Black Falcon 10 part 2 delivering the females

 

10 Delivering the females part 2

 

 

The cavalcade set off early, following the line of bluffs and staying near the small river. The women did not have the stamina to ride for as long or as hard as Luke considered normal, but he took the rear, permitting them to take the lead. Miss Compton set the pace, and Luke suppressed a sigh that they would be unlikely to manage more than fifteen miles a day. He had planned to hurry them across five or six miles of open prairie to a sheltering butte to camp overnight, but as he was pointing it out to the ladies, an Indian appeared out, it seemed, of nowhere. Luke was used to the stealthy way of his Cherokee friends and quickly made the peace sign, as several of the ladies squealed in shock.

“Two-Moons no make trouble,” said the man, a Cheyenne, Luke thought.

“You feel the weather,” said Luke. “We were going to cross to the butte over there.”

“No have time,” said Two-Moons. “Two-Moons watch how fast white women ride. Storm hit, one, two hours most.”

“Fine; there’s a good camp site here,” said Luke. “Will you join us?”

Two-Moons grunted.

“Two-Moons some way from camp,” he admitted. “I help; you pay much wampum?”

“Five dollars,” said Luke.

“Done,” said Two-Moons.

“Right, ladies,” said Luke, “Two-moons and I will fell that line of pine trees to lay against the cliff in that blind valley; those of you who know how to use a hatchet, take off the inner branches as we get each one down, and lay them on the floor.  We have blankets on the pack animals to go on top of that. I’ll light a fire at the blind end of the valley to cook on and keep us warm, and the horses will have to make do with the other end. Those of you who cannot use hatchets, take off the tack and have it ready to bring inside. I’ve tarpaulins for the shelter, and some firewood, but any extra you can forage is good.”

Luke plied a felling-axe, having handed one to Two-Moons as well, making a good notch on the side of the trunk facing the bluff, and then cutting on the other side until they fell to lodge against the wall of the mesa. He noticed that both Emma and Ida worked with a will in taking off branches facing inward to lay them on the floor.

“That fine-looking squaw. She for sale?” asked Two-Moons.

“Sold already,” said Luke. “All the women are going to husbands.” He considered. “I don’t like the sound of her husband, mind you; give her a week or two and she might be willing to go with you.”

“Uhm,” grunted Two-Moons, thoughtfully. “Not now?”

“She signed a contract,” said Luke.”

Two-Moons nodded.

“Please, sir, why are you called ‘Two-Moons?” asked Ida.

“Two-Moons mother start birthing during one moon, and birth one sickly child who die,” said Two-Moons. “Next moon, Two-Moons born, and thrive.”

“Goodness, how unsettling for your poor mother,” said Ida. “I am glad you survived; thank you for helping us.”

“How long will the storm be, do you think?” asked Luke.

Two-Moons considered.

“The day round, likely,” he said.

“Not as bad as the three-day blizzard,” said Luke.  “But we’ll want some home comforts.” He took his spade and dug out a rough cave in the bluff, just outside the shelter and dug a hole in the floor of the small cave. A rough door woven of springy branches gave some privacy.

“I hope one of you ladies has a newspaper,” said Luke. “Miss Compton, perhaps you can cut such a newspaper into squares.”

“Yes, of course,” said Miss Compton, blushing. “Very good of you... so practical.”

Luke finished fastening tarpaulins over the slanting tree trunks after having interlinked the outer branches to make a thicker, warmer covering, partially cutting through some to bend them. It would be dark and not terribly pleasant within, but it was shelter, and enough to keep them alive.

“Here, Ida, you take this oldest horse blanket and tear it into strips,” said Luke. “I’m going to get a hot meal into us, but the storm will likely put out the fire. If you wrap the stones from the edge of the fire in blanket pieces, each of you ladies can hold on to it to keep a bit warmer.”

The horses must just lie down and endure under the far end of the shelter, such as it was; but horses could endure cold better than humans, especially if not too wet. And the pine branches should keep off the worst of the wet.  If there was snow it would fill the crevices.

Luke got on with cooking, as the wind rose, and carried in the cookpot as the first spiteful lash of hail hit him. Everyone could at least get a hot meal before it started, and they all ate pork and beans. The ladies would either have to fart discreetly or put up with men hearing them do so, thought Luke. They must huddle together in their bed-rolls, and he grinned to find that Ida had elected to be on the outside, next to him. Technically, Miss Compton should be guarding her charges with her body, but she was at the furthest distance she could get. Luke managed not to snigger.

“You and I will take turns on the outside,” he said to Two-Moons. Two-Moons grunted agreement.

It was cold, but they were sheltered from the wind, and the fitful sleet did not become heavy rain or snow. Luke woke to find Ida assisting Two-Moons in building a rough fireplace of stone and chimney of sticks slathered with sandy mud. Two-Moons soon had a fire going, and Ida came in the shelter, shivering.

“Get that wet coat off, and leave it the horses side,” said Luke. “I’ll turn the other way so you can change your skirt, and hang that one up.”

Ida did so, and Luke rose to wrap her in his own blanket, still warm from his body. He held her tightly to him until she stopped shivering.

“Mr. Sokolov, what are you doing to my sister?” asked Emma, sharply, having awoken.

“Trying to get her warm. Here, bring your blanket to wrap her and hug her the other side,” said Luke. “She went out to help Two-Moons, but there’s not enough meat on her bones to keep her warm.”

“Oh... I’m sorry. A comment like that is definitely not one of a man romancing a girl,” said Emma.

“Not that you’d know, having settled for Nathaniel,” said Ida, in a rather muffled way against Luke’s chest.

“I wish you’ll let me look at your contract,” said Luke. “There might be a way to break it.”

“What makes you think I want to break it?” said Emma.

“I can’t say that he sounds like a man to make you happy,” said Luke.

“I don’t need to be happy; I can manage with contented, so long as Ida has a roof over her head, and food, and schooling,” said Emma.

“I’d still take you to my parents to care for, if the contract could be broken,” said Luke.

“Mr. Sokolov, I do not accept charity,” said Emma, stiffly. “I’ve made a contract, and it will give Ida a home.”

Luke raised a single, derisive, eyebrow.

“I fancy it will give Ida a dwelling-place,” he said.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” said Emma.

“No, ma’am. You said it would give Ida a home. A dwelling-place is not a home; and a home need not be a dwelling place. I wouldn’t let any of my sisters go to a man like that, who demands that a child be dressed in the sort of cheap, uncomfortable clothing they provide in orphan asylums, nor to fail to provide her or you with pretty geegaws.”

“Well, it’s not your sister, Mr. Sokolov, so it’s none of your business,” said Emma. “The child is warm enough now; you can have your blanket back.” She whisked off towards the necessary cave.

“She’s mad because she knows you’re right,” said Ida. “But she’s that stubborn! Well, so am I, but... but I think she’s hiding that she’s scared.”

“I agree,” said Luke. “Try not to irritate Nathaniel too much.”

“I’ll try,” said Ida.

“And for Pete’s sake, keep your dungarees and shirt hidden; if you have a rail to hang things, hang them inside the gown you ain’t wearing,” suggested Luke.

Ida beamed.

“How clever!” she said.

“If you do get work, put them on under your loosest gown and make as if going into town. Take a basket, and you can change in a public necessary in the railway station,” said Luke.

“You know a lot,” said Ida.

“Yes, because I’m a lot older than you,” said Luke. “You’re much of an age with my next sister down, Kalina Millicent; she’s a pretty good brother of a sister for a man to have, but she still has much to learn.”

“Tell me about your sisters. Do you have brothers?”

“My oldest sibling is my brother, Daniel. His other names are Alfred Henry, after the Prince of Wales and Sir Henry Hardinge, who were my papa’s patrons in England, where Mama comes from. Alice is older than me, and she’s married to the son of the Cherokee chief. He’s my brother’s friend but he also taught me a lot. Leaping-Wolf is his name. Then it’s me, and after me, Kalina, Vasilika, and Kyrilla. Vasilika is a couple of years younger than you, and dark-haired like me; all my other siblings have red hair. And Kyrilla is only ten.”

“You speak with warmth; it must be a happy home,” said Ida, wistfully.

“It is,” said Luke. “Mama met Papa when she was with the famous nurse, Florence Nightingale. My father was one of a subject people of the Russians, forced to fight the English and French, with whom we had no quarrel. But Mama came to nurse some of our people, and saved their lives. And they fell in love, and decided to come to America instead, as England felt too crowded. And we are happy.”

“I wish Emma was not so stubborn,” sighed Ida. “I am sure I could work hard enough for it not to be charity.”

“I’m sure you would help Kalina and do a day’s work as well as she can,” said Luke. “Possibly she works harder than this Nathaniel will make you work, but when it’s done for love, and there is joy, and music, and stories and laughter when the work is done, it is easier than when it is forced. But perhaps Nathaniel is not as hard as he sounds.”

“Perhaps,” said Ida, dubiously.

 

The bitter weather blew itself out over the day, but it was too late to move on; and Luke decreed that they might as well stay snug.  Two-Moons’s fireplace had worked well enough to have a fire during the day, and to have hot food. Luke had made a hash with oatmeal, cornmeal, corned beef and baked beans which had gone down well enough. Emma chattered apparently gaily and inconsequentially.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” said Luke. “And if you’d rather marry than be a pensioner of my parents, Two-Moons admires you greatly.”

“I... no!” said Emma, horrified.

Luke shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he said. “But have at least a thought for Ida.”

“I am thinking of Ida!” snapped Emma.

“Don’t be surprised, then, if it is your thought for her that cold-comfort farm is better than any other alternative, should she then turn her back on you for such a poor choice,” warned Luke. “I’ll be stopping off on my way back from delivering the other ladies, and if you’ve changed your mind, I’ll give you my escort.”

“Don’t bother,” said Emma, tossing her head.

“Fool of a woman,” growled Luke, sorting out his own bedding roll for their second night in the shelter.

 

They rose early.

“Two-Moons leave now,” said Two-Moons. “Will visit lovely squaw in new home in a moon’s time.”

“Thanks for that,” said Luke. “If Ida wants to leave, see her onto the train to Denver, and she can wire my parents.” Ida had the names Dmitro and Jane Levchenko, Little Zaporozhia, near Wray, Colorado, in her pocket book. She might write to Kalinka if nothing else.

“Why is your name different, Mr. Sokolov?” asked Ida.

“Oh, I took the surname meaning, ‘Falcon,’” said Luke. “Yes, for real, I am Luke Levchenko.”

“Ida!” Emma snapped. “Stop pestering Mr. Sokolov!”

“She isn’t,” said Luke. “We’re saying farewell to Two-Moons.”

Two-Moons nodded, and slid off, disappearing almost as quietly as he had appeared.

 

It was well into the afternoon when they reached the N-Bar-P ranch. A sour looking man with a rifle stopped them.

“This ain’t no right of way,” he said. “Clear off my land, you and your harlots.”

“Them’s fighting words for a man who should be rejoicing that his wife’s duenna hired a man as escort, if you happen to be Nathaniel Pepper,” said Luke, mildly. “But if you want to fight, perhaps you’ll marry her first, so she’s a widow and has somewhere to stay.”

“She’d better not have got up to any hanky-panky with you, if she knows what’s good for her. Which one is mine?” demanded Nathaniel Pepper.

“I’m Emma,” said Emma. “This is my sister, Ida. Mr. Sokolov has been very proper with us. There’s no need to fight.”

“Well, so he ought. What a weed that child is!” said Pepper. “I’ll thank you not to grow any more, brat, or you’ll be staying in the house if you show an inch of ankle.”

“I have wide hems to let down,” said Ida.

“Extravagance,” muttered Pepper. “Fine, you can be on your way.”

“What, not even offering to let us water the nags and take a drink at your well?  Are you a man or a mudsill, sir?”

Pepper went purple.

“You can let the nags drink and take a drink of water, and then get off my property,” he growled.

“And a fine afternoon to you, too,” said Luke, with heavy irony.  “As to myself, I’ll be back when the weed has grown enough to court. Her sister’s a hard worker, and a deputy sheriff like myself needs a wife who can hustle.”

“You will not; I’ll find her a husband myself,” said Pepper. He watched them suspiciously as they drank.

“Now, the ladies will want to use your outhouse,” said Luke, pleasantly.

“Why the hell should...” Pepper broke off as two guns appeared in Luke’s hands.

“Because I’m teaching you manners,” said Luke. “You need to know how to show any friends your wife makes to the facilities.”

“She don’t need no friends, she’ll be busy on the farm,” said Pepper.

“Oh, not even a mudsill,” said Luke. “Be careful, Pepper, the agency checks up on the women they help to match up. And they can afford lawyers if you treat her badly, because it’s not in their interests to have tales of unhappy women reaching other clients. It’s bad for business.”

Pepper scowled at him, but made no difficulty about the ladies using the necessary-house.

They rode out.

“I don’t think the agency does check up, Mr. Sokolov,” said Miss Compton, timidly.

“We don’t have to tell that nasty creature that, though, do we?” said Luke.

“You told a lie?” gasped Miss Compton.

“I most certainly did,” said Luke. “If it keeps that filthy po’ white trash’s hands off those girls I’ll take whatever time in Purgatory the Good Lord sees fit to give me for it.”

Miss Compton tutted, more over his devotion to a religion she considered deplorable, Luke thought, than over his cheerful lie.

She was happy to stick close to him, however, as were the other girls, when they rode into the bustling town of Cheyenne, and to permit him to arrange rooms in the hotel.