San Antone. V. J. Banis

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      “If it’s anyone’s business,” Joanna said, giving vent to pent-up anger, “you may tell them I have hired Mr. Horse as our driver. I’m sure even Texans can’t object to an Indian working for them, if the wages are low enough.”

      He turned away and would have left her, but she was immediately sorry for her rudeness. “Lieutenant, I am sorry,” she said contritely. “Please, you must see, we do need someone, and there’s no one else. You’ve got a train to lead and no men to spare, and the other families have their hands full with their own wagons. If I must handle our wagon by myself, it’s only going to end up slowing everyone down.”

      He paused, giving her an appraising look. “You’re a tough woman,” he said, without making it clear whether or not it was meant as a compliment.

      “Texas women aren’t soft, are they?” she said, smiling. “Not in country like this, surely.”

      After a moment, he returned her smile. “No, ma’am, I guess they aren’t, not the ones who survive here.”

      “As I intend to do.”

      “And I reckon you will. I’ll straighten folks out if there’s any trouble.” He tipped his hat to her and left.

      Chapter Ten

      Lewis gave up altogether the effort of handling the wagon, and retired inside. He drank and slept, and rode for a while on the rear gate, his legs dangling, like an overgrown boy.

      It seemed to Joanna as if the more responsibility she herself assumed, the more Lewis surrendered. She wondered briefly what he would do if she simply stopped coping. Would Lewis’s manhood reassert itself? Would he take charge and relieve her of the burdens? Or would this entire enterprise simply flounder with no one to manage?

      Looking around at the increasingly barren plain they were entering, she felt disinclined to take the chance of depending on her husband. At least she was not on her own. Lieutenant Price had proved his willingness to be of assistance, and now William Horse, too, had taken on some of the responsibility for her and her brood. It appeared that he meant to act as their driver for the entire trip.

      There was only one awkward moment between them. While they were stopped, mindful of what she had told the lieutenant, she had approached the Nasoni about actually hiring him.

      “Of course, I won’t be able to pay you much,” she had said, faltering—this sort of business arrangement was unfamiliar to her. “But I thought something in the neighborhood of—”

      An angry look crossed his face, his wide nostrils flared wider, and to her amazement he simply stalked off, leaving her in mid-sentence.

      “Now, what on earth?” she murmured, staring after him.

      Lucretia, who was nearby dishing out the midday meal, looked after him, too. “Pride comes in many colors,” she said, and went back to her work.

      “But that’s ridiculous,” Joanna said. “He can’t work for nothing, like a—”

      She caught the quick, almost imperceptible look that her cook gave her, and hesitated. “Well, of course, there are slaves, and then there are....” She hesitated again, and finished lamely, “Others.”

      “I expect you’re right,” Lucretia said, and turned her back, leaving Joanna to wonder why it seemed as if she were just now on the verge of getting to know this woman with whom she’d shared most of her life.

      In the end, Joanna had followed the Indian to the watering hole near where they had stopped, and apologized for any unintended offense.

      “I am most grateful for your help,” she concluded, and for the very first time since she had met him, was rewarded by a smile from him—a smile so tentative, so fleeting, that it was gone before she even recognized it for what it was.

      But the memory of it warmed her as she walked back to the train.

      So William Horse became their driver, and with her entire family for the moment ensconced in one wagon—Jay Jay had immediately taken his place alongside their new driver—Joanna allowed herself the luxury of a sense of well-being. If she could just get them to San Antone—now, there, she was beginning to call it that; she must ask Lieutenant Price why the natives did not say San Antonio, the way it was written—if she could hold things together just that long...the rest of the help would arrive soon enough, or might even be there waiting. Campbell, their overseer, had been with them for years: he was used to running things with little or no supervision from Lewis.

      Yes, just get them to San Antone. After that, everything would be easier.

      Getting them there, however, was not likely to be easy. Things kept popping up, demanding attention, provoking worry.

      While she was preparing their supper, Lucretia informed her with the utmost casualness that some of the slaves were gone.

      “Gone?” Joanna had trouble grasping what she meant. “Gone where?”

      Lucretia shrugged and shook her head.

      “You mean, ran away?”

      “Seems that way.”

      “But, ran away where, in this wilderness?”

      “I expect they slipped away before we left Galveston. All that dust folks was kicking up, you couldn’t have seen.”

      Joanna was silent for a moment. Lucretia and her assistants had been preparing food for days before they left, and now she was spreading out enormous hampers of fried chicken, rolls, vegetable salads. Later there would be the chore of trail cooking, but for now they might almost have been on an elaborate picnic. It lent an air of unreality.

      “How many went?”

      “Five. Six maybe. Ulysses has a way of disappearing. Hard to say yet if he’s around somewhere or not.” She paused to look directly at her mistress. “What you going to do?”

      “I don’t know. I can’t see what we could do,” Joanna said.

      “You going to tell the master?”

      “No.” That much she was certain of. Lewis, with his volatile temper and his ever-increasing foolishness, was not above turning the whole train around and going back to look—or, worse yet, leaving the train to go on without them while they went back alone.

      “No, we won’t say anything to anyone,” she decided aloud.

      “I think that’s best,” Lucretia said with an unmistakable air of complicity, so that Joanna felt no problem in appealing to her.

      “Lucretia, what can I do about it?” she asked. “Would it help if I talked to the others? Would it do any good to threaten them?”

      She could tell by the involuntary stiffening of Lucretia’s shoulders that the idea did not sit well.

      “I sho nuff couldn’t say.” The patois was back, and the shuffling movements as she turned to spoon out a salad of rice and curried fruit.

      Joanna felt she had been dismissed. Irritated, she glanced СКАЧАТЬ