by Sadie Conall
“Are you staying here to dance? Or may I walk you home?”
“You may walk me home,” she said, feeling dazed and overwhelmed by what he’d said.
Marrok smiled and held out his arm, allowing Ella to reach up and grasp it with her hand so she could lean into him, like she’d done in St Louis. And it felt so right to be like that, to be beside him, to feel his warmth and strength, that Ella didn’t want to let him go. So she walked slower, making his long legs almost stumble as he changed his stride.
She glanced up at him and wished he would talk, for she wanted to hear that deep velvet baritone tell her something of himself. But he remained silent. So she asked him about the Arapaho child.
“What’s that language I hear you speaking with Nigamo-nii’eihii?”
Marrok glanced at her, surprised by the question. “It’s an Algonquian dialect, similar to that spoken by my mother’s people. Yet why do you ask, Ella?”
She shrugged, not daring to tell him that she wanted to know everything about him, that she thought she might be in love with him. She didn’t dare tell him that.
“I’m interested, that’s all,” she said. “Just how many languages do you speak?”
Marrok thought on it a moment. “My mother’s Objiwa dialect of course, along with French and English. And enough Spanish to get by. And I speak three other Indian dialects fluently.”
“Then you are an educated man,” Ella said, teasing him. “The way you handled my business in St Louis proves it, yet now I find you can speak several languages, when I know only one.”
“Some might argue with you about that Ella. Although my grandfather was an educated man. He taught me how to read and write. And I could hunt and track small animals when I was barely old enough to leave my mother’s side. So I am accomplished in a lot of things. But educated? Perhaps not as some here would think,” he smiled and glanced down at her as they stepped into the shadows of their own wagon circle.
And as they made their way around the animals and headed for Ella’s wagon, passing Artie’s team, then Marrok’s, then Moss and Nell’s and finally Willard’s two wagons, they saw Clara and Jasper talking together by the fire with Nigamo-nii’eihii still asleep in Clara’s arms.
Marrok stepped away, releasing Ella’s hand. “I thank you again, not only for helping me out tonight but for taking care of Nigamo-nii’eihii. Indeed, I would suggest that all debts are paid in full.” He smiled, his face once again becoming soft, and handsome. “Sleep well, Ella. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ella was disappointed he didn’t kiss her, even on the cheek, but she knew such an act would have caused gossip to swirl from one end of the wagon train to the next. Nothing escaped the watchful eye of some gossips. But as she watched him disappear across the darkened circle towards his own wagons, she wondered on what he’d said. Indeed, if Marrok thought that by her looking after the Arapaho child and dancing with him tonight was paying him back for all the help he’d given her in St Louis, then Ella considered it a small price to pay.
3
In the following week Nigamo-nii’eihii settled into life with Ella’s team well enough, although she uttered not one word to anyone but Marrok. Ella and Clara communicated with her by using a crude form of sign language and most of the time they got on well enough with that. But sometimes during the night when Nigamo-nii’eihii whimpered in her sleep, Ella or Clara would reach out and pull the child into their arms.
During the day she would walk hand in hand with Clara, although sometimes Clara carried her on her back which made the little girl laugh, or she’d ride with Ella, with the child sitting on the saddle as she had with Marrok, with Ella sitting on the rump of the horse, holding the girl secure before her. And at these times Ella would ride Bear, because he was older and more placid and unlike Billy had never been treated unkindly.
Most people on the wagon train accepted Nigamo-nii’eihii as part of their community, although a small group did not. They continued to make their feelings known about the Arapaho child travelling with them. They didn’t like it and they wanted her gone. Because of it, tensions between Marrok and those families continued to escalate.
“Watch yourself, Marrok,” Artie warned him one day. “I don’t like the mood of those men. It’s like they’re taking their frustrations out on you and they’re breeding a lot of unease among some folk and I’m not happy about it.” He shook his head. “All this nonsense over a little girl! Although I know I handled her arrival here badly, as did Miller, and I regret that, but can’t unchange what happened. All I’m saying is, you be darn careful, for the way I seen those boys look at you suggests they mean you violence. I don’t like it, but until I got cause to tell them to back off, I can’t say nothing.”
But Artie was worried enough to start watching out for Marrok when he was in camp, for he knew a mood such as these men carried could escalate into something ugly. He was almost relieved when Marrok rode off to scout.
Marrok had been gone for two days when the wagon train stopped and set up camp by a river. It was surrounded by deep woodland which swept away to the north to meet up with the forest where Marrok had found Nigamo-nii’eihii almost a week earlier. And that night, towards dusk, Marrok rode into camp.
Ella was inside her wagon going through her supplies with Clara when she saw him ride in. She watched through the raised calico curtain as he dismounted, then saw him glance over towards her wagon. She held his gaze, then he smiled and nodded before turning to acknowledge his men as they approached to talk to him.
“He’s a mighty fine lookin’ man, Miss Ella,” Clara said softly. “And only interested in one gal, far as I can tell. But we ain’t got time to stand and look on handsome men. At this rate Ruby will want her bed back before we’re finished here.”
But as Ella bent down to pick up a box and open it, to check on the state of the flour inside, she couldn’t help but look back at Marrok. One of his men had taken his horse to water and brush down as Marrok headed towards the river. Over his shoulder was a blanket, a clean shirt and pants.
But as Ella watched him, a movement on the other side of the circle caught her attention and she saw a man moving into the shadows of his own wagon to watch Marrok. Ella recognized him as one of the men who had been causing trouble. When she saw him grin, before turning and hurrying off, she stood up, feeling the hairs raised on the back of her neck.
“They don’t like Mr Marrok much those folk,” Clara said softly.
Ella turned and found Clara watching another group of men. They were standing some distance away in the wagon circle behind their own and when the man who Ella had been watching walked over to them and said something, the men all laughed before looking down towards the river.
“Can you finish this by yourself Clara? I have to go find Artie.”
“Sure thing, Miss Ella. But you better hurry yourself about it. Those men out there are lookin’ for trouble.”
4
Marrok found a private area shaded by trees about half a mile downstream. Here the river separated, for a bank of silt had built up in the middle, leaving a deep pool before the river carried on. The pool was on the other side of the silt bank, away from where the animals were watered and where women did their washing.
He pulled off his travel stained buckskin clothes then knelt at the river’s edge to scrub them with silt off the river bottom before throwing them over some brush to dry. Then he entered the water, feeling the coolness of it against his hot skin as he swam out to its centre, swimming across the silt bank to enter the pool.
It wasn’t deep, only as high as his waist but deep enough to let him dive below the surface, reaching for river grit to scrub himself even as he felt the current pull against him, driving him back towards the main river. He pushed himself towards the surface before once more scouring his body with silt, feeling the weeks of travelling fall away. Then he scrubbed at his hair before once more diving under the water. But when he resurfaced, he was startled to see a gr
oup of men come out of the trees on the bank of the main river, close to where he’d left his clothes.
There were sixteen of them, watching him in silence, their shotguns held low by their hips and if their purpose was to intimidate, Marrok thought they’d certainly achieved that.
He knew them well enough, for these were the men who wanted the little girl left out in the wild. They wanted her gone. They didn’t care what happened to her, as long as she didn’t bring the wrath of her tribe down on them.
Bullies, Marrok thought. But also cowards, for men like this would never stand to protect an innocent, even though they had small children of their own, with nearly all of them having daughters.
They were aged from their mid-twenties to late sixties and when the oldest in the group, a loud mouth arrogant man called Milne Barden took a knife from a leather sheath on his belt, Marrok understood their aim wasn’t just to intimate, but to do damage, one way or the other. And then Barden glanced over at Marrok’s buckskin clothing, to the wet pair and the clean pair.
Marrok felt a moment of despair, for these were all the clothes he had, other than the clothes he had worn out to dinner with Ella in St Louis.
He wondered how long these men had been watching him. Had they just arrived? Or taken pleasure in knowing he was naked, his weapons out of reach, his clothing lying there ready to be cut to shreds.
Yet what did they think they could do? Cut him up a little? Intimidate him into getting rid of the girl? Marrok almost laughed. As if anything they could do to him would make him change his mind.
Although perhaps they planned to kill him. They could easily make it look like an accident. For he had met men like this before, men who’d lost control with their prejudice and hate. So for the moment, until he saw their intent, he remained where he was, refusing to be the first to move.
Barden finally made the first move by stepping towards Marrok’s clothes, the knife in his hand, his face full of spite when a voice rang out through the trees. They all turned to see Artie hurrying towards them along with Bracedon and Minson, their shotguns held out before them.
“You go on back now boys,” Artie called out, his voice loud and clear. “You got chores to do with your families. We’re leaving here at dawn, so get away with you.”
“You know why we’ve come,” Barden said, his eyes turning back to Marrok. “He needs to be taught a lesson. He should have known better than bringing that girl here. She ain’t welcome. And we all heard you and Miller say she’ll bring a war down on us. We got our own families to think on.”
Artie remained where he was, yet he knew Marrok well enough to know he was impatient to get this done and get out of the water.
“Stay low, lad,” Artie whispered, then turned to Barden, his voice once again loud with authority. “No-one needs to be taught any lesson here boys. And he did the right thing. Think on it. If one of your own were left behind, wouldn’t you want someone picking them up and caring for them? Or would you rather have them die alone? Now, I say again, off with you and get on with your chores.”
No-one moved. And then Barden bent his head to spit before putting his knife away. Then he pushed aside his own men to head back the way he’d come. His men turned to follow him, their voices raised in anger and frustration as they crashed their way through the woods. And then there was silence.
Marrok saw Artie turn to speak to Bracedon and Minson and then the two men left, leaving Marrok and Artie alone.
“You alright?” Artie called, walking down to the river’s edge.
Marrok nodded as he swum across the silt bank and back into the river. As he waded ashore, Artie picked up the blanket and handed it to him.
“How did you know?” Marrok asked. “That they were following me?”
Artie stepped forward to stand on the very edge of the bank and looked out at the thick woods all around them as Marrok dried himself and dressed.
“Ella and Clara saw them,” he said softly. “Both of them gals got a bad feeling about it, so Ella ran to find me. So you got them to thank for me and my deputies being here.” He shook his head and stood back.
“I took my eyes of them boys for one minute and they set out to do you harm. I won’t stand for it Marrok. And I don’t like the way they treat the few slaves they got with them, but those boys be hanged before they take any notice of me. I’ll tell you now, I won’t have this behavior on my wagon train so if they persist they can break off and find their own way west. Every day I can feel the mood changing around camp because of their meanness and I reckon that soon enough they’ll begin to target me, Joe and Miller, forcing us to leave while they take over the train. I won’t let that happen.”
Artie turned then walked back to Marrok, who had dressed and now stood in silence watching him. Artie reached out to place a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“I’ll say to you again son, you watch your back. We both know them boys for what they are. Some men just never grow out of short pants. They can’t even target a man alone without going in as a mob.” He nodded in the direction of the wagon train. “We’ll walk back together, just in case one of them gets trigger happy.”
But as Marrok walked in silence alongside his friend, he felt a rage begin inside himself. He had been born in this country, he knew it better than anyone else on this wagon train, including Artie, for Marrok had travelled the width and breathe of it for more than ten years. And despite riding out every day to scout ahead, to keep these folk safe from whatever might lie ahead, these few men, half of them not even born in America, made him feel as if he didn’t belong here, that this was no longer his home. And men like this were swarming across the country spreading their hate. He felt sick to his stomach thinking on it, but he didn’t know how to stop it.
*
The tension between Marrok and the men came to a violent end with the bruised and bloody face of Milne Barden’s wife. Everyone had heard them arguing the night before, yet no-one had heard the blows. When Aubree appeared late the following morning, her bonnet tied close about her face, Artie issued the men with a choice.
“Stop with the hate and violence or ride out on your own.”
By mid-day the group had decided to travel on their own. By late afternoon they’d taken their forty wagons out of Artie’s wagon train company with the intention of following behind, yet they would run their group by their rules, not Artie’s.
Marrok couldn’t believe it when the men pulled their wagons aside, when they chose to go on alone. But then he saw Aubree’s face and was amazed that any man could treat a woman like that. It was something he could never understand. He never used women badly and as far as he knew, there were no bitter ex-lovers in his past. The women he had loved and left, knew him for what he was. A man eager to move on, a man who would be gone by morning. He never sought a woman who had expectations of him, that way she would never be disappointed. Not once had he ever felt the need to hurt a woman, like Aubree Barden had been hurt.
That night the wagons formed three circles instead of four, having lost those forty wagons. Yet that night was a happy one as people got to know new neighbors and after supper, Artie encouraged the fiddlers to play and Ruby to get up and sing.
It was much later, well after children were put to bed and the singing and dancing done, that Ella found herself sitting around a camp fire with a large group of people, most of whom had just joined her circle, listening as they spoke of their experiences so far on the trail.
The men spoke of their hopes to better their lives in the west. Nearly all of them were happy enough so far with their life on the trail.
Most of the women agreed, but many revealed their struggle to sleep without the safety of four walls and a locked door between them and the dark of night. Others spoke of the daily grind of walking long distances, of cooking for large groups over a small open fire with only the use of a dutch oven and the constant struggle to keep up the cleaning and washing of small children with little water.
&nbs
p; Martha was one of those women who spoke of the hardship yet surprisingly, Constance said she was content with her lot, which surprised Ella.
“And what about you?” One of the women asked, leaning towards her.
Ella looked up as Marrok passed their group and saw him glance at her. “I wouldn’t change a thing,” she said, and as he walked on, Ella saw him smile.
*
He approached her later as everyone started drifting off to bed. Ella was rinsing the coffee pot, ready for the morning brew when Marrok asked if she had a moment.
“Artie told me what you and Clara did today. I want to thank you. I didn’t realize you were both looking out for me.”
Ella frowned. “Those men made me and Clara feel uncomfortable the way they were watching you. You saw us in the back of my wagon when you rode in. We were going through our supplies. When you went down to the river, those men didn’t realize we could also see them.” Ella paused before she spoke, then she dared to say it. “I think you already know I’d do anything to help you Marrok, after all you’ve done for me. You have only to ask.”
He paused, his gaze intent as he watched her. Then he nodded, leaning towards her, his voice low. “You’ve already done more than I ever expected of you Ella. You’ve helped look after Nigamo-nii’eihii. You danced with me that night in the face of so much aggression without a care for your own reputation. And now you save me and my clothes from taking a beating,” he paused then added softly.
“We’ll reach the woods tomorrow where I found Nigamo-nii’eihii so I’m riding out early in the morning to have a look around, to see if I can find her family. I’m hoping they’re still around.”
“What about the wolves?”
Marrok glanced up towards the forest which loomed in the distance. “They would have returned to their dens high in the wooded hills long ago. And they won’t come anywhere near the wagon train.” He nodded to her, then smiled. “Good night Ella. Sleep well.”