Santa Fe Woman

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  Jori turned to see a tall individual who was bundled up in a heavy overcoat. His Adam’s apple was the most prominent feature, and he had a rather foolish grin.

  “Can you tell me how to find the sheriff’s office?”

  “Why shore, ma’am. Go on down to that big street there, and you take the second turn. Ain’t no trouble to find. Anybody can tell you. You in trouble that you need a sheriff?”

  Jori smiled at the man’s curiosity. “Not really,” she said. “Thank you very much.” Stepping inside the station, she found herself facing a small man with a face turned blue by the cold who greeted her at once. “Help you, miss?”

  “I’d like to leave my luggage here, please.”

  “I’ll take that for you.” The agent took Jori’s bag, but before putting it way, he cocked his head to one side then asked, “Staying long in town, are you?”

  “Not too long,” Jori smiled, wondering if everyone in Fort Smith examined newcomers. Stepping outside, she followed the wide cinder path that led to the main street. The two lines of false front stores and shops were flung out apparently without thought, for they did not align themselves with the main street. As she moved forward she found herself depressed by the town. The people she passed, both men and women, were roughly dressed, and most men, it seemed, chewed tobacco.

  As the train bellowed shrilly and left the town behind, Jori made her way down to the boardwalk that lined the edges of the streets. She passed by a hardware store, a blacksmith shop, and a milliner’s with delicate hats in the window, which surprised her. What woman living in this mudhole would buy fancy hats?

  As she drew even with one of the saloons, a sudden explosion startled her. A man sitting in a chair tilted back against a storefront had just fired down the alleyway at some sort of target that she could not see. Twisting his head, he grinned at her and lifted the rifle. “Howdy, ma’am. You’re new in town, I reckon?”

  Does everybody want to know your personal business in Fort Smith? Jori thought with some irritation. The man turned his head slightly and loosed a flow of amber tobacco juice. Some of it hit the ground, some ran down his beard which was already crusted.

  “I’m looking for the sheriff’s office.”

  “Why, you want me to take you down there, sweetheart?”

  “No, thank you. If you could just tell me how to find it.”

  “Go right down that there street and take the next turn to the right. If you’re stayin’ in town, they’re havin’ a dance tonight. Maybe me and you can do some fancy dancin’.”

  “Thank you, no. I won’t be here that long.”

  Jori continued down the street until she reached the intersection. She turned right and at once saw a sign across the street: JAIL AND SHERIFF’S OFFICE.

  “Hey, there, honey, come on up! You look like you need a real man!”

  Startled, Jori looked up to see two barred windows, both of them outlining men who were staring down at her. They called down with crude remarks, and she hurriedly entered the office.

  “Well, ma’am, you caught me off guard.”

  The speaker was a rotund individual but appeared hard as a rock. He was sitting in a chair with one bare foot up on the desk and a pair of huge shears in one hand. He held the foot steady with the other hand and took a cut. The toenail sailed off, and the individual grunted with satisfaction. “Pardon me, ma’am. Didn’t expect no visitors. I’m Sheriff Oswalt.” He stuffed his foot into a boot and came to his feet. His eyes were an unusual shade of gray, and he had a huge sweeping mustache that almost hid his mouth. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  “My name is Jori Hayden. I need to speak to one of your prisoners, Sheriff Oswalt.”

  “Well, now, which one would that be, Miss Hayden?”

  “His name is Rocklin.”

  “Oh, yeah, Chad. You be wantin’ to see him?” For a moment he struggled, and Jori was certain that he was attempting to keep himself from asking, Why would you want to see him? He managed to overcome the temptation, and suddenly Jori decided it would be best to talk to him first.

  “Do you have a few moments, sheriff?”

  “Why, certain I do, ma’am. Here, take this cheer.” Oswalt came around the desk, moving quite quickly for such a big man. With one hand he swept a calico cat off of the cane-bottom chair saying, “Git, Ginger!” then dragged it around in front of his desk. He waited until she was seated then went back and took his seat behind the desk. “Exactly whut is it you’d like to talk about? Is it official business?”

  “Oh, yes. I live in Little Rock with my family….”

  As Jori told the story—at least all that she thought the sheriff might want to hear—she noticed that he had a habit of twisting his mouth to one side as if he were trying to shake off a fly. There was no fly, so she assumed it was purely nerves. Finally she ended by saying, “… so you see our friend Mr. Blanchard believes that your prisoner would be the best man to lead a wagon train to Santa Fe.”

  “Wal, now, you know he’s been arrested and waitin’ trial?”

  “I don’t know much about the details, sheriff. Is it serious?”

  Oswalt rocked back and forth in his seat, and his mouth twitched rapidly. “Wal, yes—and no. It was an argument over some whiskey that somehow got sold to some Indians. That’s against the law around here, don’t you see? I ain’t been able to get the right of it yet. As far as I know Chad ain’t never been in the business of sellin’ liquor to nobody, but he was there. There was a shootin’, and they’s about half a dozen different stories. A fellow was shot up and died—and there’s gonna be a trial of everybody that was mixed up with it.”

  “Would it be possible at all for Rocklin to be released in my custody?”

  Oswalt shook his head thoughtfully, then took out a cigar from his inner pocket. He bit the end off, spit it on the floor, then struck a kitchen match on the desk leaving another track on the scarred surface. He held the tip of the cigar in the glowing flame until it was puffing nicely then finally he said, “I reckon that might be done. I think myself Rocklin was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Judge Chatham, he’s liable to think different.”

  “But do you have the authority to turn him loose?”

  “I guess I can do that. The other fellers might holler some.” A faint humor stirred in Oswalt’s eyes. “Don’t reckon as how you’d want to take the other three, too? Save the taxpayers the cost of a trial.”

  Jori smiled. The sheriff seemed an amiable enough man. “No, but I would very much like to have you release the prisoner to my father. He’s a very respectable businessman in Little Rock. You could check with the governor there. They’re good friends.”

  “Wal, now, I’ll tell you what, Miss Hayden. I’ll let you talk to Rocklin, and if he agrees, I’ll take your word for it and we can work out the details.” He got up suddenly from his chair, saying cheerfully, “We got a room down here where you can talk private like.”

  Jori followed Sheriff Oswalt down the hall saturated with the odor of old cabbage and rank bodies. He opened a door that had a hasp and a padlock on the outside. “I’ll have to lock you in when I bring him, you understand?”

  “Of course, sheriff.”

  Jori entered and found that the furnishings consisted of two battered chairs and one table even more dilapidated. She sat down cautiously in the chair and waited. One small window admitted a pale shaft of light that touched a battered cuspidor, which had been overused it seemed to her. She waited nervously arranging in her mind the speech that she would make to Rocklin. It was a task that she had not looked forward to, but something that had to be done. I must be crazy coming here like this. How can we put our trust in a man we know nothing about—except that he’s in jail. Finally she heard steps coming down the corridor, then the sheriff opened the door and said, “Here he is, ma’am. Chad, this here is Miss Hayden. Miss Hayden, this is Rocklin. Like I say, I’ll have to lock the door.”

  “You
sure I’ll be safe with her, Billy?”

  Chad Rocklin was not what Jori had expected. She was prepared to see someone more brutal, but Rocklin appeared pleasant enough. He was a tall man, over six feet she guessed. His face was wedge shaped and topped by thick tawny hair roughly cut. His eyes, deep set and wide spaced, were a startling shade of light blue. He had a straight English nose, a cleft chin, and she noted a scar along his left jawbone going down into his shirt collar. He wore buckskins, dirty and shrunk until they fitted his lean body almost like a second skin, and he wore moccasins such as she had never seen before.

  His eyes were fixed on her, and he had a slight smile on his broad lips. For some reason this made Jori nervous—and this angered her. She had expected to dominate the man, but she could tell this was not going to happen.

  “You behave yourself now, Chad, you hear me?”

  “You know, Billy, I think it’d be better if you gave me one of those good cigars of yours. It’d calm my nerves down, and I wouldn’t be as likely to attack this young woman.”

  Oswalt suddenly laughed, reached into his pocket, and came out with a cigar and three matches. “If I thought givin’ you a cigar would make a respectable citizen out of you, I’d of given you one a long time ago, Chad. Miss Hayden, you just holler when you’re ready to leave.”

  The door closed behind the sheriff, and Jori heard the lock go into the hasp. She found it difficult to think of a way to talk to the man, and finally blurted out, “I need to talk with you.” It sounded inane, and she saw Rocklin stare at her curiously, then move over to the window where he stood looking out without saying a word. He seemed to have forgotten Jori, and she tried to think of some way to speak of her mission.

  “I miss birds in this place.”

  “I’m sure. Rocklin, I would like to—”

  “I saw a bird die once.” Rocklin’s voice was soft as a summer breeze and had a hint of the South in it.

  The sentence seemed senseless and had absolutely nothing to do with what was in Jori’s mind. “What’s unusual about that? Lots of birds die,” she said with asperity.

  Rocklin turned to face her. He leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms. She noticed that his hands were square and very strong looking. “It was on the Missouri in the headwaters. I had been trapping beaver, and I looked up and saw this bird straight over my head not over fifteen feet up, flying as hard as you please. I was about to look back at the trap I was baiting when suddenly he just fell out of the sky.”

  Jori was bewildered. “What killed him?”

  “Nothing,” Rocklin said quietly with a look of wonder in his cornflower blue eyes. “I went over and picked him up. There wasn’t a mark on him. He just died.” He took the cigar that Billy had given him, bit the end off, spit it out the window then lit it. She watched him, wondering if the story had some meaning. When the cigar was glowing, he suddenly blew a series of perfect smoke rings. “Aren’t those rings pretty now? It took me a long time to learn how to make smoke rings.”

  “Well, yes, I’m sure they’re very nice, but—”

  “About that bird. It occurred to me that he didn’t have an idea when he woke up that morning that he was going to be dead that night. He didn’t know he was about to leave this earth.” Suddenly he removed the cigar, held it lightly, looked at it for a long moment, then he turned to face her. “Kind of like it is for us. When we wake up in the morning, as far as we know, it’s our last day on earth. We’re the same way as that bird, don’t you think?”

  At that moment Jori had to rethink her position or at least the way that she would speak to this man. She expected a dirty, rough-looking mule skinner with blunt features and a rough speech, but one like that would never have made the observation that Rocklin had just made.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, “but we can’t go back to bed and cover up, can we?”

  “No, you’re right. I sure thought about that bird a lot though. What do you want to see me about, Miss Hayden?”

  Now that Jori was confronted by the man’s direct gaze, she spoke very carefully. “My father wants to take a wagon train loaded with trade goods to Santa Fe. We have a friend whose name is Albert Blanchard.”

  “Al Blanchard? Why, he’s a friend of mine.”

  “I know. He recommended you to lead the train across to Santa Fe, and I’ve come down to see if we could hire you to do that.”

  Rocklin laughed shortly, took a puff on the cigar, and blew another smoke ring. “Maybe you didn’t notice this is a jail. There’s a lock on the door. Billy out there is a good fellow, but he’d shoot me if I tried to get away.”

  “I’ve talked to the sheriff about this. He’s willing to release you in my father’s custody if you’re willing to take the job.”

  “Billy said that?”

  “Yes, he did.” Jori was very confident now. “About the money. I’m sure—”

  “Miss Hayden,” Rocklin interrupted her, “I want you to know that I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to turn you down.”

  “But why? It would get you out of this place.”

  “It would never work,” Rocklin shrugged. He leaned back against the wall and studied her thoughtfully. “I don’t think you folks have any idea what kind of a thing you’re proposing.”

  “Mr. Blanchard told us it would be a hard trip, but we’re ready to take the chance.”

  “We’re ready? What do you mean we’re ready to take the chance?”

  “Why, my family and I. We’re going along.” Jori thought for one moment of telling him about their financial problems, but she was too embarrassed. “We thought we might buy a place and live in Santa Fe.”

  Rocklin shook his head. “Well, Miss Hayden, I’ll tell you right now. I might get the train through, but no man with sense would take you and your family along.”

  “But we’re ready to take the chance.”

  “Well, I’m not. In the first place, I won’t work for a woman.” He saw her face grow stubborn and added quickly, “I don’t think you understand exactly what a wagon master is. Most people don’t. He’s like the captain of a ship, Miss Hayden. His word’s the law. For instance,” he said. He paused and took another puff on the cigar and blew two more smoke rings. “What would you do if we were halfway to Santa Fe and I told you to do somethin’ you didn’t want to do?”

  “Why, we’d discuss it.”

  “No. I’d make you do it the same way I’d make a man do it.”

  Jori felt a flash of anger. She stared at him with rebellion in the set of her lips. He was watching her carefully, and she noted that he made an idle shape standing there. His lips had a rolling half smile, as if he knew the rules of a game that she didn’t. “I’m a reasonable woman,” she snapped, stung by his attitude.

  “I don’t mean to be insulting, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not an outdoor woman, and I take it your family’s the same. When you’re on a trek like you propose, there has to be decisions made sometimes in an instant with no time for debate. The boss has to do some unreasonable things. Nope, thanks for the offer, but you’d better get yourself another man, Miss Hayden. But anyhow, I got me a good cigar out of your visit. I enjoyed talking with you. Talk to Blanchard. He knows lots of men that might do that job for you.”

  Jori could not answer she was so stunned. “You mean you’d rather stay in jail?”

  “Reckon so. It beats being dead.” Suddenly Rocklin moved to the door, rapped on it hard with his fist, and hollered, “Billy—we’re all done.”

  Jori heard the lock rattle in the hasp so quickly she thought that the sheriff must have been outside listening. “Better put me back in my room. Me and Miss Hayden have finished our talk.”

  Oswalt gave the pair a curious look, then nodded. “Miss Hayden, you go down to my office. I’ll take Chad back up to his cell.”

  Jori waited until the two had vanished then got up and walked stiffly down the corridor. She moved through the door, and when she go
t into the sheriff’s office, she stood there waiting until he came back. “I take it Chad turned you down.”

  “Yes. I don’t understand it. I don’t want to insult your jail, sheriff, but it seems to me like a man would do almost anything to get out of here.”

  “Most men would, but Chad Rocklin now, he’s as stubborn as a blue-nosed mule. I reckon you’d better get yourself another fellow, Miss Hayden.”

  “Well, I thank you for letting me see him, sheriff. The train doesn’t leave until morning for Little Rock. I’ll need a place to stay.”

  “Hotel’s right down the street. You tell the clerk that I sent you down. He’ll give you a good price and look out for you. Sorry it didn’t work out, Miss Hayden.”

  “Thank you, sheriff.”

  * * *

  THE ROOM WAS FRAMED with rough lumber, and there was a single window with a shade discolored by sun and rain. The bed was an old one of good make, but the mattress and quilt were almost unspeakable. The floor had been painted once but now was worn to a leprous gray.

  Jori had eaten in the restaurant and then had made her way back quickly to the room. She had received several crude invitations from rough-looking men on the way and was relieved to get back in the room. There was no key for the door so she shoved the single, straight-backed chair under the knob.

  It was still early, but there was nothing to do and no heat in the room, so she decided to go to bed. Pouring the icy water in the pitcher into a basin, she found she could not bear the cold water, so she hastily undressed and put on the heavy nightgown that she had brought. She also put on a pair of heavy socks and slipped under the covers, shaking almost violently with the cold. She thought of the warmth of her own bedroom with longing, and tried to go to sleep.

  There were other guests in adjoining rooms, and the walls were so thin she could hear the profane talk of two men. She lay awake for a long time until finally a quiet came to the hotel. Her mind was on the mission that had brought her here, and she was disgusted that she had failed. She was a stubborn woman, accustomed to having her own way, and failure of any kind stirred a deep resentment. Her anger was concentrated on Chad Rocklin. She remembered his words about women and how he would point-blank refuse to work for one. She doubled up her fist and whispered, “He must be a fool! Only a stupid man would choose to stay in that place rather than get out and make some money!”