Dorothy Garlock (9 page)

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Rosalee brought her arms up out of the warm suds and looked off toward the east as she had done a dozen times in the last hour. There was no movement on the trail or on the horizon. She glanced around for Charlie and decided he had gone off somewhere with Ben.

She put her hand to the small of her back and straightened. She was tired. At daybreak she had brought the iron boiling pot from the cowshed. She had half filled it with water, carried from the spring in the cliff behind the house, and built a fire under it. The first batch of clothes were drying on the bushes and the rope she had stretched from the corner of the house to the oak tree beside the corral.

The late May sun had some heat to it in the middle of the day, and Rosalee wiped her face on the end of her apron and pushed the hair back from her eyes.

“Where’s Odell, Pa?” she called.

“How’d I know?” Grant had been surly for several days. Periodically, he went through days of depression when he felt useless and helpless. He sat on the step and whittled on a long stick.

“It’s time for nooning,” Rosalee said as she approached him. “Shall I bring yours out here?”

“Suit yourself.”

The inside of the cabin was dim and cool compared to bright sunlight. Rosalee glanced quickly around for her sister. Odell, lost in thought, sat in Grant’s chair.

“What are you doing in here when it’s so nice outside?”

“I hate it here, Rosalee,” Odell blurted. “Pa’s a grouch and there’s nothin’ to do.” Her pixie face puckered as if she would cry.

“Pa will get over it, honey. In a day or two he’ll be chipper as ever. And as far as something to do . . . the clothes are dry. You can bring them in while I fix up a bite to eat.”

“All you ever do is . . . work! I hate it here. I’m going to live in a town when I grow up! And I’m going to have books, a pretty dress, and real shoes.” She covered her eyes with her hands and began to sob.

“Oh, honey!” Rosalee lifted her out of the chair and sat down again with the child on her lap. She hugged her and pushed the hair back from her tear-wet face. She understood her feeling of loneliness and despair and longed, with all her heart, to make life more enjoyable for this little girl who was more like her child than her sister.

“I know how you feel, honey, really I do. I would like all those things, too. But we can’t have them. We’ve got Pa to take care of. Mama would want us to take care of him and try to make him happy. Think how he must feel, being blind and having to depend on us. You’re his only joy in life now. When he’s going through these bad times we’ve got to be patient with him.”

“He . . . told me to go away ’n stop yappin’ at him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He probably had a lot of thinking to do.”

“And he said he’d be better off dead than the way he is.”

“He didn’t mean that, either. What would we do without Pa to tell us stories in the wintertime?”

“I’ve heard ’em all.”

“So have I, but I like to hear them again.”

“He’ll get all riled up when Mr. Horn comes back to get his horses. He said he wasn’t havin’ no damn half-breed ahangin’ ’round here.” Large blue eyes looked at Rosalee, and when tears appeared she tried to blink them away.

“Maybe he’d like Mr. Horn if he talked to him,” Rosalee said patiently, though she knew it wasn’t true. Her father was so like so many others who’d never stop to consider that this land had belonged to the Indians and that they were the intruders.

Odell lifted the hem of her dress and wiped her eyes. Rosalee felt the tears rising in her own throat. She hadn’t realized the depth of her little sister’s loneliness or the intense feeling of rejection the child suffered at the hands of their blind father when he was in one of his black moods.

“Do you know what we’re going to do?” Rosalee said lightly and happily. “When we finish the washing, we’ll play a game of hide-and-seek. Then tonight we’ll cut a body for your doll out of the scraps of Ben’s deerskin. Pa made such a beautiful doll head, it’s a shame she doesn’t have a body.”

“Oh, Rosalee! Could we?”

“Of course we can. And I’ve been thinking about something else, too. When Ben goes over to the Haywards’ you can go along with him and stay a few days. Mrs. Hayward said you were welcome anytime. She said one more youngun among her five would he no trouble at all. You can play with Sudie May and Polly. By then we’ll have your doll ready and maybe even a dress for her.”

“How’ll you get ’round Pa? He won’t want me to go.”

“I’ll talk him into it.”

Odell’s face brightened and an infectious smile shifted the lines of her mouth upward. “Oh, golly! Oh, golly! I love you, Rosalee.” She threw her arms around her sister’s neck and hugged her. “But what if Pa—”

“Don’t think about that! Think on the good side.” She lifted the child off her lap. “But first things first. We’ve got to fix the meal and finish the washing. Then we’ll play.”

“You was goin’ to work in the garden.”

“Oh, fiddle! I can work in that old garden anytime. It’s a lot more fun to play hide-and-seek,” Rosalee said lightly, and was rewarded by a gleam of pure pleasure in her little sister’s tear-wet eyes.

*  *  *

Grant remained in his black mood all afternoon. Rosalee anxiously watched the trail for Logan, although she was sure it would be late evening, and possibly not until morning, before he returned. She wasn’t sure what her father would say to him. He could be cruel and cutting in his remarks if he felt strongly about something. She dreaded his bringing up the fact that Logan was a breed.

When she thought of Logan Rosalee felt a surprising, overwhelming burst of happiness. Even now, as she played hide-and-seek with Odell, she could see his sudden smile behind her eyelids when she closed her eyes. It made crinkly lines around his eyes and deepened the indentations in his cheeks, making him look surprisingly boyish. She blushed at her thoughts, then chided herself to keep her mind on the game. She picked up her skirts and ran to hide behind the cowshed. This was her last turn at hiding; the sun had gone behind the mountains in the west, and soon it would be time to start the evening meal.

Hunkered down behind a pile of logs, Rosalee could hear Odell coming along beside the corral fence. She stopped to call to the foal and the mare nickered softly. The mare continued to nicker even after Odell had gone into the cowshed. It suddenly occurred to Rosalee that the mare had heard another horse. She stood and moved to the end of the corral where she could look down the trail.

Four horsemen, galloping their mounts, came from between the break in the trees. Rosalee felt no alarm. Riders came this way several times a month. The trail from here on was rough and hazardous, but it was a shortcut to the Clayhill ranch. She called out to Odell.

“Someone’s coming, Odell. I’ll have to go to the house.” She walked rapidly in order to be beside her father when the men arrived. “I’m here, Pa.”

“Who is it? Sounds like three or four horses.” Grant had moved his chair out into the yard. He poked the stick he’d been whittling on in the ground beside it and folded up his pocket knife.

“There’s four of them, and they look like Clayhill riders.” She squinted her eyes. “They’re Clayhill men. A couple of them have been here several times before.” Rosalee didn’t like the man they called Shatto, or Shorty Banes. But she hadn’t told her father that. She had not seen the other two men before.

“Howdy, ma’am. Mind if we water our horses?” Shorty leaned back in the saddle and grinned at her.

“Go ahead. But you just crossed the creek a ways back.”

“We did? I didn’t see no creek. Did you, Shatto?”

“Naw. I ain’t seen no creek since we left Junction City,” he said in a foolish attempt at humor.

“We’d be obliged fer some supper, bein’s on how it’ll be a spell afore we get ta the ranch.” Shorty edged his horse closer.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything prepared,” Rosalee said curtly.

“Coffee, then?” Shatto asked, and spit in the dirt of her flower bed.

Rosalee looked at their leering faces and felt a sudden chill. They had never been this bold before. She moved over and placed her hand on her father’s shoulder.

“We’re out of coffee.”

“Water your horses and move out.” Grant spoke for the first time.

“Ya reckon they ain’t goin’ ta be friendly, Shatto?”

“Hit don’t appear to me that they is,” he said, and flung his leg up over his saddle horn. “Yore a right sightly woman, ma’am. Ain’t yore name Rosalee?”

“It’s Miss Spurlock to you.” She could feel her father’s body tremble beneath her hand and she patted him reassuringly, hoping to keep him calm.

“She’s a uppity one, ain’t she, Shorty?”

“C’mon. Let’s water our horses and go.” The man who spoke was younger than Shorty and Shatto. He had a growth of thin, blond whiskers on his pimpled face and he held such a tight rein on his horse that the animal danced and fidgeted.

“Shut up, Frank. I wanna visit with the purtty woman.”

“Shorty, you’d better not—”

“I said, shut up, Frank. If’n yore in such a gawdamned hurry, ride on out. Ya ain’t been nothin’ but a pain in the ass all day, anyhow. All ya do is yap, yap, yap.”

“Ya ain’t ortta talk like that in front of a lady,” Frank insisted angrily. “Ain’t that right, Pete?”

“He can talk any way he wants. Hit makes me no never mind.”

Grant was trying to rise from the chair, but Rosalee’s hand pressed him down. However, she couldn’t keep him from blurting out angrily, “Water yore horses and git the hell outta here!”

Shorty let go with a loud guffaw. “What’a ya goin’ ta do if’n I ain’t a mind to, old man?”

Rosalee could feel the rage in her father, and when he sprang to his feet her hand on his shoulder was as nothing. There was something deadly here! Fear squeezed her heart. She remembered Ben had set the rifle just inside the door this morning. She made a move to go to the cabin, but Shorty spurred his horse to cut her off.

“Ya changed yore mind ’bout gettin’ us some supper?”

Rosalee didn’t answer. She stepped sideways and went around the horse. Shorty slid from the saddle on the other side and flung his arm across the doorway.

“Shorty,” Frank called. “Me’n Pete’s goin’ on. Ya’ll had better come, too.”

Shorty ignored him. His loose lips parted in what he considered a flirtatious smile, showing yellow teeth. “Ya don’t want me ta go, now do ya?” he said in a soft, purring voice.

His words shocked and sickened her. She moved back and he followed, backing her into the horse. She was frightened now, but determined not to show it.

“I certainly do want you to go. Mr. Clayhill wouldn’t be pleased to know you’re here making a nuisance out of yourself.”

“What’s a nuisance? Does it mean a . . . stud?” He jerked his pelvis toward her in an obscene way, grinning all the while.

Rosalee’s face flamed with embarrassment and fear. She looked wildly about, then quickly turned and started back toward her father.

“Yore woman’s agettin’ away, Shorty. Want me ta get ’er for ya?” Shatto didn’t wait for an answer. He jumped his horse toward Rosalee. “Wha . . . whoo!” he shouted.

Rosalee was halfway across the yard when he grabbed her beneath the arms and pulled her up against his thigh. “I got ’er,” he shouted gleefully. “And I’m agoin’ ta get me a kiss ’afore ya can ’ave ’er.”

“Let me go!” Rosalee screamed, and fought the hands holding her.

“Get your filthy hands off her, you low-life scum!” Grant yelled.

She heard her father’s cry of rage. Frantically, she turned her head so she could see him. He charged forward, the pointed whittling stick in his hand. He jabbed ahead of him viciously, hitting nothing. Shorty laughed and spun toward the sound. Now all the men were laughing at the blind man stumbling around in the yard.

Shorty darted behind his horse. “Who . . . eee! Ya better watch out, Shatto. He’s agoin’ ta git ya,” he taunted.

Grant lunged toward the sound. He jabbed with the stick and struck the saddle. He drew it back and with all his strength he jabbed again and the sharp point of the stick went into the soft mound between the hind legs of Shorty’s horse. The animal screamed in pain, whirled and lashed out with his hind legs. Both of them connected with Grant’s body. One struck him in the chest, the other beside the head. He was flung into the air. When he hit the ground he lay grotesquely limp and still.

“Pa!” Rosalee screamed. The arm holding her loosened and when her feet hit the ground she was running. “Pa . . . Oh, Pa!” The side of his head was crushed. She knew immediately that he was dead.

“You stupid sonofabitch!” Frank yelled. “Ya’ve done it, now. Ya’ll get run outta the country fer messin’ with that woman. And ya done got ’er pa killed. I ain’t had no part a this. C’mon, Pete.”

“Go on, ya lily-livered bastard. ’Twas his own doin’,” Shorty shouted. He was chasing after his still-bucking horse. He caught him, gave the reins a hard jerk, and hit the animal up beside the head with his fist before he mounted. “Let’s get ta hell outta here. Crazy old fool got what he had acomin’.” He put his heels to the horse and took off on the run. Shatto looked down at Rosaalee and her father, spit a stream of tobacco juice in the grass beside them, and followed Shorty.

Rosalee was only vaguely aware the men had left. She knelt beside her father, numbed with shock. Ten minutes ago she had been playing happily with Odell. Now, her pa was dead, his blood seeping into the ground where he lay.

Odell! She had forgotten about her little sister. She stood, looked around, and saw the girl running toward her from the corner of the house. Rosalee ran to meet her and gathered her in her arms.

“Rosalee! What’s wrong with Pa? What’d those men do to him?” She tried to wiggle out of Rosalee’s embrace. “I wanna see Pa.”

“No! Don’t look at him! The horse . . . kicked him and he’s . . . dead! It happened so fast. Oh, Pa!” She fell to her knees with her sister in her arms and sobbed.

“I saw it! Pa was trying to help you, Rosalee!” Odell began to scream. “Pa! Pa! Pa!”

Rosalee covered her father’s body with a blanket and sat beside him, holding Odell in her arms. The weight of grief pressed down on her. Only she, Odell and Ben were left from a family of eight. First they lost two brothers, then a baby sister and Mama. Now Pa was gone. He had been cantankerous at times, and opinionated, but he had also been loving. He’d loved his wife and he’d loved his children. Pa died trying to help her! If only she hadn’t cried out when the man grabbed her! A black wave of hate flooded her heart when she thought of the men who had laughed and jeered as he stumbled across the yard.