Huck Out West(25)

And maybe she and that fellow’s Blanche WARN’T the same person. The more I studied about this, the more certainer it become that there was TWO girls tied up somewheres in this wagon train. Both girls having dimples warn’t the commonest thing maybe, but it warn’t the unpossiblest neither. I begun to feel a sight better.

When the sun come up, I could set up without commencing to heave again. Jim, seeing how I was, throwed some leaves and roots in a pot and boiled them up for a tea that settled my wobbles better’n a doctor could a done, and I says so and he grinned and showed his gaps and says he’s been palavering with Jesus about me to see if he can’t unloose a blessing on me.

I got busy setting the wagon train off towards the trail to Laramie, doing my chores, and considering the direction me and the girl was going to take and all the things we must do to get ready for running off. Like finding that other horse, for a sample. I thought I might catch a wild one and break it, and I rode Jackson out ahead of the wagon train to hunt for one. I didn’t find no wild ponies, but I did roust up a herd of antelope, and I chased one down and shot him for supper. I throwed him over Jackson’s back and walked him back to the wagon train, feeling more taller’n usual and hoping she could see me. Everybody was mighty pleased and Jim set to turning the carcass into steaks. I felt a grin coming on, but I kept it off my face because she might be watching and I knowed heroes warn’t the type to let one loose.

Whilst I was out there, I seen a fresh stream out ahead, so I led the emigrants to it to set up camp for the night, and they was thankful for that, too. They jumped right in, clothes and all, and splashed around, and hollered out their thanks to me and God. I pulled my tired feet out of my boots and give them a soak. I was mostly browned and roughened up by the long travels, but my feet was soft and white, and wanted the air, so I give it to them.

During the missionaires’ prayer meeting, whilst I was standing in the stream scrubbing down Jackson, I told him when me and the girl ride out of here, we was going to have to cross some mountains and he’ll have to move pretty fast. Was he ready for that? He raised his head up and down like to say yes, then he snorted and shook it like to say no. He was suffering the same counterdictions as me. Believing something and not believing it. Like them missionaires when they’re praying. Seems so natural when you’re rolling round in it, shouting at the sky, so strange when you ain’t. Them’s the thoughts that was rattling through my head when that bullwhacker come a-reeling past, let off one of his chimbley-blowing belches, tilted back his canteen to empty it, and crawled up into the girl’s wagon.

Jackson’s shiny wet back looked bald and black in the fading light, most of his hair there plain wore off. His head was down in its usual sadful mope, though I knowed these baths pleasured him. When I washed his legs below the knees, I seen he needed new shoes. I hain’t been paying enough heed to the old pony and I told him I was sorry for it, and was aiming to do better by him. I laid the damp blanket over his back to soothe him and we stepped out of the water. I says to him things may not work out here. Him and me might be moving on. He raired no oppositions. People was passing by on their way to their tents and wagons, exchanging God blesses. When they’d gone and the night had settled in, she come sneaking over.

“My father’s been drinking. He’s sound asleep. We have to go now, sir. I can’t take no more.” Her tearful eyes was pleading so, my heart was near broke. She was so beautiful there in the dusky light I most couldn’t stand it. Her hands was free now. She had my clasp knife in one a them and she touched my face with t’other. “Please, sir, I love you. We have to hurry.” But it was too various for me. I warn’t no Tom Sawyer.

“I ain’t going, Blanche.”

Her eyes squinched up a little. “It’s my father! I saw you talking! He’s been lying to you! He only pretends to be my husband so he can do to me the awful things he does!” I reached inside my shirt to give her back her silk drawers, but she wouldn’t take them. “You PROMISED!” She was still beautiful, but she was more like a cat with its tail up than a pretty girl. She looked like she didn’t know whether to kiss me or claw me. What she done was snatch the drawers from me, slash them with my clasp knife, and throng them on the ground. “YOU SKINNY STRING A PUKE!” she yelled. Her face was twisted up now with fury and disgust and she warn’t so pretty like before. “YOU GODDAM LUMP A CRAVEN GANGREENY MULE SHIT! YOU AIN’T WORTH A WET FART IN A HURRY-CANE!” She ripped her blouse away from her shoulder and throwed my knife down with her tore-up drawers. “HELP! RAPE! MURDER! HELP!”

I yanked up Jackson’s picket and jumped aboard. I could hear the bullwhacker roaring out his wife’s name. As I ripped past the chuck wagon, Jim hollered out and tossed me my rifle. “I’M TERRIBLE SORRY, JIM!” I hollered over my shoulder. There was gunfire, screams, things falling over. “COME BACK HERE!” the bullwhacker bellowed, adding a string of ripe cusswords. “I WANNA TALK TO YOU!” And then his guns went off again.

I could a stayed if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to.





CHAPTER XI


NE NIGHT AFTER I come here to the Gulch, me and Eeteh was out on a ridge, our moccasins off like usual, listening to the katydids and smoking a pipeful of something that was like tobacco but that warn’t tobacco. It was spicier with an extra nudge to it that eased along our talk like the sweet meloncholical way a river flows, following whatever banks it strikes on, pushing this way and then that, and picking up some leaves and tree limbs and other rubbage on the way.