Chapter 5
“Watch out, Ike! Make sure you’ve got her legs tied tight!”
Lou watched anxiously, holding
her end of the lasso attached to the thrashing, complaining cow’s neck
taut. If anything happened to Ike… she
wouldn’t let herself complete that thought.
Ike had determined, after checking the Nolans’ ailing cow several times,
that one of her stomachs had gotten dislodged.
In order to fix it, they were going to try a roll maneuver.
“Ready?” John Stuart called as
Ike stepped back from where he’d been double checking the ropes binding the
animal’s feet together. At Ike’s nod,
John and Charles Stuart began pulling their rope, attached to the animal’s rear
hooves, to one side. Ike came over to
Lou’s side and together they began to pull the rope attached to the bovine’s
head and front hooves in the same direction.
Soon, the bellowing cow was resting on one side. But they weren’t done yet. Now, they all heaved and tugged until they
had the cow on her other side. After
repeating the rolling motion several times, Ike stepped in to the upset cow’s
side and carefully released the ropes holding her down.
With a last indignant moo of
disgust, the animal lumbered to her feet and trotted off to reassure her
anxious calf that all was well with the world.
Ike and the Stuarts walked over
to join the Nolans, who’d watched the entire operation in fascination.
*We’ll have to keep an eye on
her for a few more days,* Ike said, Lou interpreting for him. *But, if I’m right, that should have taken
care of her problems.*
“And if he’s not, we’ll be
enjoying a nice beef roast,” Charles Stuart cracked. The men all laughed. Lou smothered a grimace. So many of the foods she used to enjoy were
now just turning her stomach. Even Ike
was beginning to notice her sudden apparent lack of appetite.
“I can’t thank you enough,
gentlemen,” Tim Nolan said, holding out his hand. Ike and Lou immediately reached out to shake,
while the Stuarts stood back, shuffling a bit, looking confused and unsure how
to handle the situation. “We’d never
have known what to do without your help.”
*You’ve got a lot to learn
about living on the frontier,* Ike said.
“But you’re hardly alone in
that respect,” Lou added on her own.
“Even those of you who’ve been farmers will be facing challenges we’ve
never dealt with before. This is a whole
‘nother world.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” John
smiled good-naturedly. “Never thought to
find myself working side by side with a nigra.
And an educated one, at that.”
“I’d prefer the term Colored,”
Tim replied, accepting the comment with good grace. “Although I don’t think that’s quite what
young McSwain here meant.”
“Speaking of educated,” Lou
spoke up, “I was wanting to talk to you about a little schooling for Jeremiah
and Teresa? Maybe on Saturday
afternoons, when we’re resting?”
A short time later, as Lou and
Ike moved back toward their own campsite, Lou looked around at the group of
circled wagons. It had taken a few weeks,
but the disparate families were starting to form a community with the habit of
working together for the good of all.
She grimaced a bit as her eyes lit on the Grayson wagon. Well, most of them anyway.
*Looks like the Graysons could
use a little help,* Ike commented, pointing toward Mrs. Grayson and her three
daughters. They had a squawking chicken
surrounded and kept chasing it back and forth toward each other. Yet, when it came within reach of one of the
women it would begin pecking at her, and she would squeal and run away.
“Smart chicken,” Lou
muttered. “I’d like to take a peck ‘er
two outta them myself.”
Ike gave Lou a quelling look
and she sighed. “Alright, alright. Let’s go help.”
Walking up behind the four
women, Lou reached out and grabbed the chicken with both hands, one on its feet
one around its neck, to keep it from pecking and scratching at her.
“You can’t let it scare you
like that,” she said. “Now, what did you
want to do with it?”
“We’re planning a proper Sunday
dinner, complete with fried chicken, for Mr. Grayson,” Mrs. Grayson sniffed.
*Have you ever butchered a
chicken?* Ike asked.
At their confused looks, Lou
added, “Um, do you know what to do next?”
“No,” Mrs. Grayson said
shortly.
“We always had a maid who
bought the chicken at market, already butchered,” Constance sniffed. “Why didn’t we bring a maid along, mother?”
“That was your father’s
decision.”
“Well,” Lou said, “one of you
needs to put some water on to boil.”
“Oh, we’ve already got that
done,” Charity, the youngest of the sisters, and least snotty in Lou’s opinion,
offered eagerly. “What’s next?”
“You got a ax?” Lou asked.
Four heads swung slowly, side
to side. Lou sighed.
*They’re gonna have to wring
its neck, then,* Ike signed.
“No, you mean I’m gonna have to
do it,” Lou grumped under her breath.
Turning back to the women, she said, “Watch close, ‘cause I ain’t gonna
be runnin’ over here every time ya want ta butcher a chicken.”
With quick, smooth motions, she
grabbed the chicken’s neck in both hands and twisted in two different
directions. A distinct snap could be
heard by all.
“Oh, oh my!” one of the Grayson
women murmured.
“It’s still alive,” Prudence
shouted. “Put it out of its misery!”
“No, it’s dead,” Lou said. “It ain’t feelin’ nothin’ now.” Letting the dead, flopping chicken dangle at
her side, she looked around. “Alright,
where’s that boilin’ water?”
Charity pointed toward the
tripod hanging over the fire next to the wagon, with a pot dangling from its
center. Lou walked over and checked the
pot. Determining that it was big enough
to handle the entire bird, she held it up by its feet and dunked it into the
water.
Gagging at the sour stench
pouring off the bird as she removed it from the water, she handed it over to
Mrs. Grayson.
“Here,” she gritted out. “You should be able to pluck it now.”
Without another word, she
turned and ran off into the woods to empty her stomach of all she’d eaten that
day. Ike watched her go, worried, for a
moment, before continuing on to their own campsite. He knew she wouldn’t want him following her,
but it was hard not to.
“Ike, where’s Lou?” Jeremiah
called excitedly, as he passed the O’Callahan wagon, where Jeremiah had made
friends with the middle boy, 13 year old Liam.
*She’s taking care of personal
business. She’ll be back in a few
minutes,* Ike said.
Jeremiah nodded. “Look what Liam showed me how to make!”
Ike took the child’s toy,
called a Jacob’s Ladder, and looked it over approvingly. While not perfect, it showed a certain
attention to detail and care for craftsmanship that he liked. Jeremiah showed great promise at working with
his hands.
*Good job.*
“Thanks! I can’t wait to show Lou!”
*She’ll be impressed, I’m
sure.*
Ike was impressed with how
quickly Jeremiah and Teresa had not only learned to read his signs, but even
begun signing back. They’d gotten so
good at it, that recently they’d started teaching the other children in the
wagon train. All the kids thought it was
great, a way to speak secretly without most adults being able to understand
them. Now, it wasn’t unusual for Ike to
round the end of a wagon and find a group of youngsters signing away
industriously to each other. He shook
his head in wonderment at the idea.
When Lou walked back into camp,
still wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Ike noticed she looked pale.
*Are you alright?*
“I’m fine,” she said shortly,
walking over to the food supplies to begin getting things out for supper.
Ike followed her, touching her
elbow to get her attention. *Are you
sure you’re not getting sick? We’re
coming up on Rock Creek soon. You could
go see the doctor there.*
If anything, she paled even
further, jerking away from him to turn back to the food.
“I said I’m fine. Just leave it alone,” she snapped at him.
**********
*Are you sure you won’t come
along?* Ike asked as he looked down from his mount at a wan Lou. *Teaspoon, Rachel and the boys would love to
see you. And…*
“Don’t even say it,” Lou
snapped peevishly. “I left with no
intentions of ever goin’ back and nothin’s changed that. You wanta visit, yer free ta do so. I ain’t even gonna stop the young’un’s from
visitin’. But I ain’t gonna put the
others at risk with my presence.”
*You’re being silly, Lou,* Ike
signed, a reproving look on his mobile features.
“Yeah, Lou, you ain’t a danger
to no one,” Jeremiah chirped up from his position behind Ike on the horse.
“Stay out of things you don’t
understand, Jeremiah.”
“And it’s ‘are not’ not ain’t,”
Teresa piped up from the safety of her position in front of Ike, surrounded by
his protective arms. Just as Jeremiah
was reaching out to smack his sister for her comment, Ike grabbed his arm and
shook his head in a demanding, *No!*
Jeremiah settled for sticking
his tongue out at her instead. Teresa
just sniffed and turned away.
“Ike? You comin’?” Emily Metcalfe called from the
rear of the group of departing pioneers.
Ike waved to indicate he’d be there in a moment.
Turning back to Lou, he begged,
*Be careful, I don’t like you staying out here all by yourself. You know how dangerous this territory can
be.*
“Precisely, I know what to
expect. Especially ‘round here. You can stop worryin’ about me. I’ll be fine.
Now, git!”
Ike nodded unhappily and turned
his horse to follow the path forged by the others from the wagon train who’d
already left for town. He smiled as he
caught up with Emily and her father.
They’d become close friends with the McSwains over the last few weeks on
the trail.
“What are you planning on
picking up in town?” Emily asked, happily looking forward to the break from the
monotony of their journey. By the end of
the day, the pioneers would have emptied Tompkins’ store of every possible portable
item, and then some. This was their last
chance for any sort of provisioning until Fort Kearney. And, from what Ike had heard, Kearney wasn’t
exactly stocking up for travelers anymore, not with the war back East.
*Not much we need,* Ike
shrugged. Jeremiah translating for him.
*Mostly going to be visiting with friends.*
“You’ve got friends in Rock
Creek?” Carl Metcalfe asked curiously.
Ike nodded and began to explain
all about their Express family.
Lou sighed as she watched Ike
and her siblings ride away, chatting happily with the Metcalfes. The sight bothered her for some reason, but
she refused to dwell on it. She had
other things to worry about right now.
It was a relief to have some
time to herself. She’d been fighting so
hard not to admit what she knew was happening to her body. But she didn’t have much choice. This week she’d missed her second
monthly. And she’d always been regular
as clockwork. There was no longer any
room for doubt, at least on that front.
She cringed away from the next thought that tried to push its way into
her head. She just wasn’t ready to deal
with that yet.
After tidying up camp, Lou
grabbed her saddlebags and walked down to the old watering hole. She found it ironic, or maybe it wasn’t since
Ike had scouted out their camp, that the wagon train had camped near Kid’s old
thinking place. Well, she needed to do
some thinking, might as well do some cleaning up while she was at it.
Soon, Lou was resting on a
rock, warming herself in the sun as she let her hair and clothes dry out. The water had been chilly, but it felt soooo
good to be clean again. She desperately
missed having regular access to the shower Teaspoon had rigged up for the
riders. She sighed as that returned her
thoughts to the changes going on in her body, and their cause. One hand came to rest against her still flat
belly.
“Louise, what a surprise to
find you out here all by your lonesome,” a well-remembered slick, oily voice
from her past oozed across the clearing to her.
Lou stiffened, one hand creeping under her hat toward her gun. But she froze at the ominous sound of a
pistol hammer clicking into place. “I
wouldn’t do that if I were you, Louise.”
Opening her eyes, Lou turned
her head to face one of her worst nightmares head on. Wicks.
Lyle Wicks. The man who’d stolen
her childhood, her innocence from her, then left her bleeding on the
floor. The man, who if you thought about
it, was why she’d ended up with the Express.
“What do you want, Wicks?” she
asked, refusing to let the fear his voice engendered in her show.
“Where’s Charlotte? And the money you two stole from me?” he
demanded harshly, motioning for her to stand up at the same time.
“Now, how would I know that?”
Lou asked, reaching for her shirt and pants, pulling them on over the longjohns
she was still wearing. “I ain’t seen you
or her in more than three years.”
“She disappeared with it the
same day I saw you in St. Joe. I know
you’re behind it!” He paused to
laugh. “You may have changed your name,
Lou McSwain, but you still had those two brats in tow. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize
you?”
Walking up to her, he reached
out with one hand to run a finger down her cheek. “You were always pretty, Louise. But you sure have grown into a beautiful
woman.” Feeling her shiver of fear, he
smiled evilly at her. “Too bad you’ll
always be that frightened little girl, deep down inside.” The timber of his voice dropped an octave as
he purred to her, “You’re mine, Louise.
You’ve been mine since we celebrated your birthday together. You’ll always be mine.”
“Go to hell,” Lou gritted out,
spitting in his face. “I’m no
one’s. I belong to myself.”
Wicks slapped her across the
face, then grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her head, dragging her in
close against his body. “Ooooh, you’ve
still got spirit. I like that. Maybe I’ll just take you back and make you
earn the money Charlotte stole from me.
What do you think of that?”
Lou smiled up into her
tormenter’s eyes. “I’d say, good luck
tryin’.”
Without another word, she
brought her knee straight up, lodging it as high and tight as she possible
could between his legs, spread wide for balance. As he tilted forward in pain, she reached out
with her hands to grab his ears and help his face smash down into her other
knee. When he fell to the ground,
groaning, she kicked his gun away and brought up hers, which she’d
unobtrusively palmed while getting dressed.
“I ain’t a little girl anymore,
Lyle Wicks, and you ain’t got nothin’ I want.”
As he started to make a move to get up, she slammed the toe of her boot
into his diaphragm, sending him back to the ground, then stomped, hard, on the
hand reaching out for her ankle. “See,
I’ve done more than get strong. I’ve
learned how to handle scum like you, from the best.”
With that, she stepped back,
cocked the trigger and pulled. With no
expression on her face, she continued to pull the trigger until the only
response was an empty click. Letting her
gun arm fall to her side, she collapsed to her knees on the ground and just
stared at the remains of the man who’d inhabited her nightmares for so long,
the man whose influence on her life had stolen any chance she’d ever had at
happiness with Kid.
“That’s for all of us, all the
girls you’ve ruined and tried to ruin over the years. And even for Charlotte. She deserved anything she may have taken from
you and more. Now, she’ll be safe. We’ll all be safe.” Once again her hand crept up to rest protectively
over her belly.
**********
Lou sat there, staring at the
body of Lyle Wicks, watching as it started to bloat in the afternoon sun, flies
and buzzards hovering around, drawn by the scent of death. So lost was she in her thoughts, she never
heard the sounds of someone crashing through the brush. When a large hand came to rest on her
shoulder, she jumped, turning ready to fight, only to nearly collapse in on
herself as she saw Ike looking down at her with nothing more than concern in
his eyes.
Suddenly, all the pain and
worry of the previous few days and the fear of the last few hours became too
much for her. Before Ike could even ask
her what had happened, she collapsed into his surprised arms, bawling her eyes
out.
Once again, Ike found himself
cradling a sobbing Lou in his arms. Holding her close, offering her the only
comfort he could, even as he struggled to understand why she was so upset. It wasn’t like she’d never killed a man
before. It couldn’t be that. He knew there was something more, something
that had been bothering her for awhile.
He just hoped she’d trust him enough to talk about it, soon.
Lou didn’t understand why, but
it felt good, safe and comfortable, being held tight in Ike’s arms. It felt, right. Like this was where she belonged. Like she’d come home. Even as her tears tapered off, she found
herself hoping Ike wouldn’t let go of her.
She knew he was about to ask
her what had happened, so, to keep him from letting go, she started
talking. Slowly at first, in a barely
audible voice, she began to tell the story of Wicks’ attack on her, Charlotte’s
aid in her midnight escape and how she’d eventually ended up with the
Express. Only here, in the safety of
Ike’s arms, did she feel capable of putting into words what had happened to
her.
Yet, even as the thought
occurred to her, she began to feel horribly guilty. Ike wasn’t the one she should’ve been telling
this tale to. Pulling away from him, she
muttered, “If I’d only told Kid. Things
would’ve ended so differently. He
wouldn’t have died. Jimmy would still be
here…”
*Maybe,* Ike said, reaching out
to place a comforting hand on her shoulder for a moment before continuing. *But they’re not. And I think Kid would’ve been happy you had
someone you trusted enough to share it with.
He would’ve hated seeing you in pain as much as I do. He’d have wanted you to be happy.*
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