After a Time

by Laurie Salzler

  Mayme had lost track of what day it was on the trail. She only knew how many nights it’d taken to get from one place to another. So she was a bit surprised as she rode up to the mercantile in Eagle Rock, only to find it closed.

  “Huh. Must be Sunday.”

  Fortunately, it was early afternoon and she had plenty of time to get to Mr. Smart’s farm before nightfall.

  Mrs. Randall’s house was quiet as she rode by. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Mayme thought it odd if it was in fact Sunday. She, Iris, and Annie used to sit on the porch and amuse themselves by watching the Sunday traffic on the road. They’d take particular joy in watching the churchgoers file out and wait for the men to sneak back into town for a drink. Mayme had found no humor in this at first, but after listening to the quick wit of the other girls, she soon relaxed and joined the laughter.

  Her horses and those of Mr. Smart greeted each other with loud whinnies. The noise of course alerted Mr. Smart. By the time she rode up to the house, he was waiting for her with hands on his hips and a huge smile that reached his eyes. It saddened her greatly, knowing her news would wipe it from his face.

  “Well, look what the cat finally drug in. I expected you back last week. I was beginning to worry a spell.”

  Mayme smiled weakly and dismounted.

  “I see you picked up another horse along the way. He’s a beaut.” Mr. Smart took Red’s rope from her and looked at him with appreciation. “Nice stock. Very good legs. You done good.”

  “He’s not mine.”

  Mr. Smart furrowed his eyebrows and then released them. “He’s not?” He blinked twice and cocked his head. “Then whose is he?”

  Mayme couldn’t find any words that would make it easier on either of them. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “He’s Billy’s”

  Mr. Smart smiled quickly and looked around. “Billy is in town?”

  “No. Damn. There’s just no easy way to say this. The reason I was delayed is because I had to go find Billy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mayme could see understanding building in his eyes, but she knew he had to hear the truth.

  “When I got to Oro Fino Creek, I was told Billy was missing. Since I was the nearest available rider, I was asked to ride his route and see if I could find him. We all thought maybe his horse had gone lame or something and that Billy was on foot. But—”

  Mr. Smart shook his head.

  “I found him. I think he was ambushed by a bunch of Indians.”

  “Aw, Billy,” Mr. Smart said sadly. His eyes welled up and a single tear worked its way down his cheek.

  “He didn’t go down without a fight. He used every last bullet and it looked like he killed a bunch of them.”

  Mr. Smart ran his hand through his hair. “They didn’t—”

  “He had his hair.”

  He closed his eyes and nodded before opening them again. “Then he was honored by them. Indians won’t scalp or mutilate their enemies if they’ve fought well.”

  “Oro Fino Creek is having problems with them.”

  “It’s the Blackfoot tribe.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because the damned government keeps taking away more and more of their land.” Mr. Smart pulled a kerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose. He shoved it haphazardly into his back pocket. “Come on. Let’s get these horses in the barn and you some grub.”

  MAYME LEFT MR. Smart’s farm early the next morning. She needed to deliver Billy’s mochila to the post office and receive the next assignment of mail for Oro Fino. She also hoped to catch a visit with Iris on her way.

  Mrs. Randall was sweeping the front porch as Mayme rode up.

  “Good morning.” She reined Duster to a stop.

  Mrs. Randall stilled the broom and shielded her eyes from the low sun.

  “Oh, hello, Mayme. How nice to see you.”

  Mayme couldn’t help but notice the monotone in her voice. Despite what she said, she didn’t think Mrs. Randall was too happy to see her.

  “I was hoping to see Iris. Is she around?” She stood up in the saddle and swung her right foot over the saddle and prepared to dismount.

  “You may as well stay atop your horse. Iris isn’t here.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Mayme sat back down in the saddle. “When will she be home? I’ll stop later.”

  Mrs. Randall straightened the collar on her dress and fidgeted with her necklace. She jutted her chin and tilted her head slightly. A smirk grew on her lips. “I’m afraid that will be impossible.”

  “Why? She’s in good health, isn’t she?”

  “Oh my yes. The best actually. You see, shortly after you left Mr. Clayton came round courting.”

  “But isn’t he already married?” Mayme cleared her throat and blinked rapidly as she tried to understand.

  “He was, yes. But sadly his wife recently died in childbirth. He needed someone to help him with the baby. It was a quick courtship.”

  No, no, no. Mayme raised her hat above her head and carved her hand through her hair. She held it back for a moment before releasing it and replacing her hat.

  “I just can’t believe this.” The Iris she knew wouldn’t have gone willingly into that arrangement.

  “Well, you should. They’re very happy. And, honestly, it was time. I might even become a grandmother in the spring.”

  “Did you talk her into that?”

  Mrs. Randall snorted. “As I told you in the past, every woman needs a man to look out for her. Iris is in her prime. Now, I think it’s best you’d be going. I’ll give her your regards when I see her.”

  Mayme’s stomach clenched. I just can’t believe this. Iris wasn’t ready to get married, let alone have a baby. Something told her Mrs. Randall had something like this planned all along and had apparently just bided her time until the opportunity arose. She’d known her daughter would seek Mayme’s advice so it had to be done while Mayme was on her run.

  The entire scenario made Mayme angry and sad at the same time. She didn’t bother to say goodbye to Mrs. Randall. The point had been made. Because of her choices, Mayme wasn’t welcome anymore.

  Mayme dug her heels into Duster’s side and cantered away from the house, although she had to pull her up quickly because of the rutted road.

  She felt empty, like she’d lost a friend. In a way she did, because in all likelihood, Mrs. Randall would never give up Iris’s whereabouts let alone allow her to visit.

  Mr. Smart waved to her as she passed the mercantile. He still hadn’t hired her replacement so drove Ox into town every morning before dawn to prepare for the day. She wondered briefly if he was waiting for her to tire of the post rider work and come back to work for him. Maybe someday, she thought. But right now she felt a need to get back on the trail again. If she stayed in Eagle Rock, there’d be a good chance she’d go searching for Iris and undoubtedly have a confrontation with Mrs. Randall; One that could up nasty and dissolving any hopes of ever seeing Iris again.

  LAWRENCE REMOVED HIS spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So sad. Mr. Prescott was one of our best riders.” He unrolled a parchment map on the desk, put his glasses back on and studied it.

  Mayme watched as he traced her route with his finger and then that of what was Billy’s. He scratched his balding head and sighed.

  “I have a proposition for you, Nathan. How would you feel about running both routes? It will put you out on the trail for longer, but I am willing to offer you double what you’re paid now and an extra one-percent for your troubles.”

  “So you’d be basically be giving me Billy’s wage.”

  “If you wish to put it that way, yes, plus the one percent.”

  Mayme turned and looked out the doorway. She was flattered Lawrence thought she could handle both routes. The pay would be right enough that in less than two years’ time she could buy her own land. That in and of itself was very attractive. But she couldn’t ignore the increased danger. After a
ll, Billy had lost his life on that route. She weighed both options in her mind. She not only had to think about the danger, there was the additional miles she’d be asking Duster to carry her over to consider.

  “I’ll make a deal with you. I will take on the extra route for the time being. But if it proves too much, I will request that you find a replacement. I have to warn you though, with winter coming on that may be sooner than later. That said, I’ll do my best.”

  “YOU’LL NEED TO take a pack horse, Mayme. There’s no way you’ll be able to carry enough supplies to live on in those mountains between deliveries.” Mr. Smart drummed his fingers on the table while eating dinner. “I think you should take Billy’s horse. Use him as a pack horse.”

  “Red?” Mayme shook her head. “He’s a pain in the behind.”

  “I’d give you Ox, but he’s too old. And Sage is too unreliable.” Mr. Smart rose from his chair and picked up their empty plates.

  Dinner had consisted of rabbit stew with loads of potatoes and carrots added to the congealed gravy. Combined with the thick slab of buttered bread, Mayme was full to bursting.

  “Since I can’t afford another horse yet, I’ll take Red on loan from you.” Mayme couldn’t see she had much of a choice at the moment.

  “Fair enough. Keep in mind too that Red is familiar with that route.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Mr. Smart put the plates in the sink and disappeared into another room. He returned with a pistol.

  “I want you to take this with you. It’s a Colt revolver. It takes the same bullets as your Winchester. Use it for close targets. By that I mean no farther away than sixty feet. You can use the rifle beyond that distance.”

  Mayme knew without a doubt he was referring to Indians. She hefted the pistol. The grip fit well in her hand and seemed balanced.

  “We’ll shoot a few rounds tomorrow morning before you leave.”

  WHEN MAYME RODE out of town the next morning, she found more room in the saddle. The only thing, other than herself, that Duster carried was the saddle and mochila. Red carried food and clothing for Mayme and oats for both horses. The extra weight seemed to settle Red and make him focus on the business at hand.

  Mr. Smart had made her promise that should Indians give her chase, she would drop Red’s line and let Duster run for her life. She hated the thought of letting them have Red in favor of escape, but if it became a life or death situation, she’d have to do it. It was highly unlikely the Indians would harm Red. The tribes in these mountains were well-versed horse-keepers. The Indians valued horses as much as the white man coveted gold.

  Chapter Nineteen

  HOUR BY HOUR the cloud deck grew lower, thicker, and darker. Mayme had already put an extra layer on an hour ago. She reined Duster to a stop, got down and pulled her coat out of the pack Red carried. She tugged it up her arms, pulled it over her shoulders, and tightened the collar around her neck.

  Before the approaching storm there’d been clear sky, sun falling upon new-fallen snow. A soft breeze had blown from the west. It was moist not cold. The trees had been stripped of their white covering of frost by the recent wind. There was a mutter of thunder rumbling in the distance.

  She’d been delivering mail on both routes for close to a month and a half. With each passing day, more evidence of the approaching winter made itself known. The days were getting shorter and because of that she’d had to make camp earlier. She’d taken to erecting a small canvas lean-to at night to capture the heat and protect her from the rain. But this morning she had woken to a two-inch covering of snow. Breakfast had been a couple of cold strips of jerky on the trail because the snow had completely extinguished the fire. The small pile of firewood was wet and useless. It was futile to start a fire from scratch only to have to put it out again shortly thereafter.

  After wiping the snow off the backs of the horses with a piece of burlap, she’d tacked them up and headed out. The new snow had made the ground slippery in some downhill spots. Duster handled it well. Red was another story. Ever since his rescue, he’d bonded tightly with Duster to the point of having to be literally touching her whenever he became a little unsure of himself. Mayme tried to correct him by shouting “whoa” whenever he tried to push past, and even sometimes had to kick him in the chest with her heel to help him regain his senses. She’d told Duster several times to kick him, but to no avail.

  On one hand, Red’s insecurity made her furious because it made him extremely pushy. But when he wasn’t being ponied, he was quite affectionate to the point of nickering every time she walked away from the horses. The guilt she developed made her quickly forgive him for his daily offenses. He’d been through a lot. And honestly, who knew what he’d seen when Billy was killed? More often than not, she’d turn around and give him some extra scratches under his chin. Even though he was a pain sometimes, Mayme found she was growing as attached to Red as she was to Duster.

  Fortunately, the route here on out to Orofino Creek was relatively easy. There were no narrow trails along steep drop-offs, only mostly uninterrupted forest with a gentle incline. Mayme was looking forward to ending the day with less irritation of Red.

  Whenever she could find a gap in the tree canopy Mayme looked skyward and checked the encroaching storm. After a few short hours, it was nearly upon her. And it wasn’t pretty. She looked around for a place to hunker down and keep warm and dry. But unlike in the higher altitudes, there were no rock outcroppings.

  A group of close growing pines caught her eye. They were barely taller than the horses and small in diameter, but if she worked fast, she could somehow drape the canvas over them so that the horses could have some protection as well.

  Suddenly the clouds darkened the sun and sky. The north wind struck with a frigidness she’d never felt before. The air was thick with furious snow. She dug her heels into Duster’s side and pointed her toward the trees. There was a hard tug on the saddle horn as the slack was tugged out from Red’s rope. He caught up quickly.

  “Come on!” Mayme clucked to both horses. Whether they could hear her or not was anybody’s guess, but something got them moving. Maybe it was the desperation in her voice, or maybe they were as troubled as she was.

  The horses rushed into the trees and disturbed the snow that’d already collected on the branches. It slid onto the saddle and into her lap. She brushed it off and instantly regretted it. The snow clung to her exposed hands. They ached with the cold. She wiped them under her armpits as best she could, but it did nothing to warm them up.

  The cold had crept into her boots while she was riding. She’d managed to keep it mostly at bay by alternately standing up in the stirrups and sitting down. Although she could still feel her toes, they were getting increasingly stiff to move.

  Mayme swung her leg over the saddle and slid down Duster’s side. She tried to ignore the stabbing pain as her feet hit the ground, but in a way felt grateful she could still feel something. She clenched her chattering teeth to keep them from breaking. She blew into her hands and rubbed them together. Her deerskin gloves were buried somewhere at the bottom of the pack and not easily accessible. She damned herself for not getting them out this morning before she left camp.

  The horses exhaled thick white plumes that were at once swept away by the wind. Frosty icicles hung from their whiskers. Both shook their heads to rid themselves of the snow caking on their faces.

  The wind blew relentlessly through the trees. Its howl was the only thing Mayme heard. It would be futile to try and put the canvas over the horses. It would only blow away. She pulled Red up alongside Duster and then stood in the middle of them to block the wind. Her face stung from the cold and the force of the snow hitting her. The flakes weren’t soft and moist like last night, but crystals of ice mixed with dry snow.

  Mayme crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her chin to keep any heat from escaping the neck of her coat. I’ve got to stay warm. She alternated her weight from one leg to another to try and for
ce warm blood into her feet. Her jaw hurt from trying to keep her teeth together. She’d never been so cold in her life.

  The tempest continued for hours, piling up snow in drifts and blinding what was left of the day with ice-white dust. As Mayme got colder, she bent over against the cold and protected her eyes with her arms. Trees loomed into her vision and then vanished, swallowed in white.

  At one point Mayme tried shoving her frozen hands between the saddle blanket and Duster’s back. Blood circulation and feeling slowly crept back into her digits. She nearly cried with the pain.

  Standing between the horses was no longer helping to keep warm. When she could finally move her fingers she pounded the ice-crusted buckle of the horse-pack with her fist. It finally relented and she pushed the stiff leather through the buckle. It took her four tries before she could make her fingers work again to grasp and pull out the bedroll and canvas.

  If I don’t get warm, I’m going to die. She’d have to leave the horses to fend for themselves against the storm. They showed no sign of wanting to leave the minimal shelter they’d been standing in for hours. She only hoped Duster’s loyalty would keep her close. She knew Red wouldn’t stray far from Duster.

  The impenetrable thicket of trees behind her was her only hope of survival. She dropped to her knees and crawled in as far as could. Every movement was an effort. Through a series of moving back and forth she managed to roll herself up in the blanket with the canvas draped lopsidedly over her.

  Mayme knew shivering was her body’s attempt to get warm. Being out of the wind helped slightly. But she was still cold. Very cold. She started to get sleepy and knew right then that she was in trouble. Despite fighting it as best she could, her heavy eyelids drooped and closed. The only relief she got was that the shivering had stopped and her muscles relaxed. She sighed deeply and drifted off.