Heaven Is a Long Way Off (12 page)

T
HERE ON THE
bank of the river Hannibal took charge of telling the sisters. “Your father is dead.”

“How?” said Julia, her voice shaking.

“It's strange,” he said. “It's beyond strange. We fired at your father's party. They fled into a berry patch along the creek.” He hesitated. “A grizzly bear attacked him and…It was almost beyond belief.”

All of them looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“The others rode back where they came from. Fast.”

Reina and Julia looked at each other. “Do you want me to go look?” said Reina.

Julia kissed Azul's head and then looked up at her sister.

“No.”

 

T
HE CAPTAIN OF
the
Madison,
glad to have the gold coins for the passages, welcomed Sam's party to the harbor in San Pedro and his ship. “I was seeking you,” he said, but did not yet explain.

The partings at San Pedro were brief and bittersweet. Reina wanted to return to her home, to rejoin her husband and children and see to the burial of her father.

All but Reina—Sam, Hannibal, Grumble, Flat Dog, Sumner, Galbraith, Robber, Julia, and the two infants—set forth on the evening tide on the
Madison
to San Diego.

Sam and Hannibal stood near the penned horses. The night was windy and the seas high. Coy watched the poor animals, who could do nothing but try to maintain balance as the boat switched from tack to tack and rocked from wave to wave. Sam was worried about Paladin, and the captain required that some one of the party watch the horses continually.

Sam looked westward upon the dark waters. China, he supposed, was out there somewhere. “I set out to find a home,” he said to Hannibal. “I found it—Crow country. And now I'm as far from it as I can get. Hell, I'm even off the continent.”

“Think about it. These waters began in Crow country. They came down the mountains and across the desert and joined this ocean. On the water you're always home.”

Now Captain Bledsoe emerged out of the darkness. “I bring you a letter from Captain Jedediah Smith.” He handed it to Sam, who passed it to Hannibal.

“Will you read it to me?”

Hannibal did.

Sam gazed out at the dark sea, stretching all the way to China. He turned and studied the wavy black line made by the coastal hills of California. He walked to the lee rail and looked at the country. Hannibal followed and stood beside him. Coy rubbed against the other leg. The men propped their hands on the rail and leaned out. Here you could hear the prow cutting through the water.

“A country of troubles,” said Sam. “For me.”

The memories were too fresh to be spoken. Meadowlark had died there. Sam had killed men there. “The authorities are probably looking for me too.”

“Hell, the Mexican constabulary probably wants you, me, Flat Dog, Grumble, Sumner, Jedediah Smith, every American who's set foot in the province.”

Sam felt the wind at his back, its scent strong with something…

Flat Dog walked up. “Time for my watch.”

“I can stay longer,” Sam said.

The Crow shook his head. “Look in on Julia, will you?”

Flat Dog's wife was facedown on the bunk in the small cabin, sobbing. Her sobs racked her whole body, and her cries drowned out the wind, the seas, and the noises of the rigging and sails.

Suddenly Julia twisted violently onto her back. She convulsed with sobs, over and over and over.

Hannibal gave Sam a look of warning.

She shouted, “I hated the
diablo
!” She slammed her fists against the bedclothes at her side. “I hated him!” She glared at Sam and Hannibal.

Coy yipped.

Esperanza woke up bawling.

Immediately Julia sat up. “Hand her to me.”

Sam did.

Julia raised her blouse without hesitation, put Esperanza on one breast, and lay back down. “Stay with me,” she said, “please stay.”

Her chest began to heave again.

Sam and Hannibal sat down on the end of the bunk and looked at each other uncomfortably.

Sam glanced at Julia and for the first time admitted this thought clearly to his mind:
When I lost Meadowlark, I lost Esperanza.

“It's true,” said Hannibal.

Sam shot him a look.
Damn, get out of my head.

“Sad but true.”

Azul whimpered

Julia held her arms out. Sam put her son in them. In a moment she had a child on each breast.

I lost her.

Soon the children were asleep. “Take them, please.”

When Sam did, Julia began to bawl again, and then to wail.

Sam curled up on the floor and tried to sleep.

Hannibal sat in a corner, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

 

T
WO HOURS LATER
they were back on watch with the horses, peering into the darkness.

Coy growled.

“A change in the weather, gentlemen.”

Captain Bledsoe, evidently wandering his ship at night. The odor of his pipe was as strong as the smell of the sea. “It's time. They don't have four seasons on this coast, just dry season and rainy season. The storms can blow hard. This sea is not pacific.” With a quick smile at his pun the captain continued on his rounds.

Sam smiled to himself. Odd how many people in his life gave importance to words. Pacific not pacific. Grumble treasured words, so did Hannibal. Sam's father, Lewis Morgan, had had a tongue voluble and creative. A Welsh tradition, said his father.
I should learn to read.

“We already had our California storms,” said Hannibal.

“I want to go home,” said Sam.

“California is beautiful and languid,” said Hannibal.

Coy whined and thumped his tail.

“One day it will be American.”

Sam looked at Hannibal in surprise, and then back at the dark continent off the port bow. His single thought was,
What on earth do I do now?

Hannibal said, “Let's drive horses to the mountains and sell them.”

 

I
T TOOK THEM
a week to arrange things in San Diego.

First they brain-stormed their plans. The men had gold in their pockets, from selling the saddles, firearms, and other weapons. Since they'd all played the roles of fighters and rescuers, they would divide the booty equally.

Robber and Galbraith weren't interested in taking horses anywhere. They liked the little town and the easy life in California. They would stay.

“Who else wants what?” asked Sam.

“I think it might be well to take leave of California for a time,” said Grumble.

“I goes where my massa goes,” said Sumner, the apprentice con man.

They laughed at the darkie accent. Coy gave one sharp yip at all of them.

“Where are we going to go exactly?” said Flat Dog. “Winter's coming on.”

“Winter's the time to cross the desert,” said Sam. He would never forget that terrible June crossing with Jedediah, Gobel, and Robert Evans.

“Let's go to Taos or Santa Fe,” said Hannibal. “Spend the cold months there before we head for rendezvous.”

They considered and one by one the men nodded. Julia just listened. Since her one night of wild grief, she had seemed even-keeled. Flat Dog remarked to Sam that with two children to take care of, she showed less interest in men's doings.

“All right, we can probably buy horses from the mission,” said Sam. Jedediah Smith had seen the huge herds when he was force-marched to San Diego last winter. The Californios had far, far more horses than they had any use for.

“What do you think we'll have to pay for them?” asked Sumner.

Grumble said, “At Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo we paid six dollars for a pair.”

“And they were broke to harness,” said Sam. “These will be unbroke.”

Flat Dog said, “And at rendezvous we can sell them for…?”

“Fifty to a hundred each,” said Sam.

“That appeals to my larcenous heart,” said Sumner.

“Can we get fifty animals?” said Flat Dog.

Hannibal shook his head. “We have to buy supplies.”

“Say thirty,” said Sam.

Grumble put in, “How many can we drive?”

Sam and Hannibal took thought. “Five men,” said Flat Dog.

“Don't count me,” said Grumble. The cherub hated riding, and hadn't forked a horse once on their entire journey. “I may walk the whole way.”

“We could drive a hundred easily,” said Hannibal.

“All right, here's a proposition,” said Grumble. “I'll put my hand in my trunk and bring out enough coins to bring our horse count to a hundred.”

“Grumble, you have that much gold?” said Sam.

The con man gave a dry smile. “For me money is a tool.” He looked merrily at them. “This way we all get a handsome profit. Divided by five, up toward a thousand dollars each. But I get something in the bargain.”

“Oh, no,” said Sam.

“We'll winter in Santa Fe, yes?”

“Probably,” said Hannibal. “Or Taos.”

“Santa Fe is bigger, so let's head there. The deal is, one day or night a week each of you plays a little game with me.”

“Chicanery,” said Hannibal.

“Con games,” said Sam.

“Exactly,” said Grumble.

“Nothing that will get us arrested,” said Sam.

“I am revolted by jails,” said Grumble.

“It's a deal,” said Hannibal.

One by one, they all agreed—Sam, Hannibal, Flat Dog, and Sumner. Coy gave another yip.

“Let's get mares,” said Sam. “There'll be foals in the spring before we go to rendezvous.”

“Good thought.”

And on into the night they planned.

San Diego was a cinch. Aside from the mission and presidio, the town was only four adobes and about three dozen dark huts overlooking a fine bay. The letter of safe passage assured their hospitality at the mission. They avoided the presidio, where some officer might demand passports.

In a week they bought their hundred horses, got supplies, hired an Indian guide, and got started east across the Mojave Desert.

“Let's not go anywhere near the Mojave villages,” Sam told the guide in Spanish. He was an older man, with a look of having seen everything.

“No,” the man answered, “we go to the Yuma villages.”

So they did.

For the first time since leaving rendezvous Sam thought,
I am headed home.
Roundabout, but home.

The desert was easy enough. Julia traveled almost as comfortably as a Crow woman, even with the two children. Sam felt like an old hand there now, and the guide knew where to find water. The crossing of the Colorado River wasn't bad—in November the river was low. Coy not only kept up with the herd but led the way—the little coyote didn't like swimming, so he did it fast.

At the Yuma villages they were welcomed as enemies of the Mojaves. They gave the Indians some presents, hired a new guide, and passed on rapidly. The route of the Gila River, said the Indians, had been used by other trappers, those from Taos.

Now they got the story of that trapping party and the Mojaves. The trappers worked their way up the Colorado, the Yumas said, to the Mojave villages. Red Shirt demanded payment for the beaver they'd taken out of the river. Incensed, for the Mojaves had no interest in the beaver, the trappers refused. In the ensuing fight several Mojaves were killed.