Another Man's Load
by Galen Peoples
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Another Man's Load
by Galen Peoples
A greased log shot downhill into the splash dam, where it came to rest among hundreds of its like. Jeremy Bolt came half-running, half-sliding after it and joined his brother Jason at the river. "That's the last," he said. The rest of the men followed. Jason sent most of them ahead to clear the banks of brush and deadwood, and led the remainder in shifting the logs that lay partly in the water and partly ashore. The morning was cool; the sun was still hidden behind the hill.
Jeremy asked why they were bothering to cut someone else's timber when it was almost summer and their own peak season was over. "–and you'd sooner be sitting at home indulging the natural idleness of youth," said Jason with a smile.
"No matter to me," Jeremy said, "with Candy gone." Jason remembered that the young woman who before long, he was sure, would be his sister-in-law had accompanied Lottie Hatfield, the proprietess of their town's only saloon, on her yearly shopping excursion to Olympia.
He explained again why the eldest and the youngest of the Bolts were here, miles to the south. After the Green River mill had closed, the local lumber camp had gone bust. The owner, Cy Dudley, having no one left to harvest his logs or take them to market, had hired the Bolts to do the job for a share of the proceeds. Those would come to little enough so late in the year. "But you'll profit, at any rate," Jason promised Jeremy, "by gettin' a taste of a genuine river drive. No call for it on the mountain–or river drivers neither, come to that. But Dudley said he knew where he could find–"
As if by signal, a sound woke the early morning air, a sound like the howl of a wolf pack, only wilder, and ranging up and down the scale. It bounced back and forth from hill to hill, growing ever closer. "Can't be," said Jason.
Jeremy asked what it was. A moment after, the sight that came round the bend hardened Jason's suspicion into a grim certainty. "Our partners," he said.
What he saw was a shanty raft with a small army on board, escorted by other men wading through the shallows and still others tramping along the bank. Most of them wore overalls already soaked through, and cut off above their cork boots.
"Jason Bolt," one of them called out, "you spindle-shanked, tree-crawlin' dandy!" He waved a red wool cap. Although not above middle height, he was powerfully built, with a barrel chest and thickly muscled arms.
"Timothy Sligo, you moonstruck son of a mudhen!" Jason called back. "How the blazes are you?"
"Old friend of yours?" Jeremy asked.
"Brother," said Jason, belying the friendly wave he sent, "I wouldn't trust him as far as that stump."
Sligo was quick to justify this bad opinion. As soon as the Bolts had boarded the wanigan and introductions had been made all round, he set forth a demand, not hinted at till then, for seventy percent of the take, not counting Dudley's part. "Sure, since the boys and me will be doin' the lion's share of the labor–"
"Equal shares, was the arrangement," Jason reminded him.
"That was Dudley's arrangement, not mine."
"No deal."
Sligo folded his arms. "Then the logs stay where they is–'less you care to drive 'em." A bout of haggling followed. Eventually Sligo agreed to sixty percent, as did Jason, rather to Jeremy's disappointment.
"And let's get one thing clear," Sligo said. "You may be bull of the woods, but out here I'm head push. You take orders from me."
"And if we don't?" Jeremy asked.
Sligo shrugged. "Likely you'll get yourselves kilt."
He turned to his men. "Boys, what do you say? Shall we baptize 'em?" Those nearest rushed the Bolts, dragged them to the edge of the raft, and threw them in, but not before two or three had been pulled in along with them. Jason made a lunge for Sligo, but he jumped back too fast and stood with hands on hips, laughing at the baptized, who splashed about to get warm till the others helped them out.
"Crawdad!" Sligo bellowed. A brownish man with lank black hair climbed onto the spill gate. The others quickly moved away. "Set 'em free!" Sligo ordered.
Crawdad Jack gave one of the stays a mighty kick and then dove for the bank. The gate collapsed and water poured forth, taking the logs with it. They crashed down into the river and spread out across its breadth as they caught the current northward. Resting had ended; the drive was on.
Each man jumped onto a log, and then from log to log as they saw need, armed with pikes and peaveys. The pikes were staffs with steel points; the peaveys were shorter, with points and hooks. Each time a log drifted toward the bank, a man would hook it with his peavey and give it a spin to set it back on course. Then, spotting another derelict, he would skip across as many logs as lay between and give a slightly different spin to that. Everyone watched constantly for turnouts and jam-ups.
Sligo emitted a howl, which his men took up. Jeremy covered his ears. "Now I wish I was home!" he yelled to Jason.
"Scared of catchin' cold?"
"No–going deaf!"
Female screeching shook the rafters.
Yes, female, for far north of the river, and innocent of what was befalling there, Seattle's brides, still in their nightgowns, screamed as they huddled together in the bedroom of their white clapboard dormitory, keeping their bare feet away from the daggers of glass that strewed the floor, beneath what was left of the northmost window.
"You women in there," sounded a man's voice from outside, "this is my last warning!"
Biddie Cloom called for quiet. No sooner had the screams subsided than a gunshot like the one that had shattered the pane minutes ago took out the next one in line, and the screams began all over again, Biddie's loudest of all.
"Candy would be away," said a girl with a kitten face.
"No fear, Georgie," said Biddie, "she left me in charge." Georgie and some of the others moaned. Biddie cautiously lifted one of the windows yet intact and stuck her head out.
The man below stared up at her. He was a rock-jawed, square-shouldered man, grey over the ears, and sporting a suit that might have been in fashion twenty-five years earlier. Biddie had never seen a gun like the one at his side, an Allen and Thurber dragoon pepperpot of a vintage approximating that of the suit, with a muzzle six times the normal size. "Sir," she said, in a voice thinner than she had intended, "may I inquire the nature of your business?"
"Not likely I'd confide in you, you hussy!" Never having been called that before, she took it as a compliment. "You fetch down Leonora Cady," the man went on, "if she be using her right name, or I'll smash every window in the place." He raised the gun, which, too heavy for him, wobbled in his grip. Biddie quickly withdrew.
The brides looked down the room to the girl on the corner bed. She too had a strong chin and square shoulders, and at the moment appeared even more solemn than usual. "Let him have her!" said Georgie.
Biddie was trying her hardest to think. "Must find Jason," she said aloud.
That drove Georgie past her limit. "He's gone too, you fleawit!"
Slowly, almost ritually, Leonora put on her slippers and shawl, rose to her feet, and started down the central aisle. "You don't have to–" Biddie began.
"But I do," she said.
When she emerged into the yard, the man lowered his gun. He looked her up and down. "Barely decent," he grunted, "as I calculated."
She stopped halfway to him. She seemed ready to faint. "I'll change," she murmured, and she started back. "No, you don't!" He marched in and grabbed her hand. "I'm taking you out of this now!"
He dragged her to the gate, where they met a tall, lanky lumberjack who greeted her by name. She deliberately looked past him. "Nory, what ails you?" he said. "I come on time like you asked."
The rock-jawed man then heard him say she always hated waiting for her six bits. "I'll l'arn you," he roared, "you vicious devil!" He poked the lumerjack in the chest with his gun.
The lumberjack turned it aside, and an instant later it was wrested from the old man's hand. Aaron Stempel fumbled with it for a moment and then passed it to one of the other men in the de facto posse he had brought to investigate the disturbance. "Empty this thing," he ordered.
Then he turned back to the lumberjack. "You know this lunatic?"
"Mr. Stempel, Harker Cady," said Leonora. "He is, I am sorry to say, my father."
Down on the river, the driving crew continued their games of leapfrog and spear hockey to keep the logs headed straight. The channel was so full of them it looked like a crocodile nest. The Bolts had been assigned to the jam crew up front, whose job it was to keep the lead logs out of the shoals. A quick study, Jeremy had caught on to the trick right away but found, the first time he tried out the peavey, that it took three times as much muscle as he had expected. Jason was doing little better. He had not handled a peavey for years, and was slow in getting the hang of it again. When the log he was riding veered toward the bank, he was powerless to stop it. Sligo jumped onto the one next over and gave Jason's a hard yank to bring it back into line. It spun under his feet, and he hopped off to keep from falling in. "Been off the river a season, ain'tcha?" Sligo said.
He lifted his head and let out another howl. His men answered him and then one another till their howls and the echoes could not be told apart. Jeremy gave a small howl of his own, but he hesitated too long and it came out too late. Sligo looked at him in surprise and then laughed.
Jason did not laugh. He asked Sligo what had become of his last steady job of which Jason had heard, down on the Columbia. Sligo scratched his ear. "Tiny misunderstandin' there. Lucky it was that Dudley hunted us up. Used to work for him, you know, till...."
"Another misunderstanding, I fancy." Sligo grinned. "By the by," said Jason, as an afterthought, "what became of that fifty dollars I loaned you?"
Even if Sligo had been disposed to answer, he had no chance. He saw that Crawdad had pulled a flask from the feedbag he carried on his back and, while taking a draught from it, was allowing one of the lead logs to list to the right and bump another, pushing it toward shore. "Mind the strays!" Sligo yelled. He jumped onto Crawdad's log, grabbed the flask, and tossed it overboard. "Eyes on the job, not the jug!"
Jeremy broad-jumped across to the end log. "I can get it!" he said. Ignoring Jason, who shouted at him to leave it be, he dug in his peavey and set the log straight–straight enough anyway so the current drew it back into the mainstream–but the force of the effort unbalanced him and he toppled into the water. He grabbed the log to keep afloat. Another log drifted close, threatening to pin him between them. Crawdad Jack hooked his peavey onto Jeremy's collar, lifted him, and dropped him near to where he had started from. In some alarm, Jason made his way to him and was relieved to find him shaken but unhurt.
"Best go easy till you learn the ropes," said Sligo. "These logs'll crush you or drown you, they don't give a fig neither way."
Jeremy nodded his thanks to Crawdad, who reached into his bag to produce a second flask, which he held out. Jeremy began to reach for it when a scowl from Jason halted him. "It'd only be neighborly," he said. "After all, he saved my life."
"And tomorrow you'll save his," Sligo said indifferently. "That's the way of it out here."
"That too," Jason said soberly. He nodded toward a pair of shoes dangling from an oak branch on the riverside. The men who had caps removed them and stood silent while they passed.
The ceremony of it made Jeremy shiver. "Whose are those?" he asked.
"Belonged to Jimmy the Gaff," said Sligo. "That's where we buried him. He was standin' where you are when a log reared up and hit him crosswise. He never saw it, and 'twasn't a one of us here could save him."
"I don't need saving," said Leonora.
Her father had declared that to be his design and the aim of his trip. His pistol having been unloaded at last, after much conferring and head scratching, Aaron had given it back to him, but kept the cartridges.
"I know it all," Cady said. "Knew straight along, I did. But you and your ma wouldn't hear me. Now my chickens have come home to roost, haven't they, eh?"
Leonora held herself back from voicing the outburst of unladylike language to which she was tempted. She settled on a milder substitute. "Oh, blame your chickens!"
"Not a word in your letters. But I don't fault you for that." He nodded at Aaron. "I calculate this one reads every word you dispatch."
"What was that?" said Aaron.
Leonora had given up the effort to follow her father's train of thought, as she remembered having often given up in the past. She shook her head helplessly.
"Thank heaven your ma an't here to see," said Cady. "The disgrace of it–our only child, comporting in a backwoods parlor house."
She understood that. She froze and then she began to tremble. Her face grew red. "You think–how could you–"
"Now see here–" Aaron began.
"So you're the fancy man of the place, eh?" Cady looked him over. "A-yeah, I can tell by the cut of your vest, Mr. Jason Bolt."
"I take exception to that remark!"
Leonora attempted to calm everyone, including herself. "Papa," she said slowly, "this is the dormitory. It's where the brides live."
"That what they call 'em now? Daresay he lives here too," he snorted, nodding at the tall lumberjack.
"Papa, this is my intended."
"A-yeah," said Cady, "bringing you his six bits."
"You got it wrong, mister," the lumberjack said earnestly. "Six Bits, that's my handle." His given name, he explained, was Monroe Pedersen, but the boys had re-christened him Six Bits because he was always broke. "This way they figgered that no matter what I'd have six bits I could call my own."
Aaron felt his sanity leaking away. "Look, Mister–" To his relief, he saw Joshua Bolt approaching. "You want a Bolt? Here's one."
Joshua asked what the ruckus was about. "Biddie burn the hotcakes again?"
"This is all my fault," Six Bits was saying to Leonora. "If we'da got hitched like you wanted–"
Aaron introduced Joshua to the newcomer. "He's under the impression you brought the brides here for–business purposes."
Joshua passed through several stages before attaining full enlightenment, and even then, he could not believe he had got it right. "What have you to say for yourself?" Cady demanded. Joshua could think of nothing close to sufficient. "Calculated as much. Can't fiddle your way around the truth, can you?"
At that point Reverend Adams happened along. The more the merrier, thought Joshua. "Having a celebration?" asked Adams. "I heard gunshots." Cady asked what denomination he belonged to. Methodist Episcopal, Adams said. Cady made a "hmp" sound.
"Reverend, please," said Joshua, "tell him the brides aren't scarlet women."
Adams hesitated and then blushed. "I–I'm sure they're trying to be respectable girls." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "But only yesterday I caught another of them with a man friend canoodling in back of the church."
"Canoodling," Cady repeated, in a tone of disgust. He had not heard the word before but did not need to be told what it meant.
"Thanks, Reverend," said Joshua, meaning to end the discussion.
"Haven't seen you filling a pew lately," Adams went on.
"Thanks, Reverend," said Joshua, "that's fine." Aaron watched with evident amusement. The Reverend said he was always glad to be of service and bade them good day.
Cady spied the steamer that had brought him heading out. "Come the next one," he said to Leonora, "you and I'll leave."
Leonora took a long breath. "Papa," she said, "I'm pleased you've come to visit. And while you're here I shall try to make your stay pleasant. But there's to be no more talk of rescuing me. This is my home, and a perfectly decent one, whatever you may believe. Come along in, I'll show you."
"Never! I took a vow in my youth–"
"Your decision." She started in, calling to Monroe to follow.
Her father blocked the gate. "I forbid it!"
"You forbid!"
"I will not have you consorting with your–your 'guests' under my nose."
Joshua reached around him to open the gate and ushered the couple through. "Mark me, you lot," the old man shouted after them, "you'll rue the day you set yourselves against me! Soon as I get to Olympia, I'll report this establishment to the marshal and demand he shut it down."
"He'll laugh you out of his office," said Joshua. He saw that the others had stopped and were looking at one another. "What is it?"
Aaron stepped up to him and spoke in a low voice. "Let's think about this," he said. "If the tale gets around–"
"It's nothing but a heap of–"
"–which makes a big stink. And there are the brides to consider. If men from other parts start flocking here looking for–entertainment–" He left the rest to Joshua's imagination.
Joshua knew Aaron understood these things better than he. "So we go along with this madman?"
"Unless you can talk him out of this notion. But it'll take some swift talking." Aaron hesitated. "No offense, but–"
"–you wish Jason was here?"
Aaron grimaced at hearing it said aloud. "Don't tell him I said so."
Joshua apologized to Leonora. "No visiting for now," he said. "You can keep company at Lottie's."
Cady had overheard. "A barroom? No, sir! All associations between these Jezebels and their pack of hounds must have an end. I'll see to it!" He struck a pose in front of the gate and raised the pepperpot shakily. "Let 'em get past this."
"It's not loaded," Aaron said crossly. Cady looked down the barrels and made a silent "Oh."
Under his chaperonage, Joshua informed Biddie of the new order of things across the chaste thickness of a screen door. "I don't understand it a bit," she said. "Why can't we see our men?–that is, those of us that have men."
"Because my father is a stubborn old idiot," said Leonora.
"Oh, I see," Biddie said. But then she did not. "So why mind him at all?"
Joshua did not feel like arguing at the moment. "I'll explain to Candy when she gets back." Biddie started to reply. "Only be for a day or two. I'll let the men know, you tell the brides." He smiled hopefully. "I'm sure they'll be reasonable."
"I'll wring his neck like a chicken!" was Georgie's response, to which she added, after a moment, "Sorry, Leonora."
The other brides voiced concurrence. Surrounded by them, Biddie wished fleetingly that Cady were beside her with his very large gun, but she saw through the windows that he was at sentry duty as promised. "It won't be for long," she said, trying to sound merry. "You can occupy yourselves with edifying pursuits."
Georgie started to complain and then stopped herself unexpectedly. "All right, Biddie," she said, "we'll be good." The others stared at her. "Wouldn't even think of sneaking out." Her lips widened in a smile practically angelic.
That evening while at supper Biddie heard a clumping from the rear of the house and went to investigate. She got there just in time to restrain Georgie and two others from climbing out the windows. Intelligently supposing that this would not be their final try, she resolved to come up with a plan to meet the situation.
Leonora found her father half-dozing where he stood. She laid a plate of food atop his baggage, which was piled up by the gate. He blinked. "Letitia?" After a moment he realized his mistake. She always had favored her mother. Curiously, everyone in town who had seen father and daughter together had noticed how much she favored him.
"You can't stay out here," she said. "I'm certain Mr. Stempel will put you up if you ask."
Cady shook his head. He saw the food she had brought but did not acknowledge it.
"If Mama could see how you're behaving–" she began.
"Don't you use her name against me!"
"Is that another thing only you're allowed to do?" Cady turned away from her. "Ashamed, you said. You should be–ashamed you could forget everything you ever knew about my character, everything you and Mama raised me to be. You know something, Papa? I'm ashamed too." Her voice broke on the last words, causing Cady to flinch a little. He did not move till after she had left. Then he picked up the plate and began eating eagerly.
The river men also were taking supper, in shifts of three and four. Some shook it into their feedbags and ate it by the handful while continuing to work the logs. A great calm had settled on the darkening purple hills.
Jeremy stuffed in one lump after another of beef and potatoes. "Cussed if you don't eat like a river pig," said a voice slurred with food. Sligo came up to him carrying an even fuller plate than his.
"Now I know why you chose this for a living," Jeremy said.
Sligo laughed. "Do it if I starved. Y'ever study a map of the nation? The rivers is its veins and arteries. The life of it flows through 'em–feel it flowin' through me. When I'm on land, it drains right out. That's why I'll live and die a river man."
Jeremy repeated the last two words dreamily, eyelids drooping. Sligo caught the plate as he dropped it. "Best have a nap, lad," he said. "You're not used to all-night runs. You can curl up here on the wanigan." Jeremy did not argue. The big cook pointed out a free corner and tossed him a cloth caked with grease for a pillow. Too sleepy to be finicky, Jeremy tucked it under his head.
Before falling off, he thought he saw a man on the hill facing. He propped himself halfway up for a better look; the hill was unoccupied. Jason would say he had dreamed it, and perhaps he had. He resolved to say nothing about it, and shortly fell asleep.
Cady was snoring in the rocker on the porch. His daughter gently removed the pistol from his lap and laid an Indian blanket over him. She stood regarding him sadly. They had been apart for so long, and here they were still apart. But she supposed there was nothing she could do.
While Cady slept, two of those he had been looking out for crept up at the rear and flung pebbles at one of the windows remaining to the upper story. Georgie sat up in bed. The covers fell, revealing her dressed to take the air. Having made sure Biddie was still prostrate, with her eyes shut, she leaned over and touched her bedmate, Flora Sue, who was also awake and dressed. The two of them rose quietly, stole down the stairs, and crossed the floor on tiptoe, halting at every little creak.
Georgie reached to open the window latch. "Tied shut!" she hissed.
"I cannot tell a lie," Biddie said from the stairs. "It was I with my little ball of twine." She held it up for their perusal. Georgie bared her teeth at her. The loggers, noses pressed to the glass, made the most pitiful faces they could summon up. Biddie crossed to the window and made one of her own that sent them running off.
They looked gloomy over next morning's breakfast at the camp, and so did their fellows–except for the cook, who had barely looked at a member of the other sex since making up his mind that they were neither necessary nor conducive to a placid life.
"Man can't rightly work without his girl," Six Bits said, to a murmur of general agreement. He took a bite of his corn bread and washed it down with a sip of coffee. "Don't rightly have the heart to work." There was another general murmur. None of the group looked at Joshua, and he was not looking at them. "If Jason was here, you can bet he'd know what to do."
Joshua slammed down his plate and left. Six Bits took another bite of corn bread.
Still asleep outside the dormitory, Cady was served his breakfast in his lap. The hot towelful of biscuits caused him to wake with a yelp as his daughter disappeared through the screen door.
Returning to the kitchen, where Biddie was drying dishes, Leonora made a cross between a growl and a moan. "If you need someone to talk to–" Biddie began.
"I'll wait for Candy," Leonora said over her shoulder, "thanks anyway."
Biddie slapped down her towel and left.
Passing by Cady, she heard him demand, through a mouthful of biscuit, to know what her business was. Unusually for her, she went on without answering.
The crowd at Lottie's she did not recognize, either from the logging camp or the mill. A few she thought she had seen hanging about the wharf. Ken watched them all dourly from behind the bar. An arm reached past him for a bottle. He knocked it away. "You ain't paid for the last," he said.
"Put it on my tab," said the arm's owner. "'s what Lottie does." The other arm grabbed the bottle, and the man staggered back to his table. Ken growled after him.
Somewhat timidly, Biddie made her way to the counter. Ken asked what he could get her. "Well," she whispered, bending forward, "if I might trouble you for a teensy-weensy–"
"Biddie?"
She turned with a start to see Joshua at the other end. Flustered, she began to explain her presence there. "Finding myself unexpectedly overcome–"
"It's okay," Joshua said with a grin, "I needed one myself."
Relaxing, she plunked down a dime and a two-cent piece and ordered a whiskey straight up. Seconds later a glass appeared. She took a gulp from it and, so bravened, asked Joshua whether he would mind some company. She took his shrug for an affirmative. Starting down to him, she was immediately blocked by two men careering against the counter in furtherance of a quarrel that had erupted in the corner some moments before. Biddie lifted her glass out of harm's way. "I muss–must say, Kenneth, the calibre of your patronage leaves much to be desired."
"Same gang of loafers," he said, "come around every time she leaves." He pulled a belaying pin from under the counter and held it over their heads. Joshua asked why he didn't just boot them out.
"Aw, Lottie don't care," said one of the men. But they broke it off and returned to their tables. The way cleared, Biddie moved to join Joshua.
"That there's why," Ken said. "They keep sayin' Lottie'd do this, Lottie'd do that–and I ain't her."
His listeners both knew how he felt. They sipped their drinks gloomily.
"Jo–"
"Biddie, I'm not in the mood for–"
"I know, you'd rather it was Candy." Joshua looked at her in surprise. "Like all the rest. 'Oh, Biddie, it's only you, tell Candy I stopped.'"
Joshua nodded. "'Bet if Jason was here, he'd know what to do.'"
"You feel like the veriest wrong person there is–"
"–but someone's got to do the job."
"And what else can you do?"
"Not a thing."
They drained their glasses together. "Barkeep," Biddie said, "hit me again."
"Me too," said Joshua.
"Yer drunk!" said Sligo.
This accusation was aimed at Crawdad Jack, the taint of whose breath would have verified it if his boss had cared to make an inspection, but to Jeremy's surprise both seemed to have entirely forgotten Sligo's admonition of the day before on the same subject. This time he was only trying to rile Crawdad in the hope of gaining an advantage on him in their present contest: from adjoining logs they were going at each other with jam pikes.
"Ain't so drunk but I can take you!" Crawdad answered.
"I could take you twice that drunk!"
"Then why ain'tcha?"
The men were cheering on one or the other or both, swiveling their heads to watch them while keeping an eye on the logs. Jason decided it was up to him to separate the two, without being jabbed or pummeled, he hoped.
He jumped onto Sligo's log. "I can take the two of both hands tied and standin' on one leg," he said, "but this ain't the occasion!" Flexing his peavey, he gave Crawdad's log a turn that sent it away and ahead, and forcibly barred Sligo from following. "Can't have you breakin' your neck," he said, "leastwise till the run's over."
"Bedad if you ain't gone soft," said Sligo. "Out in the woods too long, I guess."
The abandoned mill was coming up on the right. Instantly Sligo forgot about the jam pikes. "Let's have a look-see," he said, and he jumped off onto the bank. Just like a child, Jason thought, not for the first time.
Within the mill, bars of light fell through gaps in the roof onto what had once been timber bays. "Sad to see her like this," said Sligo. "We used to roll the logs in here, and from here they'd get shipped to points wes–"
Jason raised a hand to his lips. He nodded toward the water. Amid the wood flotsam and floating patches of oily film, the surface showed the reflection of a figure in an Indian loincloth crouched on the roof and peering in through one of the gaps. Sligo hoisted himself onto a frame, reached up through the gap, and pulled the man down. He landed in one of the bays and scrambled, splashing, to his feet. Sligo jumped in after him. As the two faced each other, their eyes widened in what was clearly mutual recognition. After a second the Indian dashed out through a break in the wall and up through the woods. "How'd he know you?" Jason demanded.
"No notion. Perhaps he worked here of a time and spotted me for an old customer. Sure, that'll be it." Jason had had enough experience of Sligo, and dissemblers in general, to spot this for a new lie, but before he could pursue the matter, Sligo had left and, once outside, he hopped away over the highway of logs.
Jason was about to follow him, but changed direction to where Jeremy was waving him over. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Nothing the matter," Jeremy said blandly, "just wanted to tell you my idea." Jason gave a sigh of exasperation. He looked back at Sligo, by now halfway up the flotilla. "What would you say," asked Jeremy, "if I was to take a year off to travel around with Timothy and learn the river trade?"
Jason did not like the idea at all, but before he could compose an answer, a cry from the front diverted their attention. "Look sharp! White water!" Where the Green River emptied into the Duwamish, the water churned around a sharp curve.
"Look out," said Crawdad, "we've jammed up here before."
They had an up-and-down ride of it. Even with the spikes on their boots, they had constantly to shift their balance to avoid falling, all the while herding the logs to follow the bend of the river. All was well till they neared the far end.
There disaster struck. "Log jam!" Sligo shouted. The Bolts saw it a second later. A huge log was lying across the way. The lead logs had run into it and bounced back to hit others, which hit others in turn. The river men could do nothing to stop the progression. The logs massed up, some miring in the banks, and finally stopped completely.
Crawdad was unsteady already when his log collided with another, throwing him into the water. Jeremy extended his peavey to him. As he took it, his weight pulled Jeremy in alongside him. The timber was still now, and Jason watched with relief as they helped each other through it toward the shore.
Sligo came up and jabbed him in the chest. "This was your lookout! Your men was to clear the way!"
Jason jabbed him back. "You a blind fool? Someone set that here on purpose."
A knife whistled by them and lodged in the wood at their feet. A party of black-haired men in loincloths appeared among the trees. Two leapt down to meet Jeremy and Crawdad as they waded ashore. The only drivers with a hope of escape were the sacking crew at the rear, still slogging through the mud. Crouching behind a log, they slid up onto the bank, where they found a rear guard waiting for them. The whole gang was captive.
One of the Indians stepped out onto the log that had caused the stoppage. He was dressed no differently from the others, yet he was plainly their leader.
"Sli-go!" he said, pointing at him. "You rob me! Now you, me settle!"
"Oooh," said Sligo, "don't sound good, do it?"
Jason grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "And should you survive–which I pray angels above allow–it'll be my turn."
Jason would have been surprised to see that just then his proxy and Candy's were deep in conversation together, and sinking deeper all the time.
"Tell me someth'n'," said the former, "you can talk on and on, and on and on–"
"Rattle on, you mean, I know, I can't help it, once I get started I can't shtop–stop–it's the queerest thing–"
"Jason, now," said Joshua, "Jason–he can talk all night and into the afternoon after next noon–afternoon next. Jeremy too, once he gets going. But me–you hear me yesterday?–I was, I was, I was–"
"Tie-tongued–tongue-tie–tongue–"
"What," said Joshua, leaning closer, "is the secret?"
"The–secret," Biddie said slowly. "Hmmmmmmmmm. Well, I have a kind of notion what I mean to say, then pop out with the first thing that comes to mind and hope the right words find their way in–and, you know, they usually do. The hard thing is keeping quiet." She put her finger to her lips. "Shhhhhhhhh."
"Shhhhhhhhh," Joshua repeated.
"How in the world do you manage it?"
"Well, you–"
"I couldn't, to save my soul, it's like peanuts, I'm quite partial to peanuts, I believe most people are–and they're nutritious too–but you can't stop at one, can you? Talking is the same way–how do you stop?"
"Well, you–"
"I suppose some people are born knowing, some are born knowing everything under the sun, but me, I–"
Joshua covered her mouth. "Biddie–you listen."
"Lsfm?" she said.
"Listen." He took his hand away. "You listen. And I–talk."
They smiled at each other.
Seeking out Cady, Joshua found him now patrolling the whole perimeter of the dormitory, as he had done since discovering the rear windows. "Came for a talk," said Joshua, falling into step with him. "You talk and I'll walk–no, I'll walk and you talk–never mind." His head was floating a little, but he did not care as long as words came to the top. "How's the weather in New Bedford?" he asked. Cady looked at him sharply.
Biddie watched from the porch, together with Leonora, who asked what Joshua thought he was doing. "Saying the first thing that comes to mind," Biddie said. My land, thought Leonora.
To Joshua's younger brother, the big river no longer appeared so liberating as it had at first; it had now taken on an ominous cast. He watched anxiously as the chief conferred with his shaman. Sligo meanwhile unfolded the whole story, or as much of it as Jason could badger out of him. Two years earlier he had visited the village to barter for rope and discovered the chief's collection of carvings, made for him by many of his grateful people. Sligo had returned later with goods of his own, acquired by means that would not have withstood scrutiny, and talked the chief into holding a potlatch of sorts in which both would give up their belongings to the river spirit–"'cept I had the boys waitin' below to catch 'em," said Sligo. "Chief sniffed it out and we had to skedaddle. But the tail of it was, I wound up with the lot."
Jason's eyes were like cold iron. "And it never passed your mind he might be nursing a grievance?" It was more than simple theft, Jason realized; it was an abuse of their religion and a blow at the chief's honor. He went on, before Sligo could answer, "You'll give back what you took, every last shaving."
"Sold 'em all."
"Then you'll give him the proceeds."
"Spent 'em."
"Timothy...." Jason grabbed him by the collar and forced his head into the muddy water. He counted to five, reflected, extended it to ten, and then pulled him out.
Sligo wiped his face. "Sure, there was no call for that."
Jeremy looked at Jason. "And him an Irishman."
"Yes, what of it?" Sligo said truculently.
"Remind me what it is Clancey's got against the English?"
"Why, they stole our lands," Sligo broke in, "sent their armies to crush us, took advantage of our trustin' nature at every–" He stopped, struck.
Both brothers shook their heads. Jason got to his feet, strode up to the chief and his minister, and introduced himself as Bolt of Seattle.
"I know of you," the chief said. "Men say you are true man."
Jason's eyes widened. "They do?"
The chief made a gesture like one playing an accordion. "–who sometimes make truth long."
Jason grinned. "Never yet saw the fact that couldn't stand polishin'. Let's you and me parley."
Parleying came easier to him than to Joshua, whose efforts with Cady were going badly, Biddie decided. Joshua was of the same opinion. He was running dry of words, and those magical right ones had not emerged yet. He pressed on regardless. "Think we'd do anything to disgrace the brides? Why, the brides–the brides–" He caught sight of Biddie, who pantomimed lips moving in an attempt at encouragement. "The brides," he continued fondly, "such beautiful brides–Biddie, Candy, Ann, Georgie–no, skip Georgie–Flora Sue–" He got stuck again. "Did I say Ann?"
"A-yeah. And you and those brothers of yours lured 'em all here with your high talk."
"I allow we made the place sound grander than it is." Else none of them would have been fool enough to come, he thought. "But it was all aboveboard. If their honor was comper–" His tongue felt a little thick. "–coppermised, we'da had to pay their passage home. We signed to that." Then the magic words came. "And y'know what else? I'll show you." He put his arm around the old man's shoulder and led him to a view of Bridal Veil Mountain.
Cady shook him off. "Have you lost your–"
"Lost–that's it exactly. We'da lost that–our mountain."
"It's yours? The whole thing?" Cady was impressed despite himself. "And you were willing to gamble it away?"
"It was that or lose the town. Without the brides, the men would have drifted off, or brought in a different class of women. The brides kept us respectable. Church is full on Sundays, we have a temperance association, we're even building an opera house–"
Cady looked narrowly at him. "Might be there's hope for you. Might be I'll give you a chance to redeem their honor." What price do you put on that? thought Joshua. "Very well. I'll not resort to the marshal–not yet. On condition you close this establishment–"
"But it's not–" Joshua saw it was useless to revive that quarrel. "Okay. And?"
"And give me a piece of your mountain."
Joshua stood dumbstruck. "Well?" Cady prodded.
"I–I can't," said Joshua. "I'd have to ask my brothers. And they'd say no." He reflected a moment. "We'd all say no."
Cady gave a nod. "A-yeah. If you'd said any different, I'da known you for a liar." He resumed his patrol.
"Then you believe me about the brides?"
Cady turned back. "A-no." He walked on.
Fine talker I am, Joshua said to himself. He looked apologetically at Biddie. She decided she would have to come up with a plan for this situation too.
Jason's parley had been more fruitful, as his companions learned upon his return. He brought the tidings that the chief was willing to release them in exchange for a quarter of the timber, which would be enough to build his tribe a new village; they had fished out the present stretch and were about to relocate upriver. "And one last stipulation," Jason told Sligo. "After the drive, you and your men are to come back and build their domiciles for 'em." He pointed to the brave whom they had encountered at the mill. "Katoowee here will come along to make sure of you."
"And if he doesn't," said Jeremy, "I will."
"It's slavery, that's what–" Sligo began, and then stopped suddenly. "Ah, well," he said, in a different tone, "if we must, we must." He proposed building a boom to hold the Indians' share. "This here'd be about a fourth, wouldn't it?" He made a cutting motion. At a look from Jason, he quickly moved the dividing line a dozen yards farther down. He ordered his men to take up their pikes.
Joshua had returned to the saloon to find himself its sole customer. He asked what had happened to the scrubwood. Ken pointed to a broken lamp. "Got so riled I finally threw 'em out. But they'll be back tomorrow."
"You should do what we do at camp–set some rules. The wild men we get...."
"Rules," Ken repeated thoughtfully. He took up a pad and pencil and slowly printed the word. Joshua bent around to read it. "One L," he said, "and no O's." Ken crossed it out and started over.
Biddie had indeed devised a plan, and now set about putting it into motion. As Cady continued his patrol around the building, a row of brides in their Sunday best marched out the gate and formed a train behind him. He was completely unaware of it till he stopped short and they came bumping up against him.
"Permit me to introdush–duce my fellow brides," said Biddie. "Some of them refused to come, being as they consider you a mortally disturbed individual. However," she went on, "this is Annabeth–" The first girl stepped up, curtsied, and trotted to the rear. "–Lilibeth–" The second girl did the same. "–Marybeth–"
Cady halted her. "What's the aim of this?"
"To show you the error of your ways," Biddie said plainly. "I mean, look at us. Do we really look to you like women of–of the kind of which we are not?" She wished she had put it better than that had sounded.
Leonora stepped out from her place in the line. "Do we, Papa? Do I?"
Cady's jaw hardened. "Used to be clever girls, didn't you? Now see what you've come to–off in this wild place, abandoned by those that loved you, those that could have saved you–outcast in this world and the next." The brides' chins began to quiver. "The pit gapes wide, and it's full of black scorching misery. I see it as plain...."
Presently the parlor of the dormitory resounded with their sobbing. "If anyone wishes to say anything," Biddie said, "I'll listen. Listen, listen, listen," she added, and wondered where that had come from.
Georgie fell into her lap with a wail. "Oh, Biddie, I don't want to be an outcast!"
"He always was stubborn," said Leonora, staring out through the window, "fixed in his ideas. The quarrels he and Mama would have! But now he only sees the worst in things, or manufactures it himself." She turned to find Biddie staring at her with saucer eyes and all the muscles of her face rigid. Leonora asked what the matter was. Biddie said she was listening. Leonora smiled in spite of everything. "Not so hard," she advised.
"Don't mind his bad opinion," said Biddie, "I'm sure Joshua will make an honest woman of you." She quickly corrected herself. "That isn't quite what I–"
But Leonora was suddenly aglow. "Biddie, you're wonderful!"
"Oh, my," Biddie said, "well–"
Leonora ran to the escritoire and jotted a note, which she asked Biddie to deliver to Monroe. Biddie asked where she was to find him. "Same place he's been all day," said Leonora, nodding at the window. Biddie looked out to see him standing across the road with his hands in his pockets and a dark cloud over his face.
The cloud lifted when he read the note. He waved up at Leonora. "Tell her I will!" he said happily, and he went running off. Biddie wished now she had read it herself, as she had been tempted to. She felt in need of consolation and, being in the vicinity, decided to pay another visit to Lottie's.
As the river neared the Sound, the logs sailed faster, and the drivers hastened back and forth along the sides to keep any of them from turning out and stalling.
Katoowee took a hand too. "You done this afore, ain'tcha?" Sligo said. Katoowee informed him that as a young man he had worked at the mill; so Sligo had been right without knowing it. "Lemme ask you," he said, "one lumberman to another–how'd you like to earn yourself a new fish net?"
"Have many net," Katoowee said, "from father."
"Father–"
"–is chief."
"Ah." Sligo abandoned the scheme he had had in mind and hopped over to Jason, who was riding nearby. "Shoulda told me he was kin to the quality," he said. Jason asked whom he meant. Sligo looked back. "The Inj–"
But Katoowee had disappeared. The log he had been riding had been seized in a small eddy along with some others and was heading into a sidestream. The men were already leapfrogging over to it, not to save Katoowee, whom they had not noticed, but to retrieve as many of the logs as they could.
Sligo got there first, with Jason a close second. He saw Katoowee's head in the water, then did not see it, and dove in after him. He came up seconds later empty-handed. A brace of logs were soaring toward him. He went down again ahead of them. Jeremy appeared at Jason's side. Both watched tensely.
Soon Sligo popped up again, this time with Katoowee under his arm, still alive. The Bolts hurried to them, and Jeremy pulled Katoowee out, but as Sligo reached for Jason's hand, a rogue log rose sideways and caught him on the chin, sending him under. Other logs sailed over him, making an impenetrable roof.
"Save him!" Jeremy shouted to the others.
"Too late!" said Crawdad. "Save the timber!" They were already occupied in doing just that, so far as was possible. Surveying the water, Jason saw Sligo's cap bob to the surface. One of the men fished it out and handed it to him.
The sun had not managed to show itself that day and was now too low to be seen if it did. Jason hung the cap from an oak limb extending over the water. Jeremy, Katoowee, and a half dozen drivers were gathered on the bank; no more could be spared. "This bein' as much of a funeral as he'll have," said Jason, "I hardly know what's best to say."
Katoowee stepped out. "I will say. He was brave man. He not think. He move. Sometimes that is bad, sometimes good thing."
As he spoke, a mud-soaked figure crawled out onto the bank behind him. Jeremy opened his mouth; Jason flashed a look to keep quiet. The drivers held their breaths. Katoowee paused, gazing off to one side, as if listening. "It is good he die," he said. "If he live, he must go back. No matter he help me." He looked squarely at Jason. "But I see he is dead. I will tell father so." He turned and walked away, passing the muddy form as if it were not there. No one made a sound till he was out of sight.
Then it was Jason who spoke. "First time I ever saw a man rise from the grave."
"Here's how it was," said Sligo, "the devil took one look at me and threw me right back." His men laughed and gathered round him. Crawdad tossed him his cap.
Joshua having preceded Biddie to Lottie's and joined her in a whiskey, he countermanded her call for a refill, topping her glass with his hand. "You've had more than enough," he said. "Me too."
"That there's your problem," said Ken, unasked, as he wiped the counter. "You're too sober."
"Better I should be drunk?" said Joshua.
He saw Biddie was making a fist, in fact two. "I'm so madge–madse at that man," she said. "The girls have been crying this whole afternoon–"
"I mean," Ken said, "you don't get all worked up like Jason does–"
"–ever since that Mr. Cady told them their families hated them and they're all going straight to hell–ooooooooops." She covered her mouth.
"–'cause you ain't the wrathy type," Ken finished.
"He said what?"
Not five minutes later Cady was being driven into the fence by an ash-haired whirlwind, wild with hellfire of its own, which it sent flying at Cady one raging syllable at a time. "You hateful old man! You bullying, selfish, self-righteous tyrant!"
The old man was too much shocked to say more than "You've a nerve!"
"It's you that's got a nerve, coming here crying damnation on these girls–and one of them your own daughter. There's no evil here, or wasn't till you arrived. You bring it with you like a plague, stirrin' up wicked thoughts where there weren't any before. But no more! From here on out–" Cady hushed him. "Oh, I've just started–"
"I hear music," said Cady. Joshua stopped to listen. It was rising from the piano inside. Cady recognized it as Mendelssohn. He turned to the sound. From between billows of cloud overhead, a shaft of light fell onto the building, onto one of the broken windows, at which there stood a figure in an ivory laceworked gown.
"Letitia," Cady said.
"No," Joshua said quietly, "Leonora."
She saw her father looking up at her with a new softness, or perhaps an old. "Papa–?" she said, her voice tremulous. She quickly ran downstairs and out to him. "Papa–?"
Cady approached her uncertainly. She looked just as her mother had the day he had wed her. She had been the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, till now. "Why are you dressed so?" he asked.
"Dressed for a wedding," she said. "I hoped if you saw me married, you might–" Her voice faltered. "–you might come to believe in me again."
"Oh, Nora!" He dropped his eyes. "If you knew how dark the whole world turned when your ma died! All in it seemed base and wicked. And might be some of it is–yes, some–" He looked at her through a sudden rush of tears. "–but not you–never you, Nora."
"Oh, Papa!" She ran into his arms, and they clasped each other tight.
"I've wronged you so–you and these girls, all your neighbors. How can I make it up to you? Can I make it up to you?"
"For a start," she said, wiping her eyes, "you can give me away." She looked across to where Six Bits and the Reverend were hurrying toward them. "See, Papa? Here come the other needful parties."
"Hope we're on time," said Six Bits.
Leonora smiled radiantly. "Just in time."
At the service he saw it was Georgie playing the piano. For the recessional, she tried out a new tune called "The Bluest Skies (You've Ever Seen)." The other brides flocked out to the yard and hurled rice at the newlyweds as they ran out. "Ladies," Joshua proclaimed, "your sentence is lifted. Go find your men." With a cheer, they scattered in all directions. Biddie called after them to be back by ten.
One thing had Joshua puzzled: the source of the wedding gown. Biddie confessed that it had been Amanda's but she had been keeping it "in case."
Ken appeared at the gate. "Where's the fella with the gun?" he asked. "Got some business I'd care to discuss with him."
At that moment a deep rumbling sound froze them all. Biddie asked if it was an avalanche. If she had thought, she would have known better; she had heard it before; everyone had, in a lumber town like Seattle. "Homecoming," said Joshua. The drive was drawing to a close.
That night, under a full moon, the river pigs made their way from the mill, where they had deposited their cargo, to the saloon, the one attraction they were looking forward to taking in.
They were brought up short by a figure stationed at the door, his chair tilted back, a six-barreled pistol in his lap and a newly borrowed ten-gallon hat on his head. As they started in, he smacked his gun against a newly painted sign nailed to the wall. RULS, it read, and then in bigger letters NO FITEN. NO SWAREN. NO SLEPEN. NO SPITEN ON FLOR. NO OFENDEN LADES. NO DISRISPECTEN OF BARMAN, and lastly, the biggest of all, NO CREDET. Their faces fell at this. "A-yeah," said the sentry, "as I calculated."
Jason arrived to find them sitting morosely in the dirt. "Meant to borry on your name," Sligo confessed, "till your miller set a price for the timber. We'll get precious little then, with what we lost to the Injins–not as I begrudge 'em," he added quickly.
Jason offered to buy them out at a price of six cents a foot. He said the town could use the lumber in building the new opera house. "We'll even name it for you," he proposed, "the late lamented."
"You know you're cheatin' yourself," said Sligo.
"Saves you the bother," Jason said, smiling.
With the other drivers listening, Sligo could not but agree to the terms, and Jason gave him what cash he was carrying, which Sligo distributed fairly for once, and which would be enough to see them through the night. Jason promised the rest before they left in the morning.
The men filed into the saloon under Cady's cold eye, all but Sligo, who for some reason hung back. Thinking he might be hopeful of a job now that this latest was ended, Jason offered him one. "Got no rivers up there," he said, "only honest work and fair play."
Sligo thanked him but declined. "Sooner hire out as a pilot, mate, fetch-and-carry–'most anythin', long as it's out there."
"I believe your mother was a mermaid and your father was an ink-squirtin' squid."
"It's only true." They both laughed. "As to the other–Seattle Opry House'll do fine." He considered. "Seattle was a chief's name, weren't it?"
Cady felt the hat removed from his head. Leonora kissed his brow. Six Bits was with her. "I see you've found a place in the community," she said. She knew Ken had agreed to board him in exchange for his services.
"For a few days," said Cady. "When the steamer comes I'll be going along." He refused to listen to her protests. "This is no home for me. 'tis for you–all's green and new. But I was brought up to the old ways and I'll go out with them."
"Will you be all right?"
"I have a man that looks after my needs."
Leonora hugged Six Bits. "So have I." Cady offered him his hand. "Come again one day," she said, "and know your grandchildren." As he watched her go, he was thinking what a darned fine girl they had raised, he and Letitia.
Sligo, who was standing nearby, had been studying the object in Cady's lap with increasing wonder. "Sir," he said, "that is a magnificent hat." Cady acknowledged he compliment with a nod and ceremoniously returned the object to its rightful place.
Sligo listened to the sounds of celebration from inside. "Mind 'f I set with you a bit?" he asked.
"Last I heard, earth's free for them as care to claim it." Sligo sat.
Shortly he began to talk. In the absence of a priest, whom he would have never have visited anyway, he felt the need of confession–"for I've rid roughshod over me fellow mortals and am sick at heart." Cady said he knew the feeling. As their conversation wore on, they discovered some few sins in common, those two opposites, and the upshot of it was that they resolved to do penance jointly for a year by touring the territories assisting Indians and wayward girls. After that they would do as each individually had promised and return to what they knew. When Leonora learned of the plan she laughed out loud. But she did not say it was a bad one.
Discovering Jeremy yet on watch outside the dormitory, Jason urged him to bed. "If she's not back by now–"
"I'll wait a little while longer," said Jeremy, "just in case." Ah, youth! Jason thought.
A stir from the direction of Lottie's caught his attention. Faithful to the new rules, Ken was evicting the raft men. They were, however, laden with bottles, which with much staggering, juggling, and occasional dropping they succeeded in carrying with them to the wharf.
"Sorry you're not goin' with him?" asked Jason, ignorant of Sligo's new arrangement.
Jeremy smiled. "As heroes go, he has pretty big shoes to fill."
Jason gave no sign of recognizing the compliment. "One thing's sure. When his kind are gone, there'll be none to replace 'em."
"There won't, at that." The remark came, unexpectedly, from Aaron. He stopped beside them, and the three stood watching the refugees from civilization, each envying them in his way. As the river pigs boarded their raft, they threw back their heads and howled at the moon. Jeremy howled back. The older men smiled.
Aaron pointed out the broken windows, which the town council would have to replace. Jason asked what had happened to break them. "Gun," said Aaron, and then added, to forestall the next question, "Joshua will tell you."
Joshua was still at Lottie's, which was occupied almost wholly by brides and their beaux making up for days lost. They began to leave in pairs as the clock neared ten. Searching for Biddie, Joshua found her at one of the tables, now back on the wagon, and hard at practice listening. He stole up behind and whispered in her ear. "It's a party, Biddie, you can relax."
She smiled up at him. He reminded her of his promise to walk her home. "Oh, I won't hold you to that," she said, a little ruefully. "I know there are a few other girls, goodness, more than a few, you'd rather–" Joshua held his finger to her lips. "But you don't have to–" He stared severely at her. "Thank you Joshua," she said quietly, "that would be lovely." He offered her his arm.
They were so intent on their conversation on the way that they passed Jeremy without seeing him. He was leaning against the corner fence post, nodding off. Their voices recalled him. "Perhaps next time," Biddie was saying, "you should wait for the second thing that comes to mind."
"And you should save the parades for Easter," Joshua replied. They laughed together.
Joshua opened the gate for her and laid a friendly kiss on her brow, his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling slightly. As they regarded each other in the cool blue moonlight, the same idea struck them both at once. That would be very nice, thought Biddie. And why the hell not? thought Joshua. They moved together and joined lips in a warm, slow, rich kiss. It was as if they knew they might never have another and had to make this one count. Then they said their good nights and parted.
Biddie gave a little jump and ran in, letting out a yip. Joshua walked off in a pleasant stupor. He passed Jeremy a second time without seeing him.
Jeremy had watched all this with his head to one side. Now he considered fully what he had seen. He decided there was only one explanation possible. He had got to get some sleep. So saying to himself, he started for home after his brother.
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