Bendigo Shafter (1979) (7 page)

Hell, Neely said, there's nothing to decide. We've barely enough to last. They'd eat us out of house and home.

I don't know, Neely, Croft objected, I've been hungry a time or two.

Whatever will they do? Lorna exclaimed. They'll all die!

None of our affair, Neely insisted. Let Brigham take care of them.

He'll do it, Ethan said, and they sent a messenger through. If he makes it, and if help can get there in time.

Bendigo. It was the first time Ruth Macken had ever called me by my first name. Will you drive my wagon?

Yes, ma'am. I surely will.

Now, see here! Neely got suddenly to his feet but Mrs. Macken paid him no mind. She was going for her wraps.

Neehy's face was flushed. Mrs. Macken, you can't do this! You'll bring those people down on us like a flock of locusts.

She was buttoning her coat. Her eyes were large, the way they looked when her mind was made up. You need do nothing. You asked me what I intended to sell at my trading post. I intended to sell food and clothing, and that's why we brought an extra wagon. I shall share with these people.

You've got no right! Mary Croft had never liked Ruth Macken because of her good looks and her independence. You'll bring them down on us all!

Now, Mary ... Tom protested.

It should be decided upon, Ethan said. I move we vote.

No help, Neely Stuart said firmly.

Help, Croft said.

No help! Mary glared at Tom.

I have already voted, Ruth said. How about it, Bendigo?

He can't vote, Mary protested.

I do a man's work. I'll cast a man's vote. We help them.

No help, Webb said, after a minute.

I can't turn my back on suffering, Sampson said. I believe we should help.

Mrs. Sampson and Cain's wife voted for, as I knew they would, but all this time Cain Shafter had said nothing. He just looked up at me. It's coming on to snow. You'll need runners on the wagon. You'll need two wagons and all the blankets and buffalo robes we can spare.

You ain't voted, Neely protested.

Cain glanced at him. Neely, I never gave it any thought. I was just setting here trying to figure out how best to do it.

Webb got up. I don't believe in it, and I think we'll pay for it, but I'll drive that other wagon.

You're a pack of fools! Mary Croft said. Let Brigham take care of them. He got them out here.

To get through the wind and snow to the stable I'd built for Ruth Macken was a problem. The ground had been almost bare of snow but the sky was gray and lowering. By sundown snow had started falling again with a few slow, drifting flakes, then it had come down faster and faster.

Cain, with Sampson and Webb to help, was fitting runners to the wagons. Stuart and Croft, with Neely still grumbling but doing his share nonetheless, worked on the second wagon. At the last minute Bud Macken claimed the right to come with me.

Ruth Macken said, Bud, it will be brutally hard, unlike anything you have ever tried before, and if you go along you must do your part.

I know it, ma.

Her big eyes were filled with worry, so as I gathered the lines I said, He's pretty much of a man, ma'am. He'll stand up to it.

I believe so. When he's your age I hope he is the man you are.

Her words stayed with me, and even with the cold and blowing snow I felt strangely warm. Ruth Macken had a way of saving the right words when they were needed.

We drove off, my wagon taking the lead, into the blowing snow. Within fifty yards we had lost sight of our town. Ahead of us was a cold drive that could bring death to the four of us.

Tom Croft was riding with Webb.

Ruth Macken's horses were good stock and in better shape than most because of the grass on that bench where she had chosen to settle, which was almost as good as in the meadow below. Her horses grazed in the meadow with the other stock, then grazed on her bench when the meadow grass thinned out.

We wanted horses because they were faster than oxen and more likely to find their way home if we became lost. None of us doubted the possibility.

Webb had a good, strong team, and he had worked them a good deal, hauling water from the falls. We had used our wagons for little else since arriving at the town site. Ruth Macken had water at her door, and I was thinking on a way to actually bring it into the house; the rest of us hauled water in barrels.

Actually, where we got the water wasn't a fall. It was too small to be called that, just a place where the creek spilled over a rock ledge high enough to set barrels under for filling.

We used to take a wagon loaded with four to six barrels and fill them to the brim. A good bit of water slopped over the side, turning that stretch of road into an icy pavement higher than the ground on either side by more than a foot.

It was a little more than a mile to the falls, which were near the main trail. The road home from the falls was along the trail except a few yards at the beginning.

When we had come down off the bench to make our start, Cain and Helen met us with several covered buckets. Bendigo, this is soup, Helen said. Now there isn't a lot here, so share it sparingly, but if you heat it when you get there it will give them warmth and strength for the ride.

It was cold. The wind was raw off the mountains, and the snow was thin and icy. We could feel the ruts under the wagons. Ethan had given us careful directions, and we held to a steady gait.

It was two hours short of daybreak before we actually got started, and we checked time by Webb's big silver watch. It was all of twelve miles to where the Mormon folk were camped, which meant three to four hours each way ... if we were lucky.

Bud walked up and down the wagon behind me, beating his arms about him in the teamster's warming and stamping his feet to keep them from freezing. Both of us wore buffalo-hide coats and fur caps with ear laps. Mine had been given to me by Ruth Macken. It had been her husband's cap, but it fitted snug and fine. By the time we had been an hour on the road nothing was warm any more.

When we stopped for the third time to give the horses a breather, Webb walked up to join us. I don't like it, Ben. We've got ruts to follow now, but if the snow keeps falling they'll be buried too deep by the time we start back.

We'll make it, I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Much of the country we had to cross was a great, wide plain. To the south it stretched away for mile upon empty mile where the wind had a full sweep. If a man got off the trail he might never find it again.

Check the time it takes us, I suggested, and we'll watch the time as we start back.

The sky turned gray, and I could see the lead horses again. All around us the ground was white, an unbroken expanse of snow.

Bendigo? Bud said. Can we walk for a while? I think my feet are freezing.

Good idea. I pulled up and got down. Webb came forward again, and he nodded when I said we were going to walk.

His was a narrow, dark face but his eyes were cold and gray. With a stubble of beard showing where his handlebar mustache wasn't, he looked both cold and cruel. I thought then, as often before, that he was a better man to have with you than against you.

We knew nothing about him, only that he came from Missouri. He had a good outfit, but on the wagon train he made no friends, and his son made enemies quickly. Foss was large for his age with the instincts of a bully. Webb had none of that, so far as one could see. He minded his own affairs and worked hard, yet there was no friendliness in him.

He glanced at Bud. How you makin' it, boy? My Foss was about to come. Backed out at the last minute.

Maybe he was smarter than I was, Mr. Webb. I just didn't know when I was well off.

You're game, Webb said. I like that in a man. We walked on. My face was stiff with cold, and ice gathered on the muffler near my mouth. I wished I had wolverine fur, which Ethan told me wouldn't collect ice.

We saw their smoke before we saw them. They were huddled together behind some canvas windbreaks they'd raised against the wind, their handcarts standing about.

Never in my born days did I see a more woebegone, miserable-looking lot of folks. Shivering with cold, they stood up to greet us; you never saw people more ill-equipped to face such weather. I didn't know whether to admire them for their faith and courage or to think them downright crazy.

They stared at us, hollow-eyed and unbelieving. Bud and I got down and carried the soup over to them while Webb turned the wagons and Tom Croft rustled firewood to heat up the soup. Do you come from Brigham? Turning my head, I looked at the tall, gaunt man in a flimsy cloth coat. He had an odd lilt to his voice that I took to be some kind of an English accent.

No. We come from up the trail a piece. We haven't much ourselves, but our friend told us of you and we've come to help.

The man who brought the meat? May the Lord bless him. May the Lord bless you all.

We can't take your gear. Tell them to get what food you have and your clothes and guns. We'll take you to our town and you can return for your gear later.

He hesitated. But it is all we have!

No, sir. You have your lives. You can always come back and get your goods.

Hungry and cold though they were, they were of no mind to leave their belongings, but there were twenty-nine of them, and we had but two wagons.

While they ate soup Webb and I rinsed the buckets and heated water for the horses to drink, covering them with blankets while we waited.

Their camp showed how little these people knew. None of them had reflectors for their fires, and they had brushed back the snow, exposing the frozen earth. The snow itself would have been a lot warmer, and reflectors built of sticks or earth would have thrown a lot of the heat back into their faces.

They were a thin, scrawny lot, wearied to death from walking in the cold. Two of them left bloody tracks on the snow where they stepped.

Neely was right, Webb said, they'll eat us out of house and home. Two or three days and we'll be out of grub ourselves, feeding this lot. It was a fool notion.

Sorry you came?

No. I came because I wanted to.

You're a good man, Webb.

He was startled. Don't you never think it. I'm a pretty poor sort of man, and a mean one to boot. He was serious, I could see that.

Yet I was learning something about Webb. Hard, bitter, and irritable as he was, he was a man who rose to emergency. He might not agree with a thing you said or planned to do, but if it demanded strength and courage he would not be left out.

Nor was it a matter of pride, so far as I could see; it was simply that he was geared to trouble. There was no yield in him. He was a pusher, a man geared to last stands. He might have sneered at the patriots, derided the noble feelings, but he would have been at Valley Forge. He would have gone into the Alamo with old Ben Milam.

There was one newborn baby among the Mormons, and there were several youngsters too small for walking. One man had his foot bandaged and used trail-made crutches.

Their leader, Hammersmith, said he couldn't leave the carts. Maybe we could tie them behind the wagons.

Mister, I said impatiently, if we get back home we'll be lucky. The wagons will be overloaded even if half of you folks walk. If you want to go with us, get in the wagon. Let Brigham worry about your goods.

My wagon led off again, and Webb was right. We would have trouble with the trail. No sooner were we out of the hollow than I pulled up and walked back to Webb. How long did it take us to get here?

Better than four hours. Closer to five.

And we were empty then, and there was only about half the snow. I studied it over. You check your watch, I said, and when we've put in four hours we'd better do some considering.

Take us twice the time, I'm thinking. We won't be nowhere close in four hours.

We couldn't see the sun, but his watch was clear enough. It was noon now, and it would be long after dark before we got back.

The faint tracks of our coming still remained, and we followed them, but when another hour had gone by they had faded, once in a while in a sheltered place we would come upon some sign. Bud and I got down to walk.

There was nothing to look at but snow. Mile after mile we plodded on. Most of the Mormon men were walking, and even a couple of the women. They had talked among themselves, had learned how far we had to go, and how heavy the going was. My hands and feet grew numb, and I had to stomp my feet and club my hands together to keep the blood circulating.

At the top of a small hill where we stopped to give the horses a breathing space, Webb walked back to me. He had taken over the lead to spare my horses. His face was a mask, and there was ice on his mustache.

He spoke in a low tone so nobody could hear. We're off the trail, Ben.

How long d'you think?

No idea.

It was like standing in a white cave, with snow falling around us and no way to see out.

If those folks get the idea we're lost, they'll be scared.