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At dawn, we were on our way. Third day of thirty to
get home or go back to prison. Roan was about on her last legs. Weren't no way
she'd take me home to I looked for a good place to strip and scrub.
Disappointed I didn't get a real bath and soft bed in Dagget's Wells. But I was
gonna get me a bath, one way or t'other. Roan breathed a sigh of relief when I
fetched up to a rock bigger'n a house, one side in the water. I let her drink
and rubbed her down. We was out of sight, and I'd seen no other body for two
hours. I spread my duds, hung my pistol belt and gun near the
water, and peeled. Hobbled, the mare had gone to grazing. The water looked
cold, but it was time to do 'er. I took my tin of soft soap and waded in.
Mister, it was cold. But I had it to do, so I had at it. I scrubbed me all over
twice and contemplated a third round, A female screamed. A high-pitched squeal, sounded like
a younger woman in mortal fear. It came from t'other side of my rock. I grabbed
my six-gun where I'd left her hanging, and splashed around the rock. Looking
back, I likely should've grabbed my pants, but right then it seemed to me that
she was in trouble, and I didn't have no time to waste. She squealed again. I hustled around that rock.
Sounded awful young. I sure as hell didn't hold with hurting women or girls. She was young. 'Bout eight years old, and naked as a
jay-bird. She stood knee deep and held onto a littler boy. She yelled.
"He's pretending he's a fish, trying to breathe under water." The boy wasn't over three. He was trying to put his
face in the water and she was trying to keep him from it. My heart slowed down
a mite. "What in tarnation you younguns doing out
here?" I hollered. I was half-relieved it was little ones playing, and
half-afraid they were runaways or lost. "Who're you to ask?" The voice came from the
wide, sandy bank. A pretty woman stood 0ankle deep in the river, wearing just
as much as her kids and me. She was a bit upset by my arrival. That
double-barreled shotgun she pointed at me didn't make me feel awful good,
neither. Looking at her, I couldn't think, let alone speak. She
was round where she should be round, and looked soft where a woman should be
soft, like a man dreams his woman will look. She was sure enough growed up, I
had no doubts she was their ma. My pistol was pointed at the sky, and I left it that
way. Didn't figger I wanted to frighten that woman. "So-so--sorry,
ma-ma-ma'am." I finally got my mouth to working. "I heard your
younguns scream and was afraid they was in trouble. I'll be going now I see
they're all right." "See you do. Don't be coming back." She
didn't let that gun barrel waver. "And don't be looking back." At
that, she didn't put the gun to her shoulder. "No, ma'am," I promised. I put my free hand
over my private parts and backed out of sight. I dressed quick. Seemed if she
had a man around, he woulda been watching, and likely I'd be picking buckshot
outta my hide. That meant a woman alone with two kids out here in the wild. But
what could I do? The third day after my release, out of prison duds,
and into new clothes, I looked respectable. But if something happened to that
woman, and anyone discovered I was a convict, I'd be locked up. If they
gave me a trial, and if I weren't convicted--unlikely in this time and
place where no one held with bothering a woman--it'd make me late. More likely,
they'd just hang me. Much as I disliked going home to face Ma, hanging
didn't seem like an awful good idee neither. My old pistol--Pa given it too me
when I was sixteen--on my hip, I climbed the rock to look around. Not far
enough for the woman to see me, just enough to see her horses. What I saw was
two harness mules, no saddles. I watched to be sure they was all right, that's
what I told myself. She was sure purty . . . pretty, I corrected myself. Now I
was out of prison, it was time I watched my words. She had a nice shape to go
with it. Her hair was dark brown, all over. Didn't notice what color her eyes
was. They came in sight, all dressed. She set the two
little ones on one mule, scrambled onto the other, took their reins, and
started away. She didn't look back. Was she that scared? Or did she know where
I was and not want to admit she'd let me get that close again? I tightened Roan's cinch. We'd follow, but not close.
I had no desire to scare them any more than I likely had. "C'mon, Roan, we
got us some escort duty to do." With the judge's warning to get to The country was mostly open, trees along the river,
and on hillsides. A few hills, nothing steep. Enough brush I could stay out of
sight. In about a mile I saw the white tops of six covered wagons. She headed
right for them. A lean, rangy man in a buckskin short coat rode to
meet them. He was about as big as me, wore a pistol on his right hip, butt
forward, and moved like it was a part of him. He fell in beside them. The
little girl pointed back, but the woman put her hand on the girl's arm. The man glanced toward where I hid. I'd stayed pretty
much in cover, and when I'd seen him, backed Roan behind a clump of hazelnut
bushes. He had one of those no-fun-to-tangle-with faces. I surely didn't want
to. Anyhow, the woman and her younguns were safe. Why
hadn't her man ridden with her? None of my business. Besides, I had to get to |