Joelle's Secret Page 7

  “I guess that was pretty bad being in jail.”

  “Worse thing I can think of. I think I’d die before I’d go back there.”

  Owen found himself getting sleepy. “Could I have a cup of that coffee, do you think? I’m getting sleepy again, and I want something to keep me awake.”

  Joelle filled a cup with coffee. “You want milk and sugar?”

  “Just sugar.”

  Joelle added a spoonful of sugar, stirred it, and came back. “I doubt this will keep you awake,” she said. She watched as he drank it and then took the cup. “You lie down there. I’m going to go get Doc Crandell and have him look you over. You haven’t coughed for a time. I thought for a while you were going to cough your lungs out.”

  “So did I.” Those were the last words Owen could speak. He knew there was something he ought to say, and as he slipped off, he suddenly remembered. He lifted his hand and whispered, “Well, thanks!” He drifted off then, and this time the hole was not as black nor as frightening as it had been.

  * * *

  “STAND STILL, GENERAL. YOU’RE too feisty! Look out! Don’t nip me like that!”

  Joelle was talking to a long-legged sorrel she had been grooming. She had become an expert groomer, and this horse belonged to the sheriff so she was extra careful with it. He was finicky about his horse and gave her specific instructions about his hooves and how he had to be groomed just so. She ran the curry comb over General’s back, then moved over to get some of the special feed the sheriff had provided.

  “That sheriff sure spoils you. Wish somebody would take such good of care of me.” Joelle carefully dipped the scoop, put grain in the feed box, and watched as General thrust his nose into it and began crunching. “You don’t have very good table manners, but you’re a handsome devil. I guess you know it too.”

  Joelle had formed the habit of talking to the horses she cared for. As she moved to the next horse, she was thinking about Owen Majors. It had been three days since he had come out of his fever, and he had been slow to recover. Dr. Crandell had said, “He got pretty well dehydrated. Hard to get fluids to a fellow that’s unconscious, but he’s going to be all right.”

  Joelle had fixed a bed for herself in the loft. The cold had broken so that although it still got into the lower twenties at night, she was all right. It had been interesting taking care of the big man, and she was still amazed at how much he looked like the description of her Uncle Caleb. She was a girl of vivid imagination and had heard stories all of her life about miracles happening.

  Her grandmother had told her once about an “appearing” of her husband, Joelle’s grandfather: “He was off working in the coal mine, and I was shelling peas, and suddenly I turned around, and he was standing right there. Like to have scared me to death. ‘What are you doing here, Albert?’ I asked him. He just smiled at me and didn’t say a word. I didn’t know what to do, and I closed my eyes, and when I looked up, he was gone. I knew something was wrong with all that, and when they come to tell me he had been killed in a cave-in, I tried to tell them I seen him. They thought I was losing my mind, but I know what I seen.”

  Joelle had heard her grandmother tell this many times, and she had been thinking about what her mother had said about her dream—that someone would come and take care of her exactly as her brother had taken care of her.

  For a time she felt she was in a forest without a road and didn’t know which way to turn. She knew it was dangerous for her to stay in a big town like Fort Smith, for Harper would not give up. She was convinced of that. But she couldn’t think of another place to go. She didn’t know where in Canada her aunt was, and she didn’t want to go there anyway.

  Finally she finished grooming the horse and washed her hands. She thought, with a touch of pride, how successfully she had concealed her sex from everyone. Most people called her Joe. As for the last name Jones, it was handy enough, and she was satisfied with it.

  She walked to the back of the stables, opened the door, and stepped inside. She found Owen Majors sitting on the cot. He was wearing his long underwear and gave her a smile. “Where’s my pants?” he said.

  “I washed them and your shirts too. You need to get out of that underwear.”

  “I want to get out of this bed.”

  “If you think you’re strong enough, you can.”

  “Anything to get out of that bed. I’m sick of it.” Joelle watched for a moment as he began unbuttoning the top of the long-handled underwear and turned quickly. “You get all changed, and I’ll think of something to eat.”

  She moved outside and waited for what she felt was plenty of time, and she then went back in. He was fully dressed, sitting on one of the chairs and pulling on his boots. “I didn’t know how good a pair of pants would feel.”

  “You sure you’re strong enough for this?”

  “Sure.” He suddenly stood up, and she was aware how very tall he was. The clothes were clean and smelled sweet, and he ran his hand over one arm of it. “It’s nice to have clean clothes.” He moved across the room and stood in front of her. Suddenly he reached out and put both hands on her shoulders and smiled at her. “How much do I owe you for all this care you’ve given me?”

  The touch of his hands frightened Joelle. She didn’t have the strong muscles of the young man she pretended to be, and she was afraid for him to get too close. “Nothing,” she said, pulling away from his hands. “What do you want to eat?”

  “You’re a good cook, Joe. Anything would be fine with me.”

  “How about some pork chops?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You set.” When he sat down, she gave a sigh of relief. She filled his coffee cup and shoved the sugar bowl at him. “How about some fried potatoes to go with it?”

  “I could eat a horse.”

  She laughed. “No, we don’t eat horses here. We just groom ’em.” She had bought the pork chops from the butcher, knowing he would be hungry, and quickly she peeled four potatoes and sliced them into big chunks. She fried the pork chops, put them aside, then fried the potatoes and placed them on two plates. She had given him two chops and she had one.

  “You make me feel like a hog, Joe.”

  “You need to get your strength up. You were pretty sick, Owen.”

  “Sure was. First time I was ever really sick in my whole life.”

  Suddenly, she heard her name being called. “That’s Mr. Phillips. I’ll be right back. Don’t be eating my pork chop.”

  “Can’t make no guarantees.”

  Joelle stepped outside and found Ben Phillips there. “Hello, Mr. Phillips.”

  “You get all the horses curried?”

  “All done.”

  “Well, let’s settle up.”

  “Well, I was just fixing to eat. It’s all cooked. Could we do that later?”

  “Sure. I’ll stop by later.” He turned to go and said, “What about that fellow you fished out of the alley?”

  “Oh, he’s better. He’s up and dressed now.”

  “Well, I don’t handle charity cases.”

  “It doesn’t cost anything. I buy his food,” she said quickly.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Owen Majors, he says.”

  “Where’s he from? Do you know anything about him?”

  For an instant Joelle hesitated and almost said, “He’s been in prison.” But she decided that would not have been fair to Owen. “He’s from Kentucky.”

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Phillips. I think he’s looking for work.”

  “Well, you can’t keep him forever.”

  “I think he’ll be leaving pretty soon.”

  “He’s just a bum, Joe. Don’t let people take advantage of you.” Phillips turned and left without another word.

  Quickly she went back inside. Majors was still eating, and she sat down and began eating her dinner. “Maybe I can give you a hand with some of this work around here.”

  “Oh
, there’s not that much work to it, Owen. Just mostly feeding the horses and once in a while brushing them out.”

  “Well, I can clean up.”

  “Maybe in a day or two. You’re still not back to full strength.”

  “Well, I don’t like to take your bed. Where have you been sleeping?”

  “Oh, I made me a bed up in the loft. Since the cold broke it’s not bad.”

  “Well, that’s all of that. You can show me when you finish eating.”

  She ate and then remembered that Phillips had asked what he did. She had not asked too many questions of the tall man, but now she said, “What do you do for a living, Owen?”

  “Whatever I can. I soldiered in the dragoons for a couple of years, trapped beaver in the mountains, drove a freight wagon.” He smiled and added, “I was even a deputy sheriff for a time.”

  “You were a lawman?”

  “Just a deputy.”

  “Will you go back to that, do you think?”

  “I don’t think there’s many towns that would hire a jailbird to be their deputy.”

  “Wasn’t your fault, you said.”

  “That’s what I said at the trial, but it didn’t do any good. Nobody believed me.”

  “Do you have any folks?”

  “No, not really. My folks died of cholera on the trail to Oregon, both of them. I was handed around until I got old enough to take care of myself.”

  “What do you think you’ll do now?”

  “Find a job somewhere. What about you?” he asked suddenly. “You don’t tell much about yourself. You got folks around here?”

  “No, I’m like you. I lost my ma and pa.”

  He suddenly leaned forward and studied her face, saying finally, “How old are you, Joe?”

  “I’m seventeen.”

  “You don’t look it. You’ve not even shaved yet, I don’t think. You got smooth features for a fella.”

  “Yeah, my pa said he was that way too,” she said quickly, then tried to change the subject. “You could ask Mr. Phillips if there’s any jobs around here.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that. I think I’ll take a walk around town.”

  “Put your heavy coat on. It’s still chilly out.”

  “I hate that buffalo coat. I think I’ll just put on both shirts.”

  He slipped the second woolen shirt on, then picked up his hat, and said, “I’ve got to get another hat. This one makes me look like an idiot.”

  He left the room, and as he stepped out into the bright sunshine, he thought, That Joe Jones is a funny young fella. Doesn’t look very tough for a place like this or for a job like this. He began to walk down the streets of Fort Smith and wondered about Joelle’s question. What am I going to do now? he asked himself, then realized he had no idea whatsoever. He had always been a man of independence, and nothing had kept him down long although he had had some hard times. The pale sunshine felt good, and the air was sharp and crisp. He was thankful to be out of that cell and thankful that he hadn’t died.

  * * *

  THE WINTER MOVED SLOWLY away from the earth, and spring began to show signs of returning. It was early March.

  Owen Majors stepped inside the stable and found Joelle currying her horse. “You sure take good care of that hoss, Joe.”

  “I guess I do.”

  “Well, I like to see a horse well treated. That’s a fine one too. Got good news.” Joelle watched as he pulled up a chair and sat down. “Got a job.”

  “Really? That’s good. What will you be doing?”

  “Not much. Just room clerk down at the hotel. Night shift. Not much going on. Doesn’t pay much, but I get a room for it.”

  “Well, you’ll be moving out then.”

  “I guess so.” He studied her and noted that she always wore the same clothes, the baggy pants and the shapeless shirt that seemed to swallow her. I wonder why he doesn’t buy something that fits him better. Maybe he’s broke. This job can’t pay much. “I got just about enough to buy us a meal down at the café.”

  “You better save your money.”

  “Oh, I’m a man of means, Joe. I’ll soon be making money at that hotel. Come on. You cooked enough for me.” He saw Joelle’s eyes suddenly crinkle and he rose. The two sauntered down the street to the Café Delight. They got a table, and the waitress came over. She was a small, well-shaped woman with attractive brown eyes. “What can I get you gents?”

  “What do you have, Joe?”

  “What have you got?” Joelle asked and looked up at the waitress.

  “We got some good steaks, hon.”

  It made Joelle feel odd that the waitress called her “hon,” and she flushed a little.

  “I’ll have a steak.”

  “Same for me and any kind of vegetable you can rake up, sweetheart.”

  “You bet.”

  The waitress left, and Owen leaned forward. “I think she’s stuck on you, Joe. You made a conquest there.”

  Joelle said, “She’s just foolin’. She probably calls everybody hon.”

  “She didn’t call me that.” Owen smiled, and she saw that the color had come back into his face, and her cooking had filled in some of the sunken spots that had formed in his neck and cheeks. He had rebounded miraculously from his brush with near death.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “We’ll ask if she’s got a sister. If they do, we’ll take them out for a dance or something.”

  “We don’t have any money for that kind of thing.”

  “You’re right about that, but eat all you want. I’ll start out broke at my new job, but something will turn up. It always does.”

  * * *

  A WEEK AFTER OWEN left for his job, Joelle discovered she was lonesome. Taking care of the big man had filled a part of her life, and now, although he had come by twice, it wasn’t the same. She had cleaned the stables and curried and fed the horses. Now she stepped outside. The courthouse was right down the street so out of boredom she walked toward it. It was a crowded street for the weather had turned warm, and Fort Smith was a busy place. There was going to be a hanging the next day, and people always came to see the spectacle. Joelle had thought about going, but it disgusted her.

  She got to the post office and turned to look at the posters. It was filled with wanted posters. Some had hand-drawn portraits of the wanted men, and some were simply printed in large block letters. Most of them were for felons and offered a reward.

  She was about to turn when something caught her eye. She moved a poster that half-covered the one beneath and took a deep breath. There it was. Harper had raised the reward to a thousand dollars. Fear gripped her, and she looked around. Nobody was watching so she jerked the poster down, crammed it into her pocket, turned, and fled down the street. He’s after me! He’ll get me sooner or later.

  * * *

  JOELLE HAD GONE TO her room and sat there nervously, not knowing what to do. “I need to get out of this place. There’ll be another poster. I know there will,” she said aloud. She started when she heard somebody calling her, but she recognized Owen’s voice. She stepped outside. “Hello, Owen.”

  “Hey, Joe. I got some news here.” He pushed into his pocket and pulled out a letter. “I got a letter from an old friend of mine. His name is Harry Jump.”

  “That’s a funny name.”

  “It is. Never knew anybody named Jump before. The letter went to the prison, and the warden knew I was coming here, so he had it sent.”

  “You’ve known him a long time?”

  “Yes, quite a while.” He opened it and said, “It says he’s going to California to look for gold. He says he’ll wait for me in Independence, and that maybe we could hook on to a wagon train.” Owen read part of the letter aloud: “‘You could probably get a job as a guide since you know the trail, Owen. We could maybe put together enough cash to buy a wagon. We could strike it rich out there. Ask for me at the post office when you get to Independence.’”

  Owen laughed and shook his head. “Har
ry was always an optimistic sort of fellow. Just the kind of get-rich-quick scheme he’d jump at.”

  “I’ve been reading about the gold discoveries in California. How do you get there?”

  “Well, if you’re on the East Coast, you can get on a ship and go down to Panama, cross on land, then get on another ship. Or go around the Cape. Takes a long time to get there. Costs a bundle. Or you can go to Independence and tie up with a wagon train. You’ve got to have a wagon to do that though.”

  “You think you’ll go?” Joelle suddenly had an idea and hope began to kindle within her.

  “I think I will. Not that I am expecting to find gold, but I’d like to see old Harry again. And there ought to be jobs there around San Francisco somewhere. I have to save a little money first.”

  “I’d like to see California myself.”

  “Pretty hard making that trip in a wagon.”

  “You’ve done it?”

  “Sure have, but I wasn’t in a wagon.”

  Joelle only half-listened as Owen spoke of the trip on the Oregon Trail. “But why do they call it the Oregon Trail if it goes to California?”

  “It goes both places. The trains leave Independence and get about two-thirds of the way there. Those that want to go to Oregon take the north route. Those that go to California break off and go through the Donner Pass.”

  Preoccupied, Joelle asked several more questions. Owen left, and she began to walk back and forth within the stable. She began to put a plan together. If I got to California, Harper would never find me there! The thought of such a thing frightened her, but then she stopped. I’ll bet Owen would look out for me. He’s done it before. The thought possessed her, and that night before she went to bed she found herself praying, God, if this is all right with You, I sure would like to get away from here. Make a way for us to get to California, me and Owen.

  Chapter Eight

  JOELLE WAS FRYING LIVERS on the small stove, and the aroma was rich as it filled the small room. Majors sat at the table reading the paper. Joelle had invited him to eat with her, saying, “We can share the cost of the food. It’s too expensive to eat at those cafés.” He had agreed at once, and the meals had become times she looked forward to. When the livers were done, she put them on a plate along with beans. She had baked fresh bread, too, and she filled their glasses with milk and said, “Let’s eat.”