No Less Than the Journey

by E. V. Thompson

  Wes shook his head, ‘I’d never seen them before, but then, I’m not from around here. Anyway I took their guns and told them they could get them back from your office if they felt so inclined, so you might well meet up with them later.’

  Peering at the revolvers in their open holsters, the sheriff said, ‘These belong to gunslingers, not your everyday cowboy, yet you took their guns away from them. Who are you, stranger, should I know you?’

  Wes shook his head, ‘The name’s Wes Curnow and I’m just a miner from England who came to America looking for work and fell in first with a Marshal Berryman and then with an old man who liked to be known as a mountain-man. Between them they had me practising handling guns. I guess it paid off today.’

  While Wes was talking the Sheriff’s expression became one of incredulity and, dismissing talk of the two gunmen for the moment, he said, ‘You know Marshal Berryman…? Brigadier General Aaron Berryman?’

  Wondering yet again whether there was anyone in America who did not know Aaron, Wes replied, ‘That’s him. We travelled together by ship from New York to New Orleans, then up the Mississippi to St Louis. You’ve heard of him?’

  ‘I’ve done more than that! I served with him during the war. I was a sergeant in the First United States Coloured Cavalry. After we’d had some hard fighting at Swift Creek, he stopped to say, “Well done, Sergeant”, to me. That was just about the proudest moment of my service …’

  Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Eli said, ‘We’ll find time to talk about Brigadier Berryman later. For now I’d like to find the men who scared the living daylights out of my Tessa. She thought they were going to do some harm to her.’

  ‘I thought so too, Sheriff, and they didn’t take kindly to my taking their guns away. But if they come to your office to collect ’em you’ll be able to learn more about who they are.’

  The Sheriff shook his head, ‘If they really are gunmen the first thing they’ll do is get hold of new weapons, they’ll feel naked without ’em. I don’t suppose you happened to get their names?’

  ‘No, but I’d say they were probably brothers, they certainly looked alike.’

  ‘I heard their first names,’ Tessa said, unexpectedly. ‘One was called Ike and the other Clint.’

  Her father looked alarmed, ‘It sounds like two of the Denton brothers – and they’re all wanted men. The Sheriff at Salina sent word down the line that they were heading this way with a couple more men they’ve been running with. They’re trouble … big trouble.’

  To his daughter, he added, ‘You’re mighty lucky this gentleman came along when he did, girl. The Dentons rode with Quantrill who showed no mercy to anyone, man, woman or child. From all I’ve heard they’re no better now than they were then.’

  Speaking to Wes once more, he said, ‘I’ll put word about that they’re around, but most lawmen in these parts would rather not meet up with them. You were lucky too, Wes, but you’ll need to be on your guard. The Denton’s don’t forgive easily and they’d as soon shoot a man in the back from some dark alley, as any other way…. Where are you staying in Lauraville?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ Wes confessed. ‘I’ve only just got into town. I was on my way to put my horse up at the livery stable and look for a cheap hotel when I ran across Tessa being tormented.’

  ‘I thank The Lord you did, but you don’t want to be wandering about town after upsetting the Dentons …’ He hesitated for only a few moments before adding, ‘We’ve got a spare room at my place, why don’t you put up there. I reckon the Wolfe family owe that to you.’

  When Wes hesitated uncertainly, the Sheriff’s daughter pleaded, ‘Please say “yes”. If you don’t I’ll not sleep for worrying that those men will be looking for you because of what you did for me.’

  Wes realized she was probably right and he was not anxious to have his untried skill with a handgun put to the test against two such experienced gunmen.

  ‘Thank you, Sheriff, that’s very kind of you.’

  Tessa, obviously delighted, said, ‘I’ll run on home and tell ma you’re coming and help her get the room ready.’

  She ran off ahead of them and Wes said, ‘She seems to have got over the shock of her ordeal at the hands of the Dentons.’

  ‘That’s thanks to you too,’ Eli said, ‘She’s excited at the thought of having you in the house … We don’t get many visitors.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Wes said, ‘There can’t be many places more remote than Lauraville.’

  Eli fell silent, as though weighing up something in his mind. Arriving at a decision, he said, ‘It’s not just because Lauraville is a frontier town, or even that a great many of those passing through fought for the South during the war and resent the town having a black Sheriff. I also happen to have a Cheyenne Indian wife. Even many of those who fought for the North can’t stomach that. As a result life’s hard for Tessa and she has few friends.’

  Wes knew little about the distinctions between the various Indian tribes, but he had been in the country long enough to know the strength of feeling against Indians in general.

  ‘If things are so bad why did you settle here?’ he asked.

  Eli shrugged. ‘I guess one place is as good – or bad – as another for a family like ours. When I first saw Lauraville I intended passing straight through, as we had with so many other places. At the time I was in a wagon with Noni, my wife, and Tessa. We were heading east in the hope of finding a better life among more tolerant people than were coming to the Great Plains. I stopped my wagon outside Lauraville and Noni was cooking something for us to eat when I heard a whole lot of shooting coming from the town. I grabbed up my rifle and it was lucky I did because two men riding on one horse came hell-for-leather out of Lauraville. When they reached my wagon they demanded my horse. When I refused to give it to ’em they pulled their guns on me. I shot one dead and wounded the other. Might just as well have shot him dead too because when a posse arrived from town they lynched him anyway. Seems they’d run the sheriff out of town before robbing the bank and killing a cashier. One of the posse was Lauraville’s mayor. He asked where I’d learned to shoot and when I told him I’d been a sergeant in the Union army cavalry he said I was just the man Lauraville needed as Sheriff. Not everyone agreed with him but so many lawmen had come and gone from town that no one thought I’d last anyway. That was more than two years ago. The mayor has long gone, but somehow I stayed on.’

  ‘Why?’ Wes queried, ‘Why stay doing such dangerous work if the town doesn’t really want you and Tessa is unhappy here?’

  ‘That’s a good question,’ Eli said, rubbing his chin ruefully. ‘It’s something I ask myself many times, but where else am I likely to be given a house and three hundred dollars a month, as well as extras for executing warrants for the Territorial Court – and occasionally arresting someone with a reward on his head? I won’t be a Sheriff for ever but by the time we need to move on we’ll be able to go east by train and have a whole lot more money to start a new life than we had when we arrived in Lauraville … but here we are at my place. We’ll put your horse in the stable at the back before we go in. That’ll give Noni a bit more time to ready herself, then I’ll take you in to meet her.’

  CHAPTER 3

  Sheriff Eli Wolfe’s home was sparsely furnished but everything was spotlessly clean, as was his wife, Noni. She was an attractive woman with fine features and much younger than Wes had imagined she would be.

  During conversations with Eli over the next twenty-four hours he would learn that she and Eli had met shortly before the late Civil War when as a runaway slave he had been given succour by a small band of nomadic Cheyenne Indians, led by Noni’s father.

  Tessa had been born in the year the war began, when Noni was only fifteen years old, but it was perhaps inevitable that Eli should go off to fight for the anti-slave Union army of the North. By the time the war between the divided States ended and Eli located the small Cheyenne group once more Tessa was a bright
little four year-old who had seen her father on only two very brief occasions.

  The war over, the army turned its attention to the ‘Indian problem’, rounding-up or hunting down bands of Indians who roamed the lands of the West that were soon to be thrown open for white settlement.

  For some years Eli and his wife’s Cheyenne family group roamed the Great Plains, Eli’s skill with a rifle providing them with meat and fighting off the occasional band of desperadoes attracted to the Territories by the absence of any formal laws.

  Eventually, when the army intensified its heavy-handed campaign against the Plains Indians, shipping whole tribes to reservations, Eli decided to head east with Noni and Tessa and seek a new life for them all.

  Being Sheriff of a frontier town was not the easiest way to earn a living but, as Eli had said, he doubted whether he could make more money elsewhere.

  Wes soon became aware that Noni spoke very little English, although she seemed to understand most of what was said to her in this language. He realized that her life in a frontier town was a very lonely one and must be in sharp contrast to the one she had known with her own people on the Great Plains.

  She and Eli spoke to each other in Cheyenne. Tessa was fluent in the Indian language but she also spoke excellent English and Wes learned she could read and write although she had attended school only after coming to Lauraville, where the attitude of other pupils towards her had not made learning any easier. The school had now closed, due to a lack of pupils, the teacher leaving town just ahead of a lynch mob after getting not one, but two pupils pregnant.

  That evening, Eli went off to carry out his evening check of the town before handing over to the two night-time deputies who dealt with those who drank too much, or caused a disturbance, only calling on Eli if things got out of hand, or a crime was committed that required his attention.

  Wes was seated on a rocking chair on the back porch when Tessa came to him carrying an open, coverless book and, somewhat uncertainly, asked whether he was able to read.

  When he affirmed he could, she pointed to a word in her book and asked him what it meant.

  The word was ‘Invocation’ and was in the title of a poem by Walt Whitman, the book being a collection of poetry by American poets.

  Fortunately, as a child Wes had for many years attended a Wesleyan chapel where the word was a favourite with one particular circuit preacher. ‘It’s a call to God for help … a sort of a prayer,’ he explained.

  Before handing the tattered book back to her he read the short poem and said, ‘That’s a nice poem, where did you get the book?’

  ‘A drunken miner who pa had in his cells for a night left it behind.’ Suddenly animated, she added, ‘Do you like poetry? I love it. I wish I knew enough words to write some myself.’

  Aware that this was an intelligent girl who was frustrated by her lack of education, Wes said, ‘If you’re able to read and make sense of poetry you’re doing a whole lot better than most people. Why don’t you try writing poetry using the words you do know? You’ll probably end up surprising yourself by finding out you know far more words than you realize.’

  Tessa shook her head and some of her passion ebbed away. ‘I’ve tried doing that but I just get upset because I don’t know the words that say what I want them to say.’

  Aware of her frustration, Wes said, ‘Well, while I’m here, if you come across any more words you don’t know, come along and tell me. If I know the meaning we’ll see how many words we can think of between us that mean the same thing.’

  Some of her enthusiasm returned momentarily, but disappeared again quickly. ‘Thank you, Wes, but you won’t be here for very long, will you?’

  ‘No, I’m on my way to Colorado and will be catching a train in the next few days.’

  ‘Do you have to go? … I mean, is someone waiting for you there?’ She tried to make it sound like a casual question, but she was a young girl totally lacking in guile and Wes realized that in common with her mother, she too was lonely and he was probably the first man apart, perhaps, from her father, with whom she had ever discussed any of her problems.

  The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her in any way. Deciding to make no mention of Anabelita, he explained, ‘My uncle is in Colorado and he’s my only living relative. I was supposed to meet up with him in a mining town in Missouri, but by the time I arrived there he’d moved on, leaving me a note saying I was to look for him in the mines around Denver.’

  ‘What will you do when you’ve found him?’ Tessa asked.

  ‘Find work on the mine with him, I hope.’

  They were still talking together when Eli returned from downtown Lauraville and saw Tessa squatting on the porch at Wes’s feet, listening enthralled as Wes told her about Cornwall and the people who lived there.

  Eli commented to Noni that Tessa and Wes seemed to be getting along very well.

  ‘Of course!’ Noni replied, ‘She regards him as a hero for saving her from those two men. He is also a good-looking young man and Tessa is of an age to find such a man very attractive.’

  Eli frowned, ‘She’s too young to be thinking about men. She’s still no more than a child.’

  Noni gave her husband a pitying look, ‘She is almost fifteen, the age I was when I gave birth to her.’

  ‘That was different … we were following the ways of your people.’ Eli pointed out.

  ‘So?’ Noni retorted, ‘Tessa is her mother’s child and I was younger than she is now when I met you, but I know how I felt – and you do too.’

  Refusing to admit his wife was right, Eli said, ‘I still say she is far too young to be thinking about such things. I will be keeping any eye on them – and you must too.’

  The day after Wes’s talk with Tessa, he and Eli went to the Sheriff’s office to check whether there were any telegraph messages about the Indian raiding party. Wes had got over his anger with Old Charlie and was concerned for the mountain-man.

  There was a telegraph message for the Sheriff and although it shed no light on the whereabouts of Old Charlie, it did throw Wes’s plans into confusion. Word had been received that the railroad had been cut somewhere out on the Great Plains, between Trego tank and Denver.

  The message failed to make it clear exactly what had occurred and whether the break in the line was the result of Indian depredations, or some other phenomenon. All that was certain was that there would be no trains going to Denver for another week, or ten days.

  Leaving Eli in his office, Wes walked back towards the Sheriff’s house feeling depressed. Along the way he passed the large cabin that Eli had pointed out to him as once being the Lauraville school building. The door had been shut then but it was now open and Wes could hear the sound of movement inside.

  Acting upon an impulse, he turned in to the building and found an old man sweeping out the one-time classroom.

  The sweeper looked questioningly at him, but said nothing and Wes was the first to break the silence.

  ‘Hi! I saw the door open and wondered whether the school was about to open up again?’

  ‘Why d’you want to know? You a teacher, or something?’

  ‘No, I’m just passing through but I’m staying with Sheriff Eli Wolfe and was talking with his daughter about the time when there was a school here. She’s very keen on learning.’

  ‘Don’t suppose she’s the only one. Having a school again would appeal to every youngster in Lauraville – not that there’s so many of ’em left now, but if that’s what they’re looking for they’ll need to find somewhere else to put it. I intend turning this place into a meeting room for men … and for women too, if they’ve a mind and can afford to hire it. It’ll be a popular place and well away from the noise of the saloons along the main street.’

  ‘You own the building?’ Wes expressed surprise. The old man looked as though he could not even afford a respectable set of clothes.

  ‘I do – and I’ve got the deeds to prove it. I own a whole lot more places in Lauravi
lle too. I made my money cobbling boots for the railroad men when they were laying the track, and I didn’t throw it right back into the pocket of any saloon-keeper, neither. I saved it and when everyone ran off out of town, I bought up the places they left behind. Some I got for no more than ten dollars. Others weren’t registered anyways, so I just needed to pay for the land. Nothing might be worth much right now, but one day it’s going to make me a fortune.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Wes said, ‘A man who’s careful with his money deserves to do well. Pity about the school, though.’

  He turned to leave but the old man called after him, ‘This girl belonging to the Sheriff … can she read?’

  ‘She surely can,’ Wes replied, ‘I think it’s something she enjoys more than anything else.’

  ‘Then you can tell her there’s a whole lot of books here. She can have any of the big ones for a dollar apiece and the little ones for fifty cents.’

  Expressing an interest, Wes said, ‘Can I have a look at what you’ve got?’

  ‘Help yourself. They’re in that cupboard, over there.’ The old man pointed to a rough-wood cabinet in a corner of the one-time schoolroom.

  Opening the door of the rustic piece of furniture, Wes saw shelf upon shelf of books, stacked in a haphazard manner. Among them he was delighted to see a large leather-bound book, embossed with gold lettering which proclaimed it to be a Complete and Universal English Dictionary.

  Excited, Wes lifted it down. It was exactly what Tessa was in need of. ‘I’ll have this from you for a dollar,’ he said, happily.

  ‘Ah now, it looks a mighty fine book to me and that’s real fancy leather. I reckon it ought to be worth a lot more than a dollar.’

  Wes realized that the old man thought he had set his prices too low … but while they were talking he had been looking at the titles of some of the other books. He saw a number of volumes of poetry, together with text books and a couple that he thought must be novels, although he knew nothing about them, or their authors.