Caroline: Little House, Revisited(41)

Caroline sat still, watching Jacobs as Mary and Laura were allowed to finger the velvet noses and rechristen the mustangs Pet and Patty. His wistful smile touched her, made her almost lonesome. Eager as he was to break his land, he had traded away something fine and beautiful to do it, and his face could not hide the loss.

The full measure of the trade did not sink into the girls until Charles and Jacobs began hitching the mustangs to the wagon. For that matter, it was not fully real to Caroline until she saw the men tightening up Ben’s and Beth’s belly bands and drop straps to fit the smaller animals.

“Where are Ben and Beth?” Mary asked.

“They’re staying here to help Mr. Jacobs plow his fields,” Charles said.

Laura whirled around. “Ma?” Her lips quavered.

Caroline set her face and nodded. Mary and Laura looked at each other, then just as quickly looked straight ahead. Caroline did the same. There was nothing she could say. Her throat had closed. She could not watch her daughters’ faces ripple and clench. It stung more to see them so little and so brave than it would to watch them cry.

It was not just the girls that threatened her composure. Ben and Beth were only stock, but she and Charles had had those horses longer than they had had Mary and Laura. Acre after acre, mile upon mile they had been a good, steady team. Caroline was grateful to them in a way she did not know how to express, and now, she realized, she would not have the chance to try. To drive away without giving them so much as a pat goodbye was nearly like leaving home all over again.

Caroline’s eyelids burned. Her hand darted into her pocket and clenched her handkerchief. There had been no tears leaving Pepin. How absurd to think of crying now, over horses. Everywhere she tried to pin her gaze made the burning worse. Then her eyes found the bulldog. He was already squinting up at her, and with some suspicion. His jaw was thrust out, the lower teeth denting into the upper lip like pinking shears poised to snip. The black folds of his nose quivered in Caroline’s direction, then he snorted, twice. He seemed vexed, as though something clouded her smell and would not let him scent her properly. He sniffed instead at Charles’s ankles, then circled the wagon once, twice, three times. On the third pass Caroline heard him wetting on one of the wheels. Then he trotted back to the mustangs’ heels, plunked himself down, and licked his nose.

Jacobs buckled the last mud strap and ran his hand over the mare’s flank before extending it to Charles across the wagon tongue. “Good luck to you,” Jacobs said. He tipped his hat to Caroline and the girls.

“And the same to you,” Charles said.

Jacobs took a single step back, as though trying out the feeling of turning his team over to Charles. Charles waited, respecting the man’s last opportunity to change his mind. All the heavy straps and buckles that harnessed the animals to their wagon did not matter. For as long as Jacobs cared to linger, the mustangs still belonged to him. Slowly he put his hands into his pockets, and Caroline knew his mind had made the break. Only his gaze seemed unable to let the beautiful little creatures go.

Caroline said, “The light biscuits Mrs. Jacobs sent were a treat after so much travel. Please thank her for us.”

Jacobs turned his face gratefully up to her. “I’ll do that, Mrs. Ingalls.” He gave a nod, curt and final, then turned and walked quickly eastward.

The bulldog did not follow. He sat completely unperturbed, watching Jacobs go.

Charles climbed up onto the spring seat and still the dog did not budge. “Charles,” Caroline said.

Charles called out, “You want to whistle for your dog?”

Jacobs half turned, still walking away as he spoke. “No sir. If he wants to follow me he’s welcome. Otherwise, he’s all yours. I couldn’t lure that fella back with a side of beef. He’s taken a shine to those mustangs like you’ve never seen in your life. I guess you could say the three of them were pups together. As far as he’s concerned, those are his ponies. You and I just have the loan of them.”

“That so?” Charles asked.

Jacobs slowed only enough to keep from shouting as the distance between them widened. “That’s a fact. He’ll let me take one pony at a time anywhere I please. But the minute I start hitching up the both of them, he’s waiting under the wagon like a sentry. I promise you’ve never seen the like of it. You won’t want for a better watchdog. Once he sees you’re the one taking care of those mustangs, he’ll guard every stitch you’ve got and treat your children like his own.”

“What’s his name?” Laura called.

“He answers to Jack, but I don’t think he’ll much care what you call him, so long as he’s with his ponies. Good luck,” Jacobs said again over his shoulder.

Charles shrugged and then chirruped to the mustangs. Pet and Patty thrust forward, their small muscled rumps rounding. With a great creak the wagon came unmoored and bumped up to level. Charles turned the horses sharply to keep the rear wheels from sinking into the hollow. Up bounded the bulldog and dodged between the wheels to follow.

“Well I declare,” Caroline said.

For a little while the wagon rolled along flat and smooth in the soft earth, then began the long climb toward the road. Caroline craned into the slope, curious how these small horses would take the load. Where Ben and Beth had only to lean ever forward to make the wagon follow, this team strove ahead, truly pulling. Caroline could see the effort of it flowing under their hides with every step. At the lip of the road the mustangs touched noses, the gesture like a wink between them, as though they knew their labor made them even more beautiful.