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Lamentation of the Leaves
by Galen Peoples
Part Two
"Supplies!" Jason thundered, slamming Stempel's desk for emphasis. "This is where we get our supplies! You going to deny us food and drink?"
Stempel sat back. "All right," he said, "long as it's you or your brothers."
"And cash. The men have to be paid. Ben's is the only safe."
That was not so: Stempel had come to distrust a safe with five sides and acquired his own. But he thought Bolt need not know it. "Fair enough," he said easily.
"You love this, don't you? Lordin' it over everybody?" Stempel had to concede he did. "Why don't you take over the whole territory while you're at it?"
"I might," said Stempel. "Thanks for the idea."
Jason left in a fit of disgust. "By the way," Stempel called after him, "you found another mill yet?"
He did the next day. Turley Mill, its front read. It was a ramshackle frame that bore marks of long neglect. So was its owner. Jason and Joshua had been pointed toward him by one of the handful of scarcely employed workers inside.
"You in charge?" said Jason, in a tone that invited denial.
The man rose with effort. He appeared to have taken too little food or too much of something else. "How can I help you gentlemen?"
Joshua was surveying the state of the equipment. "This is a working mill, isn't it?"
"Things may appear slow at present, but in peak season–"
"This is peak season," said Joshua.
"Got three or four jobs I need you to take over." Jason tossed the contract onto the desk. Turley skimmed it vaguely. "First is due in a week. Can you manage it?"
"Leave it to me."
The week was more than half up. "A week, I told you!" Jason roared.
Turley shrugged helplessly. "Show us what you've done," said Jason.
"Come see for yourself," said Joshua. He pointed to a stack of unmilled timber they had delivered four days before.
"And the other jobs?" Jason demanded.
Turley shrugged again.
Joshua shook his head. "How do you make a living here?"
"I don't!" said Turley.
The brothers agreed their next best hope was to float the logs over to Port Gamble. It would take more time, and the mill there charged more; on the other hand, as Jason pointed out, they had no choice.
The mill owner welcomed them with unexpected enthusiasm. A job he had been counting on had just fallen through, making their unexpected visit a happy chance on both sides. Although expensive, his factory was also efficient, and within a day or two it appeared even the late-started job might get done on time.
Jason had every reason to feel hopeful as he and the others shuttled back across. He was just telling Jeremy they could probably meet all their obligations–"if nothing else happens"–when McGee, at one of the oars, doubled over. Jason raced to him to find out the matter. A musket ball in the gut, said McGee, judging by how it felt. Jason ordered Jeremy to make for the pier.
Jeremy hesitated. That meant town, and town meant Stempel and his armed men. "We b-been steerin' c-clear–"
"The pier, I said!"
Two of Stempel's men were waiting at the dock. They ordered the crew to change course.
"You'd turn away a sick man?" Jason shouted. At that the men looked less certain. One of them went to fetch Stempel.
"What's wrong with him?" Stempel asked.
"I'm no doctor," said Jason. "I'm takin' him to the only one we have." By now the boat was docking and he had jumped ashore.
"All right," Stempel said, too late, "if he needs doctoring."
As Jason and Jeremy helped McGee onto the landing, the two men on the boat were struck with the same idea at once. Each caught the other at it and they smiled in shared perfidy.
Dr. Wright traced McGee's stomach ache to the mutton he had eaten that morning, which the cook had been about to throw out. The doctor said he would likely recover in a day or so. "But he shouldn't make the trek back tonight. I'll have a bed made up here." Emmeline was there to bring him broth when he was able to take it and otherwise tend to his needs up till curfew (Candy's, that was, not the town's).
Jason was grateful the trouble was no worse. But he did not expect it to become epidemic. By the middle of the following morning half his force had gone missing and he inquired of his brothers why. He learned the absentees had all repaired to the doctor's office. The news of McGee's ailment had spread–not of its nature, only of its having allowed him into town–and many of the hearers, who by coincidence were among those most actively courting the brides, had reported coming down with the same thing, whatever it was.
Dr. Wright guessed otherwise. "You're sure the pain is here?" she asked, touching her stomach. The men nearest her clutched theirs in unison. "Not here?" she suggested, moving her hand up six inches and to the left. They took their hands away and hung their heads.
She appeared to consider for several seconds. "As your physician," she said soberly, "I prescribe–" They waited, apprehending the worst. "–a visit to the dormitory." They looked at her in surprise. "That's all the medicine you need." The news was passed down the line and they all let out a cheer.
"What if we see Stempel?" asked Corky.
"Tell him it's doctor's orders." They cheered again and ran off. She laughed watching them.
Jason arrived in time to see their retreat. He had come to end the sudden plague with a few well-aimed words but found the job done for him. "Miracle cure?" he asked.
She smiled. "Spring fever's not a difficult diagnosis."
He gazed wonderingly. "You can stare right into a man's heart and know what's hid there." He gazed a little too long and she turned away. "I see you can."
It was a few seconds before she spoke. "I've been offered another position. At a hospital in San Francisco." She looked at him. "My fiance is there. So, you see, I know how the men feel."
"There are those," Jason said quietly, "that'd accuse you of taking this job under false pretenses."
She colored. "I fully intended to honor my obligation. I shall if you insist on it. But I hope you won't. I've been in touch with a colleague of mine–a very able man–who's eager to come West. His wife will come with him as his nurse. You see, you'll be getting two for the price of one. You can't do better than that."
"But we have," he said.
"Oh, no." She was looking toward town. Jason turned to see his men being herded back by Stempel and his guards.
Stempel glanced at Jason. "'Doctor's orders,'" he said. "You'll have to do better than that."
That evening he unfolded his plan at the chow table over the clanking of tin plates.
"But how's that gonna help?" Corky asked.
"Strongest motive in the world's a guilty conscience," said Jason. "Make the town men beholden to you, they'll see how downright unfair they've been."
Jeremy and Joshua looked at each other but said nothing.
"You think it's a daft notion," said Jason, after the others had left, "and so it is. But it'll buy me time to think up something else. And who knows? It might work, at that."
For the next few evenings and through the weekend, whenever any of the mill hands ventured outside the town limits, especially in company with the brides, they became unusually prone to hazard: a rattlesnake (if it were not a certain local shrub that imitated its rattle), a driverless wagon that was somehow set rolling, a hawk no one else had seen. And always a man of Jason's was there to save the day: crushing the rattler (which looked remarkably like a grapevine), stopping the wagon (unless it had stopped of its own accord, tethered as it was to a stump), and waving away the hawk (wherever it might be).
"We're beholden to them," the hands told Stempel. They described the threats so narrowly averted. "Almost like we had a guardian angel."
"Angel in buckskins," said Stempel.
That afternoon, when he saw one of the hands leaving with one of the brides to go berrying, he followed. Sure enough, they soon met a bear, or at least Corky shouting about a bear and pointing at a bearlike shape among the trees. He pulled out a pistol and fired. The thing disappeared. "I scared him off!" said Corky.
A moment later, Stempel emerged carrying a bearskin rug. In a nearby clearing stood McGee, looking surprised.
"You did better than that," said Stempel. "You scared him clean out of his skin."
When Jason heard the story, he shook his head.
"It woulda worked," Corky insisted, "if he hadn'ta been there."
"You gotta look for another plan," said McGee.
"I've looked in all directions," said Jason. Then a thought struck him. "–all but one." He raised his eyes heavenward.
"Goodness," said Reverend Gaddings, "you must have been spreading the Word something fierce." One lumberjack after another, attired in his Sunday best, filed past him into church. They all took seats next to the brides, to the evident displeasure of the town men, and proceeded to indulge in as much courtship as was proper to the setting, and maybe a little more. "Never saw so many men get religion all of a sudden," said Gaddings.
"Glad you persuaded Stempel to let 'em come," said Jason.
Gaddings half-smiled. "Considering his fondness for referring to himself and his circle of acquaintances as God-fearing folk, he couldn't very well refuse."
The number of new worshippers exceeded Stempel's expectation, and their proximity to the brides made him suspect he had been made a fool of. He sat at the rear looking grimly out over the assembly.
Gaddings took the pulpit to welcome everyone, especially the newcomers. He said it was the finest turnout he had seen since the last raffle. Then he introduced the guest speaker. Stempel was about to leave till he realized how it would look to people like Lucy Dale. Gaddings asked Jason to remind him again what text he had chosen.
"Second epistle," said Jason.
"The second–" Gaddings stopped. "Which one?"
"Oh, one's about like another," Jason said as he stepped up. Gaddings, in some puzzlement, gave place.
"Ladies–gentlemen–and Stempel," Jason began. Stempel contained himself with some effort. "The Good Book," Jason continued, laying a hand on the tome in front of him, "tells us a lot of things, yes, sir. Turn the other cheek, it says. Take an eye for an eye. And–ah–the grass is always greener." Gaddings began to correct him and then let it go. "But the thing it says that concerns us here today is this–this piece of wisdom straight out of the Holy Book, right here–'Whosoever shall come knocking, let not the town gates be shut to him.'" Gaddings searched his mind in vain for the passage. "'Let him be one,'" said Jason, "'with the–the whole baggage of you.'" Stempel folded his arms in open disbelief. "Now what this means is, let's join together and be one town like we were before. Forget our differences"–the town men were baring their teeth at the loggers, who were doing the same in return–"and live side by side like the Good Book says. Thank you."
He stepped down to scattered applause. Most of the congregation had hardly heard him.
Gaddings remounted, looking more puzzled than ever. "Well," he said. "I don't think I've ever heard a passage explicated so–pointedly. I can't claim to match Jason's oratorical skill"–then you're mighty small potatoes as a preacher, Stempel was thinking–"but I believe my text today is a piece of advice we can all profit from. Proverbs 20:13: 'Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread.' Or in other words, 'Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy and wealthy and wise.'" He laughed. The spectators were silent.
"Well," he said. Stempel noticed for the first time how fond of the word Gaddings was. "There's no one who doesn't like his sleep–I'm sure I do–and there are some mornings I feel like not getting up at all." Too bad this wasn't one of them, Stempel thought, and then checked himself. Bolt's appearance had really put him in a bad humor. "But then I wouldn't get much done, would I? Take today for example. I got up bright and early at five-thirty. And you know the first thing I did? I put on a pot of tea...."
"We have to set through a speech like that every Sunday?" Corky asked after it was over and they had come out into the warm spring morning with an overwhelming sense of release from captivity. Gaddings had probably chosen the wrong lesson to expound to them since they got up at first light every working day.
"Well," said Jason, "that's the reason you're here."
"Ain't worth it," Corky declared.
"Not even for the brides?"
The men looked at one another. "No," they said together.
"We wanna be out courtin'," said Frank, "not settin' in church listenin' to some old–"
"Reverend!" Jason greeted him. "The men were just saying how moved they were by your sermon." The men immediately dispersed. "Too shy to tell you themselves."
"They won't get to hear many more, I'm afraid." Jason was about to assure him of their steadfastness when Gaddings explained. "I've been offered a teaching post at the divinity school in Topeka commencing in the fall. But I won't be leaving you unshepherded. A colleague of mine in Port Orchard is willing to come take my place. I'd have been gone by now–the offer was originally for the spring–but to tell the truth–" He reddened. "–I'd hoped to find myself a bride. The trustees prefer a man who's settled, you see. As soon as I can fulfill that requirement I'll wire them my acceptance."
Jason smiled ruefully. "It was me talked you into coming here."
"That's why I've told you first. Odd you should have gone to the trouble, I see you so seldom."
"I'm not much for Bib–" He stopped himself. "–settin' indoors."
"Guess I'd better let Aaron know," Gaddings said, having caught sight of him, "since he has charge of my wages."
"Well, he doesn't have charge of me." He left as Stempel walked up.
Today, as it happened, Stempel was wanting to speak with him. Since dissolving their agreement he had been unable to find another lumberman who would strike a deal. He had been doing business with the Bolts for so long everyone expected they would soon reconcile and anyone who had filled in meantime would be left with the scraps. Stempel wondered whether it would have made any difference if he had told Bolt and concluded it wouldn't.
Jason was feeling fairly abandoned himself. Lottie came upon him after dark on the pier listening to the plash and gurgle of the water beneath. He was in open violation of Stempel's decree but seemed untroubled by it.
He asked her what she was doing out that time of night. "Came to talk to you," she said.
He gave a short laugh. "Don't tell me you're leavin' too."
"I've had my chances. But my home's here. So's yours."
He continued to stare into the blackness as if looking for a sign there. "What's it all for, Lottie? Seems like the harder I work to build things up, the quicker they crumble. My men are exiles, the people I bring in sail off–"
Lottie cocked her head toward the dormitory. "A hundred brides. And how many more children–two, three times that? You've brought Seattle its next generation, Jason. That's legacy enough for any man."
Jason smiled gratefully at her. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "If I'd been born sooner...." he said.
"I know, I'd be kicking you out every night instead of that reprobate sea captain. There's one to your credit, if it's any comfort to you. Suppose there's no chance he'll leave too?"
Jason grinned. "I've a hunch he'll be around for a good long time."
Lottie nodded in resignation. She said good night and left him to his own reflections. She could not have guessed they now centered on her, as the one person he knew who was always able to rescue him from his headlong plunges into gloom. These were rare but powerful, and in her absence they could be crippling. Thank God for Lottie, he thought.
Turning to go, he was startled to see another figure standing a few feet away. After a second he recognized it. "Come to arrest me, Stempel?" he said.
Stempel looked out toward the Sound, invisible but still there, yet unmindful of the business of men, a model of disinterest. "You and your brothers," he said, "have been a pain in my craw since I started here."
"Then we haven't lived in vain."
Stempel continued as if he had not spoken. "But I'm aware of what your family has contributed to the town. More than me, all told. Wish I'd known your father."
Jason tried to make out his face, but it was shrouded by the night. "You wouldn't have got on. He was rather partial to his sons."
"What I mean to say is"–why was it so hard to pursue a sensible conversation with the man?–"in view of your standing here, it wouldn't be right to let a few ill-considered words put an end to our business dealings."
Now the other shoe had dropped. "You can't find a supplier."
"Your name echoes loud in these hills."
He sounded contrite, but experience had taught Jason to be cautious. "Then you'll ease up on the men?"
"Your men," Stempel said, his voice rising, "are a threat to this community."
"What threat?"
"We want decent folk–God-fearin' folk–not a bunch of border ruffians."
"They'll come whether you'll have them or no."
"Then we'll turn them out."
"They'll come again."
"We'll throw 'em in jail!"
"Your jail's not big enough!"
"We'll build one bigger!"
"You can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because," Jason said with relish, "you have no timber." He turned to go.
"I'll get timber!" Stempel shouted. "Plenty of it! Build a stack of timber higher'n your mountain!" Jason kept walking. Stempel shouted louder. "Show your face here again, I will arrest you! Throw you in with the other blacklegs where you belong!"
The perennial lack of occupants in the jail blunted the threat, but the calumny was one too many to shake off, pretend indifference though Jason might. "Blackleg," he muttered all the way up to camp. "Border ruffian. Threat to the community. I'll show him a threat."
His was not the only discontented soul that night. As Stempel made his way back to the mill where he worked, slept, ate, and bathed (courtesy of the adjoining waters), a sound came to his ears. It was borne on the wind to all the houses in the vicinity, pierced him through and chilled him to the marrow, and almost had him believing in ghosts till he discovered its source. It was the sound of weeping. Around it rose a counterpoint of interwoven moans, wails, groans, and sighs.
It grew nearer as he approached the main street (what there was of one), and then more distant as he started along the street. He walked back a few paces. Now it was nearer again. A few paces more and it was nearer yet. The only large building at that end was the dormitory. He went and stood in front of it. There could be no doubt: it was issuing from the brides' bedroom.
It had started with Emmeline. Many of the others also lay awake. Distressed by their separation from the men, they had been sleeping fitfully for many nights. Those who were asleep were brought awake by the convulsive sobbing. It soon spread to Deborah, who shared Emmeline's bed, then to Mary Ellen, who lay in the next bed over, then to another bride and another, and finally to Candy herself, who would not allow it to have its way but could not prevent its creeping out in trickles from her eyes and nostrils. It fed on itself and ran rampant from bed to bed till it held sway over all and filled the house and echoed from the rafters.
Listening, Stempel was actually moved but, like Candy, resisted the grip on his feelings. Damned bawling women, he said to himself. Should learn to keep better control of themselves. He shut his ears and hurried away.
The weeping did not end with the coming of day. It varied a little in tone as some of the brides bathed or ate, and now and again it promised to subside entirely, but always it rose again like the tide and kept the entire town submerged in despair.
It penetrated to Lottie's too. "Won't it never stop?" Riley asked the other men who had resorted there at noon seeking an elixir with power against salt tears.
"When one of 'em comes down with it, they all do," said Gene.
"Don't know how long I can take this," said Riley, "I truly don't." Lottie smiled.
They were roused from their mutual commiserations by Dexter bursting in the door. "Men coming down from the mountain," he said, "a whole army!" They jumped to their feet. Riley sent Dexter to tell Stempel.
The army was Jason's and was the culmination of his night's broodings over the wrongs Stempel had done him. The more he pondered them the more enormous they seemed. He half-hoped daybreak would bring with it the light of reason to quench his wrath, but it only exposed their monstrosity the more. The full awareness of it picked at him like a vulture. He bore it as long as he could and finally in the middle of the morning took up cookie's stamping hammer and began pounding fervidly at the iron hanging alongside. Only those at the outermost fallings failed to hear the summons.
Men came running from all sides, Jeremy and Joshua among them. "What's happened?" asked Joshua. Others were asking the same question.
"Judgment day," said Jason. His brothers looked at each other. They had heard that tone before.
He waited till the men stopped coming. He began by apologizing for having let them down, and himself too. He had allowed Stempel to hound them, shame them, banish them from the town they had built with their own hands. Were they going to let him and a lot of starched collars and old maids steal what was theirs? They answered with a deafening no. Jason charged them to grab weapons–ax handles, cant dogs, anything they could carry–in case the town men raised arms against them. Otherwise they would settle them with their fists. The men gave a cry that resounded from hill to hill. They were ready for battle, the timber boss most of all.
"Jason, th-think what you're doing," said Jeremy.
"Have been thinkin'," said Jason. "Been doin' nothin' but thinkin' since I brought those women in." We brought, Joshua said silently. "They've had me hocused–had me sayin' yes ma'am, no ma'am, please can I leave the table now–nearly had me forgettin' who I am. Stempel? Who's Stempel? World ain't his to order as he sees fit. We're not his bond slaves to wait on his beck and–"
Jeremy interrupted. "It's not just him–it's everybody in town. The brides too."
"You mean Candy."
Jeremy would not be put off. "They think we're too rough. We come b-bargin' in like this, it'll prove they're right."
Jason turned to Joshua. "What about you? Never knew you to back down from a fight."
Joshua looked from one to the other of them. "This time I'm on Jeremy's side."
"Then go! Go stand with 'em, the pair of you."
"You know I can't do that," said Joshua.
Jason raised a clenched fist. After a moment Joshua laid his hand on top of it.
"And you, little brother?"
Jeremy weighed the matter. Finally he laid his hand on top of Joshua's. "Sorry, Candy," he said, in a voice so quiet only Joshua heard him.
Stempel had brought most of the mill hands with him. Other men had come out from the shops and the nearest houses to join them. A few were carrying rifles. The two bands met outside the dormitory.
Stempel stepped forth. "State your business," he said.
Jason stepped out to meet him. "Stempel, you've persecuted us long enough. After today we'll come to town when and as often as we choose." He looked around. "The man who lays a hand on any of us will be called to account. And the accounting starts now."
The men raised their weapons. Stempel began to remove his coat.
"Stop!" came a voice. "Stop this minute, all of you!" Candy ran out from the dormitory, where the brides were huddled in the door and at the windows.
She turned to Jason. "Is this the kind of town you promised us–a haven for street brawlers? Do you suppose that's what we came all this way for? We expected better than that–we deserve better. Refined ladies deserve refined gentlemen." Jason cast a doubtful glance at his men. "If you keep this up," she concluded with a display of chin, "you can pay our passage back to New Bedford."
Hearing this, Stempel eagerly finished pulling off his coat. After a moment he realized those around him were not moving but were looking at one another uneasily.
"'pears now you're the only one spoilin' for a fight," said Joshua.
Jason shook his head. "He's spoilin' for a mountain."
Candy turned a stern eye on Jeremy. "And you?" she asked. "You knew how I felt and you still came with them."
Jeremy forgot that originally he had been on her side. "That's right," he said, "I c-came. Because sometimes a m-man has to stand with his family–his friends–the people he's responsible for." The last phrase made Jason proud. "To see they get what's coming to them. Fair treatment. Don't you think that's worth fighting for?"
Candy did not have an answer. Suddenly she was not sure she was right or wholly right or whether both of them might not be equally right.
"Tell you what's worth fighting for," said Stempel, making a last stand. "A decent community! Place where you feel safe walking the streets. Place where you can sleep sound."
"I can't sleep at all!" Riley burst out. "Their caterwaulin's drivin' me crazy." The other men agreed.
"Let 'em back in, Aaron," said Ben, whose trade had fallen off lately.
"We can handle 'em," said Gene, and then added, with an eye to the brides, "In a refined gentlemanlike way."
Stempel reviewed his neighbors' faces. They all carried the same message. Reluctantly, and feeling smaller than he liked, he bent and picked up his coat.
The crowd cheered–all except Lucy Dale. "Are these the kind of men they're making nowadays?" she cried. "When I was a girl they knew how to handle scofflaws. A smart blow to the jaw to lay 'em flat–then as soon as they got up they'd knock 'em down again!" She acted it out as she spoke. Stempel stared at her in some dismay.
"That was another time, Lucy Dale," said Jason.
The estranged couples reunited. For once it was Candy and not Jeremy who looked penitent.
McGee ventured up to Jason to ask, "The Reverend ain't leavin' for a while yet, is he?"
"No, why?"
McGee looked at Emmeline, who was hanging on his arm. "Looks like we're apt to need him pretty quick." As if to prove it, Emmeline seized him by the neck and claimed him for hers with a kiss of which Candy did not approve.
"To Lottie's!" rose the cry, and they all flocked off together, even Candy and the brides.
–all but the two men who had started the whole thing. Stempel shook his head. "They were set to leave," he said. "I coulda had your mountain."
Jason felt a certain sympathy for him. "But then you woulda had to fetch more. Men woulda insisted. These were the pick of the crop–think what the second batch woulda been like."
Stempel was considering the prospect quite seriously when Jason proceeded to the main topic. "You been right all along," he said, "much as it galls me to admit it." Stempel had not expected to hear such a concession and watched him mistrustfully. "This ain't the town it was," said Jason, "now the brides are here. Can't be–oughtn't to be. It's up to us to make it a fit place for them and their children. Stop our feudin' and work together side by side for the good of the town. What do you say?" He offered his hand.
Stempel stared at it and then at him. Glimmers of a dozen different thoughts crossed his face. "Speak for yourself," he said, almost in a snarl. He left, not for Lottie's but for the mill, where he would work till dark while the others celebrated.
Jason smiled as he watched him go. The two of them live in harmony? Crackbrained fancy! Things were likely better as they stood. Before heading up to Lottie's, he took a deep whiff of the town air with its mingled smells of brine, fir, and earth, now his once more.
"–and that's how we were let back in," he said, "and lived happily ever since."
Molly did not look happy. "That second batch," she said, "the ones who didn't measure up–that was us. Me and Christopher."
Jason reached over and gave her a hug. "Molly-o, you were the rarest find of all."
She heard no more than an echo, too faint for her to recognize, of the wild airs and wilder graces of an earlier day. Much was gone now, if she had known, but much had taken its place.
Jason pointed to a roll of muslin by the wall. "Speakin' of finds...." Molly climbed across and paid out enough to see it was what they were after. With his help, she dragged it to the trap door.
"Now that's done," he said with measured gallantry, "may I have the honor of escorting you to our new ice cream parlor for a chocolate sundae?"
"Can I have strawberry?"
"Strawberry it shall be. Always say a town ain't truly civilized till it has its own ice cream parlor."
As he was about to climb out his eye fell on the sign that had prompted his narrative. He studied it for a moment. Then he laid it on top of the bridal trunk, where it could remain for eternity to perform the task for which it had been created in a better time and a worse: warding off those on the outside.
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