Demon's Pass (28 page)

“Nonsense, you aren't a stranger. And you aren't imposing. You are already a part of our family, and will be even more so after we have gone into town.”

“You mean like your sister?”

“Of course, like my sister. Would you like to take your bath now? I'll put some water on to heat if you would like.”

“Oh, yes!” Elizabeth said eagerly. “I would love to take a bath.”

 

Half an hour later, Elizabeth slipped out of her dress and undergarments. Over in the corner of the kitchen sat a large tub, filled with steaming water. A banked fire in the woodstove radiated warmth throughout the room so that, even though she was nude, she wasn't cold.

Elizabeth caught her reflection in the kitchen window. Because it was dark outside and brightly lit inside, the window reflection was as clear as if it had been a mirror. As she studied her image, she saw a slight bulge in her stomach. She put her hand there and pressed. Odd, she thought, how her fortunes had changed so. Not too long ago she was literally facing the prospect of starving to death. Now she was eating so much that she was beginning to get fat. If she didn't watch it, she would wind up looking like Moon Cow Woman. Elizabeth giggled quietly at that prospect, then she walked over to the tub and slipped down into the water.

The water felt so good that she made the bath last as long as she could. She bathed herself with a sliver cut from the large bar of fragrant lye soap that sat on the windowsill above the kitchen counter. Then she bathed herself a second time, leaning back in the tub, stretching her legs and pointing her toes toward the ceiling.

Then she washed her hair, leaning forward to dip her head into the water. She soaped it, rinsed, then repeated the process.

Not until the water changed from hot to warm to tepid, and then began to actually turn cool, did she step out of the tub. She started toweling her hair before she dried her body. Then, with her long blond hair as dry as she could get it, she looked toward the window one more time to check her reflection.

That was when she saw him.

He was standing just inside the kitchen door, staring at her with eyes that were unblinking and deep in thought. She gasped, but she didn't scream. If nothing else, her exposure to the Indians over the last year had taken away any sense of false modesty.

“Mr. Sargent, what are you doing here?” she asked, calmly.

“It's all right, my dear. Tomorrow we will be married,” Fred said.

“Married?”

He walked over to her and put his hands on her breasts. “You have good breasts for making milk.” He moved his hands down to the flare of her hips. “And wide hips. The babies will have no problem being born.”

“You talk as if you are buying a cow,” Elizabeth said.

“That's exactly what I told him,” Mary said, coming into the kitchen then. She was carrying a large towel and she went straight to Elizabeth and began to dry her. “I told him, Elizabeth is a beautiful, romantic young woman. She should be courted like a young woman, not looked at as if one were buying livestock.”

“So this is what you have been talking about when you kept referring to me as your sister,” Elizabeth said, suddenly understanding.

“Why yes, of course, dear. What did you think it was? Once you have married us, you will be Fred's wife, and my sister. I know it might be difficult for you, a gentile, to understand this. But to us it is a very beautiful thing.”

Elizabeth thought of Moon Cow Woman, Willow Branch, and Morning Flower. She had come to accept the fact that they were her sisters. She never expected the same thing to happen to her once she returned to the white world but, here she was, about to be forced into another marriage.

The thought of it made her laugh.

“What is it, Elizabeth? Why are you laughing?”

“No reason,” she said, laughing even harder. “No reason that you would understand.”

 

Elizabeth felt ill when she awoke the next morning, but she said nothing about it because she didn't want to do anything that would postpone the trip into town.

Her “time of the month” had started during the night, and she told Mary that she was having a little heavier flow than normal. Mary assured her that this was the cause of her nausea and discomfort, and that it would all pass, soon enough. Elizabeth agreed, so before daylight the next morning, the little group started into Salt Lake City.

When they stopped for lunch, Elizabeth stayed in the wagon and ate nothing, even though the others complimented her on how good her fried chicken was. By the time they reached Salt Lake City, Elizabeth was complaining of a general weakness, a severe backache, and something she could only describe as “bearing down feelings.”

Once John and Matilda Lambert made them welcome in their home, Matilda sent Elizabeth to bed. She gave Elizabeth a tablespoon of molasses with one ounce of curative ammonia, but it didn't help. The next morning, she tried sulphate of magnesia and cinnamon water. When that also failed to alleviate the pain or slow the flow, they sent for Dr. Cooley.

The Sargents and the Lamberts waited in the parlor as the doctor made his examination. After a long while, the doctor came back down the stairs with a rather rueful expression on his face.

“Mr. Sargent, I'm afraid I have some rather distressing news for you,” he said.

“What is it?” Fred asked. “Dr. Cooley, her condition isn't serious? You aren't telling us she is about to die?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dr. Cooley said quickly.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Mary said. “You had us frightened for a moment.”

“Elizabeth is fine,” the doctor said. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing. “But I'm afraid she has lost the baby.”

“She what?”
Fred gasped. “Did you say she lost the
baby
?”

“I'm afraid so,” Dr. Cooley said. He looked at the expression of shock on Fred's and Mary's faces. “Mr. Sargent, you didn't know about her pregnancy?”

“No.”

“I see. Well, don't worry, Mr. Sargent, I see no reason why she won't be able to have more children. And, as I understand you will be marrying her tonight, I'm sure that is good news for you.” Dr. Cooley took a bottle from his bag and handed it to Fred. “Give her a dose of this once a day, and she should recover quite nicely.”

“I have no intention of marrying her now, Dr. Cooley,” Fred said. “And, as to how she gets the medicine, it is her worry, and none of mine. Come, Mary, we must get back to the farm.”

“Fred, we can't just leave Elizabeth here like this,” Mary said.

“She nearly gave birth to an Indian's bastard child,” Fred said. “Do you really want a woman like that in our house? Around our children?”

“She was a captive of the Indians,” Mary tried to explain. “How could she have prevented what happened to her?”

“She could have shot herself, as any decent woman would,” Fred said.

“Wait a minute,” John Lambert said. “You aren't leaving her here in my house.”

“She has to stay somewhere, Mr. Lambert,” Dr. Cooley said.

“Well, it can't be with me. I have children too. I don't want them exposed to such immorality.”

Dr. Cooley sighed. “Very well, Mr. Sargent, if you will help me get her into my buckboard, I'll take her to my office and keep her there until she is fully recovered.”

“I hope, Doctor, that you aren't expecting me to pay you for that,” Fred said. “As I have not yet married this woman, and as the child she lost was not mine, I feel no obligation toward her.”

“Would you have me turn her out into the street?” Dr. Cooley asked, growing red in the face.

“Whatever you do to her is your own concern,” Fred said. “Come, Mary. We must get started if we are to make it home today.”

Mary looked at Dr. Cooley with a look of helplessness on her face. “Dr. Cooley, regardless of how my husband feels now, I do believe Elizabeth is a good girl. Please, find some way to take care of her.”

“I'll do what I can,” Dr. Cooley promised, and watched angrily as Fred took his wife by the hand and led her quickly out of the room.

 

 

When he learned that three wagons of freight were approaching the city, Talbot persuaded Richard Hahs to call a meeting of the merchants, to appoint him as exclusive broker for whatever the gentiles had to sell. Upon promise of a cut of Talbot's commission, Hahs agreed, and the merchants gathered in a warehouse to discuss the situation.

“Why should we appoint you our agent?” one of the merchants questioned.

“Because I can deal with the gentiles,” Talbot answered. “And I can do so better than most of you, seein' as how it ain't been too long since I was one of them myself.”

“But, if you are our broker, then you will expect a percentage.”

“Of course I will,” Talbot admitted. “Would you hold it against me for tryin' to earn a honest dollar?”

“I for one, don't begrudge it,” Hahs said, trying to win the others over. “I believe in paying what is fair.”

“Ah, but that is the problem,” one of the other merchants said, holding up his finger. “You see, these gentiles have come a long way, bringing wagons filled with goods that are very difficult for us to obtain. Because of that, the prices they ask will be very dear . . . as they should be. Having an agent means only that we will wind up paying even more than the already inflated prices we must pay.”

“That is true,” one of the others said.

“Yes, I agree,” still another added. “I very much want the goods they are hauling for my store. And I am willing to pay the price for them. But why should I have to pay their price plus the fee of a negotiator?”

“Well now, just hold on there,” Talbot said, holding up his hands in a call for quiet. “You men are thinkin' that these freighters have you over a barrel, ain't you? You're thinkin' they brought them wagons all the way out here and they're goin' to sell to the highest bidder. Ain't that what you're thinkin'?”

“Yes.”

“That is true,” another said.

“Of course, that is the way of it,” still another added.

Talbot chuckled, and shook his head. “Now, suppose this. Suppose there ain't no highest bidder?”

“What do you mean?”

“Suppose you make me your broker and I'm the only one that can deal with 'em. That means there'd only be one bidder. And iffen there's only one bidder, then the shoe's on the other foot. They won't have you over a barrel, you'll have them over one instead.”

“How so?”

“Well, now, think about it,” Talbot said. “They have brought their goods out here by wagon . . . over mountain and desert, and who knows what all. You don't really think they want to go back empty-handed, do you?”

There was a buzz of conversation among the merchants as they discussed Talbot's remarks.

“Wait a minute—are you saying we won't have to pay a premium price?” one of the merchants asked.

“I'm sayin' they'll be forced to take anything I offer, or take their goods back.”

“I say yes, let's do it!” Hahs shouted. His shout was met with the enthusiastic support of many other merchants, though one of the merchants—Lester Thurman, the owner of a millinery establishment—asked permission to speak.

“Gentlemen, there is probably something to what Mr. Talbot is saying,” Thurman suggested.

“He may, indeed, be able to save us some money, maybe even a lot of it. But is it worth it to our souls?”

“Your souls?” Talbot asked. “What's your souls got to do with it?”

Thurman glared at Talbot for a moment before he continued. “We have the moral obligation to see to it that these men who have braved the elements to bring goods to us be treated fairly.”

“All right, I can understand that,” Hahs said. “But what, exactly, do you mean by fairly?”

“I say that we establish a respectable price, one that takes into account the right these men have to make a profit, and we pay that.”

“And, what do you think a fair price would be?” Hahs asked.

“As a matter of routine, we have been paying from five to ten times the eastern market price for goods that have been freighted in to us. I say we ask to see their invoices, then agree to pay six times the invoice price. That way, they will make a decent profit, and we will get it for lower than we might reasonably have expected to pay.”

“Six times the invoice price?” Hahs replied. “Why should we do that? You heard what Talbot said. If we all stick together, we can get our goods much cheaper.”

“No, Mr. Hahs, I think Mr. Thurman is right,” Talbot said. “Six times seems a fair enough price to me. If you make me your agent, that's what I will get for you.”

“Very well, then. With that assurance, you have my support,” Thurman said.

“Mine too,” another pitched in. Soon, all agreed, and Talbot left the meeting with a broker's commission in his hand.

“Why did you agree to pay six times the invoice price?” Hahs demanded of Talbot after the meeting broke up. “You can get it much cheaper than that. Like you said, they have no other place to go with their goods. Now that they are here, they have to sell, no matter what we offer them.”

“That's right,” Talbot said. He smiled. “It's also a way to make a lot of money.”

“How?”

“I am goin' to buy the whole load, ever'thing they've got. But I ain't buyin' it for the merchants, I'm buyin' it for my ownself,” Talbot said. “I'll get it for as low as I can.”