by Rod Miller
“Oh, the rough-hewn people of Missouri—‘Pukes’ as they were called—had a litany of complaints, and no shyness about voicing them. They disliked the Saints’ air of superiority, the ‘chosen people’ and all that. They took issue with Mormon notions of a communal economy—primarily, I must say, because by pooling funds the Saints could outbid them for property. Joseph taught that Indians were remnants of the House of Israel and worthy of conversion, and the Pukes believed any congress or alliances with the Indians dangerous. The Saints, originating mostly in New England, were more inclined toward the abolition of slavery than not, which did not sit well in that section of the country.
“But, as is often the case, much of it came down to politics. The Mormons tend to vote as one, and take direction from their leaders when they cast their ballots. When, of course, enough Saints settle in an area, their political influence becomes a concern to others. And if it was not politics that started the Missouri troubles, it gave the savagery a place to start.”
Daniel paused to refill his cup and catch his breath. Lee fidgeted at the interval. Abel looked to be lost in thought and Melvin whittled at a stick with his jackknife. Like his father, Richard fidgeted—but for different reasons.
“The story we were told,” Daniel said, “was that Mormon settlers in Daviess County—north of where we were at Far West—went to the county seat at Gallatin to vote and were turned away by the Pukes in the community. A brawl ensued, and our boys got the best of them. The result being ballots cast by the Mormon men and bruised pride among the Missouri boys. Afterward, as the Scotch are wont to say, it was ‘Katy bar the door.’
“Night riders from both camps took to their work with a vengeance—mobbers for the Missourians, Danites for the Mormons. They plundered and burned and stole almost at will, with the government turning a blind eye for the most part, but favoring the old settlers when necessary. For a time, the Mormons gave as good as they got—and sometimes got the best of the Pukes. But not for long.
“One night, my family was roused from our beds and attacked. They destroyed furniture, slashed our bedding, stole stock and some provisions. That night, my arm was fractured and the rifle, as you have seen, smashed and broken. Fortunately, the Pukes were interrupted in their riot before they could harm the girls or cause further damage to our property. The very next day, we loaded the wagons and left the Saints behind, bound for Texas.
“The rest I know only from letters from friends still living among the Saints and from newspaper reports, which are not always to be believed. In the end, the Mormons were overcome by superior numbers and by the government. When a mob— under the guise of a militia—murdered seventeen of the Saints— including women and children—at a place called Haun’s Mill and dumped the bodies down a well, the wind went out of Joseph’s sails.
“That, and the governor’s order that the Mormons be driven from Missouri or exterminated.”
“Is that so?” Lee asked.
“ ’Tis. An official order signed by Governor Lilburn Boggs, I learned from reliable authority. Joseph ended up jailed for a time. One of his Elders, Brigham Young, spent the winter arranging the Saints’ exodus to Illinois. They have settled peaceably and built a city there on the Mississippi they call Nauvoo. But I fear the peace will be short-lived, as the same peculiarities that upset the Missouri Pukes still hold with the Mormons— and soon enough the people of Illinois will likewise object.”
Lee let the story settle, then said, “Well, now, that’s quite the story, Daniel. I never imagined. Oh, things would come out in the newspapers now and then about the Mormons. But I never knew much. Are you-all glad to be shed of them?”
Daniel thought for a moment. “The violence—even the threat of it—for certain. I never held with the beliefs as much as my Lizzie did, but did not find them objectionable, either. For the most part the Saints hold to good Christian teaching, with a few embellishments here and there. Time will tell if it is but a passing fancy.”
The sun slid below the plain as the men swallowed the last of their coffee or tossed the dregs into the fire. Richard stood and stretched his elbows over his head and yawned. When he opened his eyes, he pointed across the gorge and said, barely above a whisper, “Sonofabitch! Will you look at that!”
There, silhouetted on the far rim, sat a lone Indian on horseback.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The Indian sat watching from across the gorge. Daniel ran to his lead wagon and found his brass telescope in the jockey box. He pulled the end caps off the leather sheath and extended the tube.
“He is much different in appearance from those Chickasaw gentlemen we met,” he said after watching the sentinel close up. “His garments are not of cloth, as theirs were—in fact, he wears very little clothing at all. Moccasins, leather leggings and a breechclout, and a few feathers in his hair. Nothing more.”
Lee said, “Is he carryin’ a gun?”
“No. A spear or lance of some sort. Something at his waist—a knife, I assume. He seems to have a short bow strung over his shoulder.”
“Let me get your huntin’ rifle, Pa,” Richard said. “I reckon I can hit him from here.”
Abel said, “No need for that.”
“Shut up, Abel. Pa?”
Lee thought it over, all the while watching the Indian watching them. “I don’t believe so, Richard.”
“Damn! There ain’t but one of him now—we let him go, there’ll be a dozen of them on us come morning. Maybe more.”
“Yes, Son, and if you shoot at him and miss—which ain’t unlikely at this distance—they’ll be back for sure, and they won’t be on friendly terms.”
“What makes you think they’ll be friendly anyhow?”
“Nothing. But it could be they’ll leave us alone if we leave them alone.”
Daniel collapsed his telescope. “What tribe do you think he is?”
“Can’t say for sure,” Lee said. “From what folks told me, I guess Comanche. Kiowa, maybe.”
“If he’s Comanche, we’re in trouble for sure,” Richard said. “Them Chickasaws said the Comanches ain’t got no use for white men. I say we just shoot him and be done with it.”
Richard’s proposal proved pointless as the Indian reined his horse around and rode away.
“Well, that’s that. We’ll likely be dead in our beds come morning,” Richard said.
Lee and Daniel talked it over and determined that setting a guard for the night was advisable. Lee said, “Mel, you take the first watch. We don’t expect any trouble, but we best keep an eye on the stock just in case. If Indians come, they’ll most likely come after the cattle or the mules.”
“Like hell,” Richard said. “If they come, it’ll be for your hair. God knows what they’ll do to the women.”
“Now, Richard, there ain’t no use in gettin’ all stirred up over what ain’t likely to happen,” Lee said. “You take second watch. Abel, you relieve Richard.”
The men did not inform the women of the sighting. But when Sarah watched the teams picketed near the camp after supper rather than hobbled to wander loose, she grew suspicious. “Lee, what is going on?”
“What do you mean, Sarah?”
“Oh, come now. I’m not blind. You-all have staked out the mules and oxen for some reason. What is it?”
Lee did not answer for a moment, watching Sarah let her hair out of its bun at her nape and start plaiting it into a braid for the night. Then, “Well, we just thought it might be wise to keep the animals close tonight.”
“Why, damn it?” Sarah said, pulling the strands of her braid tighter than usual. “What’s wrong?”
Again, Lee hesitated.
“Lee!”
“I don’t want to worry you none, because it probably don’t mean anything. We saw an Indian watching us.”
“So? We’ve seen Indians before.”
“True enough—and most likely this ain’t no different. But away out here, they maybe ain’t so used to seein’ white folks. Won’t
hurt to be cautious, just in case.”
As the rest of the camp rolled into their blankets, Melvin sat with his back to the fire to keep his eyes adjusted to the dark. The glow gave him just enough light to keep his knife working on the stick of wood he whittled on to pass the time. The barrel of one of Abel’s revolvers, stuffed in his waistband, poked at his thigh and he shifted it to a more comfortable position. After his mother’s raised voice stilled, he listened for a while to the Lewis girls talking and giggling softly but could not hear their words. Soon, they, too, were quiet.
The moon shed enough light that the stock was visible, if dim. Halters rattled from time to time when the mules or the horse shook their heads. The oxen and the milk cow lay on their bellies chewing cud. The calf, staked away from its mother, lay curled up on the ground looking as much like a rock as an animal.
When he judged from the position of the big dipper that his watch was up, he toed Richard awake through his blanket and handed him a cup of coffee from a pot long gone bitter.
“Damn, that’s nasty,” Richard said after a sip. But he set the cup carefully aside while he scoured his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Anything out there?”
Melvin said, “Nah. Saw an owl fly over, huntin’ food. Ain’t heard nothin’ but some coyotes yapping. Leastways I think it was coyotes.”
Richard yawned. “I sure as hell hope so.” He rolled out and gathered his coffee cup and shuffled past the fire to take up his place on the box vacated by Melvin. Rather than going to bed, his brother followed him and squatted to sit cross-legged on the ground.
“Rich, you really think that Indian means trouble?”
He took another sip of the coffee, screwed up his face, and dumped the rest into the dirt. “Don’t know, Mel. I sure don’t think his interest in us was social.”
“Here,” Melvin said, handing Richard the revolver. “Forgot to give you this. Hope you don’t need it any more than I did.”
Richard set the pistol on the ground beside the box. He chuckled. “I’m surprised Abel let us have the borrow of one of his precious damn guns.”
Melvin tossed a split cottonwood log on the fire and flames flared up briefly, then gently licked at the wood. “You think that business with the wagon will work? You know—what Abel done?”
Again, Richard laughed. “You ever known our baby brother to know anything about wagons?”
“No, I reckon not.”
“Damn right you reckon not. He don’t know no more about wagons than me or you.”
“Still, he thought of something to do. Maybe it’ll work.”
“Sure. And maybe that mule over there will figure out how to throw Thoroughbred colts. Ain’t neither one of ’em has the wherewithal.”
“I don’t know, Rich. Me, I hope it works.”
Richard yawned. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, was I you.” He yawned again. “You best be gettin’ some sleep.”
“Nah. I ain’t done enough these past days to get tired. I’ll just set here with you for a while. Keep you awake.”
It was Melvin who awakened Abel for the last watch. For the past hour, Melvin had wondered how Richard could sit on the box and not fall off despite being fast asleep. Now, he and Abel giggled and watched Richard snore for a minute. Abel reached out and grabbed Richard’s shoulder and gave it a shake and held on when Richard jerked awake.
“What?” Richard said, looking around to figure out where he was. “What is it?”
“Might as well go on to bed, Richard,” Abel said. “You’ll sleep better there than sittin’ on this box.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Richard said, stifling a yawn.
“C’mon, Rich,” Melvin said with a smile as he hooked his brother’s arm and lifted him up. “I’ll help you find your way.”
Richard jerked away, and stumbled toward his bedroll, mumbling something indecipherable.
“Ain’t seen a thing all night,” Melvin told Abel.
“That’s good.”
“There’s coffee, but it ain’t fit to drink. Reckon I’ll turn in.”
“G’night, Mel,” Abel said. “Thanks.”
Abel picked up the revolver and blew the dust off it then slipped it into the holster at his waist. After a minute, he took it out again, pulled the hammer to half-cock and removed the cylinder, checked the load in each chamber and the seating of the caps, reassembled the pistol and returned it to the holster. He walked into the night, out past the animals, and circled the camp before taking his seat on the box to await the dawn, wondering what the new day would bring.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Sarah dumped the thick sludge from last night’s coffee from the pot, rinsed it out, filled it with fresh water, and hung it over the fire to boil. Mary hung another coffeepot and while she waited for it to heat, filled a pan with meal and added salt and fat, to which she would add the boiling water for corn dodgers. Emma sliced thick slabs of bacon. Jane prodded the cow to its feet and took care of the milking then turned the calf loose for its share. Sarah drained off a cast-iron pot where dried apples had soaked overnight, tossed in some rolled oats and poured in some milk and a touch of cinnamon and sugar and set it on hot coals and heaped more on the lid to make a porridge.
Abel, already awake owing to his shift on guard duty, was first in line for fresh coffee. The other men, awakened by the activity, made their way to the fire one by one, Richard filling his cup when the others were already on their second.
“Well, Richard, it seems we are alive and well and ready to meet another day,” Daniel said with a smile.
“Can’t argue with that,” Richard said. “But you might be singin’ a different tune before the day’s over.”
Lee said, “Sarah knows about the Indian. Got it out of me last night. So, I reckon the girls know by now.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I think it best if we don’t upset them with any more loose talk.”
Richard glowered, Daniel nodded in agreement.
“Nothing out of the ordinary in the night?” Lee said.
Melvin smiled, said, “One thing kind of strange. Never seen such a thing done before, but Rich fell asleep sittin’ upright on that there box over there and didn’t fall off. Kept expectin’ he would slump off, but darned if he didn’t sit there still as can be—’cept for a lot of snorin’ that is.”
All the men—save Richard—had a good laugh. The furrow in his brow deepened and when the jest died down, he said to Abel, “You goin’ to get the wagon put back together today so’s we can get the hell out of here?”
“No. The rawhide wraps on the axle are still dampish. They’re drying and shrinking up good, but need some time. We’ll see how it looks after another day in the sun.”
“If we live that long. I ain’t about to trust that Indian’s done with us.”
“Now, Richard,” Lee said. “That’s enough of that talk.”
“Damn it, Pa, we’ve wasted enough time here. Could— should—have moved on days ago! Now look where Abel’s foolishness has got us. I swear the boy’s as harebrained as you are!”
Lee’s face turned gray but he did not speak. Daniel lowered his head as if hoping to discover something new in his coffee cup. Melvin shifted his weight back and forth on his feet.
“Here—hold this,” Abel said, and handed Richard his coffee cup. Then, with his brother holding a cup in each hand, he launched a fist that landed flush on Richard’s lower lip.
The blow did not stagger Richard—before his body had time to effect any such move, he was on his backside in the dirt, hot coffee soaking his shirtfront and dribbling off his face and dripping out of his hair making tiny puddles in the dust. He cast aside the one cup he still held and felt his smashed lip and looked with surprise at his bloody fingers. As he scrambled to his feet he said, “Why you sonofabi—”
Before he finished the curse he found himself on his backside again. This time it was his father who put him there, grabbing a shoulder and forcing him back down before he could rise. Melvin stepped
behind Abel and wrapped his arms around him but the younger brother offered no resistance.
“You sit right there, Son, and calm down,” Lee said, sounding more sad than angry.
“I’ll kill him! By God, see if I don’t!”
Abel said, “You’re welcome to try. Anytime, brother. I don’t much care what you say—or do—to me, but you show Pa some respect.”
The women stood silent, watching, as still as if time had stopped. The sound of bacon in the skillet sizzled its way back into Sarah’s consciousness and she said, “Breakfast’ll be ready soon. You-all had best get cleaned up and come to your senses if you-all want to eat.”
Little else happened during the day. Lee and Daniel fussed and fretted with organizing and reorganizing the camp equipment and supplies. Melvin and Sarah, as much to stretch their legs as water the stock, led and drove the cattle and mules and horse down to the river for a drink. Emma and Jane upset their father’s organizing to shift and stack boxes and trunks to create a corral for the chickens to let them scratch and dust their feathers. Mary sat in the shade and occupied herself with needlework, repairing rips and snags and tears already repaired and darning socks already darned. All the women took turns stirring beans that didn’t need stirring. Richard sat at the edge of the gorge, tossing pebbles into the defile.
Throughout the day, Abel rotated the drying axle to put the sun on each surface. The progress of the repairs pleased him— the rawhide setting up stiff and hard as iron and the axle itself seeming rigid and strong. He checked the firmness of the spokes and felloes on the wheels, the tightness of the fasteners on the reach and hounds, the security of the tongue and doubletree, and otherwise tinkered with the wagon to pass the time.
Later, Lee and Daniel set their Bibles aside and called a halt to debate and discussion when called to supper. As the families sat around the campfire eating, Lee allowed that again setting a guard for the night was advisable and offered to take the first shift. Daniel volunteered for the second. Neither Melvin nor Richard spoke up, so Abel said he would take the last watch as he wanted to be up early getting the wagon back together anyway.