Black Falcon 11 a whip-round for Nathaniel part 1

 

11 A Whip-round for Nathaniel part 1

 

Luke adored his family, but it was not entirely duty which sent him back to Eastbend after Christmas.  There was more of a frontier feel, as yet, to Eastbend, which the Levchenko ranch did not have, despite being somewhat isolated. Dmitro Levchenko and his English wife were extremely efficient, and the ranch might as well have been a small town, for having all the facilities any farmer could want, save for a store. The hands made their own vodka, mead, and beer, and their common room was a bar, a music hall, a theatre, and a meeting hall. The little chapel saw to their spiritual needs, and any other socialisation was around the blacksmith’s anvil, in the big stable block and barn, which served as a rather noisy warming house in the winter, and where tall tales were told, songs of more or less ribald nature sung, and much business accomplished in a convivial manner. The barn was used for sabre drill, target practice, and hopak. The forge fire also heated water for the wash-house and steam bath house, which had a women’s room and a men’s room, and was backed by the hospital where Jane Levchenka presided at need. The hospital was tiled with locally made salt-glazed tiles, not as fine as white porcelain, but easier to keep clean than wooden walls. The blacksmith’s forge was given over at times to the making of pottery, to make such tiles, and simple storage jars, and the blacksmith himself presided over tinker-work in the mending and making of pots and pans, his numerous children as his apprentices.  The schoolroom had at first also been run by Jane Levchenka, but now had two full-time teachers, for those aged five to ten, and the seniors, eleven to fifteen.  One of the older girls was learning teaching in giving a class to those preschool children there were, in learning their letters and numbers, and in bad weather, the children slept in the schoolrooms rather than risk travelling to outlying buildings. All that was needed was bought in by mail order, and twice a year, Dmitro drove forty miles to the railhead with wagons to collect what had been sent. Inside the stockade of what was known as Kozachi Laheri, the settlement was defensible and self-sufficient. Covered ways and underground tunnels made going out into the snow unnecessary.

It was a wonderful place; but in some ways, it was too cosy for Luke. He felt a need to cut loose; and his father understood this, that he had a need to go Cossacking as Dmitro had done in his own youth. Luke was grateful that, although his mother did not fully understand, she accepted.

It meant that he was happier to come home to visit; there were no tears and exhortations to stay, which he had heard from some young men was the way of many mothers. So Luke drove off, using the sleigh with its tent, and extra poles for a horse shelter, with Blackwind tethered behind, and came into Eastbend to lodge with Big Betsy in her new tea rooms and boarding house, where Carrie and Marilla might earn their way waiting, cooking, and singing, and any other arrangements being of a private nature.

All of them hugged him.

This was extremely gratifying, and Luke was not about to complain.  He knew he would have a welcome with either Sam or the banker and his family, but Luke felt that was an intrusion. And the girls needed the custom.

“Now, tell us all about that nice little girl who looked like she was in a claiming mood,” said Betsy.

“I don’t know about that; I helped her to rescue herself from as nasty a piece of dung as I have ever met,” said Luke. “How a man who preaches the Gospel like a preacher can simultaneously fondle the bollocks of the devil in taking delight in the torture of innocents is beyond my ken.  Surely anyone who believes in the love of God must be filled with joy at His infinite mercy and grace, not be made dour by the contemplation of the perceived sins of others? Are we not all sinners, who but strive? How can he hope to please the Good Lord by such?”

“Oh, sweetie, you are such an innocent,” said Betsy, plying him with tea and lemon cookies. “There’s them as have such small faith they fear Hell, and seek to mortify themselves in life, to avoid punishment in the afterlife, and seek to find virtue in pointing out the motes in the eyes of others.”

“It seems a very silly way to worship, to me,” sniffed Luke.

“Well, Falcon, your faith gave me more than I’ve had for years,” said Betsy. “And we all goes to church these days, respectably clad, no bar-girl clothes for three nice refined ladies with a teashop, mind you.”

Luke hid a grin, as Carrie had uninhibitedly pulled up her skirts to show him that she was wearing the lacy stockings he had bought her.

“All very well, but are you going to marry her?” demanded Marilla. “That Ida child, I mean.”

“I... the idea had never occurred to me,” said Luke, shocked, going red at the thought of having woken up in a most improper embrace.

“Isn’t it sweet? He blushes like a schoolboy,” said Carrie. “What Marilla means is, are you off-limits?”

“Not until Ida grows up and we can re-visit the idea then,” retorted Luke.

This might not have been the right tactical move, as both girls squealed and kissed him.

 

Luke was firm, when invited by both Sam and by the Spences to stay, that he must make his own way, and would consider throwing up a home of his own come spring.

Moreover, Betsy and her girls appeared to have a rota to make sure he felt welcome, and Luke was as happy as any man to enjoy a healthy relationship with no strings attached.

He did have to insist that he would pay for his accommodation, even if the attentions of the women was on a purely voluntary basis.

If no money changed hands for anything but board and lodging, nobody could accuse Betsy of running a bawdy house.

 

Spring came to Eastbend, and with it, a letter for Luke.

“Dear Luke,

Papa Dmitro will not permit me to come on my own to meet you, but perhaps we could meet in Denver? He is willing to see me to Denver, whilst selling horses. I have been practising with arapnik and I want to rescue Emma.

Yours, Ida.”

“Maybe she is a catch at that; she has the virtue of brevity,” said Luke to Betsy. “I don’t want her to be hurt if she comes here.”

“Oh, we’ll be discreet,” said Betsy. “A man is entitled to relaxation when he’s single.  Mind, if you marry her, and visit my girls, I’ll beat you black and blue.”

“I’d deserve it,” said Luke.

He sent a wire back.

 

“Ida,

I know Papa’s habits. I’ll be there.

Luke.”

 

oOoOo

 

Luke wondered why he was feeling nervous as the train pulled into Denver. He had sent ahead a wire to say he had boarded the train at Burlington; the wire would be in Denver hours ahead of him.  His father stayed as a matter of course at the Windsor Hotel since it had opened, to take advantage of its Turkish bath house, being similar enough to the Cossack way.  It was a luxury hotel, but Dmitro was sufficiently used to the fine things in life to fit in as seamlessly as he did when living rough, droving cattle.  Dmitro had written separately to his son, explaining that they were taking cattle to Denver to sell for meat, after the long winter, and anticipated fair profits for having good, well-fed beasts, as a result of having prepared, like Joseph in Egypt, for lean years. The Bible provided good lessons on how to live one’s life, and be prepared, if one only read the stories and absorbed the message.

Luke crossed himself and kissed his crucifix; God was indeed good.

 

Ida waited for the train, wondering why she was so nervous and why she had so many butterflies in her belly.  She was beautifully turned out; Mama Jane had declared that no daughter of the house, adopted or otherwise, was going to give the folks of Denver any cause to look down on her, and she smoothed the pretty blue and brown flannel plaid overgown which was matched by the cuffs and facings of the bodice, and a wide ruffle on the blue skirt of the main body of the dress. She felt a real young lady.

And she did not mind being a real young lady, since she was permitted dungarees, Cossack trousers, or divided skirt on the ranch, and when droving the cattle.

She had been paid for it, too; twenty dollars for an apprentice hand. Even though most of her duties were in helping with the chuck-wagon, and any sort of errand-running that might be needed; the same job, Kyril,  whom she thought of as the Ranny, whatever he called it in his own tongue, told her that Luke had done a few years previously. Ida was glad to be able to do a real job of work.

 

The train snorted and puffed its way into the station, and after it stopped, Ida saw Luke’s tall, handsome figure climb down, typical of Luke, helping a woman with a gaggle of children as well.

Ida had promised herself she would not squeal or run to him, but she did both, and launched herself on him.

Luke caught her, and swung her round, then set her down to look at her.

“What’s this? Where’s my little buddy?  You’ve gone and fledged into a woman just because I’m away a couple of months,” said Luke.

“Oh, I am your little buddy too,” said Ida, fervently. “But Mama Jane said I should dress as a lady in Denver.”

“Oh, I suppose she’s right,” said Luke. “I’m not sure I approve of you wearing one of those corsets with stuffed bosoms though,” he added, looking at her figure with a frown.

“I’m not!” said Ida, injured. “I sort of increased my figure since you felt it on the way home, and... and you hadn’t noticed.”

Luke went scarlet.

“I apologise for that,” he said. “I hoped you hadn’t noticed. I didn’t want to embarrass you, or frighten you into thinking I was the sort of man Nathaniel might well be.”

“I wasn’t frightened,” said Ida. “I know you’re very proper when you’re awake, but your hands like me.”

Luke flushed again.

“Tarnation! You’re too young for my hands to misbehave like that!” he said, angrily.

“My bosoms forgave them,” said Ida. “I know you would not cross the line and do anything I did not like. But there is more of them now.”

“We won’t be sharing a tent, again, then,” said Luke.

“We won’t have to; we can have separate bunks on the Pullman,” said Ida.

“You’ll have your own compartment,” said Luke. “I need Blackwind; he’ll be cross if he gets left in the caboose.”

 

Dmitro was removing Blackwind from the caboose, and he caught Luke’s eye. Luke blushed.

“She’s become a woman, since you saw her, you know,” said Dmitro.

“She still has some growing up to do, and if her sister comes with her, she’ll want to look after her. And I’m too young, too,” said Luke.

Dmitro nodded.

“Another year will make all the difference to both of you,” he said. “I’ll be waiting here for you to send her back, with Emma, if she’s coming, and if Emma wants to marry someone else, well, she could do worse than Kyril, who is wistful about the idea of sons. I’m guessing you’ll be about returning to your friend, Sam?”

“She might have gone off with Two-Moons of course,” said Luke. “We’ll find out.  If she has, I’ll send Ida back to you and check if Emma’s happy.” He considered Dmitro’s question. “I’m building a house in Eastbend. Though I probably will go wandering when this business of Nathaniel is sorted out. I’m getting itchy feet.”

Dmitro laughed.

“Isn’t it a good job that Danko takes after his English half, home-loving, and a born farmer, so that you can take after your Cossack half, my boy,” he said.

Luke joined in his laughter. His father’s mirth was always infectious. 

“I am your falcon, I always have been,” he said.

“Aye, and you bring down prey relentlessly. Will you kill this Nathaniel?”

“Not unless he demands a gun fight,” said Luke. “I was going to let Ida whip him for the pain and humiliation he caused her, nothing more, and remove her sister to safety unless she is fool enough to cleave to him.”

“As well to be temperate,” agreed Dmitro. “Don’t let him rile you, now.”

“I won’t, Papa,” said Luke.