The Snake River (22 page)

For once, though, Dr. Full was stumped. What had Billy Wells done? And what did he want? Dr. Full saw clearly that Billy wanted something, but Dr. Full didn’t have any idea what it was.

As for the sin, he could imagine as much from Billy Wells. But surely not Miss Jewel.

“Brethern and sistern,” Billy Wells began, “I would like to tell you tonight, as I’ve often heard from many of you, how the Lord Jesus has lifted up my heart. But I can’t, that’s the truth, I can’t. Because I have dipped my heart in pitch.”

He hung his head. He couldn’t look at anyone. He had noticed that Miss Jewel was not here tonight. He had hoped she would keep to her pattern, and he gave thanks for it.

“I hurt. Lord, how I hurt.

“I’m a coward. Truly I am. I have a dark secret, and I wouldn’t be trying to find the courage to tell you tonight, except that the hurt is so awful.

“So I pray that laying myself prostrate before you will ease the hurt. That’s my coward’s hope. I dare not even think yet that if I ask sincerely of the Lord Jesus, He will forgive me.”

He thought of his deeds that needed lifting from his heart. In imagination, he once more touched Miss Jewel’s bare, voluptuous breast. He kissed her and pressed her back on the bed. He rose over her.

The memory of these deeds made him shiver as truly as if they had actually happened.

“Though Scripture says forgiveness is His promise, I am so lost in iniquity that I cannot even hear His sweet words now, calling me to His bosom.”

He shed a tear or two, and let himself look around through the tears. They were with him. He saw it in their faces, and he felt it—they were with him. Oh, sweet Jesus.

“I have betrayed your trust. And Dr. Full’s trust. And the trust the Lord put in me. Even while seeking to become ordained, to become an instrument of God’s will, I betrayed His trust.

“You put me in a cabin with Miss Jewel, knowing our faith was firm enough to resist the temptations of the flesh, that we are people whose spirits are stronger than their bodies.

“I have sinned. I stand before your judgment, and the judgment of the Lord God almighty and terrible, and I confess that I have sinned.”

For a while he could not go on. Tears were running down his face and onto his shirt. He did not trust his voice.

Louder, with less quaver, he said, “I confess that I have sinned with Miss Jewel. Grievously.”

Again he felt the sickly sweet deliciousness of his fall into sensuality. He shuddered.

The congregation was fearfully quiet.

“All men are sinners,” he said.

“Amen,” a man’s voice called.

“I am a sinner,” Billy declared firmly.

“Bless you,” said a female voice.

“I stand before my God a sinner,” Billy declaimed loudly.

Oh, sweet Jesus, it was true. Already he could feel it. He could feel the cleansing hand of the Lord God in his breast. Oh, thank you, Jesus.

He got down on his knees where he stood. He threw back his head toward heaven. He opened wide his arms.

“Lord God almighty, I repent. Christ Jesus, I beg for your mercy.

“My heart is black. I pray you, Jesus, make it white once more.”

Other men testified that night, shyly, crudely, in a homey way, that they had sinned carnally as well. Until they confessed, they lived in a terrible darkness. Once they opened their hearts to God and asked forgiveness, heavenly light came into their eyes.

And witnessing that light, their loving wives forgave them. Having foolishly risked all, they were so grateful for forgiveness.

No woman offered similar testimony. Thought Dr. Full, it is ever thus.

Dr. Full offered a prayer that acknowledged the courage of Billy Wells and praised his Christian uprightness. He had fallen, true enough, as all men fall, but tonight he had raised himself back up, and stood in grace in the sight of God and man.

They closed the meeting with a wonderful old hymn:

Just as I am without one plea,

But that thy blood was shed for me,

And that thou bidd’st me come to thee,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Just as I am, and waiting not

To rid my soul of one dark blot,

To thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

This was Billy’s story, the cleansing of one dark blot, which was why Dr. Full picked it.

Just as I am—poor, wretched, blind;

Sight, riches, healing of the mind,

Yea, all I need, in thee to find,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

When the meeting was over, Dr. Full himself led the way to Billy, embraced him tenderly, and told him how close he felt to Billy now, and promised to pray for Billy tonight and every night.

Almost every woman in the congregation gave a similar reassurance to Billy privately, and several men. Dr. Full watched carefully, and it went as he expected.

Well, he thought. Even Miss Jewel was fallible.

He pondered.

She knew his door was open. He would wait.

Chapter Twenty-three

A rap on the door.

Billy Wells, come back slithering on his belly?

He’d gotten his belongings from the stoop while she was gone, and Miss Jewel was sweeping up the cabin. He would come back, she was sure. She would show him no mercy. She was embarrassed that she’d let herself be charmed by such a man.

“Who’s there?”

“Maggie, it’s Annie Lee Full.”

Miss Jewel felt a thrill of gratitude, and then told herself no. She was lonely, but the truth was, Dr. Full’s wife had been a woman to keep her distance.

It wasn’t just Annie Lee but Elvira Upping and Susan Johnson as well, the women she’d come across the Oregon road with. They came in, looking at Miss Jewel with eyes full of emotion.

So they knew.

Tears flushed Miss Jewel’s eyes.

The tears flowed. Miss Jewel let them run down her cheeks.

Annie Lee Full opened her arms, and her eyes spoke her womanly feeling to Margaret Jewel.

They understood.

Miss Jewel hesitated, took one queasy step forward, and let herself fall into Annie Lee’s arms.

Maggie let go and bawled.

Annie Lee held Miss Jewel. Susan Johnson hovered close and made cooing sounds. Elvira Upping ran to the Full house and got tea to brew, as a particular treat for Miss Jewel.

Margaret Jewel wept for perhaps five minutes, the biggest cry of her adult life. It felt awful. When the sobbing eased, she felt better about one part: She had not permitted herself sisterly intimacies with other women—it seemed so much like the weakness men always smiled indulgently about. Now she knew what she’d been missing. It seemed especially nice that Elvira had come—Miss Jewel thought she’d sensed enmity from Elvira.

She recovered swiftly enough, and felt peaceful. Actually peaceful, for the first time since Billy began snaking his way up to her.

“Oh, Annie Lee, it’s so terrible,” she said, and burst into tears again.

“Yes, dear,” said Annie Lee Full sympathetically.

Miss Jewel laid her head on Annie Lee’s shoulder again. Women were marvelous. A woman felt for another woman.

“You don’t know,” Miss Jewel said. “He…”

Elvira offered the hot tea, and Miss Jewel took her cup gratefully. She held it with both hands, loving the warmth.

“He wouldn’t leave you alone,” Annie Lee said with a nod.

“He nagged you night and day,” said Elvira Upping.

“He begged,” said Susan Johnson.

“He prostrated himself,” said Annie Lee. “He rubbed up against the furniture like a hungry cat, and said he was going to go mad if he couldn’t have you.”

“Yes, yes!” Miss Jewel exclaimed, laughing and crying at once. The three woman comforters looked at each other with sisterly smiles. “How did you know?” Miss Jewel asked.

“Oh, women
know
,” Annie Lee said. Three pairs of eyes were tickled.

Miss Jewel burst into tears again. “It was awful.” Suddenly she was sobbing, remembering.

After a bit she raised her face bravely into their eyes. She studied the souls in those eyes and saw nothing but affection and understanding. She let herself bask in it. It felt wonderful.

Tea sloshed onto her hands a little. Elvira handed her a handkerchief.

She looked from face to face of her friends.

They didn’t know the worst, Miss Jewel thought. They don’t know that Billy Wells actually threatened to administer poison to the entire community.

Miss Jewel decided instantly that she would not tell them. It was too despicable, and it didn’t matter now. Her friends understood how men crept around begging, true enough. They didn’t know how really snaky…

Miss Jewel felt besmirched by what Billy had threatened to do. She wanted it out of existence. She was sure that, on reflection, even Billy would repent of it.

Miss Jewel would accept the sisterly affection of her friends for her broken engagement. She would not tell them all of her afflictions.

She studied Annie Lee’s face. Once she had thought it a tired, subjugated face. Now she saw it was a face of cares, troubles, faith, and gallantry in the midst of the vicissitudes of life. Why she had not seen, until now, what this woman had to offer another human being?

“Maggie,” Annie Lee said warmly, “we do understand. We are touched to see what our understanding means to you. But our understanding…our love…are not enough. There are two further steps you must take.”

Miss Jewel was puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

“It is one thing to open your heart to your friends,” Annie Lee said. “But it isn’t enough. You must come to all the sistern and brethern and speak. They are waiting to welcome you into their hearts. Most important of all, you must openly ask the forgiveness of God.”

Miss Jewel felt her heart shrivel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coldly.

“Oh, Maggie,” said Elvira, “if only you’d seen Billy. He was beautiful. He felt so awful about his sin, and it was awful, but when he confessed, the Lord transformed him. Transformed him.” Her face was rapturous with the memory.

“We all loved him in that moment,” said Annie Lee.

“Tell me,” said Miss Jewel, “exactly what he said.”

Annie Lee Full knew that Satan hardened hearts, and you could never tell where or when he would succeed, at least for a moment. With a look she asked Elvira and Susan for even more understanding for Maggie, their sister in sin.

Then Annie Lee reported to Maggie fully what happened last night at prayer meeting. She let the beauty of it shine through her words. She let the love she and the entire congregation felt for Billy glow from her tale. She let Maggie hear how the merciful love of God had ennobled Billy and all his listeners.

At last she reached out and grasped both of Maggie’s hands. “Maggie,” she said, “all this is waiting for you. But only you can take the step of opening your heart to this community. Only you can ask forgiveness from the Lord Jesus.”

Maggie stood up. She withdrew her hands. She looked at the three of them most peculiarly. Annie Lee could not have described it, but hateful was not exactly right.

“Get out!” hissed Maggie.

They went not in anger but in sorrow.

Sometimes Satan wins, Annie Lee told the others outside the cabin. Remember, his victories are but temporary.

It took nearly a week to get the herd really going. In the Alexander Valley they split up. Two men volunteered to go kick horses out of the canyons on the west side of the valley. Flare took another pair; the youngsters, Craw’s son Garrett and his friend Innie, not yet out of their teens, rode canyons on the other side, scouring the rest out.

That left Skye, Bulow, and Fox to round up the horses grazing everywhere on the valley floor and ease the main herd north. Flare thought they made the damnedest trio. All of them were over six feet and the better part of three hundred pounds and dwarfed little mustangs as they rode. If big trouble was going to come, it would be on their shoulders, which would permit them some entertainment.

Flare had some fun bringing in the horses. Innie had worked with
vaqueros
on the big ranches and had some skill with his
reata
. It was a handsome piece of work, sixty-five feet long, braided of rawhide, cured with liver and brains, supple and alive in your hands. Innie could swing it once around his head and lay it over the head of a horse neatly as a collar, or could forefoot the critter—rope him by his front two feet, dally the
reata
on the saddle horn, and jerk him down.

Flare and Garrett had a good time trying. Flare hung the loop on his powder horn once and his spur once, which gave Innie a fine laugh. That was well enough. Sometimes you taught people by letting them teach you.

Their first night out they camped without a fire. Both lads were the sons of mountain men, Garrett sired by Craw and Innie by a coon Flare had never known, now gone under, and Innie lived with Craw’s family. Garrett was a good-tempered fellow if ever there was one, a pleasure to be around.

Garrett told Innie stories borrowed from his old dad.

“Last time this child was up this canyon come on a she-griz. Old Ephraim wasn’t glad to see me. Run me uphill. Had her whipped till my horse fell. Went cartwheeling. First saw I’d lost my rifle, laying twenty feet away. Then saw I’d lost my horse, flying up the canyon.

“Old Ephraim considered. Though she might prefer horseflesh, there was something to be said for me being handy.”

Innie smiled a little and looked sidelong at Flare to see if they were being strung along. He got no help.

“She come up snuffling and snorting the way they do, slow-like, though you know they’re quick as cats.

“I laid still. Dad told me they’ll pass you by lots of times if you’re still.”

Innie snickered a little, to show cynicism. Flare saw it didn’t shine to be thought gullible. Even for a youngster that couldn’t know nothing yet.

“I moved just my eye, to check my priming. Hadn’t lost it.

“Ephraim come right close, snuffling and snorting—like to tore up my nerves but this child was still. Finally she just reaches out and slaps at my leg, playful-like.

“Damn, but they’re strong. Like to took my leg off. Warn’t a cool evening I’d show you the scar on my thigh.

“Wall, that done it. Up I leaps and fires that pistol point-blank at her heart.

“Ephraim cocks her head funny, like considering what to think of that.”

Innie looked enthralled now.

“I couldn’t wait to find out if she were hit mortal or merely amused, and I had one bad leg. So I jumps on her and drives my knife into her chest, right up to the Green River.” He touched the hilt of his knife, a slow smile on his face. “Then she grabs me big. Boys, that’s what they mean by a bear hug. I could smell death, thar in her arms, her breathing on me.” He just looked at Innie a bit.

“What happened?” busted out Innie.

Garrett gave Innie a straight look. “She killed me and et me.”

Flare told stories, too, but he didn’t feel like telling yarns. He told real stories, just as they happened. What he’d done with old Craw, what he’d done with old Skye. Though they were both madmen, always looking to fight or fuck, Flare didn’t let that show. He told them about the real life of a beaver man, times starvin’ and times shinin’, deep drafts of both hard and grand. He truly remembered, not just the deeds but also the feelings.

Then he realized he felt like he was saying last words at a funeral.

“So boys,” he finished, “you best ship out for the South Seas, or the like. Beaver’s done.”

Neither of them said so, but he could see they didn’t give a tinker’s dam if it was done. They were going.

Since it was safe country, Garrett finished the evening playing an instrument Flare had seen only once before, the harmonica. Handy thing—you could put it in your pocket. Old Batiste Charbonneau, a fellow Flare had never liked, used to play one, probably still did. Garrett seemed an appealing fellow, Flare’s notion of a pied piper. In Flare’s honor he played “The Girl I Left behind Me”:

The dames of France are fond and free,

And Flemish lips are willing,

And soft the maids of Italy,

And Spanish eyes are thrilling;

Still, though I bask beneath their smile,

Their charms fail to bind me,

And my heart falls back to Erin’s Isle,

To the girl I left behind me.

Ah, Kathleen!

For she’s as fair as Shannon’s side,

And purer than its water,

But she refus’d to be my bride

Though many a year I sought her;

Yet, since to France I sail’d away,

Her letters oft remind me,

That I promised never to gainsay

The girl I left behind me.

Ah, Maggie!

She says, “My own dear love, come home,

My friends are rich and many,

Or else, abroad with you I’ll roam,

A Soldier stout as any;

If you’ll not come, nor let me go,

I’ll think you have resign’d me,”

My heart nigh broke when I answer’d, “No,”

To the girl I left behind me.

Ah, the curse of being Irish!

For never shall my true love brave

A life of war and toiling,

And never as a skulking slave

I’ll tread my native soil on;

But were it free or to be freed,

The battle’s close would find me,

To Ireland bound, nor message need

From the girl I left behind me.

It nigh made Flare sentimental.

He rolled up in his blankets. He thought about his son. And then about Miss Jewel, until he got irked by that business with her and Billy Wells. And then about Sima again. He would get back to the mission and get his son out of there, and have a new partner to ride with. That fantasy fulfilled him. He didn’t really suppose Sima would spit in his face. Would the lad?

Flare didn’t sleep that night. Everything he thought about tasted sour.

The next morning he got Garrett and Innie to do the job at hand, drive the ponies out into the big valley. That’s when it started raining. The sort of rain that goes on for a week in that northern Pacific Coast country.

They saw neither hide nor hair of padre or angry
vaquero
.

“Dr. Full,” Miss Jewel said over the rim of her coffee cup, her eyes bright and defiant, “I am not guilty.”

Easily, Dr. Full said, “We are all of us sinners, Miss Jewel, all guilty.”

“Of this particular charge, Dr. Full, I stand before my God innocent.”

She does not appeal to me for any verdict at all, thought Samuel Full.

She’d had her say. Dr. Full got up to pace, as was his habit. He looked at her, turned away. What could he possibly say to her?

Yet Dr. Full welcomed this opportunity. Crisis always brought change, and his mission among his flock here was to make that change for better, to shape the people on the anvil of God’s will.