Far Away Home (9 page)

Johnny muttered,
“Why do you always get to say when enough is enough?”

Aislynn thought
about her answer for a moment. She did not really know why, but Johnny was like
her father and most of the Nolans. They generally let her make choices about
certain things, like their home, meals, and womanly things. Only Tim would tell
her how to behave, what not to wear, where she could or could not go. “It’s
just the way it is,” she announced. “I, well, women make certain decisions; men
make others.”

“And I guess
you’ll let me know when I can make some.”

Aislynn lay back
and listened to the sounds of the night. Sleeping outside on this wide-open
prairie with no walls or locked doors gave her a nervous feeling in her
stomach. Aislynn sighed, “We’re sleeping outside.”

Johnny sat up
with a start. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“I did, but I’ve
never slept outside.”

“We’re not
outside; we’re in our… home. It’s just not like the homes you’re used to. It’s
got a roof and walls. We’ll be fine.” He pulled her close, kissed her cheek,
and holding her hand, commenced patting it. “We’ll be fine.”

Aislynn lay
awake straining her senses in the darkness. Above the repetitive splashing of
the creek, Maybelle’s wagon squeaked on its springs, and she could hear
Maybelle moaning and gasping. Aislynn pitied her, and cursed Zach’s abuse. In
the distance, she could hear the howling of some unidentifiable animals and the
popping of guns. All the while, the continuous buzzing of life close to the
ground reached her ears. Aislynn could not name the critters, nor could she
conjure their shapes, but she could hear them and imagined them scheming as
they slithered, squirmed and crawled in the grass.

Trying to absorb
some of Johnny’s confidence, Aislynn moved under her covers until her leg
rested against Johnny’s. She knew the rifle reclining at his side and the
revolver poised over his pillow gave Johnny strength. Taking a deep breath,
Aislynn filled herself with the western wind and fell asleep.

The 3:15 train
whistle woke Aislynn. She tossed about until the gray light of dawn filled the
wagon. Quietly, she climbed off the bed and peered through the puckering
string. Wisps of fog, pushed off the creek by the ever-present wind, hung among
the wagons. Ghostly overlanders were stumbling out of the draught of sleep and
crunching the lace of frozen grass and the patches of snow.

Aislynn slipped
down to the floor of the wagon bed. Concealed under her coat and nightgown, she
pulled on her clothes, wandered to the creek for water. Johnny was waiting with
a mouthful of warnings when she returned. “I don’t like you goin’ off alone.”
She soothed him with a hearty breakfast and turned her attention to chores. The
wagon had to be repacked for economy of space and efficiency of use.

Maybelle
appeared close to noon. She watched as Aislynn carted and boiled water to wash
clothes. Although she offered no assistance, Maybelle hurried Aislynn along,
wanting her company on a walk to the general store.

The day was
growing old when Aislynn approached Johnny with Maybelle’s request. Johnny was
adjusting the springs on the wagon and explained to Aislynn that he had no time
to go to the store. “But, Maybelle will be with me.” Johnny crawled out from
under the wagon and stood before her, wearing a skeptical face. She continued,
“The store is at the end of the boardwalk. You’ll be able to see us from here.”

Johnny did not
look convinced. Aislynn cocked her head, “I’m not going to spend any money. I’m
just going to take another look, in case there’s anything we’ve forgotten. I
won’t even take any money, so I won’t buy anything impulsively.”

He shook his
head at her, “Aislynn, you don’t do anything impulsively, ‘though I wish you
would.” She gave him a puzzled look, and he added, “You know I don’t worry
about money. It’s her. I don’t like her. She’s loose.”

“I think you’re
wrong. I think she just seems flighty, but I’m sure she’s trying to be a good
wife. I think Zach is a beast,” and she explained the sounds she heard from
their wagon.

Johnny laughed
out loud. “I’m sure she enjoyed every minute of it. Does she look unhappy?”
Maybelle stood by her wagon humming and swaying.

“No, I suppose
not.”

Johnny shook his
head, “Go but be very careful. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t even look at
anyone.”

With their eyes
adjusted to the bright sun, Aislynn and Maybelle stepped up on the store's
shaded porch in a state of blindness.

“Well, what we
got here?” reached Aislynn’s ears as her eyes squinted to see the source of the
coarse comment.

Three men were
lounging on a bench in front of the store. Aislynn walked past them and had her
hand on the doorknob when she heard Maybelle reply, “That depends on what
you’re lookin’ for.” 

One of the men
rose and reached toward Maybelle, but she wiggled away. “Maybelle, you get in
here,” Aislynn commanded. Bells tinkled as she pushed the door. She held it
open while her eyes pierced Maybelle’s with disapproval.

Maybelle trotted
up to the door and said, “Aislynn, you’re too stiff.”

“How could you
speak to those men? They’re strangers and they’re rude.”

“You sound like
my sermonizin’ ol’ granny.”

“Don’t you care
what I think? What Zach would think?”

“I don’t care! I
wuz just havin’ some fun. ‘Sides, Zach ain’t gonna know ‘less you tell him.”

Maybelle
flounced past her and sidled up to the counter greeting the shopkeeper with a
long “Howdy.”

Agape, Aislynn
turned slowly to follow Maybelle, but her eyes caught two men lounging in the
middle of the store, feet propped up on the cold stove. The man on the left was
old, round, and balding with vacant eyes and a limp arm hanging in his lap. In
the light hair, pale eyes, large moustache, and skin like a road map, Aislynn
recognized her gambler. Her eyes ran down the long, muscular legs resting on
the stove, and she cowered for a moment, noticing the huge hunting knife
strapped to his ankle. Swallowing her fear, she apologized softly for
interrupting their peace.

Display cases
topped with wooden counters ran around three sides of the store. Barrels filled
with pickled vegetables and dried foods stood in the front windows. Two oil
lamps hanging from the rafters provided the meager lighting. Aislynn was
examining the stock on the floor to ceiling shelves that rose behind the cases
when the clerk approached. They exchanged pleasantries, and he asked if she
were new in town. Aislynn explained she was traveling west. “With your friend
here?” he queried.

“No,” Aislynn
hesitated. In a deep blush, she managed the lie, “With my husband.”

He introduced
himself, and she hesitantly stated her name as Mrs. Maher.

Aislynn
explained she was looking for books, and they exchanged the titles they
enjoyed. Maybelle, jealous of the attention Aislynn was earning, called to the
man. Aislynn realized Johnny was right about Maybelle being loose. It annoyed
her that he could assess people and situations so quickly. Aislynn eventually
came to the same conclusions, but she always needed more time. A former
conversation surfaced in her memory. Johnny had said, “You’d be better off
traveling with a man like me.” She laughed to herself, admitting he was right
and recognizing her growing appreciation of him.

Aislynn noticed
the lengthening shadows, “Maybelle, we’d better start back.”

“You go. I’m
gonna socialize a piece.”

“It’s getting
late.”

“Are you a
‘fraidy cat? Go alone.”

Fear churned in
Aislynn gut. “I can’t go back alone. Johnny will be furious if I’m walking the
street by myself.” She could feel her voice and her anxiety rising. “Maybelle,
you have to come back with me.”

“No. I wanna
stay.”

A loud bang rang
through the store. The gambler had slammed the wooden heels of his boots on the
wooden floor. His action shook the flimsy frame building and all its contents.
He pulled himself to his full height, which was exceptional, and glared at
Aislynn. She looked at the guns hanging from his sides and the huge knife
strapped to his leg and winced. He growled at the clerk, “Make the
introductions, Mack.”

The clerk’s
voice cracked, “Missus Maher, this here’s Orrin Sage.”

Glowering at
her, he asked, “Where’s your man?”

Aislynn pulled
herself up, trying to be tall, and announced, “At the wagon camp.”

“Let’s go talk
to him.”

Aislynn chewed
her lip and begged God to keep this hulking horror from hurting her.

He stomped his
way to the door and threw it open. The bells knocked about in chaotic clanging.
Aislynn stepped out onto the porch alone, and the three men rose from their
seats, whooping and whistling. One said, “So you decided to join us?”

Sage stepped
behind Aislynn and took her arm. In a breath, each man backed away from them.
“Orrin,” the leader began, “I didn’t know you was in there.”

“I ain’t,” the
gravel in Sage’s throat ground. “I’m out here.”

“Why, I can see
that, Orrin, and it is nice to see you. Step back, boys. Let Orrin and this
purdy little piece get through.”

“Shut your
mouth, Clem.”

The man grew
mute. Sage’s hand gripped her elbow tightly as he guided her into the street.
His strides were long, and he seemed to expect her to keep up.

“How come your
man let you go with that trash?”

“Well,” she
hesitated, “he didn’t want me to. He doesn’t have a high opinion of her.”

“Why didn’t you
listen?”

“I thought she
was nice.”

“Men know whores
when they see ‘em. How long you married?”

“Just a short
time.” Aislynn winced at the lie.

“Youngins?”

“Oh, no.” she
replied, embarrassed by his personal questions.

“You probably
ain’t workin’ at it neither.”

Aislynn missed a
step in her shock. She decided not to answer him for fear he would ask her for
details she could not furnish.

“Gotta gun?”

“Oh, yes, I do,”
she replied, pleased to change the subject.

His long legs
stopped, “Let me see it.”

“It’s in the
wagon.”

“You think a
man’s gonna wait for you to fetch it out the wagon?” he barked.

“Aislynn?”
Johnny stood in the road, wiping his hands on a rag watching the exchange. He
started to walk toward them when Aislynn broke into a run. When she reached
him, she maneuvered behind his back, finally grateful for his bulk.

“Johnny, this is
Mr. Orrin Sage. He was kind enough to walk me home.”

Johnny extended
his hand and said, “I’m grateful, Mr. Sage.” He turned to Aislynn, eyes wide
and brows high, “Where’s Maybelle?”

Positioned next
to his wagon, Zach sauntered into the street at the mention of Maybelle’s name.

“She’s probably
pokin’ Clem by now,” Sage offered.

Aislynn did not
understand his phrase, but Zach approached ready to fight. “Wha’d you say ‘bout
my wife?”

“Your wife’s a
whore,” Sage casually commented.

Anger strangled
Zach speechless.

Aislynn broke
in, “Oh, Zach, she acted shamelessly. She actually flirted with a group of men,
and then, she refused to come back with me. She wanted to stay with them.”

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

Orrin’s calm,
raw voice rose again, “There’s three of them, an’ she ain’t worth gettin’
killed for. ‘Sides, there’s real shortage of women out here. You might wanna
keep what you got; just keep her real busy so she ain’t got no need to go
elsewhere.”

A small, shocked
“Oh” escaped from Aislynn, and the men turned their eyes on her. “Now her,”
Sage looked at Aislynn, and her insides turned, “she just needs a stronger
hand.” She watched him closely, afraid this undisciplined creature might
provide the stronger hand. “I know it’s hard when she looks at you with them
green eyes, but we ain’t got but a few laws an’ a passel of men ready to break
all of ‘em. Married or not, don’t matter to them.”

Johnny thanked
Sage for his advice and invited him to share their dinner. Seated around the
fire, they watched in silence as Maybelle returned. Zach walked her down to the
creek, and they disappeared for a short time. When they returned, Maybelle
limped into the wagon; Zach sat alone by his fire. Sage shared his hard-gained
lessons on wagoning with Johnny, as Aislynn served them the potted roast she
had steamed in low coals all day. When Sage asked them why they were attempting
the journey, Johnny explained their desire for better jobs and better pay.
Aislynn explained that Tim was in Utah. She gushed about him and his
accomplishments for a moment, but Sage’s hard eyes stopped her. She busied
herself preparing a plate for Zach and handed it to Johnny.

In Johnny’s
absence, Sage made conversation with Aislynn. “You got what you need for this
trip?”

“I think so.”

“You got your
medicines?”

“We have
chamomile tea and laudanum, some castor oil, paregoric, ipecac and Epsom
Salts.”

“You’re facin’
mountain fever, dysentery, cholera, snake bites, broken bones, scurvy, parched
skin an’ God only knows what. You best get yourself a pencil, an’ I’ll tell you
what you need.”

He reeled off a
list that included camphor for cholera, hartshorne for snakebites, glycerin for
alkali burns and quinine for malaria. Instructions followed the list. When
Johnny returned, Sage was telling Aislynn, “This ain’t no picnic you’re goin’
on; it’s a dangerous trip. The way’s still difficult, even for experienced
drivers. Wagons break down, people get hurt an’ drown. Animals die.” 

Aislynn looked
at Johnny, nervously chewing her lip. “Aislynn, Mr. Sage isn’t tryin’ to scare
us; he’s tryin’ to help us.”

“Don’t never go
near no animals; assume they all bite. An’ the biggest danger of all is men.
Injuns won’t tend to bother you none; it’s whites, outlaws.” Sage turned to
Aislynn, “Let’s see this gun you got in your wagon.”