to New Orleans to sell?”
“I thought Zane was going to do that.”
“Oh, he got piled up by a hoss, so I jumped in and offered to take the herd.”
“You mean all by yourself?”
Giving her an offended look, he said, “No, not by myself. I’ve hired four hands to go with me. They ain’t enough, but that was all I could get.”
Al leaned on her shovel and unexpectedly said, “Let me go with you, Clinton.”
“What! On a cattle drive?”
“You know I can ride herd on cattle. You won’t be brandin’ ’em or anything like that. Just keepin’ ’em in the road, ain’t it?”
“Well, that’s right, but there could be trouble. It could be dangerous.
We might meet up with some Comanches or a bear.”
Al didn’t speak again, but something passed across her face. Clinton studied her more closely and could tell something was bothering her.
“What’s wrong, Al? Ain’t you feelin’ good?”
“I’m feelin’ fine, but—well, we’re powerful short of money, Clinton.
I hate to mention it, but we could sure use some extra cash. That’s why I asked for the job.”
Clinton Hardin had a tender heart, and he had become very fond of Al. They had fished and hunted together, and although he didn’t understand her moods at times, he felt an obligation to the whole family. “Well, shucks, if that’s the case, you might as well ride along. You can be the cook. We’re leavin’ early in the morning.”
“Oh, thanks, Clinton! I’ll be ready.”
“You ain’t asked what I’m payin’.”
“Whatever it is, it’ll be more than I’m making here.”
“You be over at our place about daylight. I want to get a good day’s start.” He reached over and shoved her hat down over her eyes. “Better wear some warm clothes.” He grinned. “And don’t wear your hat over your face like that. Makes you look foolish.” He turned and moved away quickly, calling back, “Better bring a pistol if you got one. We might run into some bandits.”
Al pulled her hat up and watched him go, her eyes warm. She began to grow excited, for she had never been to New Orleans or any big city, for that matter. Maybe we’ll get to go downtown and see some of the fancy hotels and restaurants there, she thought. It’ll be fun!
The drive to New Orleans had been as easy as Clinton had hoped. The cattle had not stampeded. There had been no bandits and no storms. The October weather had been nippy, but not bitter. Each night they had built up a fire, and Al had appointed herself cook, and, indeed, she proved to be a good one. She had slept at night away from the men wrapped in a blanket and had been the first one up in the morning so that breakfast was always ready. Once Clinton had said to her, “You’re a right good hand, Al. I’m gonna take you on all my cattle drives.” The remark had pleased her, and she had looked forward to more of the same.
The sale of the cattle went better than Clinton was expecting. Clay had told Clinton what he should get for the cattle, and to Clinton’s surprise, the first offer he had received was only a dollar a head less than Clay had mentioned. He bargained with the buyers and managed to get a better price than Clay had mentioned.
He came back to where the crew was camped and said, “Payday, fellas.” They gathered around, and he paid them off with a bonus. “You fellas might as well go on back when you take a notion, if you can find your way home. Al and me are gonna go see the sights of New Orleans.”
Al brightened up at the chance to see some of New Orleans. After the Mexicans had left, Clinton counted out some bills to her and grinned. “A little bonus there for that good cookin’ of yours.”
“Thanks, Clinton. This will help out at home.”
“Well, what do you say we go see what New Orleans looks like? I don’t figure on leavin’ here until we seen the sights. Tell you what, let’s go get a couple of hotel rooms. Then we can go out and eat and see what the French Quarters have got to offer to a couple of Texans.”
“I didn’t bring any clothes to wear to go out.”
“Well, I didn’t either, so maybe they won’t let us into the fanciest place, but I betcha we won’t starve. Come on, we’ll find someplace.”
Aldora Stuart was excited as they rode around. She had never been in a large city like this, and all the sights and sounds fascinated her. She knew she would have the best time in New Orleans with Clinton that she had ever had in her life. They had cleaned up as best they could, and Clinton had asked a carriage driver for a good place to eat.
“Money is no object,” he had said loftily.
The carriage driver had grinned and said, “You might try Mulate’s.
They make mighty good food.”
“Thanks.”
They had taken the driver’s advice, and twenty minutes later, they were standing in front of Mulate’s. When they walked through the doors, a waiter wearing a fancy suit with a white shirt looked aslant at their garb, but Clinton had slipped him five dollars and said, “We want the best treatment you got.”
The waiter had grinned and said, “Right over here, sir and madam” then led them to a corner table set with fine china and a crisp white tablecloth.
They waited until the waiter gave them a menu, and Clinton looked at it. “Why, I can’t read this. It ain’t English.”
“No, sir, it’s French.”
“Look, you just bring us what’s good in there. I trust your judgment.”
“Why, thank you, sir. I’ll see that you have a fine meal.”
When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a bowl which he identified as gumbo.
“What’s in it?” Clinton asked.
“Well, it is one of our specialties with shrimp and a few other things.
I think you’ll find it quite enjoyable.”
The two ate their gumbo while the rest of the meal was coming, and they liked it very much. They had samplings of something called shrimp Creole, and then the waiter brought in a platter full of something that made Clinton exclaim, “What is it, some kind of bug?”
“No, sir, these are crawfish.”
“Why we use them things for fishbait! I ain’t eatin’ no fishbait! Go serve ’em to the cats. They’ll probably cover it up.”
The waiter could not hide his grin. “Yes, sir. Could you eat some fish?”
“Fish sounds mighty good.”
The two ate more samples of the Creole food and finally ended up with something called chocolate mousse, as the waiter identified it.
“Moose? You got to kill a whole big moose to make this?” Clinton said with astonishment.
The waiter tried to hide his amusement but said, “Sir, it is a special dessert quite palatable to the taste.”
The two ate until they could hold no more, and then they left the restaurant. They walked the streets of New Orleans, and Al said once, “I didn’t know there was a place this big.”
“It is fair size, but—” He was interr
upted when suddenly two women came out of the shadows. They were on one of the side streets only partially lit by lanterns.
“Hey, fellas, you lookin’ for a good time?” one of the women said.
Clinton could barely see the two women in the feeble darkness, but he could smell their strong perfume. One of them grabbed his arm, and the other one moved to stand beside Al. The one holding Al’s arm said, “Come on. I’ll show you a good time, honey.”
Al made an odd croaking sound and pulled away, saying, “Take your hands off me!”
Quickly Clinton said, “I guess you girls better go find other customers. Come on, Al.” He grabbed Al by the arm and pulled her away.
The women’s curses filled the air behind them, and Clinton was laughing.
“They took you for a fella.”
“Those are bad women, Clinton.”
“They sure enough are.”
The two were walking rapidly away toward the main street, and Al said, “Did you ever—”
“Did I ever what?”
“You know. Did you ever have anything to do with women like that?”
“What do you take me for? Why, a fellow would have to be dumber than a hairball to mess with evil women like that! Don’t you know what the Bible says about them? Their steps lead down to hell. I’m surprised you’d even think such a thing of me.”
“I’m sorry, Clinton. I didn’t really think so. They looked awful, didn’t they?”
“I couldn’t see ’em all that well, but they probably did.”
After crossing a few streets, they found the hotel, and both of them went to bed at once.
Clinton said good night and added, “No reason to get up early. We can make good time without those dumb cows to hold us back.”
Al smiled at him. “I had such a good time. I’ll never forget it, Clinton.”
Clinton reached over and squeezed her arm. “You’d better not tell your folks about them two women.”
“I won’t. Good night.”
“Good night, Al.”
They slept out each night on their return trip, exactly as they had before. They had brought enough food on the packhorse for the trip home. Each day when they stopped for the night, Clinton would gather the firewood.
The Yellow Rose Page 30