House of Winslow 14 The Valiant Gunman Read online

  Hope kept her eyes lowered, and her voice was so soft that Amos could hardly hear it. “I—guess I got to do it, Pa. There’s simply no other way.”

  The teakettle whistled a cheerful tune, and she got up at once. As she made the sassafras tea, she came to her decision. It is not really a decision, she thought, for a decision means choice, and as Malloy said, I have no choice. Had she been alone, she could have refused the man without a thought. Even if all she had was Cody, she would not have been afraid to find her own way. But the burden of her ailing father and of her brother Zane, who was teetering on the edge of wildness, was too heavy for her. She came to the table with the tea, and by the time she sat down, she’d gained control.

  “We’ll be leaving here, Pa, all of us,” she said, forcing excitement into her voice. “Willis has bought a ranch and is going to get some cattle. We’re all going to Wyoming. You always wanted to see the West, didn’t you? Well, now you’re going to see it!”

  Jenson was not fooled for one moment by her forced gaiety, but he could say nothing. His heart was breaking, for he knew the sacrifice his daughter was making. She was like him, and together they would try to put as good a face on the thing as possible.

  “Is that so? Well now, that’ll be good, Hope! And won’t Zane be excited? I’ve thought for the last two years he was gonna run off and be a cowboy! Now here he’s got his chance.”

  “Yes, Pa—it’s all going to be fine, real fine!” Hope got up again, turned away from her father, and stood looking out the window.

  He got up from his chair and went to where she was standing, thinking how small her shoulders were for the heavy weight that had been placed on them. When he put his arms out, her face went stiff, then she fell against him, weeping as she had not done for years. He held her, each choking sob that wracked her body bringing him pain. But he said nothing—for there was nothing to say. Finally the sobbing stopped and she drew back. Her cheeks were stained with tears, but she wiped them away with a handkerchief, straightened up, and looked at him, her lips tight.

  “It’ll be all right, Pa. Cody will have a pa. And we’ll have a place—all of us. That means a lot, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, Daughter,” he said heavily, but then he kissed her and moved away toward the bedroom where he could be alone with his thoughts.

  ****

  Zane’s fingers were numb with cold, so that when the big jackrabbit leaped up right under his feet, he had to fumble for the trigger of the old twelve gauge. The rabbit didn’t run straight but made a zigzagging path across the snow toward a patch of undergrowth. Flinging up the ancient gun, Zane shot instinctively; and as he was driven backward by the recoil of the heavy weapon, Cody yelled, “You got ’im, Zane! You got that big ol’ scudder!”

  Zane lowered the gun. He stood there as the boy ran across to pick up the limp carcass of the rabbit, then came back holding it up. “You sure did get ’im, Zane!” he announced proudly. “Ain’t many who could’ve did it!”

  Zane shrugged, saying casually, “Ain’t too hard once you get the hang of it. Next year you’ll be big enough to hold this gun, or maybe we’ll get you a sixteen gauge.” He pulled a gunny sack out of his rear pocket, stuffed the rabbit into it, then said, “We better git home. My feet are plumb froze, and it’ll be dark soon.”

  “Aw, let’s go just a little farther,” Cody begged. “We might see a big ol’ buck, Zane!”

  “No, this scatter-gun makes enough noise to skeer every critter for ten miles. Here—you carry the rabbit.”

  A new four-inch layer of snow lay on the ground, transforming the dead brown woods into a crystal wonder. The two turned and headed back across the field, breaking through with each step. The two of them stopped several times, once poking in a hole that had been used by a vixen, then taking a shot at another rabbit that darted in front of them.

  “Hate to waste a shell,” Zane muttered. “They cost money!”

  Most of his thoughts were centered around money, and he grew silent as he thought of the three shells that were left. They cost four cents apiece, cash money, and he well knew that there were no spare pennies in his father’s pocket.

  He glanced at Cody, noting the thin jacket, worn almost through at the elbows, and at the shoes that were held on by strips of rawhide he’d cured himself. He’s gotta have some warm shoes somehow was his thought, and glancing down, he saw that his own footwear was little better. Zane Jenson longed for things with a raw hunger that gnawed at him. The hill people all around him were poor, for it was a poor part of Arkansas, and the state was prostrate after the war, as were all the rest of the southern states that had fought against the North. Nobody had much money, and everyone learned how to make things or do without.

  But since his father’s illness, things had gotten practically unbearable. Putting in a cotton crop this year had been impossible, for they had lost their mule, who was so old that he’d simply died in his sleep. They’d spent all summer raising a garden, putting up pickles and vegetables and berries. They’d killed a hog and salted the meat down, their last full-grown animal, and now that was almost gone.

  I’m tired of thinkin’ about where the next meal’s comin’ from! Zane thought rebelliously. He had often considered running away, for at the age of fourteen he was capable of many things. He was a fine rider, having a natural gift for it, but his father forbade him to race horses to make money for other men. That had made him bitter, but he could not stay angry at his father for long.

  Busy with his thoughts as they approached the house, he was taken off guard when Cody said, “Zane, somebody’s at the house.”

  “Hold on,” Zane said, reaching out to draw the boy back. He had the natural suspicion of the hill people, inbred almost, and he stood there peering at the horse hitched to the tree just beyond the porch. They both stood watching, ignoring the cold, and finally the door opened. The boys stared at the man as he mounted the big horse and rode off at a gallop.

  “That was Mr. Malloy,” Cody said. He turned to look up at Zane and asked, “Why we standin’ out here, Zane? I’m cold.”

  “Yeah, so am I.” Zane moved across the yard, a frown on his face, but he said nothing to Cody. This too was typical of him, to speak little. “Let’s go to the barn to clean this rabbit. Be warmer in there.”

  Twenty minutes later they stepped into the house, and Cody ran to his mother, who was standing at the stove. “Ma, we got a big fat ol’ rabbit! You should’ve seen Zane hit ’im!”

  “Did you now? Why, that’s fine!” Zane watched as she stopped and gave Cody a hug, then came to him. “It’s a good thing you didn’t miss, Zane,” she said with a smile. “I’m pretty tired of potato soup.”

  Zane saw the marks of tears on her cheeks and stiffened, but said only, “I missed one on the way back.”

  Hope hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “Can’t hit them all,” she said, then turned to lift the carcass of the rabbit from Cody. “My, he’s a big one, isn’t he? Let me get started on him right now!”

  “Where’s Grandpa?” Cody demanded.

  “He’s resting,” Hope said. “Why don’t you go tell him about the rabbit?”

  “Sure!”

  Cody shot off, shedding his coat and hat as he went, and Zane picked them up. As he hung them on the pegs on the wall, adding his own, he said, “I seen Willis Malloy riding off as we come in, Sis.”

  Hope had her back turned and said, “Why, yes, he did stop by. He wanted to see if we needed anything from town.”

  They were close, these two, and Zane at once went and gently pulled his sister around to face him. She ducked her head, but finally had to look at him. He studied her, then asked, “I guess he wants to marry you, don’t he?”

  “Why—!” Hope intended to avoid the issue, but looking at Zane’s drawn face, knew that he had to know. “Yes,” she said. “He came to ask me.”

  Zane bit his lower lip, thinking hard, then asked, “You gonna do it, Sis?”

  “Yes, I am, Zane
—” and plunged at once into the advantages of the marriage. She spoke of how bad things had been and told him how Malloy was willing to take care of their father. “And I haven’t told you the best part, Zane,” she said. “Mr. Malloy’s bought a ranch out west, in Wyoming. And he wants you to be one of his cowboys!”

  Zane stared at her, and she saw the excitement in his eyes and was happy for it. “Gosh, really!”

  “You’ll learn all about ranching and cows, Zane. And Cody will have a pa.”

  Zane was thrilled about the idea of becoming a cowboy in Wyoming, yet something in his sister’s face made him hesitate. He wanted to be sure that she was happy and asked, “Why’ve you been cryin’, Sis?”

  Hope forced herself to laugh. “Oh, Zane, don’t you know women always cry at weddings? I’m just starting early!” She put her arms around him, saying, “Don’t tell Cody. Let me do that.”

  “All right, Sis.” He moved away, but a thought came to him, and he turned to her again. His young face was lean and sensitive, and his eyes reflected his concern. “Sis—”

  “Yes, Zane?”

  “Well, I wanna say—you don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to. I can get a job. We’ll make out.”

  Tears started to rise in Hope’s eyes, but she said, “Oh, you get along, Zane! I’m going to have a husband and we’re going to be ranchers in Wyoming! I’m just excited. Maybe a little scared—but I want to marry Mr. Malloy. You go along now.”

  “Well, okay, Sis.” Zane left to go outside and cut wood, happy with his thoughts. Gosh, me, a cowboy! And he chopped wood with the vigor and enthusiasm of a young boy who suddenly had been handed a great dream.

  CHAPTER TWO

  TRAIL TO CHEYENNE

  Despite the objections of Willis Malloy, Hope refused to marry him until spring. Malloy’s hair-trigger temper was touched by her attitude, but he finally forced a grin, saying, “I see you’ve got a little iron in your backbone, Hope. Well, I like a woman with spunk. But it means no honeymoon, you know. I’ve gotta git down to Texas when this winter breaks, scour the country for the best buy in stock. Gotta be on the trail to Cheyenne early as we can. First herds get the good grass.”

  “I’ll marry you in the spring,” Hope had said firmly. He had visited infrequently during the rest of the winter, as most of his time was spent getting ready to leave Arkansas.

  Amos sold the farm to a neighbor who had long wanted to add it to his holdings. “After the loan was paid off, we got a little over fifteen hundred dollars cash,” he reported to Hope. “I’ll keep it for Cody and Zane. Maybe they’ll need it someday.”

  That was in December, and they celebrated their last Christmas in Arkansas as 1871 slipped away. It was a special time for them all, realizing as they did that things would never be the same. On Christmas Day, Hope cooked the big turkey gobbler that Zane had bagged, made a large pan of cornbread dressing, and used some of the peaches she had put up to make a rich peach cobbler. After they could eat no more, Amos announced, “Been some lean Christmas times for you all the last few years. I made up my mind this year it was gonna be different.”

  “Pa, you didn’t go spending your money on us!” Hope exclaimed.

  “Keep your mouth off me, Daughter,” Amos grinned. As he stood up and went to the bedroom, his face was touched with a happy expression such as none of them had seen in a long time.

  “He sure looks happy, don’t he, Sis?” Zane said. “Wish I had something to give him.”

  Amos returned with a pile of bundles, which he stacked on his chair. “Now, I ain’t got no long beard, nor I ain’t climbed down no chimney, but reckon I’m as close to Santa Claus as we’re likely to get. Zane, I couldn’t figure out no good way to wrap this so’s you’d be surprised, but here it is—”

  Zane’s eyes grew large as his father handed him a long bundle wrapped in brown paper. Quickly tearing off the paper, he drew a sharp breath as a brand-new rifle emerged—a repeating Spencer. Taking it in his hands, he ran his fingers over the gleaming metal and the smoothly finished stock. It was quiet in the room, and finally Cody piped up, “Gosh, Zane, that’s a fine rifle gun! You gonna let me shoot it?”

  Zane appeared not to hear. He had admired the weapon for months, stopping at the case where it was displayed in Teller’s Hardware Store in town, but he had no idea his father had known of his desire. He tried to speak, had to clear his throat, then finally looked up and said, “Pa—it’s real fine!” He wanted to say more, to tell them all how he felt, but he was not one to talk much.

  Amos had his reward, however, when he saw the shine in the boy’s eyes and the tremble in his hands. “Well, I’m expectin’ to git a return on that gun, boy.” He smiled and put his thin hand on Zane’s shoulder. “You know how partial I am to a fat young doe, so I’ll be expectin’ to sink my teeth into one of them pretty regular. Now then,” he said, his own eyes shining with pleasure. “It’s your turn, Cody, but you’ll have to wait while I go outside and git your present.”

  He left the room, and Cody could hardly keep still. “What is it, Ma?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Hope smiled. “This is all your grandfather’s doing.” They waited, admiring Zane’s Spencer, and then they heard steps on the front porch. The door opened, and Amos entered, dragging a large red puppy by a cord.

  “Well, here he is, Cody,” Amos grinned, shoving the dog toward the boy. “Aaron Biggers told me he was gonna be the best coon dog he’d ever bred. Come and get acquainted with your dog.”

  Cody stood stock still for a moment. He had begged for a dog for years, but times had been too hard. Now he couldn’t seem to breathe. Then he uttered a small cry and ran to the dog, running his hands over the smooth red fur and laughing when the puppy yelped and began licking his face.

  Hope felt the tears gather in her eyes and looked up to meet her father’s eyes. They both smiled, and Amos said, “A boy’s gotta have a dog, ain’t he now? Cody, you’ll have to think up a good name for that pup.”

  “His name’s Buck!” Cody looked up at his grandfather, adding, “I done named him a long time ago.”

  “Well, that’s a good name, I reckon,” Amos nodded. “Short and handy like. Dog don’t need no fancy name, no more’n a man.” Turning to the remaining presents on the chair, he picked up a large, rectangular box wrapped in red paper and handed it to Hope. “This is for you, Daughter.”

  Hope shook her head, saying, “You shouldn’t have spent all this money, Pa—” When she had unwrapped the paper carefully and opened the box, she gasped and lifted her eyes to him. “Pa! How beautiful!”

  As Hope removed a light blue silk dress from the box, Amos said, “I had it special made. Swiped one of your old dresses for a pattern. Now, go put it on and give us a fashion show.”

  While Hope was changing, Amos had to give special attention to Buck, allowing Cody to point out his fine features, including his enormous feet, which Cody informed them meant that he would be a big dog sure enough when he grew into them!

  Finally Amos had to call out, “Hope, git yourself out here!” And when she stepped through the door, he and the boys stared at her. None of them had seen her in a fine dress, not for years. They were so accustomed to seeing her in faded calico dresses that the sight of her was a shock to all of them.

  The dress was full length, but a pair of new white leather shoes that had been in the bottom of the box peeped out from underneath the full skirt. The skirt billowed out, but the bodice was formfitting, trimmed with tiny dark blue flowers embroidered along the bodice line and the delicate cuffs of the sleeves. The glowing blue material was picked up by the blue of her eyes, and she looked like a princess.

  “You’re the picture of your mother,” Amos whispered, shaking his head. “She wore a dress like that the first time I ever seen her.”

  “Gosh, Ma!” Cody said. “I didn’t know you were pretty like that!”

  Zane reached over and slapped the boy on top of the head, but he was grinning. “That’
s a fine thing to say to your ma,” he said. “Now, I always knew she was pretty.”

  Hope was flushed with pleasure and ran to her father, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Pa—!” was all she could manage. As Amos Jenson looked around at his family, he was happy—happier than he’d been for years. “Well, shoot! Don’t make such a fuss over it!”

  “Aw, Pa, it ain’t fair!” Zane complained. He still held the Spencer tightly, as though afraid someone would take it from him. “Here you got us all these fine presents, and we didn’t get you a thing!”

  “Didn’t get me a present?” Amos said with a show of surprise. “Why, Zane, that just ain’t so!” He gave the three of them a solemn look, then said, “It appears there’s one more package here. You must’ve forgot about this one, I reckon.” He bent over the chair and picked up the last present and held it out for them to see the card on it. “Looky there—it says right on this card, ‘Merry Christmas to Amos, from Hope, Zane, and Cody.’ ”

  Cody stared at the package, a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t remember that, Grandpa.”

  “Neither do I,” Hope smiled. “I can’t wait to see what it is we gave you, Pa.”

  “Neither can I!” Amos said, and then he ripped the paper off and stood there looking down at the rich wood of the fiddle he held. “Well, I’ll be dipped!” he exclaimed. “Just what I wanted! How in the world you kids knowed I wanted this is sure hard to figure! But now we can have us some fiddle music any old time we take a notion.”

  Hope was smiling now, for she recognized the fiddle. It was one that her father had longed for for years, ever since his old one had collapsed of age. She knew it was one of the fine fiddles made by an instrument maker in Fort Smith, and that it cost almost a hundred dollars. She had seen her father look at it longingly at the General Store more than once.