Wilderness Double Edition 15, page 17
“How could a woman marry a man like that?” Lou idly mused. Grinning at Zach, she said, “Thank goodness you’re not like him. The Good Lord did me a favor by bringing the two of us together. You’ll make a terrific husband, as understanding and considerate as you are.”
It embarrassed Zach when she gushed like that. He had flaws, as everyone did. But there were times when he suspected she tended to turn a blind eye to them. Which might pose problems later on. As his father once advised, “See people for how they really are, son, and not as you’d like them to be. Always remember, a person is like a deck of cards. For every card they turn over, for every part of them they let you see, there are more parts they don’t show anyone.”
Zach had been thinking about his pa a lot in recent days. How Nate was always there when Zach needed him. How his father stood by him through thick and thin, even when he did stupid things that brought trouble down on the family. His pa was exactly the sort of father Zach wanted to be to his own children, but he wasn’t sure he had it in him. He would be the first to admit he wasn’t as levelheaded as he should be. Yet another problem to face in the future.
Lou looked at him, noted he was troubled, and jumped to the conclusion that their pending arrival in St. Louis was to blame. She was well aware of how uncomfortable Zach was around whites. But she believed he brought it on himself. People were a lot better than Zach gave them credit for being.
Soon they saw another homestead, then another, and before long they were following a rutted dirt track that served as a road. It passed through a thick belt of trees and brush. Presently they drew rein on the bank of the mighty Mississippi.
“Look at it!” Lou said, giddy with delight. Here was spectacular proof their long trek was honestly and truly near an end. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Zach had seen it once before, as a small boy. It had impressed him then; it impressed him even more now. According to his father, the Mississippi was the largest river to be found between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Most Indian tribes gave it a name that translated as ‘Great River’. It was said an explorer once traced the Mississippi to its source, which turned out to be a little stream about a foot and a half wide, far to the north. But Zach found that hard to accept. Especially at the moment, when before him stretched an expanse of water that must be a mile wide from shore to shore. It dwarfed the Columbia, the Wind River, the Green, and every other waterway he’d seen.
“Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to jump in,” Lou said. “It’s been so long since I had a bath, I itch all over.”
The current didn’t appear all that swift, but Zach was glad she didn’t attempt it. He’d witnessed a Shoshone maiden drown once and didn’t want the same awful fate to befall Lou. For hours they paralleled the shore. Reaching the junction with the Missouri River, they had to locate a ford. They had forded the Missouri once before, far back on the prairie, but had shunned it afterward because a Sioux war party had been in the vicinity. Now, as they continued along the Mississippi, Zach noticed something strange. “Part of the river is clear and the other part is the color of blood.”
“Remember how red the Missouri was?” Lou reminded him. “For miles the two somehow flow side by side without mixing. Later on the waters do mingle, and then the Mississippi looks like liquid mud. Which is why some folks call it the Big Muddy.”
They rode on. Within a mile they emerged from trees and came on a cluster of dilapidated buildings, plank-and-log affairs that didn’t appear strong enough to withstand a strong breeze. Four of the five were small, but at the center was a long building bearing a crudely painted sign that boasted, SLIM’S DRY GOODS, HARNESS, FOOD AND DRINK, FARM TOOLS AND FRILLS FOR THE LADIES! LAST STOP BETWEEN HERE AND CALIFORNIA!
“Oh, my!” Lou’s eyes sparkled. She hadn’t stepped foot in a store in almost two years. Two years since she saw a real dress, two years since she held a swatch of cloth in her hands, since she fondled jewelry or sniffed the latest perfumes. “Can we stop? Please?”
Zach was uneasy. Two wagons were parked out front, and six horses lined a hitch rail. Worse, two scruffy characters in greasy clothes lounged nearby and both were regarding him with open hostility. But it was impossible for him to deny her. “Only for a little while.”
Lou trotted to an empty rail and was off the mare in a bound. Gleeful as a little girl on her first shopping spree, she bounced indoors. Aisles of untidy merchandise unfolded, many of the articles layered with dust. But to her, they were treasures beyond compare.
Outside, Zach dismounted and looped the reins fast. He climbed the steps to the long porch slowly, conscious of the flinty stares of the duo. They were unkempt, their cheeks smeared with dirt. Each sported a brace of pistols and a rifle. Strolling in, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Lou was flitting from shelf to shelf like a hummingbird from flower to flower. Beyond her were a middle-aged man and woman, farmers evidently, watching Lou in amusement. Seeing him, they both visibly stiffened and whispered to one another.
Against the far wall was a counter, and behind it a man as thin as the horse rail. Slim, Zach figured. The man nodded and smiled at him, but to Zach that meant nothing. He had learned the hard way that whites sometimes weren’t as friendly as they put on. Cradling the Hawken in the crook of an arm, he ambled in his sweetheart’s wake.
“Look at this!” Lou gushed. “As I live and breathe, a set of silverware! Here in the middle of nowhere! And these blankets! Feel how soft they are. And, oh, there’s a rack of ready-made dresses! Come take a gander.”
Zach would rather not. Sometimes Lou tended to forget he was a Shoshone warrior, and that certain pastimes were beneath a warrior’s dignity. Admiring dresses was one of them. Instead, he strolled to the counter and turned so his back was against it to keep an eye on the entrance.
The proprietor sidled over. “Howdy, son. The handle is Slim. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand.
Suspicious of a trick, Zach cautiously shook. “Zachary King.”
Slim blinked, then gaped. “I’ll be switched. You’re part white, ain’t you? I’d never have guessed.”
“Something wrong with that?” Zach asked more harshly than he intended. The incident with the farmer had left him primed to explode.
“Heck, no,” Slim said good-naturedly. “Some of my best customers are Indians. I don’t hold anything against anyone for the color of their skin. We can’t help how we’re born, can we?”
“I wish more whites shared your view,” Zach commented wistfully. As if on cue, two figures filled the doorway. The scruffy pair planted themselves with their arms folded across their chests and arrogantly glared at him.
“Damn,” Slim said, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Listen, friend. A word to the wise. That pair can be a heap of trouble if they’re of a mind. So whatever you do, don’t rile them if you can help it.” He spoke faster as the duo slowly advanced. “They’re part of the Hogan clan. A bunch of uppity river rats who act like they own the river. Tangle with one and you’ll have the whole clan down on your head. You don’t want that.”
“I wasn’t brought up in the woods to be scared by owls,” Zach responded.
“Maybe so, but they’re snake-mean. The short rooster on the left is called Rufus. The hefty one is his brother, Charlie. The last time they were here, they set a poor old Otoe’s hair on fire.”
“You didn’t stop them?”
“Hell, son. I’m just one person. There are better than a dozen Hogans. Sure, I begged Rufus and Charlie to let the old Indian be, but they just laughed and warned me to mind my own business.”
Zach didn’t care who they were or how many relatives they had. He wouldn’t back down from them or any other man. He pretended to be interested in a display of lanterns but closely watched them out of the corner of an eye, tensing when Rufus halted and stared at his bride-to-be.
Over at the dress rack, Louisa was marveling at the fashions and the colors. None were in her size, but that didn’t stop her from running her fingers over the smooth material and imagining how each garment would look on her. She’d give her eyeteeth for a new dress, another reason she was tremendously intent to get to St. Louis. She would have to be properly attired when she met her aunt and the others.
“See anything you like there?”
Assuming it was the store owner who had addressed her, Lou said without looking up, “They’re all so marvelous! Too bad none will fit me.”
“I’m plumb surprised a squaw-girl like you has the money to afford one. What did you do, rob a white woman?”
A chill swept through Louisa. She looked up and met the gaze of a short man whose jutting chin was covered with stubble. “For your information, mister, I’m white myself.”
The man snorted. “Oh, you have white skin and white hair. But those buckskins are Injun-made. And you rode in, as saucy as you please, with the buck over at the counter. That makes you an Injun lover, girl. The scum of the earth.”
Lou glanced at her rifle, which she had leaned against the wall. She wasn’t overly worried. A flintlock nestled snugly under her belt, so it was unlikely the two men would do more than shoot their mouths off. Then the shorter of the pair stepped up close. Lou realized he could grab her arm if she tried to draw or reach the rifle, and she began to back up. But the rack was there.
“Didn’t you hear me? I said you were scum.”
“I don’t pay much attention to jackasses,” Lou boldly informed him.
A scarlet flush crept into the short man’s cheeks. “Quite a mouth you’ve got there. Sassy as hell. I reckon it’s about time someone took you down a notch or two.”
“I agree, brother,” said the taller one. “Females are like dogs. When they get out of line, they have to be slapped around a bit to teach them the error of their ways.” His thin mouth creased in a cruel smirk. “So which one of us is going to put this hussy in her place?”
“Neither of you.” Zach had left the counter and moved soundlessly up behind them. Cold rage seethed within him, and it was all he could do to keep from shooting the two where they stood. “Stop bothering her. Now.”
Rufus and Charlie Hogan turned slowly, smugly. Perhaps they were used to harmless Otoes. Perhaps they believed that no Indian would ever truly stand up to them. For neither made a move to defend himself. Sneering in contempt, they chuckled, as if the whole thing were a great joke.
“Will you look at this!” Rufus said haughtily. “The buck thinks he’s the Almighty. Thinks he can tell us what we can and can’t do.”
“Dumb one, ain’t he?” Charlie said.
“Where’d he get the gumption?” Rufus asked, feigning amazement. “He must be as drunk as a boiled owl.” Making a show of sniffing, he shook his head, saying, “No, I was wrong. He hasn’t touched firewater.”
“He’s plain dumb,” Charlie reiterated.
“And too damned cocky,” Rufus said. “As uppity as his white squaw.” The rooster’s expression crystallized into fire and hate. “Both need to learn their proper station in life. They need to be taught to show respect to their betters.”
Charlie squared his shoulders. “I agree, brother. So what do we do? Whip them? Tar and feather them?”
Neither the proprietor nor the other customers had intervened, but now Slim cleared his throat and declared, “That’s enough, you two. I’ve warned you before, Rufus, about making trouble in my place. It’s bad for business.”
“And we’ve warned you, Slim, not to meddle in our affairs. Not unless you want your precious store burned down around your ears.” Rufus wagged a finger at him. “One of these days you’ll really get my goat and all of us Hogans will pay you a visit.”
Slim looked at Zach. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Get your girl out of here before it’s too late.”
Rufus laughed. “Hell, it’s already too late. They’re not going anywhere until Charlie and I say they can.” Hefting his rifle, he reached out and poked Zach in the shoulder. “And that won’t be until you get down on your hands and knees.”
Volcanic rage seized Zach, barely held in check through sheer force of will. “Why would I want to do that?” he asked, his features composed, giving no hint of the emotion roiling within him.
“So you can lick my boots clean. Why else?”
The brothers cackled, and it was then, when both of them were momentarily distracted, that Zach swept the Hawken’s stock up and in, catching Charlie flush on the chin and felling him like a poled ox. Rufus instantly brought his own rifle into play, but he was a trifle too slow. Zach rammed the Hawken’s barrel into Rufus’s stomach, doubling Rufus over, then arced the stock in a half-circle that brought it crashing down on the rear of Rufus’s skull. The thud of wood connecting with flesh and bone was almost as loud as the thud of Rufus’s crumpled form hitting the floorboards.
Zach raised the Hawken to strike Rufus again. His next blow would cave in the white man’s head like a rotten melon. But slender fingers enclosed his wrist, and Lou sprouted in front of him.
“No! That’s enough, Stalking Coyote! Don’t kill him, please!”
Quivering with suppressed fury, Zach lowered the Hawken. He would much rather slay both. As any warrior could tell her, to leave an enemy alive was a mistake. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Slim was coming around the counter. “Were I you, ma’am, I’d let him do as he wants. Those two aren’t the type to forgive and forget. Mark my words. Once they wake up, they won’t rest until they’ve made worm food of you.”
Lou dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her hand. “We’ll be in St. Louis tomorrow. They’ll never find us there.” Not with so many people thronging the city’s streets, they wouldn’t. The last Lou had heard, the population had risen to a staggering sixteen thousand or better.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Slim said. “All the Hogans are part bloodhound. They can track down anyone, anywhere.”
“All we need is a head start,” Lou said confidently. Taking her husband-to-be’s callused hand, she hurried toward the door. “Thanks for your concern, mister.”
Against his better judgment, Zach let her lead him out to the hitch rail. Several riders were visible to the north. More Hogans? he wondered as he forked leather. Side by side they trotted southward, holding to a brisk pace the rest of the day. Sunset found them camped in thick undergrowth where their small fire wasn’t apt to be spotted from the road.
Louisa was in merry spirits. Humming softly, she prepared stew, courtesy of a rabbit Zach had brought low with his bow and arrow, which he usually kept bundled in a blanket strapped on his mount. At the moment he was fingering a pistol and peering off through the brush at the road. Louisa grinned. “Will you quit fretting? We haven’t seen any sign of them. I seriously doubt they’ll chase us all over creation, no matter what Slim said. We’re perfectly safe, sweetheart.”
Zach made no comment. If there was one lesson his father had impressed on him more than any other, it was to never take anything for granted. Maybe the Hogans would let them be. Maybe not.
Time would tell.
Chapter Two
The Gateway to the West. Or so the city fathers of St. Louis, Missouri, boasted, and the city lived up to its reputation.
Ideally located on the west bank of the Mississippi River, St. Louis was a thriving center for pilgrims swarming to the frontier and merchandise bound for eastern outlets. The beaver trade had brought it to prominence. Over four million dollars’ worth of brown gold was funneled through St. Louis before the bottom fell out of the market. The loss barely gave the growing city pause.
Its port was the pulsing heart of the rapidly expanding steamboat trade. From its wharves steamboats ranged far and wide, penetrating deep inland up the Missouri and other tributaries and downriver to the Gulf and beyond to the open sea. Business was the city’s backbone. Many a merchant had grown wealthy serving as middleman for settlers thronging west and customers along the Atlantic clamoring for frontier goods.
St. Louis was not all enterprise and greed, though. The city also prided itself on its culture. Three newspapers, two bookstores, a fine theater, and half a dozen hairdressers put St. Louis in a class all by itself. Glittering mansions overlooked the wild and woolly levee district. Fancy carriages clattered along wide avenues flanked by stately trees, bearing men and women dressed in the height of fashion to plays and recitals or their favorite clubs. Rich, and proud of it, St. Louis’s elite flaunted their money.
But just as there were two sides to every coin, there were also two sides to St. Louis. Her poorer districts were rife with filth and violence. In the levee district rowdy rivermen and frontiersmen caroused day and night at taverns and grogshops that catered to the rougher element. Fallen angels roved the streets in search of lustful prey. Everywhere, crime was chronic. Murder was common. Thievery rampant. Which had all led to the popular saying “God would never cross the Mississippi.”
From a promontory north of the metropolis, Zachary King and Louisa May Clark gazed in astonishment at the beehive of activity. Buildings reared into the sky. The white columns of mansions gleamed among verdant trees. At berth along the wharf were scores of steamboats. Dozens more plied the river, some departing, some arriving, plumes of smoke spewing from tall, sooty smokestacks. Barges and other craft also traveled the waterway, even small canoes.
“It’s fantastic!” Lou said, thinking of all the shops she could visit, the fun she would have.
Was it? Zach asked himself. He had his doubts. All those white men, every one a potential bigot. He had the feeling he was riding into a nest of rattlers. But it was too late to turn back. He was committed, come what may.
The road was heavy with traffic, wagons and riders and those on foot. Zach was pleasantly surprised to find that very few stared at him. As they neared the outskirts, he spied four Indians leaving the city on horseback. Their heads were shaved except for strips down the center, a trademark of Pawnees. In the forefront was a brawny warrior who wore a red blanket thrown over one shoulder. They showed more curiosity than hostility as they passed. None offered a word or sign in greeting.
